Читать книгу Home for the Holidays: The Forgetful Bride / When Christmas Comes - Debbie Macomber - Страница 10

A t ten to six, Cait was blow-drying her hair in a haphazard fashion, regretting that she’d ever had it cut. She was looking forward to this dinner date about as much as a trip to the dentist. All she wanted was to get it over with, come home and bury her head under a pillow while she sorted out how she was going to get Paul to notice her.

Restyling her hair hadn’t done the trick. Putting in extra hours at the office hadn’t impressed him, either. Cait was beginning to think she could stand on top of his desk naked and not attract his attention.

She walked into her compact living room and smoothed the bulky-knit sweater over her slim hips. She hadn’t dressed for the occasion, although the sweater was new and expensive. Gray wool slacks and a powder-blue turtleneck with a silver heart-shaped necklace dangling from her neck were about as dressy as she cared to get with someone like Joe. He’d probably be wearing cowboy boots and jeans, if not his hard hat and tool pouch.

Oh, yes, Cait had recognized his type when she’d first seen him. Joe Rockwell was a man’s man. He walked and talked macho. No doubt he drove a truck with tires so high off the ground she’d need a stepladder to climb inside. He was tough and gruff and liked his women meek and submissive. In that case, of course, she had nothing to worry about; he’d lose interest immediately.

He arrived right on time, which surprised Cait. Being prompt didn’t fit the image she had of Joe Rockwell, redneck contractor. She sighed and painted on a smile, then walked slowly to the door.

The smile faded. Joe stood before her, tall and debonair, dressed in a dark gray pin-striped suit. His gray silk tie had pink stripes. He was the picture of smooth sophistication. She knew that Joe was the same man she’d seen earlier in dusty work clothes—yet he was different. He was nothing like Paul, of course. But Joseph Rockwell was a devastatingly handsome man. With a devastating charm. Rarely had she seen a man smile the way he did. His eyes twinkled with warmth and life and mischief. It wasn’t difficult to imagine Joe with a little boy whose eyes mirrored his. Cait didn’t know where that thought came from, but she pushed it aside before it could linger and take root.

“Hello,” he said, flashing her that smile.

“Hi.” She couldn’t stop looking at him.

“May I come in?”

“Oh…of course. I’m sorry,” she faltered, stumbling in her haste to step aside. He’d caught her completely off guard. “I was about to change clothes,” she said quickly.

“You look fine.”

“These old things?” She feigned a laugh. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll only be a minute.” She poured him a cup of coffee, then dashed into her bedroom, ripping the sweater over her head and closing the door with one foot. Her shoes went flying as she ran to her closet. Jerking aside the orderly row of business jackets and skirts, she pulled clothes off their hangers, considered them, then tossed them on the bed. Nearly everything she owned was more suitable for the office than a dinner date.

The only really special dress she owned was the red velvet one she’d purchased for Paul’s Christmas party. The temptation to slip into that was strong but she resisted, wanting to save it for her boss, though heaven knew he probably wouldn’t notice.

Deciding on a skirt and blazer, she hopped frantically around her bedroom as she pulled on her panty hose. Next she threw on a rose-colored silk blouse and managed to button it while stepping into her skirt. She tucked the blouse into the waistband and her feet into a pair of medium-heeled pumps. Finally, her velvet blazer and she was ready. Taking a deep breath, she returned to the living room in three minutes flat.

“That was fast,” Joe commented, standing by the fireplace, hands clasped behind his back. He was examining a framed photograph that sat on the mantel. “Is this Martin’s family?”

“Martin…why, yes, that’s Martin, his wife and their children.” She hoped he didn’t detect the breathless catch in her voice.

“Four children.”

“Yes, he and Rebecca wanted a large family.” Her heartbeat was slowly returning to normal though Cait still felt light-headed. She had a sneaking suspicion that she was suffering from the effects of unleashed male charm.

She realized with surprise that Joe hadn’t said or done anything to embarrass or fluster her. She’d expected him to arrive with a whole series of remarks designed to disconcert her.

“Timmy’s ten, Kurt’s eight, Jenny’s six and Clay’s four.” She introduced the freckle-faced youngsters, pointing each one out.

“They’re handsome children.”

“They are, aren’t they?”

