Only You (4 page)

When K.C. came in at one-thirty, Max discovered that it wasn’t just him after all. K.C., a tall, gangly teenage boy, burst through the office door with a whoop. He grabbed Caitlin and swung her around while yelling something about a girl named Diana and Friday night. No sooner had he set Caitlin down than Max saw her run a trembling hand through her hair.

“Goodness, K.C.!” she exclaimed with a smile, even though Max could swear to a slight tremor in her voice. “You want to calm down and say it in plain English?”

“She said, yes, Caitlin. We’re going out Friday night.”

“That’s terrific. Where are you going to take her?”

“Gosh, I hadn’t thought about that.” He paused, frowning. “It’ll have to be someplace kinda classy, but not too classy. Don’t want it to look like I’m showing off, you know. Maybe we could go to the …” Still muttering to himself, he stalked through the office door and headed toward the back of the greenhouse.

“Hey, wait!” Caitlin called after him. “How’s your mom feeling?” K.C. was Martha’s son.

“Better,” he hollered back.

Caitlin turned to Max with an apologetic shrug. “Sorry about the interruption. But K.C. has had a crush on Diana since he met her last summer. This date is the culmination of a year’s worth of work.” She reached up a hand and absently scratched the back of her neck. “Anyway, let’s get back to this.”

While Max went over a rudimentary filing system, his brain busily catalogued a new fact about Ms. Caitlin Alexandra Love. It wasn’t just that she disliked being touched. He’d met a few people before who simply disliked too-familiar physical contact. No, Caitlin feared it. Max was taken aback by the way this made him feel—fiercely protective of her and violently angry at who or what had caused her to become this way.

He kept casting covert glances at her, and every time she met his eye, she squirmed uncomfortably and rubbed her arms. He made her nervous—or so it seemed to him until she reached across to get a pencil, and he saw angry red patches beginning to show on her forearms. “Good Lord!” he exclaimed as he leaned over and grasped the arm she was carelessly scratching. “What’s this?”

Caitlin looked down and, even though she’d been expecting it, blinked when she saw the characteristic blotches of hives all over her left arm. She’d been so engrossed listening to Max that she’d hardly noticed the itching had started. “Oh, um”—she tried without success to extricate her arm from his hold—“it’s nothing. Just hives.”

“Just hives? It looks awful. Don’t you have anything to put on it?”

“I have some cream in my purse. I’ll just get it and—”

Without releasing her, Max snared the shoulder strap of her purse from her chair. He hauled it across the desk and unceremoniously dumped the contents out, zeroing in on the tube of prescription cream. He released her arm only long enough to uncap the tube and squeeze a generous amount into the palm of his hand. Grabbing her arm again, he began to apply the cream in long, smooth strokes.

“No, I’ll put it on,” Caitlin said quickly, but he ignored her and continued to massage in the cream. Her skin tingled everywhere he touched it and her left hand and wrist felt peculiarly weak and languid. Her breath seemed to catch in her throat. As a matter of fact, she couldn’t take a normal breath at all until Max let go of her arm.

She drew in air only to have it catch again when Max took the other arm into his gentle hands and began to apply the cream. The characteristic panic that normally set in at close contact loomed its ugly head, but subsided under the almost mesmerizing rhythm of his stroking.

It felt so good, so right to touch her, Max thought hazily as his hands caressed her forearms. And whether she knew it or not, she was a
woman who needed to be touched often. But in the right way and by the right man. And
he
was the right man.

Shocked by what he was thinking, he released her abruptly. “I, uh, think I’ll go outside for a few minutes and walk around. It’s got to be cooler out there than in here.”

Yeah, in more ways than one, Caitlin thought, absently running her fingers over the arm he’d been caressing. No, she corrected herself, he’d been massaging in allergy cream. If his touch had felt unusually good, it was only because the cream was so cool and soothing. With a decisive nod Caitlin turned and picked up the telephone, now easily found on the cleared desk.

She was in the middle of a detailed conversation when Max reentered the office. Her eyes met his and she paused in the middle of a sentence, then made a concerted effort to get her scattered thoughts back together. “Um, I beg your pardon, Luther, could you repeat that last price again?”

She hastily scribbled something on a scrap of paper. “Well, thanks, and if you come across a source on the Salix alba, give me a call.… No, I don’t want the Salix purpurea.… Well, because my customer doesn’t want the purpurea.… Let’s face it, Luther, in our line of work you give the customer what he wants, and what he wants is the alba.… Thanks again.”

