Trading Christmas (19 page)

“I should have known you'd end up in construction,” she said, switching the subject away from herself.

“How's that?” Joe asked.

“Wasn't it you who built the fort?”

“Martin helped.”

“Sure, by staying out of the way.” She grinned. “I know my brother. He's a marvel with people, but please don't ever give him a hammer.”

Their dinner arrived, and it was as delicious as Cait had expected, although by then she was enjoying herself so much that even a plateful of dry toast would have tasted good. They drank two cups of cappuccino after their meal, and talked and laughed as the hours melted away. Cait couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed so much.

When at last she glanced at her watch, she was shocked to
realize it was well past ten. “I had no idea it was so late!” she said. “I should get home.” She had to be up by five.

Joe took care of the bill and collected her coat. When they walked outside, the December night was clear and chilly, with a multitude of stars twinkling brightly above.

“Are you cold?” he asked as they waited for the valet to deliver the car.

“Not at all.” Nevertheless, he placed his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close.

Cait didn't protest. It felt natural for this man to hold her close.

His car arrived and they drove back to her apartment building in silence. When he pulled into the parking lot, she considered inviting him in for coffee, then decided against it. They'd already drunk enough coffee, and besides, they both had to work the following morning. But more important, Joe might read something else into the invitation. He was an old friend. Nothing more. And she wanted to keep it that way.

She turned to him and smiled softly. “I had a lovely time. Thank you so much.”

“You're welcome, Cait. We'll do it again.”

Cait was astonished to realize how appealing another evening with Joseph Rockwell was. She'd underestimated him.

Or had she?

“There's something else I'd like to try again,” he was saying, his eyes filled with devilry.

“Try again?” she repeated. “What?”

He slid his arm behind her and for a breathless moment they looked at each other. “I don't know if I've got a chance without trading a few baseball cards, though.”

Cait swallowed. “You want to kiss me?”

He nodded. His eyes seemed to grow darker, more intense. “For old times' sake.” His hand caressed the curve of her neck,
his thumb moving slowly toward the scented hollow of her throat.

“Well, sure. For old times' sake.” She was astonished at the way her heart was reacting to the thought of Joe holding her…kissing her.

His mouth began a slow descent toward hers, his warm breath nuzzling her skin.

“Just remember,” she whispered when his mouth was about to settle over hers. Her hands gripped his lapels. “Old times'…”

“I'll remember,” he said as his lips came down on hers.

She sighed and slid her hands up his solid chest to link her fingers at the base of his neck. The kiss was slow and thorough. When it was over, Cait's hands were clutching his collar.

Joe's fingers were in her hair, tangled in the short, soft curls, cradling the back of her head.

A sweet rush of joy coursed through her veins. Cait felt a bubbling excitement, a burst of warmth, unlike anything she'd ever known before.

Then he kissed her a second time…

“Just remember…” she repeated when he pulled his mouth from hers and buried it in the delicate curve of her neck.

He drew in several ragged breaths before asking, “What is it I'm supposed to remember?”

“Yes, oh, please, remember.”

He lifted his head and rested his hands lightly on her shoulders, his face only inches from hers. “What's so important you don't want me to forget?” he whispered.

It wasn't Joe who was supposed to remember; it was Cait. She didn't realize she'd spoken out loud. She blinked, uncertain, then tilted her head to gaze down at her hands, anywhere but at him. “Oh…that I'm in love with Paul.”

There was a moment of silence. An awkward moment. “Right,” he answered shortly. “You're in love with Paul.” His arms fell away and he released her.

Cait hesitated, uneasy. “Thanks again for a wonderful dinner.” Her hand closed around the door handle. She was eager now to make her escape.

“Any time,” he said flippantly. His own hands gripped the steering wheel.

“I'll see you soon.”

“Soon,” he echoed. She climbed out of the car, not giving Joe a chance to come around and open the door for her. She was aware of him sitting in the car, waiting until she'd unlocked the lobby door and stepped inside. She hurried down the first-floor hall and into her apartment, turning on the lights so he'd know she'd made it safely home.

Then she removed her coat and carefully hung it in the closet. When she peeked out the window, she saw that Joe had already left.

