Caitlin's Choice (16 page)

She playfully punched him in the shoulder. “You sure took it out on me.”

“Before I could explain that I had changed my mind, you had called your sister. I had to keep an eye on that letter opener on the desk for fear of what you’d do to me. When you threw that money on the bed, I wished you had buried the thing in my back.”

Caitlin smiled. “I thought it was a nice touch, until I discovered that I didn’t have the cab fare back to Staten Island. Two subways, one ferry, and a bus ride later, I wished I’d buried something in you, too. Only your back wasn’t the part of your anatomy I had in mind.”

He winced. “I don’t think I could say I’m sorry often enough.”

She brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead. “If you gave the matter some thought, I’m sure you could find a way to make me forget.”

Andrew cocked his eyebrow in question. “What did you have in mind?”

“Television?” she suggested as she wriggled against him. Her warm skin brushing against his felt like silk.

He turned on his side and gently eased her beneath him. “It’s all reruns.”

“How about rerunning the last half hour?”

“I think I could manage that.”

Her eyes reflected a trace of humor and something more. “I’m sure you can. Stamina was never your problem. But there’s something I need to know first.”

“What?”

“How hot is Texas chili?”

Andrew chuckled. He used his knee to open her legs. His hips pressed against her and she felt the fullness of his arousal.

“That hot?” she said and sighed.

* * * *

Long after Caitlin had fallen asleep, Andrew remained awake, staring at the ceiling. He should have felt pleased with himself. He didn’t. Sex had never been the problem between them.   Why had he expected it to be the answer?

He slid his gaze to her. Silky dark hair spilled over her shoulders and onto his chest. She curled against him, as serene and content as a lifelong lover. He could almost convince himself that forcing his way into her life had been right. Almost. In truth, all he had managed to prove was that she still wanted him physically. She had never denied that.

So what had he expected? A declaration of her undying love? This evening, before inviting him into her room, she had made a point of reminding him their arrangement was temporary.

She couldn’t still believe that he would try to take Tyler from her. He didn’t care what the hell she had done in the past. The Caitlin he knew was a gentle, loving mother, and the closest thing to heaven he was likely to find on Earth.

Was she with him now because she genuinely cared about him or because she wanted to appease him? He hated this nagging suspicion that she still doubted him.

ELEVEN

Caitlin wasn’t sorry to get away from Maggie’s incessant teasing. Her sister began by serving Jell-O for breakfast Sunday morning, and she didn’t let up until Andrew and Caitlin had left for home late in the afternoon.

Monday morning she started work on Sissy’s wedding dress. Marc gave her an office to use where she could set up Tyler’s playpen while she worked. The dress her sister had chosen had a six-foot train, and the entire bodice had to be hand sewn with tiny faux pearls. Once Caitlin made the pattern for the dress, several sewing machine operators helpfully stitched the garment together for her.

By Wednesday, everything was completed except the hand stitching, which she could do from the house. Because she needed to bring a mannequin home, she asked Andrew to pick her up after work. At four-thirty he breezed into her office, looking devastating in his three-piece suit. Not as good as he looked with nothing at all, she conceded, but her pulse rate quickened just the same. He lifted Tyler from the playpen and sat in the chair across from her desk.

“Are you almost ready?”

“I’m ready. I want to get out of here before my boss gets back,” she joked.

“Too late,” Marc’s amused voice called out from the door.

“Oh, great,” she grumbled and glanced between the two men. “Marc Stevens, Andrew Sinclair.”

Andrew supported Tyler with one arm and held out his free hand.

“I ought to kill you,” Marc said with a laugh, but he shook Andrew’s hand.

“What did I do?” Andrew asked.

“Look at her. She had a baby. Now she’s too fat to model.”

Caitlin let out an indignant snort. The fashion houses liked their models to be rail thin and flat chested, but she rather liked the way she had filled out since Tyler’s birth.

Andrew ran a lingering gaze along the length of her. “I think she’s perfect.”

“I haven’t modeled in years, so what’s it to you anyway, Marc?”

“You started a trend. Two of my best models decided that their biological clocks were ticking away and they went out and got pregnant without the benefit of husbands. What is it with women? We give you the vote and now you think you don’t need us.”

She just rolled her eyes. If she’d thought he was serious, she wouldn’t have worked with him for ten years. “I might be able to help you out with a model.”

“What’s she like?” Marc asked.

“Beautiful, willful, and self-centered,” Andrew interjected.

“And a natural redhead,” Caitlin added.

“She sounds perfect. You know I trust your judgment on that, Caitlin. I have to fly. I have a meeting.” As quickly as Marc had entered, he was gone.

Caitlin began to fold the portable playpen.

“Is that why you had Tyler? Because your biological clock was ticking?” Andrew said.

“You shouldn’t take anything Marc says too seriously.” How could she explain motives she had never tried to analyze herself?

“I’d like to know.”

“If the only reason I had Tyler was because I was afraid of getting old, I wouldn’t have been much use to him as a mother. I wanted a baby. I was in a position where I could afford to raise a child alone.”

He came to his feet, ready for battle. Surprisingly, she didn’t feel like arguing with him.

She put her hands above her head in surrender. “I was wrong. But at the time, I figured I would be raising him alone. I can’t say what I might have done if I’d been eighteen and pregnant, but my age didn’t play a role in my decision to have him. Besides, I’m not old.”

Caitlin collected her belongings. When they had everything packed into the car, Andrew came around to the side and opened her door.

“Tick, tick, tick,” he joked.

“I don’t know why you’re so amused. You’ve still got a few years on me.”

