Trading Christmas (17 page)

“Um, it goes back a few years.”

“All right. Start there.”

“Remember how kids sometimes do silly things? Like when you're young and foolish and don't know any better?”

“Me, yes, but not you,” Lindy said calmly. “You're perfect. In all the time we've been friends, I haven't seen you do one
impulsive thing. Not one. You analyze everything before you act. I can't imagine you ever doing anything silly.”

“I did once,” Cait told her, “but I was only eight.”

“What could you have possibly done at age eight?”

“I…I got married.”

“Married?” Lindy half rose from her chair. “You've got to be kidding.”

“I wish I was.”

“I'll bet a week's commissions that your husband's name is Joe.” Lindy was smiling now, smiling widely.

Cait nodded and tried to smile in return.

“What's there to worry about? Good grief, kids do that sort of thing all the time! It doesn't mean anything.”

“But I was a real brat about it. Joe and my brother, Martin, were best friends. Joe wanted to know what it felt like to kiss a girl, and I insisted he marry me first. If that wasn't bad enough, I pressured them into performing the ceremony inside their boys-only fort.”

“So, you were a bit of pain—most eight-year-old girls are when it comes to dealing with their brothers. He got what he wanted, didn't he?”

Cait took a deep breath and nodded again.

“What was kissing him like?” Lindy asked in a curiously throaty voice.

“Good heavens, I don't remember,” Cait answered shortly, then reconsidered. “I take that back. As I recall, it wasn't so bad, though obviously neither one of us had any idea what we were doing.”

“Lindy, you're still here,” Paul said as he strolled into the office. He inclined his head briefly in Cait's direction, but she had the impression he barely saw her. He'd hardly been around in the past couple of days—almost as if he was pur
posely avoiding her, she mused, but that thought was too painful to contemplate.

“I was just finishing up,” Lindy said, glancing guiltily toward Cait. “We both were.”

“Fine, fine, I didn't mean to disturb you. I'll see you two in the morning.” A second later, he was gone.

Cait gazed after him with thinly disguised emotion. She waited until Paul was well out of range before she spoke. “He's so blind. What do I have to do, hit him over the head?”

“Quit being so negative,” Lindy admonished. “You're going to be sharing an office with him for another five days. Do whatever you need to make darn sure he notices you.”

“I've tried,” Cait murmured, discouraged. And she had. She'd tried every trick known to woman, with little success.

Lindy left the office before her. Cait gathered up some stock reports to read that evening and stacked them neatly inside her leather briefcase. What Lindy had said about her being methodical and careful was true. It was also a source of pride; those traits had served her clients well.

To Cait's dismay, Joe followed her. “So,” he said, smiling down at her, apparently oblivious to the other people clustering around the elevator. “Who have you been kissing these days?”

Hot color rose instantly to her face. Did he have to humiliate her in public?

“I could find myself jealous, you know.”

“Would you kindly stop,” she whispered furiously, scowling at him. Her hand tightened around the handle of her briefcase so hard her fingers ached.

“You figured it out?”

She nodded, her eyes darting to the lighted numbers above the elevator door, praying it would make its descent in record time instead of pausing on each floor.

“The years have been good to you.”

“Thank you.”
Please hurry,
she urged the elevator.

“I never would've believed Martin's little sister would turn out to be such a beauty.”

If he was making fun of her, she didn't appreciate it. She was attractive, she knew that, but she certainly wasn't waiting for anyone to place a tiara on her head. “Thank you,” she repeated grudgingly.

He gave an exaggerated sigh. “How are our children doing? What were their names again?” When she didn't answer right away, he added, “Don't tell me you've forgotten.”

“Barbie and Ken,” she muttered under her breath.

“That's right. I remember now.”

If Joe hadn't drawn the attention of her co-workers before, he had now. Cait could have sworn every single person standing by the elevator turned to stare at her. The hope that no one was interested in their conversation was forever lost.

“Just how long do you intend to tease me about this?” she snapped.

“That depends,” Joe responded with a chuckle Cait could only describe as sadistic. She gritted her teeth. He might have found the situation amusing, but she derived little enjoyment from being the office laughingstock.

