Home for the Holidays: The Forgetful Bride / When Christmas Comes. Debbie MacomberЧитать онлайн книгу.
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.”
“So you kissed Joseph Rockwell,” Paul said absently.
“Yes, but there was a tiny bit more than that. I made him marry me.”
Paul’s eyebrows shot to the ceiling.
“Now, almost twenty years later, he’s getting his revenge by going around telling everyone that we’re actually married. Which of course is ridiculous.”
A couple of strained seconds followed her announcement.
“I’m not sure what to say,” Paul murmured.
“Oh, I wasn’t expecting you to say anything. I thought it was important to clear the air, that’s all.”
“I see.”
“He’s only doing it because…well, because that’s Joe. Even when we were kids he enjoyed playing these little games. No one really minded, though, especially not the girls, because he was so cute.” She certainly had Paul’s attention now.
“I thought you should know,” she added, “in case you happened to hear a rumor or something. I didn’t want you thinking Joe and I were involved, or even considering a relationship. I was fairly certain you wouldn’t, but one never knows and I’m a firm believer in being forthright and honest.”
Paul blinked. Wanting to fill the awkward silence, Cait chattered on. “Apparently Joe recognized my name when he and his men moved my office in here with yours. He was delighted when I didn’t recognize him. In fact, he caused a commotion by asking me about our children in front of everyone.”
“Children?”
“My dolls,” Cait was quick to explain.
“Joe Rockwell’s an excellent man. I couldn’t fault your taste, Cait.”
“The two of us aren’t involved,” she protested. “Good grief, I haven’t seen him in nearly twenty years.”
“I see,” Paul said slowly. He sounded…disappointed, Cait thought. But she must have misread his tone because there wasn’t a single, solitary reason for him to be disappointed. Cait felt foolish now for even trying to explain this fiasco. Paul was so oblivious about her feelings that there was nothing she could say or do to make him understand.
“I just wanted you to know,” she repeated, “in case you heard the rumors and were wondering if there was anything between me and Joseph Rockwell. I wanted to assure you there isn’t.”
“I see,” he said again. “Don’t worry about it, Cait. What happened between you and Rockwell isn’t going to affect your job.”
She stood up to leave, praying she’d detect a suggestion of jealousy. A hint of rivalry. Anything to show he cared. There was nothing, so she tried again. “I agreed to have dinner with him, though.”
Paul had returned his attention to the papers he’d been reading when she’d interrupted him.
“For old times’ sake,” she said in a reassuring voice—to fend off any violent display of resentment, she told herself. “I certainly don’t have any intention of dating him on a regular basis.”
Paul grinned. “Have a good time.”
“Yes, I will, thanks.” Her heart felt as heavy as a sinking battleship. Without knowingwhere she was headed or who she’d talk to, Cait wandered out of Paul’s office, forgetting for a second that she had no office of her own. The area where her desk once sat was cluttered with wire reels, ladders and men. Joe must have left, a fact for which Cait was grateful.
She walked into Lindy’s small office across the hall. Her friend glanced up. “So?” she murmured. “Did you talk to Paul?”
Cait nodded.
“How’d it go?”
“Fine, I guess.” She perched on the corner of Lindy’s desk, crossing her arms around her waist as her left leg swung rhythmically, keeping time with her discouraged heart. She should be accustomed to disappointment when it came to Paul, but somehow each rejection inflicted a fresh wound on her already battered ego. “I was hoping Paul might be jealous.”
“And he wasn’t?”
“Not that I could tell.”
“It isn’t as though you and Joe have anything to do with each other now,” Lindy sensibly pointed out. “Marrying him was a childhood prank. It isn’t likely to concern Paul.”
“I