 

Lindy was at her desk working when Cait arrived the next morning. Cait smiled at her as she hurried past, but didn't stop to indulge in conversation.

Cait could feel Lindy's gaze trailing after her and she knew her friend was disappointed that she hadn't told her about the dinner date with Joe Rockwell.

Cait didn't want to talk about it. She was afraid that if she said anything to Lindy, she wouldn't be able to avoid mentioning the kiss, which was a subject she wanted to avoid at all costs. She wouldn't be able to delay her friend's questions forever, but Cait wanted to put them off until at least the end of the day. Longer, if possible.

What a fool she'd been to let Joe kiss her. It had seemed so right at the time, a natural conclusion to a delightful evening.

The fact that she'd let him do it without even making a token protest still confused her. If Paul happened to hear about it, he might think she really
was
interested in Joe. Which, of course, she wasn't.

Her boss was a man of principle and integrity—and altogether a frustrating person to fall in love with. Judging by his reaction to her dinner with Joe, he seemed immune to jealousy. Now if only she could discover a way of letting him know how she felt…and spark his interest in the process!

The morning was hectic. Out of the corner of her eye, Cait saw Joe arrive. Although she was speaking to an important client on the phone, she stared after him as he approached the burly foreman. She watched Joe remove a blueprint from a long, narrow tube and roll it open so two other men could study it. There seemed to be some discussion, then the foreman nodded and Joe left, without so much as glancing in Cait's direction.

That stung.

At least he could have waved hello. But if he wanted to ignore her, well, fine. She'd do the same.

The market closed on the up side, the Dow Jones industrial average at 2600 points after brisk trading. The day's work was over.

As Cait had predicted, Lindy sought her out almost immediately.

“So how'd your dinner date go?”

“It was fun.”

“Where'd he take you? Sam's Bar and Grill as you thought?”

“Actually, no,” she said, clearing her throat, feeling more than a little foolish for having suggested such a thing. “He took me to Henry's.” She announced it louder than necessary, since Paul was strolling into the office just then. But for all
the notice he gave her, she might as well have been fresh paint drying on the office wall.

“Henry's,” Lindy echoed. “He took you to Henry's? Why, that's one of the best restaurants in town. It must have cost him a small fortune.”

“I wouldn't know. My menu didn't list any prices.”

“You're joking. No one's ever taken me anyplace so fancy. What did you order?”

“Grilled salmon.” She continued to study Paul for some clue that he was listening in on her and Lindy's conversation. He was seated at his desk, reading a report on short-term partnerships as a tax advantage. Cait had read it earlier in the week and had recommended it to him.

“Was it wonderful?” Lindy pressed.

It took Cait a moment to realize her friend was quizzing her about the dinner. “Excellent. The best fish I've had in years.”

“What did you do afterward?”

Cait looked back at her friend. “What makes you think we did anything? We had dinner, talked, and then he drove me home. Nothing more happened. Understand? Nothing.”

“If you say so,” Lindy said, eyeing her suspiciously. “But you're certainly defensive about it.”

“I just want you to know that nothing happened. Joseph Rockwell is an old friend. That's all.”

Paul glanced up from the report, but his gaze connected with Lindy's before slowly progressing to Cait.

“Hello, Paul,” Cait greeted him cheerfully. “Are Lindy and I disturbing you? We'd be happy to go into the hallway if you'd like.”

“No, no, you're fine. Don't worry about it.” He looked past them to the doorway and got to his feet. “Hello, Rockwell.”

“Am I interrupting a meeting?” Joe asked, stepping into the office as if it didn't really matter whether he was or not.
His hard hat was back in place, along with the dusty jeans and the tool pouch. And yet Cait had no difficulty remembering last night's sophisticated dinner companion when she looked at him.

“No, no,” Paul answered, “we were just chatting. Come on in. Problems?”

“Not really. But there's something I'd like you to take a look at in the other room.”

“I'll be right there.”

Joe threw Cait a cool smile as he strolled past. “Hello, Cait.”

“Joe.” Her heart was pounding hard, and that was ridiculous. It must have been due to embarrassment, she told herself. Joe was a friend, a boy from the old neighborhood; just because she'd allowed him to kiss her didn't mean there was—or ever would be—anything romantic between them. The sooner she made him understand this, the better.