Just then the elevator arrived, and not a moment too soon to suit Cait. The instant the doors slid open, she stepped toward it, determined to get as far away from this irritating man as possible.

He quickly caught up with her and she swung around to face him, her back ramrod stiff. “Is this really necessary?” she hissed, painfully conscious of the other people crowding into the elevator ahead of her.

He grinned. “I suppose not. I just wanted to see if I could
get a rise out of you. It never worked when we were kids, you know. You were always so prim and proper.”

“Look, you didn't like me then and I see no reason for you to—”

“Not
like
you?” he countered loudly enough for everyone in the building to hear. “I married you, didn't I?”

C
ait's heart seemed to stop. She realized that not only the people on the elevator but everyone left in the office was staring at her with unconcealed interest. The elevator was about to close and she quickly stepped forward, stretching out her arms to hold the doors open. She felt like Samson balanced between two marble columns.

“It's not the way it sounds,” she felt obliged to explain in a loud voice, her gaze pleading.

No one made eye contact with her and, desperate, she turned to Joe, sending him a silent challenge to retract his words. His eyes were sparkling with mischief. If he did say anything, Cait thought in sudden horror, it was bound to make things even worse.

There didn't seem to be anything to do but tell the truth. “In case anyone has the wrong impression, this man and I are not married,” she shouted. “Good grief, I was only eight!”

There was no reaction. It was as if she'd vanished into thin
air. Defeated, she dropped her arms and stepped back, freeing the doors, which promptly closed.

Ignoring the other people on the elevator—who were carefully ignoring her—Cait clenched her hands into hard fists and glared up at Joe. Her face tightened with anger. “That was a rotten thing to do,” she whispered hoarsely.

“What? It's true, isn't it?” he whispered back.

“You're being ridiculous to talk as though we're married!”

“We were once. It wounds me that you treat our marriage so lightly.”

“I…it wasn't legal.” The fact that they were even discussing this was preposterous. “You can't possibly hold me responsible for something that happened so long ago. To play this game now is…is infantile, and I refuse to be part of it.”

The elevator finally came to a halt on the ground floor and, eager to make her escape, Cait rushed out. Straightening to keep her dignity intact, she headed through the crowded foyer toward the front doors. Although it was midafternoon, dusk was already setting in, casting dark shadows between the towering office buildings.

Cait reached the first intersection and sighed in relief as she glanced around her. Good. No sign of Joseph Rockwell. The light was red and she paused, although others hurried across the street after checking for traffic; Cait always felt obliged to obey the signal.

“What do you think Paul's going to say when he hears about this?” Joe asked from behind her.

Cait gave a start, then turned to look at her tormenter. She hadn't thought about Paul's reaction. Her throat seemed to constrict, rendering her speechless, otherwise she would have demanded Joe leave her alone. But he'd raised a question she dared not ignore. Paul might hear about her so-called
former relationship with Joe and might even think there was something between them.

“You're in love with him, aren't you?”

She nodded. At the very mention of Paul's name, her knees went weak. He was everything she wanted in a man and more. She'd been crazy about him for months and now it was all about to be ruined by this irritating, unreasonable ghost from her past.

“Who told you?” Cait snapped. She couldn't imagine Lindy betraying her confidence, but Cait hadn't told anyone else.

“No one had to tell me,” Joe said. “It's written all over you.”

Shocked, Cait stared at Joe, her heart sinking. “Do…do you think Paul knows how I feel?”

Joe shrugged. “Maybe.”

“But Lindy said…”

The light changed and, clasping her elbow, Joe urged her into the street. “What was it Lindy said?” he prompted when they'd crossed.

Cait looked up, about to tell him, when she realized exactly what she was doing—conversing with her antagonist. This was the very man who'd gone out of his way to embarrass and humiliate her in front of the entire office staff. Not to mention assorted clients and carpenters.

She stiffened. “Never mind what Lindy said. Now if you'll kindly excuse me…” With her head high, she marched down the sidewalk. She hadn't gone more than a few feet when the hearty sound of Joe's laughter caught up with her.

“You haven't changed in twenty years, Caitlin Marshall. Not a single bit.”

Gritting her teeth, she marched on.