Cait experienced a twinge of pride. The main reason she went to Minneapolis every year was Martin’s children. They adored her and she was crazy about them. Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without Jenny and Clay snuggling on her lap while their father read the Nativity story. Christmas was singing carols in front of a crackling wood fire, accompanied by Martin’s guitar. It meant stringing popcorn and cranberries for the seven-foot-tall tree that always adorned the living room. It was having the children take turns scraping fudge from the sides of the copper kettle, and supervising the decorating of sugar cookies with all four crowded around the kitchen table. Caitlin Marshall might be a dedicated stockbroker with an impressive clientele, but when it came to Martin’s children, she was Auntie Cait.

“It’s difficult to think of Martin with kids,” Joe said, carefully placing the family photo back on the mantel.

“He met Rebecca his first year of college and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“What about you?” Joe asked, turning unexpectedly to face her.

“What about me?”

“Why haven’t you married?”

“Uh…” Cait wasn’t sure how to answer him. She had a glib reply she usually gave when anyone asked, but somehow she knew Joe wouldn’t accept that. “I…I’ve never really fallen in love.”

“What about Paul?”

“Until Paul,” she corrected, stunned that she’d forgotten the strong feelings she held for her employer. She’d been so concerned with being honest that she’d overlooked the obvious. “I am deeply in love with Paul,” she said defiantly, wanting there to be no misunderstanding.

“There’s no need to convince me, Caitlin.”

“I’m not trying to convince you of anything. I’ve been in love with Paul for nearly a year. Once he realizes he loves me, too, we’ll be married.”

Joe’s mouth slanted in a wry line and he seemed about to argue with her. Cait waylaid any attempt by glancing pointedly at her watch. “Shouldn’t we be leaving?”

After a long moment, Joe said, “Yes, I suppose we should,” in a mild, neutral voice.

Cait went to the hall closet for her coat, aware with every step she took that Joe was watching her. She turned back to smile at him, but somehow the smile didn’t materialize. His blue eyes met hers, and she found his look disturbing—caressing, somehow, and intimate.

Joe helped her on with her coat and led her to the parking lot, where he’d left his car. Another surprise awaited her. It wasn’t a four-wheel-drive truck, but a late sixties black convertible in mint condition.

The restaurant was one of the most respected in Seattle, with a noted chef and a reputation for excellent seafood. Cait chose grilled salmon and Joe ordered Cajun shrimp.

“Do you remember the time Martin and I decided to open our own business?” Joe asked, as they sipped a predinner glass of wine.

Cait did indeed recall that summer. “You might have been a bit more ingenious. A lemonade stand wasn’t the world’s most creative enterprise.”

“Perhaps not, but we were doing a brisk business until an annoying eight-year-old girl ruined everything.”

Cait wasn’t about to let that comment pass. “You were using moldy lemons and covering the taste with too much sugar. Besides, it’s unhealthy to share paper cups.”

Joe chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “I should’ve known then that you were nothing but trouble.”

“It seems to me the whole mess was your own fault. You boys wouldn’t listen to me. I had to do something before someone got sick on those lemons.”

“Carrying a picket sign that read ‘Talk to me before you buy this lemonade’ was a bit drastic even for you, don’t you think?”

“If anything, it brought you more business,” Cait said dryly, recalling how her plan had backfired. “All the boys in the neighborhood wanted to see what contaminated lemonade tasted like.”

“You were a damn nuisance, Cait. Own up to it.” He smiled and Cait sincerely doubted that any woman could argue with him when he smiled full-force.

“I most certainly was not! If anything you two were—”

“Disgusting, I believe, was your favorite word for Martin and me.”

“And you did your level best to live up to it,” she said, struggling to hold back a smile. She reached for a breadstick and bit into it to disguise her amusement. She’d always enjoyed rankling Martin and Joe, though she’d never have admitted it, especially at the age of eight.

“Picketing our lemonade stand wasn’t the worst trick you ever pulled, either,” Joe said mischievously.

Cait had trouble swallowing. She should have been prepared for this. If he remembered her complaints about the lemonade stand, he was sure to remember what had happened once Betsy McDonald found out about the kissing incident.

“It wasn’t a trick,” Cait protested.

“But you told everyone at school that I’d kissed you—even though you’d promised not to.”

