Caitlin's Choice (13 page)

“Because you’re of no use to your son dead.”

“He’d be a rich little boy,” he joked.

Caitlin apparently failed to see the humor. “If I wanted your money, I would have sued you for it. You’re getting enough aggravation in your life right now. Don’t compound the problem.”

Her impassioned words surprised him. “I can’t figure you. You claim to care nothing for me, yet you get in a snit over my dietary habits.”

“Snit? You’re picking up your vocabulary from Maggie. Just because I think you’re an overbearing, pigheaded skunk doesn’t mean I don’t care what happens to you.”

“Why, thank you,” he chuckled. “That was touching, Caitlin.”

“I’d like your relationship with Tyler to be long- lasting. I mean, really, would you rather have salt on your sandwich or an extra day with your son?”

“Okay, you’re right.”

The corners of her mouth lifted in a grin. “I always am.”

“Not always. I’m not pigheaded. You are.”

“Me?” she squeaked out. “How can you say that?”

“It has something to do with your unwavering distrust of me. Can’t we forget about last year and start over?”

She glanced at Tyler. “It’s kind of hard to forget when I have a little twelve-pound replica of you staring me in the face every day.”

“All the more reason for us to try to work things out between us,” he said.

“And you think that’s possible, given our history?”

“It might help if you’d let go of some of your anger.”

She shook her head. “I can’t. It’s how I survive. How I’ve always survived.”

“Perhaps the answer is to begin with your family. If you went to see them—”

“No.” Her reply was swift and adamant.

She missed her family, he was sure. Why did she become visibly agitated at the thought of visiting them? Her color had paled, and she refused to meet his gaze. She twisted the napkin in her fingers until it shredded from the tension.

Something had happened back in West Virginia that stopped Caitlin from returning home, and it was more than a broken engagement. His mind reeled with the possibilities. She was terrified of someone or something—so much so that she had agreed to all his demands rather than chance his finding out.

She wasn’t angry with him, she was afraid of him. Why hadn’t he seen it sooner?

He became even more determined to discover the truth. What he had done to her was rotten. He knew that. But they would never be able to move forward while she was haunted by the past. He had enough to make up for with his own sins. He didn’t need to be paying for someone else’s as well.

If he couldn’t get answers from her, he had one other hope. “Would you like to go visit Maggie and Erik this weekend? We could leave after work tomorrow.”

“Really? Maybe they have plans already.” Her eyes brightened with excitement. The lift in her spirits would make the trip worthwhile, even if he learned nothing.

“If they want to go out, I’m sure we can find a way to entertain ourselves.”

She didn’t raise an eyebrow at the suggestive tone in his voice. “I’ll have the clothes packed and ready by six.”

He chuckled. “If I know you, you’ll go home and pack tonight.”

“Ah, but you don’t know me. I leave everything until the last minute. That way I won’t be disappointed if the plans fall through. Besides, I haven’t figured out where the laundry room is yet. I have clothes to wash.”

Andrew swallowed the last bite of his sandwich. “We don’t pay a maid to watch you do your laundry.”

She smiled gently. “Sally has enough work to do teaching you how to take Tyler out of his carrier.”

He looked away. “She told you?”

“I asked her to keep an eye on you.”

“You didn’t think I could handle him?”

“Be honest. You didn’t think you could handle him. I’d never seen anyone look more scared than you did when I walked out that door. But what a treat to find Mr. Macho changing a diaper when I returned.”

“You didn’t know I was the strong, silent, sensitive type.”

She let out a whoop. She was laughing at him, but he didn’t care. For once the tears that filled her eyes were caused by amusement rather than hurt.

“Strong, yes. Silent, never. And sensitive? In your dreams, maybe.”

“I’m insulted.”

She pressed her hand against his chest and absently ran her finger along the jacket lapel. “Oh, loosen up. You’re such a stuffed shirt.” She seemed unaware of the impact her touch had on him.

“What do you suggest? Should I kick off my shoes and go wading in the stream?”

“It’s a start. Lose the tie while you’re at it.”

He draped the red paisley tie around her neck and kicked off his leather shoes. He tossed his jacket onto the picnic bench and swept her up in his arms before she could lodge a protest. In four quick steps he was dangling her over the water’s edge. She locked her arms around his neck in a choke hold.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Loosen up, Caitlin—although I happen to like the way your shirt is stuffed.”

“Put me down,” she demanded.

“Give me some incentive,” he said, staring into her eyes.

She expelled a deep sigh. Ignoring every warning she’d given him, every barrier she’d erected, he continued to try to break through her defenses. But as difficult as it was to fight him, fighting herself was damned near impossible.

She kissed him.

As he deepened the kiss, he lowered her legs to the ground. Their bodies molded together. A warm tingling began in her belly and spread like wildfire through her. His masculine scent was heady, evoking memories she had tried hard to forget. He felt too good to resist, and the worst part was he knew it. Alarm bells sounded in her mind, but she didn’t heed the warning. Her purely physical reactions allowed her to forget. She didn’t need to think, only react to the powerful sensations running through her.

His hand slipped boldly under her blouse, caressing her flesh with strong, fluid strokes. One last shred of sanity told her to stop him, but he ran his fingers into her hair and pulled her head closer. He nipped playfully at her ear, coaxing a response she couldn’t suppress. She knew this was a bad idea, but his raw sexuality was more than she could fight.

As he continued his sweet assault on her senses, she had neither the will nor the desire to end the kiss.

Andrew was the first to draw back. She let out a soft sigh of protest before realizing just what she had done. Embarrassment brought a warm flush to her cheeks. This was not what she needed in her life right now. Losing her heart to Andrew again could be dangerous.

