Home for the Holidays (8 page)

The lights dimmed and Cait reached for a handful of popcorn, relaxing in her seat. “I love this movie.”

“How many times have you seen it?”

“Five or six. But it's been a few years.”

“Me, too.” Joe relaxed beside her, crossing his long legs and leaning back.

The credits started to roll, but the noise level hadn't decreased much. “Will the kids bother you?” Joe wanted to know.

“Heavens, no. I love kids.”

“You do?” The fact that he was so surprised seemed vaguely insulting and Cait frowned.

“We've already had this discussion,” she responded, licking the salt from her fingertips.

“We did? When?”

“The other day. You commented on how much I used to enjoy playing with my dolls and how you'd expected me to be married with a house full of children.” His words had troubled her then, because “a house full of children” was exactly what Cait would have liked, and she seemed a long way from realizing her dream.

“Ah, yes, I remember our conversation about that now.”
He scooped up a large handful of popcorn. “You'd be a very good mother, you know.”

That Joe would say this was enough to bring an unexpected rush of tears to her eyes. She blinked them back, annoyed that she'd get weepy over something so silly.

The previews were over and the audience settled down as the movie started. Cait focused her attention on the screen, munching popcorn every now and then, reaching blindly for the bucket. Their hands collided more than once and almost before she was aware of it, their fingers were entwined. It was a peaceful sort of feeling, being linked to Joe in this way. There was a
rightness
about it that she didn't want to explore just yet. He hadn't really changed; he was still lovable and funny and fun. For that matter, she hadn't changed very much, either….

The movie was as good as Cait remembered, better, even—perhaps because Joe was there to share it with her. She half expected him to make the occasional wisecrack, but he seemed to respect the artistic value of the classic animation and, judging by his wholehearted laughter, he enjoyed the story.

When the show was over, he released Cait's hand. Hurriedly she gathered her purse and coat. As they walked out of the noisy, crowded theater, it seemed only natural to hold hands again.

Joe opened the truck, lifted down the step stool and helped her inside. Dusk came early these days, and bright, cheery lights were ablaze on every street. A vacant lot across the street was now filled with Christmas trees. A row of red lights was strung between two posts, sagging in the middle, and a portable CD player sent forth saccharine versions of better-known Christmas carols.

“Have you bought your tree yet?” Joe asked, nodding in the direction of the lot after he'd climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine.

“No. I don't usually put one up since I spend the holidays with Martin and his family.”

“Ah.”

“What about you? Or is that something else you save for Christmas Eve?” she joked. It warmed her a little to imagine Joe staying up past midnight to decorate a Christmas tree for his nieces and nephews.

“Finding time to do the shopping is bad enough,” he said, not really answering her question.

“Your construction projects keep you that busy?” She hadn't given much thought to Joe's business. She knew from remarks Paul had made that Joe was very successful. It wasn't logical that she should feel pride in his accomplishments, but she did.

“Owning a business isn't like being in a nine-to-five job. I'm on call twenty-four hours a day, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I love what I do.”

“I'm happy for you, Joe. I really am.”

“Happy enough to decorate my Christmas tree with me?”

“When?”

“Next weekend.”

“I'd like to,” she told him, touched by the invitation, “but I'll have left for Minnesota by then.”

“That's all right,” Joe said, grinning at her. “Maybe next time.”

She turned, frowning, to hide her blush.

They remained silent as he concentrated on easing the truck into the heavy late-afternoon traffic.

“I enjoyed the movie,” she said some time later, resist
ing the urge to rest her head on his shoulder. The impulse to do that arose from her exhaustion, she told herself. Nothing else!

“So did I,” he said softly. “Only next time, I'll be the one to pay. Understand?”

Next time.
There it was again. She suspected Joe was beginning to take their relationship, such as it was, far too seriously. Already he was suggesting they'd be seeing each other soon, matter-of-factly discussing dates and plans as if they were longtime companions. Almost as if they were married…

She was mulling over this realization when Joe pulled into the parking area in front of her building. He climbed out and began to gather her packages, bundling them in his arms. She managed to scramble down by herself, not giving him a chance to help her, then she led the way into the building and unlocked her door.

Cait stood just inside the doorway and turned slightly to take a couple of the larger packages from Joe's arms.

“I had a great time,” she told him briskly.

“Me, too.” He nudged her, forcing her to enter the living room. He followed close behind and unloaded her remaining things onto the sofa. His presence seemed to reach out and fill every corner of the room.

Neither of them spoke for several minutes, but Cait sensed Joe wanted her to invite him to stay for coffee. The idea was tempting but dangerous. She mustn't let him think there might ever be anything romantic between them. Not when she was in love with Paul. For the first time in nearly a year, Paul was actually beginning to notice her. She refused to ruin everything now by becoming involved with Joe.