“Joe and Cait went out to dinner last night,” Lindy said pointedly to Paul. “He took her to Henry's.”

“How nice,” Paul commented, clearly more interested in troubleshooting with Joe than discussing Cait's dating history.

“We had a good time, didn't we?” Joe asked Cait.

“Yes, very nice,” she responded stiffly.

Joe waited until Paul was out of the room before he stepped back and dropped a kiss on her cheek. Then he announced loudly enough for everyone in the vicinity to hear, “You were incredible last night.”

“I
thought you said nothing happened,” Lindy said, looking intently at a red-faced Cait.

“Nothing did happen.” Cait was furious enough to kick Joe Rockwell in the shins the way he deserved. How dared he say something so…so embarrassing in front of Lindy! And probably within earshot of Paul!

“But then why would he say something like that?”

“How should I know?” Cait snapped. “One little kiss and he makes it sound like—”

“He kissed you?” Lindy asked sharply, her eyes narrowing. “You just got done telling me there's nothing between the two of you.”

“Good grief, the kiss didn't mean anything. It was for old times' sake. Just a platonic little kiss.” All right, she was exaggerating a bit, but it couldn't be helped.

While she was speaking, Cait gathered her things and shoved them in her briefcase. Then she slammed the lid closed
and reached for her coat, thrusting her arms into the sleeves, her movements abrupt and ungraceful.

“Have a nice weekend,” she said tightly, not completely understanding why she felt so annoyed with Lindy. “I'll see you Monday.” She marched through the office, but paused in front of Joe.

“You wanted something, sweetheart?” he asked in a cajoling voice.

“You're despicable!”

Joe looked downright disappointed. “Not low and disgusting?”

“That, too.”

He grinned from ear to ear just the way she knew he would. “I'm glad to hear it.”

Cait bit back an angry retort. It wouldn't do any good to engage in a verbal battle with Joe Rockwell. He'd have a comeback for any insult she could hurl. Seething, Cait marched to the elevator and jabbed the button impatiently.

“I'll be by later tonight, darling,” Joe called to her just as the doors were closing, effectively cutting off any protest.

He was joking. He had to be joking. No man in his right mind could possibly expect her to invite him into her home after this latest stunt. Not even the impertinent Joe Rockwell.

Once home, Cait took a long, soothing shower, dried her hair and changed into jeans and a sweater. Friday nights were generally quiet ones for her. She was munching on pretzels and surveying the bleak contents of her refrigerator when there was a knock on the door.

It couldn't possibly be Joe, she told herself.

It
was
Joe, balancing a large pizza on the palm of one hand and clutching a bottle of red wine in the other.

Cait stared at him, too dumbfounded at his audacity to speak.

“I come bearing gifts,” he said, presenting the pizza to her with more than a little ceremony.

“Listen here, you…you fool, it's going to take a whole lot more than pizza to make up for that stunt you pulled this afternoon.”

“Come on, Cait, lighten up a little.”

“Lighten up! You…you…”

“I believe the word you're looking for is fool.”

“You have your nerve.” She dug her fists into her hips, knowing she should slam the door in his face. She would have, too, but the pizza smelled
so
good it was difficult to maintain her indignation.

“Okay, I'll admit it,” Joe said, his deep blue eyes revealing genuine contrition. “I got carried away. You're right, I am an idiot. All I can do is ask your forgiveness.” He lifted the lid of the pizza box and Cait was confronted by the thickest, most mouthwatering masterpiece she'd ever seen. The top was crowded with no less than ten tempting toppings, all covered with a thick layer of hot melted cheese.

“Do you accept my humble apology?” Joe pressed, waving the pizza under her nose.

“Are there any anchovies on that thing?”

“Only on half.”

“You're forgiven.” She took him by the elbow and dragged him inside her apartment.

Cait led the way into the kitchen. She got two plates from the cupboard and collected knives, forks and napkins as she mentally reviewed his crimes. “I couldn't believe you actually said that,” she mumbled, shaking her head. She set the kitchen table, neatly positioning the napkins after shoving the day's mail to one side. “The least you can do is tell me why you found it necessary to say that in front of Paul. Lindy had already started grilling me. Can you imagine what she and
Paul must think now?” She retrieved two wineglasses from the cupboard and set them by the plates. “I've never been more embarrassed in my life.”