“Not exactly.” There was a small discrepancy that needed clarification. “If you think back you’ll remember you said I couldn’t tell anyone I’d been inside the fort. You didn’t say anything about the kiss.”

Joe frowned darkly as if attempting to jog his memory. “How can you remember details like that? All of this happened years ago.”

“I remember everything,” Cait said grandly—a gross exaggeration. She hadn’t recognized Joe, after all. But on this one point she was absolutely clear. “You and Martin were far more concerned that I not tell anyone about going inside the fort. You didn’t say a word about keeping the kiss a secret.”

“But did you have to tell Betsy McDonald? That girl had been making eyes at me for weeks. As soon as she learned I’d kissed you instead of her, she was furious.”

“Betsy was the most popular girl in school. I wanted her for my friend, so I told.”

“And sold me down the river.”

“Would an apology help?” Confident he was teasing her once again, Cait gave him her most charming smile.

“An apology just might do it.” Joe grinned back, a grin that brightened his eyes to a deeper, more tantalizing shade of blue. It was with some difficulty that Cait pulled her gaze away from his.

“If Betsy liked you,” she asked, smoothing the linen napkin across her lap, “then why didn’t you kiss her? She’d probably have let you. You wouldn’t have had to bribe her with your precious baseball cards, either.”

“You’re kidding. If I kissed Betsy McDonald I might as well have signed over my soul,” Joe said, continuing the joke.

“Even as mere children, men are afraid of commitment,” Cait said solemnly.

Joe ignored her remark.

“Your memory’s not as sharp as you think,” Cait felt obliged to tell him, enjoying herself more than she’d thought possible.

Once again, Joe overlooked her comment. “I can remember Martin complaining about how you’d line up your dolls in a row and teach them school. Once you even got him to come in as a guest lecturer. Heaven knew what you had to do to get him to play professor to a bunch of dolls.”

“I found a pair of dirty jeans stuffed under the sofa with something dead in the pocket. Mom would have tanned his hide if she’d found them, so Martin owed me a favor. Then he got all bent out of shape when I collected it. He didn’t seem the least bit appreciative that I’d saved him.”

“Good old Martin,” Joe said, shaking his head. “I swear he was as big on ceremony as you were. Marrying us was a turning point in his life. From that point on, he started carting a Bible around with him the way some kids do a slingshot. Right in his hip pocket. If he wasn’t burying something, he was holding revival meetings. Remember how he got in a pack of trouble at school for writing ‘God loves you, ask Martin’ on the back wall of the school?”

“I remember.”

“I sort of figured he might become a missionary.”

“Martin?” She gave an abrupt laugh. “Never. He likes his conveniences. He doesn’t even go camping. Martin’s idea of roughing it is doing without valet service.”

She expected Joe to chuckle. He did smile at her attempted joke, but that was all. He seemed to be studying her the same way she’d been studying him.

“You surprise me,” Joe announced suddenly.

“I do? Am I a disappointment to you?”

“Not at all. I always thought you’d grow up and have a passel of children yourself. You used to haul those dolls of yours around with you everywhere. If Martin and I were too noisy, you’d shush us, saying the babies were asleep. If we wanted to play in the backyard, we couldn’t because you were having a tea party with your dolls. It was enough to drive a ten-year-old boy crazy. But if we ever dared complain, you’d look at us serenely and with the sweetest smile tell us we had to be patient because it was for the children.”

“I did get carried away with all that motherhood business, didn’t I?” Joe’s words stirred up uncomfortable memories, the same ones she’d entertained earlier that afternoon. She really did love children. Yet, somehow, without her quite knowing how, the years had passed and she’d buried the dream. Nowadays she didn’t like to think too much about a husband and family—the life that hadn’t happened. It haunted her at odd moments.

“I should have known you’d end up in construction,” she said, switching the subject away from herself.

“How’s that?” Joe asked.

“Wasn’t it you who built the fort?”

“Martin helped.”

“Sure, by staying out of the way.” She grinned. “I know my brother. He’s a marvel with people, but please don’t ever give him a hammer.”

Their dinner arrived, and it was as delicious as Cait had expected, although by then she was enjoying herself so much that even a plateful of dry toast would have tasted good. They drank two cups of cappuccino after their meal, and talked and laughed as the hours melted away. Cait couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much.