“Thank you for…today,” she said, returning to the door,
intending to open it for him. Instead, Joe caught her by the wrist and pulled her against him. She was in his arms before she could voice a protest.

“I'm going to kiss you,” he told her, his voice rough yet strangely tender.

“You are?” She'd never been more aware of a man, of his hard, muscular body against hers, his clean, masculine scent. Her own body reacted in a chaotic scramble of mixed sensations. Above all, though, it felt
good
to be in his arms. She wasn't sure why and dared not examine the feeling.

Slowly, leisurely, he lowered his head. She made a soft weak sound as his mouth touched hers.

Cait sighed, forgetting for a moment that she meant to free herself before his kiss deepened. Before things went any further…

Joe must have sensed her resolve because his hands slid down her spine in a gentle caress, drawing her even closer. His mouth began a sensuous journey along her jaw, and down her throat—

“Joe!” She moaned his name, uncertain of what she wanted to say.

“Hmm?”

“Are you hungry again?” She wondered desperately if there were any more bread sticks in the bottom of her purse. Maybe that would convince him to stop.

“Very hungry,” he told her, his voice low and solemn. “I've never been hungrier.”

“But you had lunch and then you ate nearly all the popcorn.”

He slowly raised his head. “Cait, are we talking about the same things here? Oh, hell, what does it matter? The
only thing that matters is this.” He covered her parted lips with his.

Cait felt her knees go weak and sagged against him, her fingers gripping his jacket as though she expected to collapse any moment. Which was becoming a distinct possibility as he continued to kiss her….

“Joe, no more, please.” But she was the one clinging to him. She had to do something, and fast, before her ability to reason was lost entirely.

He drew an unsteady breath and muttered something she couldn't decipher as his lips grazed the delicate line of her jaw.

“We…need to talk,” she announced, keeping her eyes tightly closed. If she didn't look at Joe, then she could concentrate on what she had to do.

“All right,” he agreed.

“I'll make a pot of coffee.”

With a heavy sigh, Joe abruptly released her. Cait half fell against the sofa arm, requiring its support while she collected herself enough to walk into the kitchen. She unconsciously reached up and brushed her lips, as if she wasn't completely sure even now that he'd taken her in his arms and kissed her.

He hadn't been joking this time, or teasing. The kisses they'd shared were serious kisses. The type a man gives a woman he's strongly attracted to. A woman he's interested in developing a relationship with. Cait found herself shaking, unable to move.

“You want me to make that coffee?” he suggested.

She nodded and sank down on the couch. She could scarcely stand, let alone prepare a pot of coffee.

Joe returned a few minutes later, carrying two steam
ing mugs. Carefully he handed her one, then sat across from her on the blue velvet ottoman.

“You wanted to talk?”

Cait nodded. “Yes.” Her throat felt thick, clogged with confused emotion, and forming coherent words suddenly seemed beyond her. She tried gesturing with her free hand, but that only served to frustrate Joe.

“Cait,” he asked, “what's wrong?”

“Paul.” The name came out in an eerie squeak.

“What about him?”

“He phoned me.”

“Yes, I know. You already told me that.”

“Don't you understand?” she cried, her throat unexpectedly clearing. “Paul is finally showing some interest in me and now you're kissing me and telling anyone who'll listen that the two of us are married and you're doing ridiculous things like…” She paused to draw in a deep breath. “Joe, oh please, Joe, don't fall in love with me.”

“Fall in love with you?” he echoed incredulously. “Caitlin, you can't be serious. It won't happen. No chance.”

“N
o chance?” Cait repeated, convinced she'd misunderstood him. She blinked a couple of times as if that would correct her hearing. Either Joe was underestimating her intelligence, or he was more of a…a cad than she'd realized.

“You have nothing to worry about.” He sipped coffee, his gaze steady and emotionless. “I'm not falling in love with you.”

“In other words you make a habit of kissing unsuspecting women.”

“It isn't a habit,” he answered thoughtfully. “It's more of a pastime.”

“You certainly seem to be making a habit of it with me.” Her anger was quickly gaining momentum and she was at odds to understand why she found his casual attitude so offensive. He was telling her exactly what she wanted to hear. But she hadn't expected her ego to take such a beating in the process. The fact that he wasn't the least bit tempted to fall in love with her should have pleased her.

It didn't.

It was as if their brief kisses were little more than a pleasant interlude for him. Something to occupy his time and keep him from growing bored with her company.

“This may come as a shock to you,” Joe continued indifferently, “but a man doesn't have to be in love with a woman to kiss her.”

“I know that,” Cait snapped, fighting to hold back her temper, which was threatening to break free at any moment. “But you don't have to be so…so casual about it, either. If I wasn't involved with Paul, I might have taken you seriously.”

