Only You (3 page)

When he opened the office door, the same mess still waited, with the addition of another couple of layers of mail. He sure had his work cut out for him. Max shook his head, wondering if Caitlin ever filed anything. When he decided to check the file cabinet, he saw the largest cat he’d ever seen lounging on top of it.

“Hello, kitty.” Max reached out a friendly hand, only to draw it back when the cat met him with an ill-tempered growl. “Sorry.” Max decided to start with the desk instead.

Caitlin turned on the automatic watering system, then went down the rows and double-checked that every plant was hooked up properly. She’d followed this routine every day for months, ever since she had gotten the siphon system, but today her thoughts weren’t with her work. They were in her office with Maximillian Shore. At least Max had decided to be grumpy this morning. It would be much easier to keep her distance. And Lord knew she had to.

She couldn’t avoid him forever, however tempting the idea. She had to go into that office sometime. It was a shame it wasn’t any bigger. The thought of being closed up in that tiny space with
Max unnerved her. And, she reluctantly admitted, excited her. He reeked of masculinity and made her feel soft and womanly and vulnerable in response. Only she didn’t want to feel vulnerable. Not ever again.

After an hour Caitlin entered the dreary office and paused in shock. Max had miraculously cleared off the top of the desk. Three days worth of mail had even been opened and sorted—bills, invoices, and purchase agreements were in separate stacks. “Wow, I’m impressed.”

He shrugged well-muscled shoulders. “It’ll take another few days to get things together. But getting anything organized is the easy part. Keeping it organized is the hard part. That’s what I’m here to do. Together we’ll come up with a workable system. Right now I’d like to mention just a few things. If you have the time, that is.” His voice was carefully neutral.

Caitlin squirmed a little. She had been touchy all morning. It wasn’t his fault that he put her on edge. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I should have told you the other day that mornings are pretty hectic around here. I have plants to water, and they can’t wait. Friday mornings are even busier because I have calls to make and orders to get together to be shipped on Mondays. Today’s even worse than usual because Martha’s been out sick all week.” She smiled.

From Attila the Hun to an angel, and all it took was that smile. He could spend the rest of his life watching that smile. Whoa! Where’d
that
idea come from? Max hurriedly reined in his wandering mind. “I, ah, made a list of some items you’ll need to get your office in order. I usually deal with an office equipment warehouse across town, but if
you know someone else who can give you a better price, go ahead.”

“Just what kind of equipment are we talking about?” Caitlin said warily as she mentally added up the balance in the company checking account.

Max took out a small notebook from his shirt pocket and began reading. “One four-drawer file cabinet, a decent calculator, a stapler, blue and red pens—” Max glanced up. “Do you realize you have only one pen, and a green one at that?”

“I like green,” Caitlin muttered. “Go on. What else?”

“Legal pads, manila file folders, a Rolodex, a proper ledger book—”

“Anything else?” Caitlin interrupted.

“Just one more thing. I’d highly recommend a computer.”

“A computer?” Absolutely not! It wasn’t just the expense. Caitlin hated machines, even cars. She and her van had an uneasy agreement. As long as it got her where she wanted to go, she didn’t junk it. She didn’t have any kind of an agreement with computers. She hated them and they hated her. With horrified fascination, Caitlin listened as Max began to wax positively lyrical about computers.

“… And they can streamline your bookkeeping system and invoicing methods. They can even handle payroll.”

“No need for that,” Caitlin said. “There are just three other employees.”

Max went on as if he hadn’t heard. “… And they can keep a running inventory.”

“No computer.”

“Look, I know it’s a pretty big initial investment, but it’s worth it. Even a small personal computer can save hundreds of man-hours.”

“No computer.”

“But they’re efficient and they will eliminate the possibility of human error.”

“I
like
human error. What I don’t like is computer error.” Caitlin was emphatic.

She should have known that an efficiency expert would be gung-ho on computers. She had promised Arnie that she’d take the consultant’s advice, but she’d fight Max fang and claw over this. She’d better make her position clear right now, because heaven help her if Max mentioned it to Arnie. Arnie would go for it all the way. “Absolutely no computer, Mr. Shore. Zip, zero, zilch.”

“Okay, okay. Don’t get so hot about it.”

“I’m not hot about it!” Caitlin found herself nearly shouting in response. She paused in shock. She hadn’t shouted in years. She’d always kept her emotions on an even keel, preferring not to feel anything too intensely. But there was something about Max Shore that set her teeth on edge. Actually, it set her whole body on edge.

Feeling uncomfortable, Caitlin turned away and began stroking the cat still lying across the file cabinet. The cat purred, a loud deep rumble of pleasure, and rolled on his back.

“I’ll be damned!” Max said softly and, when Caitlin lifted puzzled eyes to his, continued. “All that cat has done this morning is growl and hiss at me.”