“But I can father a child when I’m ninety,” he retorted smugly.

“Who’d want you when you’re ninety?”

“I bet I could make you want me.”

His conceit was remarkable. So what if he was right? She didn’t have to feed his inflated ego by agreeing. “I’d be well into my eighties by then and I’d probably get a bigger charge out of my electric blanket.”

He laughed. As she settled in the bucket seat, he closed the door and came around the car to slip in behind the wheel. “You know what tonight is, don’t you?”

“Family comedy night on television?” she guessed.

“Bridge night. Leslie and Mother will be out. How shall we pass the time?”

Caitlin feigned consternation. “I don’t know. Maybe I could cook tonight. I found a fabulous recipe for chili.”

“I’ll bet you did.” He traced his finger along the side of her face and drew her closer for a tender kiss. “Could I convince you to stick around for breakfast?”

“I’m not a big breakfast eater.”

“I don’t know about that. Sunday morning you seemed to be insatiable.”

Damn him! He just had to remind her that she had no willpower and even less self-control when he touched her. Her entire body flushed. She turned and gazed out the window.   “Do you plan to spend the night in the parking garage?”

“Another tactical retreat, Caitlin? Aren’t we beyond them yet?”

“Better than surrender.” Until she knew where she stood with him, surrender was an option she couldn’t afford to exercise.

* * * *

Leslie stumbled down the stairs with a massive headache that refused to subside. The annoying racket of jingling rattles and infant gurgling coming from the studio intensified the throbbing. She shuffled across the parquet floor and paused outside the door.

Caitlin was kneeling on the floor, playing with her son as if she genuinely enjoyed the experience. Leslie tried to picture her own mother doing the same and laughed inwardly.

Then she glanced around the room and caught sight of the satin and lace wedding gown on the mannequin. Her stomach knotted. Andrew couldn’t be planning to marry her!

She walked into the studio and let out a grunt. “Do you have to make those disgusting sounds so early in the morning?” she said, although it was after eleven.

Caitlin glanced up. “Good day to you, too,” she said cheerfully.

Leslie shot a glance toward Tyler. “Why don’t you put clothes on him? Certainly Andrew can afford them.”

“I don’t take money from your brother, and I can afford them myself. He prefers to be naked,” Caitlin said, even though the baby was wearing a diaper. She leaned forward and pressed noisy kisses against Tyler’s belly.

“Will you be taking him on your honeymoon?”

“What?”

Leslie lifted her gaze toward the dress. “That is your wedding dress, I assume. Although it’s a bit tacky to wear white when you’ve already anticipated the wedding night.”

“It’s a wedding dress, but not for me.”

“What’s the matter? Can’t you get him to pop the question?”

“I really don’t see what concern that is of yours.” Caitlin kept her gaze firmly on her son.

“Oh, come on, don’t deny you’ve been dangling your little brat in front of him for a while. You know he’d do anything to get his hands on that kid.”

“Letting your vicious tongue out for an airing, Leslie?” Andrew asked sharply.

Both Caitlin and Leslie started.

“I thought you were at work,” Caitlin said.

He loosened his tie, which appeared to be choking him. “I had an early meeting in South Jersey, so I took the rest of the day off. It’s nice to see my charming sister keeping you company in my absence.”

“Hey, I try my best,” Leslie said. “Well, I’ll leave the two of you to play Mommy and Daddy.” She gave a mock salute to Andrew and waltzed out of the room.

“Ignore her,” Caitlin said softly, grabbing his wrist as he started to follow.

Despite her indifferent words, Andrew knew the cruel snipes had to hurt. Although he had promised to overlook the deliberate insults from his mother and sister, following through had been difficult. “I don’t see how you can.”

“It’s easy. I don’t care. As long as you’re home, would you mind taking Ty? I have a few hours left on this dress.”

“Sure.” He came up behind her and slipped his hands around her waist. Lemon scented hair brushed his cheek.

She giggled and squirmed to free herself. “Cut it out.”

After the nasty barbs she’d had to endure from Leslie, he could understand her reluctance. That didn’t make it any easier when he had to cool his passions under a cold shower.

He rested his chin on her shoulder and pressed a kiss against her cheek.
“The dress is beautiful. Your sister doesn’t deserve your talents.”

“You’re gonna lecture me about doing something for a sister who doesn’t deserve it?” He playfully elbowed his ribs. “Go on. Get out of here. I can’t concentrate on my work.”

Andrew smiled. “Good. That makes two of us.” He bent down and scooped Tyler up in his arms.

“Bring him back when he’s hungry.”

“How will I know?”

She laughed. “He’ll let you know.”

* * * *

With a deep sigh, Caitlin buried her head under the pillow and tried to go back to sleep. She wasn’t ready to get up from her nap. Her shoulders still ached from the five hours of work she had done that morning.

Try though she did, sleep eluded her. Something at the edge of her awareness was bothering her. The silence should have been conducive to sleep. The intercom was on. She should hear something, if only the sounds of sleep. She put the receiver to her ear, hoping to hear a familiar noise.

Her legs tangled in the comforter as she jumped from the bed. She kicked free and opened the connecting door to the nursery. Tyler was missing. Her heart raced wildly and a cold chill washed over her. After a few panicked seconds, she remembered that Andrew was home. He must have taken Tyler to allow her to enjoy her nap.

She went to the bathroom to splash some water on her face before heading down to find her son. She heard Andrew’s voice coming from the living room, followed by Joyce’s shrill one. Although she had no wish to confront Joyce when she was in one of her moods, the atmosphere wasn’t healthy for a baby. Taking a deep breath, she entered the room.