“I didn't know you were involved with Paul,” he returned with mild sarcasm. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, his pose infuriatingly relaxed. “If that was true I'd never have taken you out. The way I see it, the involvement is all on your part. Am I wrong?”

“No,” she admitted reluctantly. How like a man to bring up semantics in the middle of an argument!

“So,” he said, leaning back again and crossing his legs. “Are you enjoying my kisses? I take it I've improved from the first go-around.”

“You honestly want me to rate you?” she sputtered.

“Obviously I'm much better than I was as a kid, otherwise you wouldn't be so worried.” He took another drink of his coffee, smiling pleasantly all the while.

“Believe me, I'm not worried.”

He arched his brows. “Really?”

“I'm sure you expect me to fall at your feet, overcome by your masculine charm. Well, if that's what you're waiting for, you'll have one hell of a long wait!”

His grin was slightly off center, as if he was picturing
her arrayed at his feet—and enjoying the sight. “I think the problem here is that
you
might be falling in love with
me
and just don't know it.”

“Falling in love with you and not know it?” she repeated with a loud disbelieving snort. “You've gone completely out of your mind. There's no chance of that.”

“Why not? Plenty of women have told me I'm a handsome son of a gun. Plus, I'm said to possess a certain charm. Heaven knows, I'm generous enough and rather—”

“Who told you that? Your mother?” She made it sound like the most ludicrous thing she'd heard in years.

“You might be surprised to learn that I do have admirers.”

Why this news should add fuel to the fire of her temper was beyond Cait, but she was so furious with him she could barely sit still. “I don't doubt it, but if I fall in love with a man you can believe it won't be just because he's ‘a handsome son of a gun,'” she quoted sarcastically. “Look at Paul—he's the type of man I'm attracted to. What's on the inside matters more than outward appearances.”

“Then why are you so worried about falling in love with me?”

“I'm not worried! You've got it the wrong way around. The only reason I mentioned anything was because I thought
you
were beginning to take our times together too seriously.”

“I already explained that wasn't a problem.”

“So I heard.” Cait set her coffee aside. Joe was upsetting her so much that her hand was shaking hard enough to spill it.

“Well,” Joe murmured, glancing at her. “You never did answer my question.”

“Which one?” she asked irritably.

“About how I rated as a kisser.”

“You weren't serious!”

“On the contrary.” He set his own coffee down and raised himself off the ottoman far enough to clasp her by the waist and pull her into his lap.

Caught off balance, Cait fell onto his thighs, too astonished to struggle.

“Let's try it again,” he whispered in a rough undertone.

“Ah…” A frightening excitement took hold of Cait. Her mind commanded her to leap away from this man, but some emotion, far stronger than common sense or prudence, urged the opposite.

Before she could form a protest, Joe bent toward her and covered her mouth with his. She'd hold herself stiff in his arms, that was what she'd do, teach him the lesson he deserved. How dared he assume she'd automatically fall in love with him. How dared he insinuate he was some…some Greek god all women adored. But the instant his lips met hers, Cait trembled with a mixture of shock and profound pleasure.

Everything within her longed to cry out at the unfairness of it all. It shouldn't be this good with Joe. They were friends, nothing more. This was the kind of response she expected when Paul kissed her. If he ever did.

She meant to pull away, but instead, Cait moaned softly. It felt so incredibly wonderful. So incredibly right. At that moment, there didn't seem to be anything to worry about—except the likelihood of dissolving in his arms then and there.

Suddenly Joe broke the contact. Her instinctive disappointment, even more than the unexpectedness of the action, sent her eyes flying open. Her own dark eyes met his blue ones, which now seemed almost aquamarine.

“So, how do I rate?” he murmured thickly, as though he was having trouble speaking.

“Good.” A one-word reply was all she could manage, although she was furious with him for asking.

“Just good?”

She nodded forcefully.

“I thought we were better than that.”

“We?”

“Naturally I'm only as good as my partner.”

“Th-then how do you rate me?” She had to ask. Like a fool she handed him the ax and laid her neck on the chopping board. Joe was sure to use the opportunity to trample all over her ego, to turn the whole bewildering experience into a joke. She couldn't take that right now. She dropped her gaze, waiting for him to devastate her.

“Much improved.”

She cocked one eyebrow in surprise. She had no idea what to say next.

They were both silent. Then he said softly, “You know, Cait, we're getting better at this. Much, much better.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “If we're not careful, you just might fall in love with me, after all.”

 

“Where were you all day Saturday?” Lindy asked early Monday morning, walking into Cait's office. The renovations to it had been completed late Friday and Cait had moved everything back into her office first thing this morning. “I must have tried calling you ten times.”

