Home for the Holidays: The Forgetful Bride / When Christmas Comes. Debbie MacomberЧитать онлайн книгу.
One
F or the third time that afternoon, Cait indignantly wiped sawdust from the top of her desk. If this remodeling mess got much worse, the particles were going to get into her computer, destroying her vital link with the New York Stock Exchange.
“We’ll have to move her out,” a gruff male voice said from behind her.
“I beg your pardon,” Cait demanded, rising abruptly and whirling toward the doorway. She clapped the dust from her hands, preparing to do battle. So much for this being the season of peace and goodwill. All these men in hard hats strolling through the office, moving things around, was inconvenient enough. But at least she’d been able to close her door to reduce the noise. Now, it seemed, even that would be impossible.
“We’re going to have to pull some electrical wires through there,” the same brusque voice explained. She couldn’t see the man’s face, since he stood just outside her doorway, but she had an impression of broad-shouldered height. “We’ll have everything back to normal within a week.”
“A week!” She wouldn’t be able to service her customers, let alone function, without her desk and phone. And exactly where did they intend to put her? Certainly not in a hallway! She wouldn’t stand for it.
The mess this simple remodeling project had created was one thing, but transplanting her entire office as if she were nothing more than a…a tulip bulb was something else again.
“I’m sorry about this, Cait,” Paul Jamison said, slipping past the crew foreman to her side.
The wind went out of her argument at the merest hint of his devastating smile. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, the picture of meekness and tolerance. “Things like this happen when a company grows as quickly as ours.”
She glanced across the hallway to her best friend’s office, shrugging as if to ask, Is Paul ever going to notice me? Lindy shot her a crooked grin and a quick nod that suggested Cait stop being so negative. Her friend’s confidence didn’t help. Paul was a wonderful district manager and she was fortunate to have the opportunity to work with him. He was both talented and resourceful. The brokerage firm of Webster, Rodale and Missen was an affiliate of the fastest-growing firm in the country. This branch had been open for less than two years and already they were breaking national sales records. Due mainly, Cait believed, to Paul’s administrative skills.
Paul was slender, dark-haired and handsome in an urbane, sophisticated way—every woman’s dream man. Certainly Cait’s. But as far as she could determine, he didn’t see her in a similar romantic light. He thought of her as an important team member. One of the staff. At most, a friend.
Cait knew that friendship was often fertile ground for romance, and she hoped for an opportunity to cultivate it. Willingly surrendering her office to an irritating crew of carpenters and electricians was sure to gain her a few points with her boss.
“Where would you like me to set up my desk in the meantime?” she asked, smiling warmly at Paul. From habit, she lifted her hand to push back a stray lock of hair, forgetting she’d recently had it cut. That had been another futile attempt to attract Paul’s affections—or at least his attention. Her shoulder-length chestnut-brown hair had been trimmed and permed into a pixie style with a halo of soft curls.
The difference from the tightly styled chignon she’d always worn to work was striking, or so everyone said. Everyone except Paul. The hairdresser had claimed it changed Cait’s cooly polished look into one of warmth and enthusiasm. It was exactly the image Cait wanted Paul to have of her.
Unfortunately he didn’t seem to detect the slightest difference in her appearance. At least not until Lindy had pointedly commented on the change within earshot of their absentminded employer. Then, and only then, had Paul made a remark about noticing something different; he just hadn’t been sure what it was, he’d said.
“I suppose we could move you….” Paul hesitated.
“Your office seems to be the best choice,” the foreman said.
Cait resisted the urge to hug the man. He was tall, easily six three, and as solid as Mount Rainier, the majestic mountain she could see from her office window. She hadn’t paid much attention to him until this moment and was surprised to note something vaguely familiar about him. She’d assumed he was the foreman, but she wasn’t certain. He seemed to be around the office fairly often, although not on a predictable schedule. Every time he did show up, the level of activity rose dramatically.
“Ah…I suppose Cait could move in with me for the time being,” Paul agreed. In her daydreams, Cait would play back this moment; her version had Paul looking at her with surprise and wonder, his mouth moving toward hers and—
“Miss?”
Cait broke out of her reverie and glanced at the foreman—the man who’d suggested she share Paul’s office. “Yes?”
“Would you show us what you need moved?”
“Of course,” she returned crisply. This romantic heart of hers was always getting her into trouble. She’d look at Paul and her head would start to spin with hopes and fantasies and then she’d be lost….
Cait’s arms were loaded with files as she followed the carpenters, who hauled her desk into a corner of Paul’s much larger office. Her computer and phone came next, and within fifteen minutes she was back in business.
She was on the phone, talking with one of her most important clients, when the same man walked back, unannounced, into the room. At first Caitlin assumed he was looking for Paul, who’d stepped out of the office. The foreman—or whatever he was—hesitated for a few seconds. Then, scooping up her nameplate, he grinned at her as if he found something highly entertaining. Cait did her best to ignore him, flipping needlessly through the pages of the file.
Not taking the hint, he stepped forward and plunked the nameplate on the edge of her desk. As she looked up in annoyance, he boldly winked at her.
Cait was not amused. How dare this…this…redneck flirt with her!
She glared at him, hoping he’d have the good manners and good sense to leave—which, of course, he didn’t. In fact, he seemed downright stubborn about staying and making her as uncomfortable as possible. Her phone conversation ran its natural course and after making several notations, she replaced the receiver.
“You wanted something?” she demanded, her eyes meeting his. Once more she noted his apparent amusement. She didn’t understand it.
“No,” he answered, grinning again. “Sorry to have bothered you.”
For the second time, Cait was struck by a twinge of the familiar. He strolled out of her makeshift office as if he owned the building.
Cait waited a few minutes, then approached Lindy. “Did you happen to catch his name?”
“Whose name?”
“The…man who insisted I vacate my office. I don’t know who he is. I thought he was the foreman, but…” She crossed her arms and furrowed her brow, trying to remember if she’d heard anyone say his name.
“I have no idea.” Lindy pushed back her chair and rolled a pencil between her palms. “He is kinda cute, though, don’t you think?”
A smile softened Cait’s lips. “There’s only one man for me and you know it.”
“Then why are you asking questions about the construction crew?”
“I…don’t know. That guy seems familiar for some reason, and he keeps grinning at me as if he knows something I don’t. I hate it when men do that.”
“Then ask one of the others what his name is. They’ll tell you.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“He might think I’m interested in him.”
“And