“Never?” he prompted, opening and closing her kitchen drawers until he located a corkscrew.

“Never,” she repeated. “And don't think a pizza's going to ensure lasting peace.”

“I wouldn't dream of it.”

“It's a start, but you're going to owe me a long time for this prank, Joseph Rockwell.”

“I'll be good,” he promised, his eyes twinkling. He agilely removed the cork, tested the wine and then filled both glasses.

Cait jerked out a wicker-back chair and threw herself down. “Did Paul say anything after I left?”

“About what?” Joe slid out a chair and joined her.

Cait had already dished up a large slice for each of them, fastidiously using a knife to disconnect the strings of melted cheese that stretched from the box to their plates.

“About me, of course,” she growled.

Joe handed her a glass of wine. “Not really.”

Cait paused and lifted her eyes to his. “Not really? What does that mean?”

“Only that he didn't say much about you.”

Joe was taunting her, dangling bits and pieces of information, waiting for her reaction. She should have known better than to trust him, but she was so anxious to find out what Paul had said that she ignored her pride. “Tell me everything he said,” she demanded, “word for word.”

Joe had a mouthful of pizza and Cait was left to wait several moments until he swallowed. “I seem to recall he said you explained that the two of us go a long way back.”

Cait straightened, too curious to hide her interest. “Did he look concerned? Jealous?”

“Paul? No, if anything, he looked bored.”

“Bored,” Cait repeated. Her shoulders sagged with defeat. “I swear that man wouldn't notice me if I pranced around his office naked.”

“That's a clever idea, and one that just might work. Maybe you should practice around the house first, get the hang of it. I'd be willing to help you out if you're serious about this.” He sounded utterly nonchalant, as though she'd suggested subscribing to cable television. “This is what friends are for. Do you need help undressing?”

Cait took a sip of her wine to hide a smile. Joe hadn't changed in twenty years. He was still witty and fun-loving and a terrible tease. “Very funny.”

“Hey, I wasn't kidding. I'll pretend I'm Paul and—”

“You promised you were going to be good.”

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “I will be. Just you wait.”

Cait could feel the tide of color flow into her cheeks. She quickly lowered her eyes to her plate. “Joe, cut it out. You're making me blush and I hate to blush. It makes my face look like a ripe tomato.” She lifted her slice of pizza and bit into it, chewing thoughtfully. “I don't understand you. Every time I think I have you figured out you do something to surprise me.”

“Like what?”

“Like yesterday. You invited me to dinner, but I never dreamed you'd take me someplace as elegant as Henry's. You were the perfect gentleman all evening and then today, you were so…”

“Low and disgusting.”

“Exactly.” She nodded righteously. “One minute you're the picture of charm and culture and the next you're badgering me with your wisecracks.”

“I'm a tease, remember?”

“The problem is I can't deal with you when I don't know what to expect.”

“That's my charm.” He reached for a second piece of pizza. “Women are said to adore the unexpected in a man.”

“Not this woman,” she informed him promptly. “I need to know where I stand with you.”

“A little to the left.”

“Joe, please, I'm not joking. I can't have you pulling stunts like you did today. I've lived a good, clean life for the past twenty-eight years. Two days with you has ruined my reputation with the company. I can't walk into the office and hold my head up any longer. I hear people whispering and I know they're talking about me.”

“Us,” he corrected. “They're talking about us.”

“That's even worse. If they want to talk about me and a man, I'd rather it was Paul. Just how much longer is this remodeling project going to take, anyway?” As far as Cait was concerned, the sooner Joe and his renegade crew were out of her office, the sooner her life would return to normal.

“Not too much longer.”

“At the rate you're progressing, Webster, Rodale and Missen will have offices on the moon.”

“Before the end of the year, I promise.”

“Yes, but just how reliable are your promises?”

“I'm being good, aren't I?”

“I suppose,” she conceded ungraciously, jerking a stack of mail away from Joe as he started to sort through it.

