Caitlin's Choice (7 page)

“What’s that?”

“Vasotec. For hypertension. Nothing serious.”

She leveled a questioning gaze. “High blood pressure is very serious if you don’t take care of yourself.”

He smiled at the hint of concern in her voice. “If you’re so worried about me, then just agree to everything I say in the future and I’ll have no problem.”

“Better men than you have tried to play on my guilt and failed,” she shot back. “I’d better check Ty.”

“I’ll check him. You needed the bathroom. When you’re finished, I’ll show you around.”

She backed herself into the wall to allow him to exit. Although he had plenty of room, he deliberately brushed his hip against hers to see her reaction. Caitlin’s face remained an expressionless mask. The jolt to his system, however, was immediate and electric. He’d made a point, but not the one he’d hoped.

* * * *

Caitlin splashed cold water over her face and arms, then blotted her damp skin with a plush towel. She had drawn on every ounce of her strength to fight off a reaction until Andrew had retreated down the hall. Had her traitorous body forgotten the pain and humiliation of the past year, not to mention the blackmail of the past week?

No man had ever affected her the way Andrew could. She would fight to her last breath before she would cede that power to him again. He had damned near destroyed her the last time.

With her pulse rate back under control, she went to the nursery.

Andrew stood by the crib, arranging the blanket around Tyler. She hovered in the door-way and watched him gently stroke his finger along the baby’s face. Perhaps Andrew was serious about having a relationship with his son. He gazed at Tyler with that same wide-eyed wonder she had often felt herself.

“Andrew?”

His brow creased. “You’re ready?”

“If you’d rather stay, I’ll explore on my own.”

“No. I’ll see him when he wakes up.” He hooked his arm though hers. If he noticed her rigid tension, he didn’t comment. “Should we start with your studio?”

Just off the library was a large room with a drafting table and personal computer. The stark white walls and clean angular lines of the cathedral ceiling gave the feeling of vast space. Caitlin knelt on the love seat below a bay window and basked in the warmth of the view. The wooden bridge she had seen earlier led to a charming Japanese rock garden.  With this magnificent landscape to gaze at, she would never get any work done.

“Whose studio was this?”

“Mine. I didn’t start life as president of Sinclair Electronics. I was an electronics engineer.”

She turned and settled herself into the buttery soft leather cushions. “Oh. I thought you inherited the company.”

“Only the money to start it. I built the business up from scratch. When Erik finished college, he joined me. It’s been twelve years of hard work.”

All right, so she was forced to revise her opinion of the pampered playboy. He had earned his money.

“What about you?” He lowered himself into the swivel chair and rolled it in front of where she sat. The spicy scent of his aftershave wafted around her, wreaking havoc on her senses. She couldn’t think of a way to make him move without admitting that his nearness unsettled her. “What exactly does a fabric buyer do?”

Damn! He must have been grilling Maggie for information about her. Why? She bit her tongue to keep from asking in case he figured out she had something she wanted to hide. Perhaps if she volunteered some information, he wouldn’t feel the need to dig further.

“I’m responsible for the design and quality of our fabrics. That’s why I spent a year in Singapore, to set up the new factory. Most of our silks will be produced there.”

“How did you get into something like that?”

She shrugged and made herself comfortable in the love seat for the abridged—and censored— story of her life. “I won a local design contest sponsored by a New York fashion institute. Five hundred dollars and a two-week intensive training program. My father told me I couldn’t accept because my fiancé wouldn’t approve.”

“You were engaged?” he muttered in surprise.

“Yeah, it was news to me, too. My dad assumed that since the banker’s son took an interest in me, naturally I’d be dying to marry the only rich boy in the county.”

“The banker’s son?”

“I know, I know,” she said with a laugh. “Right out of a Norman Rockwell painting.   Anyway, I went against my father’s wishes and came to New York anyway. I was going to be the next Coco Chanel. I thought New York was just waiting for me. Boy, did I get an education real fast.”

His lips curled upward in a smile. “I’ll bet.”

“The two-week intensive training program turned out to be nothing more than an orientation. I didn’t learn diddly squat.”

He looked at her as if she’d grown a third eye. “What?”

“Sorry. It means I didn’t learn anything.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Anyway, they wanted five thousand dollars a year for tuition. Suddenly my five-hundred-dollar fortune seemed like pocket change.”

“What did you do?”

“What every country girl does when she finds herself disillusioned with the big city. I called home, where I was told in no uncertain terms that I was not welcome.”

“Just because you refused to get married?”

“It’s a bit more complicated. I’d rather not talk about it.” A hollow ache constricted in her chest. Some memories still had the power to crush after ten years. She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“All right. What did you do next?”

Hoping to quell the rising sorrow, she tried to change the subject. “Listen to me. I’m running on and on. You can’t really be interested.”

“I am interested.”

Too interested. If she refused to continue, she might pique his curiosity even further. “Well, I attended the orientation. That was where I met Marc Stevens. He was looking for models. So I thought, ‘Okay, I won’t be the next Coco Chanel, just the next Cindy Crawford.’ Wrong!”

“Let me guess? He wanted to take art photos.”

Andrew’s voice was judgmental. Wouldn’t he just love to have something like that to hold over her? “No. He wanted a human mannequin. I’d stand around while a designer tucked and pinned and cut. It wasn’t Vogue, but it was decent and it paid the bills. While I worked at the design house, I developed a fascination for the fabrics, so I studied at night. The rest, as they say, is history.”

“You never went back home? Even to visit?”