When at last she glanced at her watch, she was shocked to realize it was well past ten. “I had no idea it was so late!” she said. “I should get home.” She had to be up by five.

Joe took care of the bill and collected her coat. When they walked outside, the December night was clear and chilly, with a multitude of stars twinkling brightly above.

“Are you cold?” he asked as they waited for the valet to deliver the car.

“Not at all.” Nevertheless, he placed his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close.

Cait didn’t protest. It felt natural for this man to hold her close.

His car arrived and they drove back to her apartment building in silence. When he pulled into the parking lot, she considered inviting him in for coffee, then decided against it. They’d already drunk enough coffee, and besides, they both had to work the following morning. But more important, Joe might read something else into the invitation. He was an old friend. Nothing more. And she wanted to keep it that way.

She turned to him and smiled softly. “I had a lovely time. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome, Cait. We’ll do it again.”

Cait was astonished to realize how appealing another evening with Joseph Rockwell was. She’d underestimated him.

Or had she?

“There’s something else I’d like to try again,” he was saying, his eyes filled with devilry.

“Try again?” she repeated. “What?”

He slid his arm behind her and for a breathless moment they looked at each other. “I don’t know if I’ve got a chance without trading a few baseball cards, though.”

Cait swallowed. “You want to kiss me?”

He nodded. His eyes seemed to grow darker, more intense. “For old times’ sake.” His hand caressed the curve of her neck, his thumb moving slowly toward the scented hollow of her throat.

“Well, sure. For old times’ sake.” She was astonished at the way her heart was reacting to the thought of Joe holding her…kissing her.

His mouth began a slow descent toward hers, his warm breath nuzzling her skin.

“Just remember,” she whispered when his mouth was about to settle over hers. Her hands gripped his lapels. “Old times’…”

“I’ll remember,” he said as his lips came down on hers.

She sighed and slid her hands up his solid chest to link her fingers at the base of his neck. The kiss was slow and thorough. When it was over, Cait’s hands were clutching his collar.

Joe’s fingers were in her hair, tangled in the short, soft curls, cradling the back of her head.

A sweet rush of joy coursed through her veins. Cait felt a bubbling excitement, a burst of warmth, unlike anything she’d ever known before.

Then he kissed her a second time…

“Just remember…” she repeated when he pulled his mouth from hers and buried it in the delicate curve of her neck.

He drew in several ragged breaths before asking, “What is it I’m supposed to remember?”

“Yes, oh, please, remember.”

He lifted his head and rested his hands lightly on her shoulders, his face only inches from hers. “What’s so important you don’t want me to forget?” he whispered.

It wasn’t Joe who was supposed to remember; it was Cait. She didn’t realize she’d spoken out loud. She blinked, uncertain, then tilted her head to gaze down at her hands, anywhere but at him. “Oh…that I’m in love with Paul.”

There was a moment of silence. An awkward moment. “Right,” he answered shortly. “You’re in love with Paul.” His arms fell away and he released her.

Cait hesitated, uneasy. “Thanks again for a wonderful dinner.” Her hand closed around the door handle. She was eager now to make her escape.

“Any time,” he said flippantly. His own hands gripped the steering wheel.

“I’ll see you soon.”

“Soon,” he echoed. She climbed out of the car, not giving Joe a chance to come around and open the door for her. She was aware of him sitting in the car, waiting until she’d unlocked the lobby door and stepped inside. She hurried down the first-floor hall and into her apartment, turning on the lights so he’d know she’d made it safely home.

Then she removed her coat and carefully hung it in the closet. When she peeked out the window, she saw that Joe had already left.

Lindy was at her desk working when Cait arrived the next morning. Cait smiled at her as she hurried past, but didn’t stop to indulge in conversation.

Cait could feel Lindy’s gaze trailing after her and she knew her friend was disappointed that she hadn’t told her about the dinner date with Joe Rockwell.

Cait didn’t want to talk about it. She was afraid that if she said anything to Lindy, she wouldn’t be able to avoid mentioning the kiss, which was a subject she wanted to avoid at all costs. She wouldn’t be able to delay her friend’s questions forever, but Cait wanted to put them off until at least the end of the day. Longer, if possible.