“May I ask what Salix alba is?”

She made an effort not to meet his gaze again. “It’s willow bark. White willow, to be precise. It’s used for medicinal purposes.”

“What for?” Max sounded skeptical.

“For pain relief.”

“Why not take an aspirin?” Max asked reasonably.

“Willow bark contains salicin, which converts to salicylic acid in the body. Salicylic acid is the major component in aspirin.”

“So, why not take an aspirin?” Max repeated.

“Because,” Caitlin explained patiently, “some people don’t want man-made chemicals cluttering up their bodies.”

“Is this what you take when you have a headache?”

“No.” Smiling, Caitlin finally looked up at him. “I take aspirin.”

Max gave an answering grin, then sobered and murmured, “You know, you’re one beautiful lady when you smile.” He reached out a hand and ran it down her cheek.

Caitlin’s smile faltered, then faded altogether under his scrutiny. Without thinking, she pressed her cheek into his palm and ran her tongue over her lips, all the while gazing into his eyes. Such a blue, she thought. Robin’s-egg blue, periwinkle blue … She trailed off as she saw the message in his eyes. He was going to kiss her. His head tilted to one side as his hand cupped her cheek, his thumb running over her bottom lip.

She felt her breasts swell and tingle, and a strange warmth pooled in her abdomen. Wordlessly, she waited, mesmerized by the sudden flame that sparked to life in his gaze. But as he bent his head toward hers, that old familiar demon she’d lived with for seven years loomed in her mind. Its dark shadow blotted out everything but the fear that always lurked nearby.

Her sharply indrawn breath and the sudden stiffening of her body let Max know he’d moved too
fast. Someday, sweet Cait, he thought. Someday soon. He let his hand drop and said with a studied casualness, “Well, I need to be going now. I have to check back in at the office before it gets too late. Did you need the address of that office supply warehouse we discussed?”

At Caitlin’s bemused nod he fished through his wallet and pulled out a card. “Ask for Donald and tell him you’re there at my recommendation. He’ll give you a discount. See you on Monday.” Max gave a jaunty smile and left, feeling pleased with his acting ability.

In total bewilderment Caitlin stared at the doorway he’d just walked through. Had she read him wrong? She must have, because she could have sworn he’d intended to kiss her. She leaned back against the edge of the desk, her heart still pounding, and shook her head, torn between relief and disappointment. What a strange man, she thought. Strange and nerve-racking. And intriguing.

“That’ll be fine. See you then.” Caitlin hung up the telephone and smiled at the receiver. It was certainly kind of Max to offer to run by her house with some papers for her to sign. With dawning horror she looked down at herself. Not only was her house a disaster, but so was she. She’d been working in her yard and was hot and sweaty and dirty.

Why hadn’t he called when she and Jordan had just gotten home from Sunday school a couple of hours earlier, perfectly groomed and dressed to the hilt? Now she looked like somebody’s disreputable kid brother, in torn jeans, baggy sweatshirt, and dilapidated sneakers. Grass stains, garden soils, and a fine layer of the pulverized lime she’d been applying to her lawn covered almost all of her.

She didn’t have time to clean both the house and herself, so which would it be? Caitlin thought of her living room. At one end of the sofa, a stack of laundry sat, waiting to be put away. The Sunday paper was strewn across the coffee table and
the floor—whatever floor space wasn’t covered with Lego building bricks—and at least two dirty juice glasses cluttered the top of a dusty television.

Then Caitlin glanced down at herself and made her decision. The living room would just have to look lived in.

Caitlin hastily put away her yard tools and hurried to the bathroom. “Jordie?” she called out as she turned on the shower. “Come down to the living room and scrape up your Legos and put them away. Okay?”

“Aw, Mom, I’m building something. Can’t I do it later?”

“Jordie, please. Mr. Shore is dropping by in a little while. He’s not used to kids. He’ll kill himself walking across the living room. Now, get them up, okay?”

“But Mom—”

“Jordan Reynolds Love, I said now, please.” Caitlin waited until she heard grudging footsteps coming down the stairs before closing the bathroom door and hurriedly stepping into the shower.

She was toweling her hair dry when she heard Jordan’s muffled voice through the door. “I can’t hear you, honey,” she called. “I’ll be out in a minute.” Tucking a towel securely around her, she opened the door and walked into the living room. “Jordan? What—?” She stopped short.

