Home for the Holidays (10 page)

The elevator finally stopped on the ground floor, a fact for which Cait was deeply grateful. The doors glided open and two women stepped out first, but not before pausing to get a good appreciative look at Joe.

“Does she do this often?” one of the men asked, directing his question to Joe, his amusement obvious.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he answered, chuckling as he tucked his hand under Cait's elbow and led her into the foyer. She tried to jerk her arm away, but he wouldn't allow it. “You see, I married a forgetful bride.”

P
acing the carpet in the living room, Cait nervously smoothed the front of her red satin dress, her heart pumping furiously while she waited for Joe to arrive. She'd spent hours preparing for this Christmas party, which was being held in Paul's home. Her stomach was in knots.

She,
the mysterious woman Paul was dating, would surely be there. Cait would have her first opportunity to size up the competition. Cait had studied her reflection countless times, trying to be objective about her chances with Paul based on looks alone. The dress was gorgeous. Her hair flawless. Everything else was as perfect as she could make it.

The doorbell sounded and Cait hurried across the room, throwing open the door. “You know what you are, Joseph Rockwell?”

“Late?” he suggested.

Cait pretended not to hear him. “A bully,” she said. “A badgering bully, no less. I'm sorry I ever agreed to let you take me to Paul's party. I don't know what I was thinking.”

“You were probably hoping to corner me under the mistletoe,” he remarked with a wink that implied he wouldn't be difficult to persuade.

“First you practically kidnap me into going Christmas-tree shopping with you,” she raged. “Then—”

“Come on, Cait, admit it, you had fun.” He lounged indolently on her sofa while she got her coat and purse.

She hesitated, her mouth twitching with a smile. “Who'd ever believe that a man who bought his mother a rib roast and a case of cat food for Christmas last year would be so particular about a silly tree?” Joe had dragged her to no fewer than four lots yesterday, searching for the perfect tree.

“I took you to dinner afterward, didn't I?” he reminded her.

Cait nodded. She had to admit it: Joe had gone out of his way to help her forget her troubles. Although she'd made the tree-shopping expedition sound like a chore, he'd turned the evening into an enjoyable and, yes, memorable one.

His good mood had been infectious and after a while she'd completely forgotten Paul was out with another woman—someone so special that his enthusiasm about her had overcome his normal restraint.

“I've changed my mind,” Cait decided suddenly, clasping her hands over her stomach, which was in turmoil. “I don't want to go to this Christmas party, after all.” The evening was already doomed. She couldn't possibly have a good time watching the man she loved entertain the woman
he
loved. Cait couldn't think of a single reason to expose herself to that kind of misery.

“Not go to the party?” Joe repeated. “But I thought you'd arranged your flight schedule just so you could.”

“I did, but that was before.” Cait stubbornly squared her shoulders and elevated her chin just enough to convince Joe she meant business. He might be able to bully her into going shopping with him for a Christmas tree, but this was entirely different. “
She'll
be there,” Cait added as an explanation.

“She?” Joe repeated slowly, burying his hands in his suit pockets. He was exceptionally handsome in his dark blue suit and no doubt knew it. He was as comfortable in tailored slacks as he was in dirty jeans.

A lock of thick hair slanted across his forehead; Cait managed—it was an effort—to resist brushing it back. An effort not because it disrupted his polished appearance, but because she had the strangest desire to run her fingers through his hair. Why she'd think such a thing now was beyond her. She'd long since stopped trying to figure out her feelings for Joe. He was a friend and a confidant even if, at odd moments, he behaved like a lunatic. Just remembering some of the comments he'd made to embarrass her brought color to her cheeks.

“I'd imagine you'd want to meet her,” Joe challenged. “That way you can size her up.”

“I don't even want to know what she looks like,” Cait countered sharply. She didn't need to. Cait already knew everything she cared to about Paul's hot date. “She's beautiful.”

“So are you.”

Cait gave a short, derisive laugh. She wasn't discounting her own homespun appeal. She was reasonably attractive, and never more so than this evening. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she was pleased to see how nice her hair looked, with the froth of curls circling
her head. But she wasn't going to kid herself, either. Her allure wasn't extraordinary by any stretch of the imagination. Her eyes were a warm shade of brown, though, and her nose was kind of cute. Perky, Lindy had once called it. But none of that mattered. Measuring herself against Paul's sure-to-be-gorgeous, nameless date was like comparing bulky sweat socks with a silk stocking. She'd already spent hours picturing her as a classic beauty…tall…sophisticated.

“I've never taken you for a coward,” Joe said in a flat tone as he headed toward the door.

Apparently he wasn't even going to argue with her. Cait almost wished he would, just so she could show him how strong her will was. Nothing he could say or do would convince her to attend this party. Besides, her feet hurt. She was wearing new heels and hadn't broken them in yet, and if she did go, she'd be limping for days afterward.

“I'm not a coward,” she told him, schooling her face to remain as emotionless as possible. “All I'm doing is exercising a little common sense. Why depress myself over the holidays? This is the last time I'll see Paul before Christmas. I leave for Minnesota in the morning.”

“Yes, I know.” Joe frowned as he said it, hesitating before he opened her door. “You're sure about this?”

“Positive.” She was mildly surprised Joe wasn't making more of a fuss. From past experience, she'd expected a full-scale verbal battle.

“The choice is yours of course,” he granted, shrugging. “But if it was me, I know I'd spend the whole evening regretting it.” He studied her when he'd finished, then gave her a smile Cait could only describe as crafty.

She groaned inwardly. If there was one thing that drove her crazy about Joe it was the way he made the most outrageous statements. Then every once in a while he'd say something so wise it caused her to doubt her own conclusions and beliefs. This was one of those times. He was right: if she didn't go to Paul's, she'd regret it. Since she was leaving for Minnesota the following day, she wouldn't be able to ask anyone about the party, either.