 

“Do you think Paul's heard?” Cait asked Lindy the instant she had a free moment the following afternoon. The New
York Stock Exchange had closed for the day and Cait hadn't seen Paul since morning. It looked like he really
was
avoiding her.

“I wouldn't know,” Lindy said as she typed some figures into her computer. “But the word about your childhood marriage has spread like wildfire everywhere else. It's the joke of the day. What did you and Joe do? Make a public announcement before you left the office yesterday afternoon?”

It was so nearly the truth that Cait guiltily lowered her eyes. “I didn't say a word,” she defended herself. “Joe was the one.”

“He told everyone you were married?” A suspicious tilt at the corner of her mouth betrayed Lindy's amusement.

“Not exactly. He started asking about our children in front of everyone.”

“There were children?”

Cait resisted the urge to close her eyes and count to ten. No. I brought my dolls to the wedding. Listen, I don't want to rehash a silly incident that happened years ago. I'm more afraid Paul's going to hear about it and put the wrong connotation on the whole thing. There's absolutely nothing between me and Joseph Rockwell. More than likely Paul won't give it a second thought, but I don't want there to be any…doubts between us, if you know what I mean.”

“If you're so worried about it, talk to him,” Lindy advised without lifting her eyes from the screen. “Honesty is the best policy, you know that.”

“Yes, but it could prove to be a bit embarrassing, don't you think?”

“Paul will respect you for telling him the truth before he hears the rumors from someone else. Frankly, Cait, I think you're making a fuss over nothing. It isn't like you've committed a felony, you know.”

“I realize that.”

“Paul will probably be amused, like everyone else. He's not going to say anything.” She looked up quickly, as though she expected Cait to try yet another argument.

Cait didn't. Instead she mulled over her friend's advice, gnawing on her lower lip. “You might be right. Paul will respect me for explaining the situation myself, instead of ignoring everything.” Telling him the truth could be helpful in other respects, too, now that she thought about it.

If Paul had any feeling for her whatsoever, and oh, how she prayed he did, then he might become just a little jealous of her relationship with Joseph Rockwell. After all, Joe was an attractive man in a rugged outdoor sort of way. He was tall and muscular and, well, good-looking. The kind of good-looking that appealed to women—not Cait, of course, but other women. Hadn't Lindy commented almost immediately on how attractive he was?

“You're right,” Cait said, walking resolutely toward the office she was temporarily sharing with Paul. Although she'd felt annoyed at first about being shuffled out of her own space, she'd come to think of this inconvenience as a blessing in disguise. However, she had to admit she'd been disappointed thus far. She had assumed she'd be spending a lot of time alone with him. That hadn't happened yet.

The more Cait considered the idea of a heart-to-heart talk with her boss, the more appealing it became. As was her habit, she mentally rehearsed what she wanted to say to him, then gave herself a small pep talk.

“I don't remember that you talked to yourself.” The male voice booming behind her startled Cait. “But then there's a great deal I've missed over the years, isn't there, Caitlin?”

Cait was so rattled she nearly stumbled. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “Why are you following me
around? Can't you see I'm busy?” He was the last person she wanted to confront just now.

“Sorry.” He raised both hands in a gesture of apology contradicted by his twinkling blue eyes. “How about lunch later?”

He was teasing. He had to be. Besides, it would be insane for her to have anything to do with Joseph Rockwell. Heaven only knew what would happen if she gave him the least bit of encouragement. He'd probably hire a skywriter and announce to the entire city that they'd married as children.

“It shouldn't be that difficult to agree to a luncheon date,” he informed her coolly.

“You're serious about this?”

“Of course I'm serious. We have a lot of years to catch up on.” His hand rested on his leather pouch, giving him a rakish air of indifference.

“I've got an appointment this afternoon…” She offered the first plausible excuse she could think of; it might be uninspired but it also happened to be true. She'd made plans to have lunch with Lindy.

“Dinner then. I'm anxious to hear what Martin's been up to.”

“Martin,” she repeated, stalling for time while she invented another excuse. This wasn't a situation she had much experience with. She did date, but infrequently.

“Listen, bright eyes, no need to look so concerned. This isn't an invitation to the senior prom. It's one friend to an other. Strictly platonic.”

“You won't mention…our wedding to the waiter? Or any one else?”