Oh sure. And get myself strung up from the highest tree. The town of Weldon, West Virginia, was just waiting for the return of its most notorious expatriate. The townsfolk had gotten swindled by their own greed, and they were out for blood. In leaving home when she had, she’d given them a perfect scapegoat. Innocence or guilt didn’t matter. She had been judged by the company she kept.

She had never been indicted for any crime, but she also knew that Andrew would be able to find any number of people back in her little hometown willing to perjure themselves for revenge if he decided to sue her for custody. Tyler was the most important person in her life, and she would do whatever she had to keep him. If that meant living by Andrew’s rules for a while, then so be it.

“Caitlin?”

She raised her head and met his curious gaze. “No. I’ve never been back.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. Tyler and Maggie are the only family I need.”

Sorrow tugged at her heart. She could lie to Andrew, but not to herself. She missed her family, and she would have traded a year off her life for one day with them. Ten years had passed, and the loneliness still remained.

“Are you all right?”

She didn’t realize she was crying. “I’m fine.”

He brushed his thumb over her tear-stained cheek.
  “If you feel like talking . . .”

Caitlin waved her hand to cut him off. She had already revealed more than she’d intended, more than was wise. Inhaling deeply, she buried the painful memories the only way she knew how, by erecting a wall.

“Life’s tough. You fight or you give up. I’m not a quitter. I beat the odds. Do you know what happens to many young women who arrive in the city with no education or career training?”

“Unfortunately, I do. Maggie was lucky to have you.”

“Not me, your brother. She was in a coffee shop, calling all the listings for C. Adams in the phone book, when she met Erik. He helped her find a job and a place to live, and eventually helped her find me.”

“I guess the phone book didn’t work.”

“I wasn’t living in Manhattan. When she finally did locate me, it was two days before I left for Singapore.”

“That wasn’t much time for a reunion.”

“And you managed to cut that shorter by sending your brother to Las Vegas.”

His nostrils flared at the mention of their less- than-perfect beginning. He didn’t want to be reminded; however, she couldn’t afford to forget.

“Shall we go to dinner?” he asked.

“What are my other choices?”

“It won’t be that bad. I’ve already spoken to my mother, and she’s waiting to meet you.”

Hmm. Judging by Leslie’s attitude, Caitlin was as welcome as a mosquito at a nudist camp. She rose and joined Andrew for the long walk down the corridor.

The huge, formal dining room was dwarfed by the massive furnishings. The teakwood table could seat twenty with plenty of elbow room to spare. A brass and crystal chandelier shimmered above a fresh floral centerpiece. The table was laid out in gold-leafed china. Caitlin was more intimidated than she expected. If this was a nighty routine, she would lose all desire to eat.

Joyce and Leslie were already seated when she and Andrew entered. Neither woman rose to greet her. Instead, Joyce tapped her Rolex.

“It’s after seven, Andrew.”

“And I’m over twenty-one, Mother. I am permitted to be late for dinner in my own home.”

Caitlin bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling. Apparently Andrew didn’t take criticism from anyone.

“This is my mother, Joyce. Caitlin Adams,” he said.

“Hello, Mrs. Sinclair.”

Joyce ran a sweeping gaze over Caitlin. “Miss Adams. How nice to meet you.”

The words had about as much sincerity as a used-car salesman’s pitch.

“And my sister, Leslie,” Andrew continued.

“We’ve already met,” Caitlin said. “She stopped by the nursery earlier to meet Tyler.”

“She did?” he asked.

Leslie had paled slightly. He gazed toward Caitlin, as if trying to assess how much damage his sister had done, but her expression gave nothing away.

“Yes. She remarked on how much Tyler looked like you,” Caitlin said. Or words to that effect.

Andrew grinned. “She said how handsome he was?”

“Please. Tyler is much better looking than you.”

She had hoped the small joke would be an icebreaker, but Andrew was the only one who laughed.

“Ouch. No chance my ego will run out of control while you’re here.”

He pulled out a chair for her. She nodded and slipped into the seat.

“Would you like a drink?”

“Water, please.”

“No wine? Or do you still prefer champagne?”

Caitlin lowered her head as a warm flush crept up her cheeks. His seemingly innocent question revived memories of their night together that she wanted to keep buried.

“I can’t drink while I’m nursing.”

Leslie let out a disgusted grunt.  “How gauche. Do we have to discuss that at the dinner table?”

“What would you like to discuss?” Andrew asked, as he sat at the head of the table. “Something you know about, like shopping?”

Caitlin stifled a groan. It was going to be a long nine months.

Dinner proceeded awkwardly. The lobster bisque, which was prepared to perfection, held no appeal for Caitlin’s churning stomach. She couldn’t touch the salmon that followed.

“Would you pass the salt, Caitlin?” Andrew said to break the silence.

She handed him the pepper grinder. He wouldn’t have corrected her, except Leslie snickered.

“That’s the pepper.”

“I know,” Caitlin said simply. “Salt will kill you.”

“A health-food fanatic,” Leslie moaned.

A piercing cry erupted from the intercom in Caitlin’s pocket. As she turned down the volume, he noticed the look of relief on her face. She placed her napkin on the table and rose.

“If you’ll excuse me.”

“Can we expect this interruption every evening?” Joyce asked.

“There is no interruption. I’m finished anyway.” Caitlin forced herself to walk calmly until she was out the door, then ran down the corridor as fast as she could.

Andrew listened until the footsteps got fainter. Bitter anger rose like bile, leaving a foul taste in his mouth. He shot a furious scowl at his mother and sister. “Thank you. I know I ask so much of you in return for paying all the bills here.”

“There’s no need to raise your voice. Do you want the servants to hear you?” Joyce asked. “You’ve already given them enough to gossip about.”