“I told you I was going Christmas shopping. In fact, I bought some decorations for my office.”

Lindy nodded. “But all day?” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she set down her briefcase and leaned against
Cait's desk, crossing her arms. “You didn't happen to be with Joe Rockwell, did you?”

Cait could feel a telltale shade of pink creeping up her neck. She lowered her gaze to the list of current Dow Jones stock prices and took a moment to compose herself. She couldn't admit the truth. “I told you I was shopping,” she said somewhat defensively. Then, in an effort to change the topic, she reached for a thick folder with Paul's name inked across the top and muttered, “You wouldn't happen to know Paul's schedule for the day, would you?”

“N-no, I haven't seen him yet. Why do you ask?”

Cait flashed her friend a bright smile. “He phoned me Friday night. Oh, Lindy, I was so excited I nearly fell all over myself.” She dropped her voice as she glanced around to make sure none of the others could hear her. “I honestly think he intends to ask me out.”

“Did he say so?”

“Not exactly.” Cait frowned. Lindy wasn't revealing any of the enthusiasm she expected.

“Then why did he phone?”

Cait rolled her chair away from the desk and glanced around once again. “I think he might be jealous,” she whispered.

“Really?” Lindy's eyes widened.

“Don't look so surprised.” Cait, however, was much too excited recounting Paul's phone call to be offended by Lindy's attitude.

“What makes you think Paul would be jealous?” Lindy asked next.

“Maybe I'm magnifying everything in my own mind because it's what I so badly want to believe. But he did phone…”

“What did he say?” Lindy pressed, sounding more curious now. “It seems to me he must have had a reason.”

“Oh, he did. He mentioned something about appreciating an article I'd given him, but we both know that was just an excuse. What clued me in to his jealousy was the way he kept asking if I was alone.”

“But that could've been for several different reasons, don't you think?” Lindy suggested.

“Yes, but it made sense that he'd want to know if Joe was at the apartment or not.”

“And was he?”

“Of course not,” Cait said righteously. She didn't feel guilty about hiding the fact that he'd been there earlier, or that they'd spent nearly all of Saturday together. “I'm sure Joe's ridiculous remark when I left the office on Friday is what convinced Paul to phone me. If I wasn't so furious with Joe, I might even be grateful.”

“What's that?” Lindy asked abruptly, pointing to the folder in front of Cait. Her lips had thinned slightly as if she was confused or annoyed—about what, Cait couldn't figure out.

“This, my friend,” she began, holding up the folder, “is the key to my future with our dedicated manager.”

Lindy didn't immediately respond and looked more puzzled than before. “How do you mean?”

Cait couldn't get over the feeling that things weren't quite right with her best friend; she seemed to be holding something back. But Cait realized Lindy would tell her when she was ready. Lindy always hated being pushed or prodded.

“The folder?” Lindy prompted when Cait didn't answer.

Cait flipped it open. “I spent all day Sunday reading
through old business journals looking for articles that might interest Paul. I must've gone back five years. I copied the articles I consider the most valuable and included a brief analysis of my own. I was hoping to give it to him sometime today. That's why I was asking if you knew his schedule.”

“Unfortunately I don't,” Lindy murmured. She straightened, picked up her briefcase and made a show of checking her watch. Then she looked up to smile reassuringly at Cait. “I'd better get to work. I'll come by later to help you put up your decorations, okay?”

“Thanks,” Cait said, then added, “Wish me luck with Paul.”

“You know I do,” Lindy mumbled on her way out the door.

Mondays were generally slow for the stock market—unless there was a crisis. World events and financial reports had a significant impact on the market. However, as the day progressed, everything ran smoothly.

Cait looked up every now and then, half expecting to see Joe lounging in her doorway. His men had started early that morning, but by noon, Joe still hadn't arrived.

Not until much later did she realize it was Paul she should be anticipating, not Joe. Paul was the romantic interest of her life and it annoyed her that Joe seemed to occupy her thoughts.

As it happened, Paul did stroll past her office shortly after the New York market closed. Grabbing the folder, Cait raced toward his office, not hesitating for an instant. This was her golden opportunity and she was taking hold of it with both hands.

“Good afternoon, Paul,” she said cordially as she stood
in his doorway, clutching the folder. “Do you have a moment or would you rather I came back later?”

He looked tired, as if the day had already been a grueling one. It was all Cait could do not to offer to massage away the stress and worry that complicated his life. Her heart swelled with a renewed wave of love. For a wild, impetuous moment, it was true, she'd suffered her doubts. Any woman would have when a man like Joe took her in his arms. He might be arrogant in the extreme and one of the worst pranksters she'd ever met; despite all that, he had a certain charm. But now that she was with Paul, Cait remembered sharply who it was she really loved.

“I don't want to be a bother,” she told him softly.