Home for the Holidays (9 page)

He give her a listless smile. “Come in, Cait. Now is fine.” He gestured toward a chair.

She hurried into the office, trying to keep the bounce out of her step. Knowing she'd be spending a few extra minutes alone with Paul, Cait had taken special care with her appearance that morning.

He glanced up and smiled at her again, but this time Cait thought she could see a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes. “What can I do for you? I hope you're pleased with your office.” He frowned slightly.

For a second, she forgot what she was doing in Paul's office and stared at him blankly until his own gaze fell to the folder. “The office looks great,” she said quickly. “Um, the reason I'm here…” She faltered, then gulped in a quick breath and continued, “I went through some of the business journals I have at home and found several articles I felt would interest you.” She extended the folder to him, like a ceremonial offering.

He took it from her and opened it gingerly. “Gracious,”
he said, flipping through the pages and scanning her written comments, “you must've spent hours on this.”

“It was…nothing.” She'd willingly have done a good deal more to gain his appreciation and eventually his love.

“I won't have a chance to look at this for a few days,” he said.

“Oh, please, there's no rush. You happened to mention you got some useful insights from the previous article I gave you. So I thought I'd share a few others that seem relevant to what's going on with the market now.”

“It's very thoughtful of you.”

“I was happy to do it. More than happy,” she amended with her most brilliant smile. When he didn't say anything more, Cait rose reluctantly to her feet. “You must be swamped after being in meetings for most of the day, so I'll leave you now.”

She was almost at the door when he spoke. “Actually I only dropped in to the office to collect a few things before heading out again. I've got an important date this evening.”

Cait felt as if the floor had suddenly disappeared and she was plummeting through empty space. “Date?” she repeated before she could stop herself. It was a struggle to keep smiling.

Paul's grin was downright boyish. “Yes, I'm meeting her for dinner.”

“In that case, have a good time.”

“Thanks, I will,” he returned confidently, his eyes alight with excitement. “Oh, and by the way,” he added, indicating the folder she'd worked so hard on, “thanks for all the effort you put into this.”

“You're…welcome.”

By the time Cait got back to her office she felt numb. Paul had an important date. It wasn't as though she'd expected him to live the life of a hermit, but before today, he'd never mentioned going out with anyone. She might have suspected he'd thrown out the information hoping to make her jealous if it hadn't been for one thing. He seemed genuinely thrilled about this date. Besides, Paul wasn't the kind of man to resort to pretense.

“Cait, my goodness,” Lindy said, strolling into her office a while later, “what's wrong? You look dreadful.”

Cait tried to swallow the lump in her throat and managed a shaky smile. “I talked to Paul and gave him the research I'd done.”

“He didn't appreciate it?” Lindy picked up the Christmas wreath that lay on Cait's desk and pinned it to the door.

“I'm sure he did,” she replied. “What he doesn't appreciate is me. I might as well be invisible to that man.” She pushed the hair away from her forehead and braced both elbows on her desk, feeling totally disheartened. Unless she acted quickly, she was going to lose Paul to some faceless, nameless woman.

“You've been invisible to him before. What's different about this time?” Lindy fastened a silver bell to the window as Cait abstractedly fingered her three ceramic wise men.

“Paul's got a date, and from the way he talked about it, this isn't with just any woman, either. Whoever she is must be important, otherwise he wouldn't have said anything. He looked like a little kid who's been given the keys to a candy store.”

The information seemed to surprise Lindy as much as
it had Cait. She was quiet for a few minutes before she asked, “What are you going to do about it?”

“I don't know,” Cait cried, hiding her face in her hands. She'd once jokingly suggested to Joe that she parade around naked in an effort to gain Paul's attention. Of course she'd been exaggerating, but some form of drastic action was obviously needed. If only she knew what.

Lindy mumbled an excuse and left. It wasn't until Cait looked up that she realized her friend was gone. She sighed wearily. She'd arrived at work this morning with such bright expectations, and now everything had gone wrong. She felt more depressed than she'd been in a long time. She knew the best remedy would be to force herself into some physical activity. Anything. The worst possible thing she could do was sit home alone and mope. Maybe she should plan to buy herself a Christmas tree and some ornaments. Her spirits couldn't help being at least a little improved by that; it would get her out of the house, if nothing else. And then she'd have something to entertain herself with, instead of brooding about this unexpected turn of events. Getting out of the house had an added advantage. If Joe phoned, she wouldn't be there to answer.

No sooner had that thought passed through her mind when a large form filled her doorway.

Joe.

A bright orange hard hat was pushed back on his head, the way movie cowboys wore their Stetsons. His boots were dusty and his tool pouch rode low on his hip, completing the gunslinger image. Even the way he stood with his thumbs tucked in his belt suggested he was waiting for a showdown.

“Hi, beautiful,” he drawled, giving her that lazy, intimate smile of his. The one designed, Cait swore, just to unnerve her. But it wasn't going to work, not in her present state of mind.

“Don't you have anyone else to pester?” she asked coldly.

“My, my,” Joe said, shaking his head in mock chagrin. Disregarding her lack of welcome, he strode into the office and threw himself down in the chair beside her desk. “You're in a rare mood.”

“You would be too after the day I've had. Listen, Joe. As you can see, I'm poor company. Go flirt with the receptionist if you're trying to make someone miserable.”

“Those claws are certainly sharp this afternoon.” He ran his hands down the front of his shirt, pretending to inspect the damage she'd inflicted. “What's wrong?” Some of the teasing light faded from his eyes as he studied her.