Seated on the sofa, Max had been surveying the cluttered surroundings, and when he saw Caitlin his mouth went dry. Lord, she was beautiful all over. Her damp hair hung in burnished gold ringlets, giving her a little-girl look. The full breasts straining at the towel were anything but a little girl’s, however. And her legs—beautiful legs,
gorgeous legs, legs meant to be wrapped around a man’s waist.

Her skin was the color of rich cream and shone with thousands of water droplets that were like dew on a white rose, Max thought. A sharp pang of hunger shot through him, bringing him to his feet. “Caitlin,” he began, then stopped at the dry husky sound of his voice.

“What are you doing here?” Caitlin squeaked. “You’re early.” Then she added, “Where’s Jordan?”

“He, ah, said to tell you he was going to get Jerry and show him my car phone.” Max’s eyes fastened with hungry fascination on the rosy blush that began at the top of her breasts and spread rapidly up her cheeks. He reached out a hand to trace the path of an errant drop of water that slid sinuously down over her collarbone.

Breathlessly Caitlin looked down and watched his fingers. Licking suddenly dry lips, she stepped away. “Well, if you’ll excuse me,” Caitlin said with as much dignity as she could muster under the circumstances, “I’ll go get dressed.”

A smile, both boyish and wicked, lit Max’s face. “Oh, don’t bother on my account.”

“I’m doing it on my own account,” Caitlin muttered as she walked down the hall to her bedroom. “I don’t want to catch a chill from the draft.”

When Caitlin entered the living room a few minutes later, she wore white cotton slacks—just so he’d know she didn’t always wear jeans—and a yellow scoop-neck T-shirt. Yellow clips held her damp hair back from her face. She hoped she looked as poised and collected as he did in his navy suit, white shirt, and burgundy striped tie.
Didn’t he ever wear anything but suits? Caitlin found herself wondering.

Still preoccupied with remembering what Caitlin had looked like a few minutes before, Max hardly noticed what she wore now. He’d better think about her in that towel later, in private, he realized as the fit of his trousers became a little less comfortable. He shifted position.

“Ah, Caitlin …” He paused as his mind searched desperately for the reason he’d dropped by. Oh, yeah. “I have a copy of our standard contract for you to sign. The fee we discussed is listed on the second page. If you’d like to take a day or two to go over it with your attorney, please feel free.” And if you want to take a year or two to go over anything at all with me, feel free to do that too, he found himself thinking wistfully.

Caitlin wasn’t in the frame of mind to go over important business details. She couldn’t give them the attention they needed when Max Shore and the look in his eye preoccupied her. A hot flicker in the blue depths said that he remembered exactly how she appeared less clothed. And that he approved wholeheartedly.

She wondered fancifully how Max would look wrapped in only a towel. His usually conservative hair would be mussed, and the curls of hair on his chest would be glistening with water droplets. An arrow of hair would disappear under the edge of the towel and…

She took a deep breath. “I believe I will,” she said quickly. “I mean, I’d like to have my attorney look it over.” Not that she had an attorney, but if Max thought she should have one, then so be it.

Caitlin got to her feet and stepped over to the front door. “Well, thank you, Mr. Shore, er, Max,
for bringing these by. I’ll have them ready for you in a day or two,” she said in a tone of dismissal, then paused, waiting for him to take the hint and leave.

Max leaned back on the sofa, crossing his arms and looking quite at home. “As long as you’re up,” he said, “could I have a glass of water? It’s quite warm today, don’t you think?”

Caitlin took another deep breath to calm her nerves. “Perhaps you’d like iced tea or fruit juice instead,” she offered, managing to sound courteous but cool.

“Great,” Max said with a smile. “Either one. I’m not picky.” He could see through her transparent attempt to get rid of him. He had news for her. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Disgruntled, Caitlin walked into the kitchen. She’d have thought he’d have taken the hint. He wasn’t so dense that the hint escaped him. He was so pigheaded he chose to ignore it.

“Either one. I’m not picky,” she mimicked as she squeezed a slice of lemon into his tea. He was so stubborn! she thought as she absently squeezed another slice of lemon. She’d done everything but ask him to leave, but he’d apparently decided to get on her nerves instead. She squeezed a third slice, then a fourth, puzzling over how one man could be so irritating.