“What's this?” Joe asked, rescuing a single piece of paper before it fluttered to the floor.

“A Christmas list. I'm going shopping tomorrow.”

“I should've known you'd be organized about that, too.” He sounded vaguely insulting.

“I've been organized all my life. It isn't likely to change now.”

“That's why I want you to lighten up a little.” He continued studying her list. “What time are you going?”

“The stores open at eight and I plan to be there then.”

“I suppose you've written down everything you need to buy so you won't forget anything.”

“Of course.”

“Sounds sensible.” His remark surprised her. He scanned her list, then yelped, “Hey, I'm not on here!” He withdrew a pen from his shirt pocket and added his own name. “Do you want me to give you a few suggestions about what I'd like?”

“I already know what I'm getting you.”

Joe arched his brows. “You do? And please don't say ‘nothing.'”

“No, but it'll be something appropriate—like a muzzle.”

“Oh, Caitlin, darling, you injure me.” He gave her one of his devilish smiles, and Cait could feel herself weakening. Just what she didn't want! She had every right to be angry with Joe. If he hadn't brought that pizza, she'd have slammed the door in his face. Wouldn't she? Sure, she would! But she'd always been susceptible to Italian food. Her only other fault was Paul. She did love him. No one seemed to believe that, but she'd known almost from the moment they'd met that she was destined to spend the rest of her life loving Paul Jamison. Only she'd rather do it as his wife than his employee….

“Have you finished your shopping?” she asked idly, making small talk with Joe since he seemed determined to hang around.

“I haven't started. I have good intentions every year, you know, like I'll get a head start on finding the perfect gifts for my nieces and nephews, but they never work out. Usually panic sets in Christmas Eve and I tear around the stores like
mad and buy everything in sight. Last year I forgot wrapping paper. My mother saved the day.”

“I doubt it'd do any good to suggest you get organized.”

“I haven't got the time.”

“What are you doing right now? Write out your list, stick to it and make the time to go shopping.”

“My darling Cait, is this an invitation for me to join you tomorrow?”

“Uh…” Cait hadn't intended it to be, but she supposed she couldn't object as long as he behaved himself. “You're welcome on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“No jokes, no stunts like you pulled today and absolutely no teasing. If you announce to even one person that we're married, I'm walking away from you and that's a promise.”

“You've got it.” He raised his hand, then ceremoniously crossed his heart.

“Lick your fingertips first,” Cait demanded. The instant the words were out of her mouth, she realized how ridiculous she sounded, as if they were eight and ten all over again. “Forget I said that.”

His eyes were twinkling as he stood to bring his plate to the sink. “I swear it's a shame you're so in love with Paul,” he told her. “If I'm not careful, I could fall for you myself.” With that, he kissed her on the cheek and let himself out the door.

Pressing her fingers to her cheek, Cait drew in a deep, shuddering breath and held it until she heard the door close. Then and only then did it seep out in ragged bursts, as if she'd forgotten how to breathe normally.

“Oh, Joe,” she whispered. The last thing she wanted was for Joe to fall in love with her. Not that he wasn't handsome and sweet and wonderful. He was. He always had been. He just wasn't for her. Their personalities were poles apart. Joe was
unpredictable, always doing the unexpected, whereas Cait's life ran like clockwork.

She liked Joe. She almost wished she didn't, but she couldn't help herself. However, a steady diet of his pranks would soon drive her into the nearest asylum.

Standing, Cait closed the pizza box and tucked the uneaten portion onto the top shelf of her refrigerator. She was putting the dirty plates in her dishwasher when the phone rang. She quickly washed her hands and reached for it.

“Hello.”

“Cait, it's Paul.”

Cait was so startled that the receiver slipped out of her hand. Grabbing for it, she nearly stumbled over the open dishwasher door, knocking her shin against the sharp edge. She yelped and swallowed a cry as she jerked the dangling phone cord toward her.

“Sorry, sorry,” she cried, once she'd rescued the telephone receiver. “Paul? Are you still there?”

“Yes, I'm here. Is this a bad time? I could call back later if this is inconvenient. You don't have company, do you? I wouldn't want to interrupt a party or anything.”