“I promise.” As if to offer proof of his intent, he licked the end of his index finger and crossed his heart. “That was Martin's and my secret pledge sign. If either of us broke our
word, the other was entitled to come up with a punishment. We both understood it would be a fate worse than death.”

“I don't need any broken pledge in order to torture you, Joseph Rockwell. In two days you've managed to turn my life into—” She paused midsentence as Paul Jamison casually strolled past. He waved in Cait's direction and smiled benignly.

“Hello, Paul,” she called out, weakly raising her right hand. He looked exceptionally handsome this morning in a three-piece dark blue suit. The contrast between him and Joe, who was wearing dust-covered jeans, heavy boots and a tool pouch, was so striking that Cait had to force herself not to stare at her boss. If only Paul had been the one to invite her to dinner…

“If you'll excuse me,” she said politely, edging her way around Joe and toward Paul, who'd gone into his office. Their office. The need to talk to him burned within her. Words of explanation began to form themselves in her mind.

Joe caught her by the shoulders, bringing her up short. Cait gasped and raised shocked eyes to his.

“Dinner,” he reminded her.

She blinked, hardly knowing what to say. “All right,” she mumbled distractedly and recited her address, eager to have him gone.

“Good. I'll pick you up tonight at six.” With that he released her and stalked away.

After taking a couple of moments to compose herself, Cait headed toward the office. “Hello, Paul,” she said, standing just inside the doorway. “Do you have a moment to talk?”

He glanced up from a file on his desk. “Of course, Cait. Sit down and make yourself comfortable.”

She moved into the room, closing the door behind her. When she looked back at Paul, he'd cocked his eyebrows in surprise. “Problems?” he asked.

“Not exactly.” She pulled out the chair opposite his desk and slowly sat down. Now that she had his full attention, she was at a loss. All her prepared explanations and witticisms had flown out of her head. “The rate on municipal bonds has been extremely high lately,” she said nervously.

Paul agreed with a quick nod. “They have been for several months now.”

“Yes, I know. That's what makes them such excellent value.” Cait had been selling bonds heavily in the past few weeks.

“You didn't close the door to talk to me about bonds,” Paul said softly. “What's troubling you, Cait?”

She laughed uncomfortably, wondering how a man could be so astute in one area and so blind in another. If only he'd reveal some emotion toward her. Anything. All he did was sit across from her and wait. He was cordial enough, gracious even, but there was no hint of anything more. Nothing to give Cait any hope that he was starting to care for her.

“It's about Joseph Rockwell.”

“The contractor who's handling the remodeling?”

Cait nodded. “I knew him years ago when we were just children.” She glanced at Paul, whose face remained blank. “We were neighbors. In fact Joe and my brother, Martin, were best friends. Joe moved out to the suburbs when he and Martin were in the sixth grade and I hadn't heard anything from him since.”

“It's a small world, isn't it?” Paul remarked affably.

“Joe and Martin were typical young boys,” she said, rushing her words a little in her eagerness to have this out in the open. “Full of tomfoolery and pranks.”

“Boys will be boys,” Paul said without any real enthusiasm.

“Yes, I know. Once—” she forced a light laugh “—they actually involved me in one of their crazy schemes.”

“What did they put you up to? Robbing a bank?”

She somehow managed a smile. “Not exactly. Joe—I always called him Joseph back then, because it irritated him. Anyway, Joe and Martin had this friend named Pete who was a year older and he'd spent part of his summer vacation visiting his aunt in Peoria. I think it was Peoria…. Anyway he came back bragging about having kissed a girl. Naturally Martin and Joe were jealous and as you said, boys will be boys, so they decided that one of them should test it out and see if kissing a girl was everything Pete claimed it was.”

“I take it they decided to make you their guinea pig.”

“Exactly.” Cait slid to the edge of the chair, pleased that Paul was following this rather convoluted explanation. “I was eight and considered something of a…pest.” She paused, hoping Paul would make some comment about how impossible that was. When he didn't, she continued, a little let down at his restraint. “Apparently I was more of one than I remembered,” she said, with another forced laugh. “At eight, I didn't think kissing was something nice girls did, at least not without a wedding band on their finger.”