“Are you coming or not?” he demanded.

Grumbling under her breath, Cait let him help her on with her coat. “I'm coming, but I don't like it. Not one darn bit.”

“You're going to do just fine.”

“They probably said that to Joan of Arc, too.”

 

Cait clutched the punch glass in both hands, as though terrified someone might try to take it back. Standing next to the fireplace, with its garlanded mantel and cheerful blaze, she hadn't moved since they'd arrived a half hour earlier.

“Is
she
here yet?” she whispered to Lindy when her friend walked past carrying a tray of canapés.

“Who?”

“Paul's woman friend,” Cait said pointedly. Both Joe and Lindy were beginning to exasperate her. “I've been standing here for the past thirty minutes hoping to catch a glimpse of her.”

Lindy looked away. “I…I don't know if she's here or not.”

“Stay with me, for heaven's sake,” Cait requested, feeling shaky inside and out. Joe had deserted her almost as soon as they got there. Oh, he'd stuck around long enough to bring her a cup of punch, but then he'd drifted away,
leaving Cait to deal with the situation on her own. This was the very man who'd insisted she attend this Christmas party, claiming he'd be right by her side the entire evening in case she needed him.

“I'm helping Paul with the hors d'oeuvres,” Lindy explained, “otherwise I'd be happy to stay and chat.”

“See if you can find Joe for me, would you?” She'd do it herself, but her feet were killing her.

“Sure.”

Once Lindy was gone, Cait scanned the crowded living room. Many of the guests were business associates and clients Paul had worked with over the years. Naturally everyone from the office was there, as well.

“You wanted to see me?” Joe asked, reaching her side.

“Thank you very much,” she muttered, doing her best to sound sarcastic and keep a smile on her face at the same time.

“You're welcome.” He leaned one elbow on the fireplace mantel and grinned at her boyishly. “Might I ask what you're thanking me for?”

“Don't play games with me, Joe. Not now, please.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, drawing his attention to her shoes.

“Your feet hurt?” he asked, frowning.

“Walking across hot coals would be less painful than these stupid high heels.”

“Then why did you wear them?”

“Because they go with the dress. Listen, would you mind very much if we got off the subject of my shoes and discussed the matter at hand?”

“Which is?”

Joe was being as obtuse as Lindy had been. She as
sumed he was doing it deliberately, just to get a rise out of her. Well, it was working.

“Did you see her?” she asked with exaggerated patience.

“Not yet,” he whispered back as though they were exchanging top-secret information. “She doesn't seem to have arrived.”

“Have you talked to Paul?”

“No. Have you?”

“Not really.” Paul had greeted them at the door, but other than that, Cait hadn't had a chance to do anything but watch him mingle with his guests. The day at the office hadn't been any help, either. Paul had breezed in and out without giving Cait more than a friendly wave. Since they hadn't exchanged a single word, it was impossible for her to determine how his date had gone.

It must have been a busy day for Lindy, as well, because Cait hadn't had a chance to talk to her, either. They'd met on their way out the door late that afternoon and Lindy had hurried past, saying she'd see Cait at Paul's party.

“I think I'll go help Lindy with the hors d'oeuvres,” Cait said now. “Do you want me to get you anything?”

“Nothing, thanks.” He was grinning as he strolled away, leaving Cait to wonder what he found so amusing.

Cait limped into the kitchen, leaving the polished wooden door swinging in her wake. She stopped abruptly when she encountered Paul and Lindy in the middle of a heated discussion.

“Oh, sorry,” Cait apologized automatically.

Paul's gaze darted to Cait's. “No problem,” he said quickly. “I was just leaving.” He stalked past her, shoving the door open with the palm of his hand. Once again the door swung back and forth.

“What was that all about?” Cait wanted to know.

Lindy continued transferring the small cheese-dotted crackers from the cookie sheet onto the serving platter. “Nothing.”

“It sounded as if you and Paul were arguing.”

Lindy straightened and bit her lip. She avoided looking at Cait, concentrating on her task as if it was of vital importance to properly arrange the crackers on the plate.

“You were arguing, weren't you?” Cait pressed.

“Yes.”

As far as she knew, Lindy and Paul had always gotten along. The fact that they were at odds surprised her. “About what?”

“I—I gave Paul my two-week notice this afternoon.”

Cait was so shocked, she pulled out a kitchen chair and sank down on it. “You did
what?
” Removing her high heels, she massaged her pinched toes.

“You heard me.”

“But why? Good grief, Lindy, you never said a word to anyone. Not even me. The least you could've done was talk to me about it first.” No wonder Paul was angry. If Lindy left, it would mean bringing in someone new when the office was already short-staffed. With Cait and a number of other people away for the holidays, the place would be a madhouse.

“Did you receive an offer you couldn't refuse?” Cait hadn't had any idea her friend was unhappy at Webster, Rodale and Missen. Still, that didn't shock her nearly as much as Lindy's remaining tight-lipped about it all.

“It wasn't exactly an offer—but it was something like that,” Lindy replied vaguely. She set aside the cookie sheet, smiled at Cait and then carried the platter into the living room.

For the past couple of weeks Cait had noticed that something was troubling her friend. It hadn't been anything she could readily name. Just that Lindy hadn't been her usual high-spirited self. Cait had meant to ask her about it, but she'd been so busy herself, so involved with her own problems, that she'd never brought it up.

She was still sitting there rubbing her feet when Joe sauntered into the kitchen, nibbling on a cheese cracker. “I thought I'd find you in here.” He pulled out the chair across from her and sat down.

“Has she arrived yet?”

“Apparently so.”