She sent him a look meant to blister his ego, but as always Joe seemed invincible against her practiced glares.

“How do you know I'm not here to invest fifty thousand dollars?” he demanded, making himself at home by reaching across her desk for a pen. He rolled it casually between his palms.

Cait wasn't about to fall for this little game. “Are you here to invest money?”

“Not exactly. I wanted to ask you to—”

“Then come back when you are.” She grabbed a stack of papers and slapped them down on her desk. But being rude, even to Joe, went against her nature. She was battling tears and the growing need to explain her behavior, apologize for it, when he rose to his feet. He tossed the pen carelessly onto her desk.

“Have it your way. If asking you to join me to look for a Christmas tree is such a terrible crime, then—”

“You're going to buy a Christmas tree?”

“That's what I just said.” He flung the words over his shoulder as he strode out the door.

In that moment, Cait felt as though the whole world was tumbling down around her shoulders. She felt like such a shrew. He'd come here wanting to include her in his Christmas preparations and she'd driven him away with a spiteful tongue and a haughty attitude.

Cait wasn't a woman easily given to tears, but she struggled with them now. Her lower lip started to quiver. She might have been eight years old all over again—this was like the day she'd found out she wasn't invited to Betsy McDonald's birthday party. Only now it was Paul doing the excluding. He and this important woman of his were going out to have the time of their lives while she stayed home in her lonely apartment, suffering from a serious case of self-pity.

Gathering up her things, Cait thrust the papers into her briefcase with uncharacteristic negligence. She put on her coat, buttoned it quickly and wrapped the scarf around her neck as though it were a hangman's noose.

Joe was talking to his foreman, who'd been unobtrusively working around the office all day. He hesitated when he saw her, halting the conversation. Cait's eyes briefly met his and although she tried to disguise how regretful she felt, she obviously did a poor job of it. He took a step toward her, but she raised her chin a notch, too proud to admit her feelings.

She had to walk directly past Joe on her way to the elevator and forced herself to look anywhere but at him.

The stocky foreman clearly wanted to resume the discussion, but Joe ignored him and stared at Cait instead, with narrowed, assessing eyes. She could feel his questioning concern as profoundly as if he'd touched her. When she could bear it no longer, she turned to face him, her lower lip quivering uncontrollably.

“Cait,” he called out.

She raced for the elevator, fearing she'd burst into tears before she could make her grand exit. She didn't bother to respond, knowing that if she said anything she'd make a greater fool of herself than usual. She wasn't even sure what had prompted her to say the atrocious things to Joe that she had. He wasn't the one who'd upset her, yet she'd unfairly taken her frustrations out on him.

She should've known it would be impossible to make a clean getaway. She almost ran through the office, past the reception desk, toward the elevator.

“Aren't you going to answer me?” Joe demanded, following on her heels.

“No.” She concentrated on the lighted numbers above the elevator, which moved with painstaking slowness. Three more floors and she could make her escape.

“What's so insulting about inviting you to go Christmas-tree shopping?” he asked.

Close to weeping, she waved her free hand, hoping he'd understand that she was incapable of explaining just then. Her throat was clogged and it hurt to breathe, let alone talk. Her eyes filled with tears, and everything started to blur.

“Tell me,” he commanded a second time.

Cait gulped at the tightness in her throat. “Y-you wouldn't understand.” Why, oh why, wouldn't that elevator hurry?

“Try me.”

It was either give in and explain, or stand there and argue. The first choice was easier; frankly, Cait didn't have the energy to fight with him. Sighing deeply, she began, “It—it all started when I made up this folder of business articles for Paul…”

“I might've known Paul had something to do with this,” Joe muttered under his breath.

“I spent hours putting it together, adding little comments, and…and…I don't know what I expected but it wasn't…”

“What happened? What did Paul do?”

Cait rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “If you're going to interrupt me, then I can't see any reason to explain.”

“Boss?” the foreman called out, sounding impatient.

Just then the elevator arrived and the doors opened, revealing half a dozen men and women. They stared out at Cait and Joe as he blocked the entrance, gripping her by the elbow.

“Joseph,” she hissed, “let me go!” Recognizing her advantage, she called out, “This man refuses to release my arm.” If she expected a knight in shining armor to leap to her rescue, Cait was to be sorely disappointed. It was as if no one had heard her.

“Don't worry, folks, we're married.” Joe charmed them with another of his lazy, lopsided grins.

“Boss?” the foreman pleaded again.

“Take the rest of the day off,” Joe shouted. “Tell the crew to go out and buy Christmas gifts for their wives.”

“You want me to do
what?
” the foreman shouted back. Joe moved into the elevator with Cait.

“You heard me.”

“Let me make sure I understand you. You want the men to go Christmas shopping for their wives? I thought you just said we're on a tight schedule?”

“That's right,” Joe said loudly as the elevator doors closed.

Cait had never felt more conspicuous in her life. Every eye was focused on her and Joe, and it was all she could do to keep her head high.

When the tension became intolerable, Cait turned to face her fellow passengers. “We are not married,” she announced.

“Yes, we are,” Joe insisted. “She's simply forgotten.”

“I did not forget our marriage and don't you dare tell them that cock-and-bull story about amnesia.”

“But, darling—”

“Stop it right now, Joseph Rockwell! No one believes you. I'm sure these people can figure out that I'm the one who's telling the truth.”