What a fool she’d been to let Joe kiss her. It had seemed so right at the time, a natural conclusion to a delightful evening.

The fact that she’d let him do it without even making a token protest still confused her. If Paul happened to hear about it, he might think she really was interested in Joe. Which, of course, she wasn’t.

Her boss was a man of principle and integrity—and altogether a frustrating person to fall in love with. Judging by his reaction to her dinner with Joe, he seemed immune to jealousy. Now if only she could discover a way of letting him know how she felt…and spark his interest in the process!

The morning was hectic. Out of the corner of her eye, Cait saw Joe arrive. Although she was speaking to an important client on the phone, she stared after him as he approached the burly foreman. She watched Joe remove a blueprint from a long, narrow tube and roll it open so two other men could study it. There seemed to be some discussion, then the foreman nodded and Joe left, without so much as glancing in Cait’s direction.

That stung.

At least he could have waved hello. But if he wanted to ignore her, well, fine. She’d do the same.

The market closed on the up side, the Dow Jones industrial average at 2600 points after brisk trading. The day’s work was over.

As Cait had predicted, Lindy sought her out almost immediately.

“So how’d your dinner date go?”

“It was fun.”

“Where’d he take you? Sam’s Bar and Grill as you thought?”

“Actually, no,” she said, clearing her throat, feeling more than a little foolish for having suggested such a thing. “He took me to Henry’s.” She announced it louder than necessary, since Paul was strolling into the office just then. But for all the notice he gave her, she might as well have been fresh paint drying on the office wall.

“Henry’s,” Lindy echoed. “He took you to Henry’s? Why, that’s one of the best restaurants in town. It must have cost him a small fortune.”

“I wouldn’t know. My menu didn’t list any prices.”

“You’re joking. No one’s ever taken me anyplace so fancy. What did you order?”

“Grilled salmon.” She continued to study Paul for some clue that he was listening in on her and Lindy’s conversation. He was seated at his desk, reading a report on short-term partnerships as a tax advantage. Cait had read it earlier in the week and had recommended it to him.

“Was it wonderful?” Lindy pressed.

It took Cait a moment to realize her friend was quizzing her about the dinner. “Excellent. The best fish I’ve had in years.”

“What did you do afterward?”

Cait looked back at her friend. “What makes you think we did anything? We had dinner, talked, and then he drove me home. Nothing more happened. Understand? Nothing.”

“If you say so,” Lindy said, eyeing her suspiciously. “But you’re certainly defensive about it.”

“I just want you to know that nothing happened. Joseph Rockwell is an old friend. That’s all.”

Paul glanced up from the report, but his gaze connected with Lindy’s before slowly progressing to Cait.

“Hello, Paul,” Cait greeted him cheerfully. “Are Lindy and I disturbing you? We’d be happy to go into the hallway if you’d like.”

“No, no, you’re fine. Don’t worry about it.” He looked past them to the doorway and got to his feet. “Hello, Rockwell.”

“Am I interrupting a meeting?” Joe asked, stepping into the office as if it didn’t really matter whether he was or not. His hard hat was back in place, along with the dusty jeans and the tool pouch. And yet Cait had no difficulty remembering last night’s sophisticated dinner companion when she looked at him.

“No, no,” Paul answered, “we were just chatting. Come on in. Problems?”

“Not really. But there’s something I’d like you to take a look at in the other room.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Joe threw Cait a cool smile as he strolled past. “Hello, Cait.”

“Joe.” Her heart was pounding hard, and that was ridiculous. It must have been due to embarrassment, she told herself. Joe was a friend, a boy from the old neighborhood; just because she’d allowed him to kiss her didn’t mean there was—or ever would be—anything romantic between them. The sooner she made him understand this, the better.

“Joe and Cait went out to dinner last night,” Lindy said pointedly to Paul. “He took her to Henry’s.”

“How nice,” Paul commented, clearly more interested in troubleshooting with Joe than discussing Cait’s dating history.

“We had a good time, didn’t we?” Joe asked Cait.

“Yes, very nice,” she responded stiffly.

Joe waited until Paul was out of the room before he stepped back and dropped a kiss on her cheek. Then he announced loudly enough for everyone in the vicinity to hear, “You were incredible last night.”