Did he know how much he affected her?

One glance at him and she knew the answer. His triumphant smile was more than she could take. Leaning down by the bank of the stream, she cupped her hands into the water and repeatedly splashed it over him. As he reached for her, she darted under his outstretched hand and ran to the stroller, lifting Tyler into her arms. Andrew wouldn’t retaliate while she was holding the baby.

He raked his fingers through his damp hair. “I’ll get you eventually.”

His wet shirt clung to his chest, defining the well- toned muscles beneath. An overwhelming urge to stroke her hands over his body brought a shudder of longing. That’s keeping cool, calm, and detached, she chided herself.

He caught her staring and grinned again. “Let’s go home.”

“Maybe you should dry off a bit first. If your mother sees you like that, she’ll accuse me of trying to make a peasant out of you.”

“Then that will be my revenge.”

* * * *

Andrew’s revenge was sweet.

Joyce apparently wasn’t expecting them back so early, as she had a guest in the living room. “Was there some kind of accident?” she asked icily, eyeing Andrew’s disheveled appearance.

“No.” He nodded to the visitor. “Hello, Mrs. Forsythe.”

Caitlin wanted to crawl into the nearest hole and disappear. Mrs. Forsythe glared down her long nose at the sight before her. Her perfectly coiffed and lacquered hair didn’t move as she turned to Joyce for an introduction.

Joyce shot Caitlin a hateful scowl that chilled her to the marrow. “This is Ms. Adams, Erik’s sister-in- law.”

Andrew went rigid. He took Tyler from Caitlin’s arms and held him up. At least his mother had finally seen him, if in fact she could see anything through her blazing eyes.

“And this is our son, Tyler,” Andrew added.

Mrs. Forsythe gasped.

Joyce groaned.

Caitlin cringed.

The only one not at a loss for words was Andrew.

“If you’ll excuse us, ladies, we have to get changed.”

He slipped a possessive arm across Caitlin’s back and led her away.

She was going to make sure she wasn’t alone with Joyce any time in the near future, Caitlin thought. Andrew was playing a dangerous game of nerves with his mother, and she was the pawn. If she couldn’t get him to call a halt, she might have more to worry about than resisting Andrew. Joyce had nothing to lose and everything to gain by getting rid of Caitlin and Tyler.

* * * *

Leslie entered the salon, intent on getting herself a drink. She would need it to make it through the evening with her mother. Joyce was storming through the house like a tornado taking down anything in its path.

She opened the cabinets of the bar and came up empty. Her hand started to shake. Damn! What was happening? Panic washed over her. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if she had a drinking problem, then quickly dismissed the notion. The only problem she had was her arrogant brother and his insistence on keeping that woman in the house.

“Looking for something?” Andrew asked.

Leslie whirled around. Judging by his cynical smirk, she’d bet he was the one who had emptied the liquor cabinet

“Well, if it isn’t Father of the Year. Where’s the little mother? Out on a shopping binge?”

“Better than a drinking binge,” he shot back.

“It must be you, Drew. All the women in your life feel the need to go out on some kind of binge.”

His eyes narrowed and she thought she saw a flash of sorrow. “You’re only hurting yourself, Leslie.”

She didn’t want or need pity from Mr. High and Mighty. “You, on the other hand, aim for the whole family.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Meaning?”

“It’s obvious you brought her here to embarrass us. I hope you’re happy about the way you humiliated your own mother by parading your bimbo—”

With an angry wave of the hand, he cut her off. “If you have a problem with me, go ahead and get it off your chest. But leave Caitlin out of this.”

“Sure. The woman is ruining our family, but we’re not allowed to talk about her.”

“Don’t blame her for our problems, Leslie.”

She rolled her eyes and continued her search. She found a small bottle of gin hidden behind the seltzer and raised it triumphantly in the air.

“You missed one.”

“If you want to drink yourself into a stupor, I can’t stop you.”

“You’ve got that right,” she said defiantly. “You can’t stop me from doing anything.”

“I know.” He snatched the bottle from her hand. “But keep in mind I don’t have to pay for your habits, either.”

He left the room before she could come up with a suitable retort. How dare he? He’d never given a damn about her—or anyone else, for that matter.

Her mother was right. They had a serious problem. Caitlin Adams had given Andrew more than a son. She had given him a freaking conscience. There was nothing more obnoxious than a reformed rake.

NINE

The morning sun filtered through the lace curtains, casting a doily pattern on the wall. Caitlin stretched her arms above her head and yawned. The last remnants of sleep clung to her like a warm blanket. The carriage clock on the nightstand chimed eight times. How had she slept so late? Tyler was usually up by six o’clock.

She jumped out of bed and grabbed her robe. Tyler wasn’t in the portable crib she had set up in Allison’s room the night before. With a sign of relief, she realized that Maggie must have taken both babies down to allow her sister to sleep in.

After changing into her cutoff shorts and an oversized T-shirt, Caitlin headed downstairs. Maggie was in the kitchen, washing dishes, while the two cousins rolled around in the playpen.

“About time you got up,” Maggie joked.

Caitlin smiled. “I know. I haven’t slept this late in four months. I’m surprised he’s not screaming for his breakfast”

Maggie handed her a cup of coffee and joined her at the table. “I hope you don’t mind. I gave him a bottle.”

“That’s fine.” Caitlin took a gulp of the strong brew, hoping to zap her tired body to life. “I hope we didn’t wake you last night when we arrived. The traffic was awful and we got here so late.”