“Charlemagne? He wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

“Not a flea, maybe, but I’ll bet he can lick his weight in pit bulls,” Max muttered, then felt a little ridiculous. The cat looked soft and boneless as he lay sprawled on his back, getting his tummy rubbed. He reached out his hand, but no sooner had he touched the cat’s head than the cat
grabbed Max’s hand with his claws and growled, daring Max to trespass farther.

Caitlin murmured, “Gee. All these years I’ve never known he was an attack cat.”

“Well, now you know. Would you mind calling him off?”

“He’d only ignore me. Charlemagne’s pretty much a law unto himself.” Caitlin felt a smug satisfaction. Max was well and truly caught. As long as he didn’t move his hand, Charlemagne was content merely to hold it. Whenever Max tried to move his fingers, the cat renewed his attack.

“So what do I do now? Stand here all day waiting until this cat gets tired?”

He could stand there all day, she thought suddenly, and she wouldn’t mind a bit. He had a nice back—muscular without being bumpy, and if she were the type of woman to notice a man’s derriere, then she’d certainly notice the way the fabric of his trousers pulled across his tight bottom. However, she wasn’t the type.

She cleared her throat. “Not all day, but if you’d wait just a minute …” Caitlin tore a long strip of paper from the notepad on the desk and wiggled that in front of Charlemagne. The cat’s ears stood at attention and his tail twitched before he reached out a paw to bat at the paper. Max stole the opportunity to jerk his hand away and glanced down at it. “See? He left me scarred.”

Without thinking, Caitlin reached over and gently took his hand to look at the barely visible pinpricks. “They’re hardly noticeable at all,” she said, her fingertips brushing over his skin. “Next time …”

Her voice died as Max’s hand wrapped around hers, leaving it warm and tingling. Caitlin looked
up then, her brown eyes meeting his blue ones. His fingers threaded through hers when her tongue slipped out to moisten her lips. The sudden hunger that flared in the depths of his gaze caught her by surprise. She jerked loose and took a step back.

Max noticed the anxious expression on Caitlin’s face. For a moment she had looked as lost and as scared as a child who couldn’t find her mother. What had frightened her? Was it him? Or the sudden desire that had loomed between them? Whatever the cause, the fear in her eyes made Max want to enfold her in his arms and promise her she’d always be safe.

Caitlin spun away and busily flipped through a stack of invoices on the desk. Perhaps it would be best to ignore the whole thing, she thought. “I know you want to run down office procedures with me this morning, but would it be okay if we did that this afternoon? I have a few calls to make right now, and K.C. will be here after lunch to look after the place.”

“That would be fine. If you could move that cat, I’ll even look at reorganizing the filing system.” Max pulled a pristine white handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped a thin film of sweat from his forehead. “Is it always this warm in here?”

“Not always.” Caitlin gave a small smile. “Usually it’s worse.”

“Worse?”

“Worse. I do have a ventilation system out in the greenhouse that keeps the temperature from getting above ninety, but it doesn’t help much in here.”

“You’re telling me,” Max grumbled as he loosened his necktie.

Caitlin watched, captivated, as Max proceeded to unbutton his shirt-sleeves and roll up the cuffs, revealing forearms that were tanned and well-muscled. When he began on the top buttons of his shirt, she mumbled, “I’m going to put on the fans,” then turned to leave.

“Ah, before you go, would you mind taking the cat with you?”

“It probably won’t help much.” Caitlin hoisted the cat in her arms, the huge beast dangling as limply as overcooked spaghetti. “He can open the office door by himself.”

“Does he live in the greenhouse?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes he follows me out to the van when I’m ready to leave. That’s when I know he wants to go home with me. In other words, he decides where he wants to be.” Caitlin switched the heavy animal to her other arm, carefully avoiding meeting Max’s eyes.

“I guess Jordan, or, ah, your husband isn’t allergic to cats.” Was it obvious to her that he was fishing for information on her marital status?

“Neither Jordan nor I are allergic to cats.”

She hadn’t mentioned a husband, Max thought in relief. Surely, if she were married, she’d have said something about her husband. “Hmm? What?” Max realized that Caitlin had been speaking to him.

“I said,” she repeated patiently, “that I’m going to take care of my calls now. I usually eat lunch around twelve-thirty or one. You’re welcome to join me if you like.”

“That would be fine, thanks. Would you like me to order something?” Max asked, thinking of Super Subs with their deluxe heros piled high with
hot peppers or Piggy’s Pizza and its everything-but-the-kitchen-sink pizza.

“If you don’t mind.” Caitlin smiled. “There’s a terrific place just a couple of blocks away that delivers. The number is on the green label stuck on the side of the telephone.”

When she had left the office, Max called the number, only to be told the day’s specials included grilled tofu with lemon, tabouli with chopped walnuts, and hummus sandwiches. Lord, no, Max thought. He wasn’t going to order that slop. It wasn’t even fit for an animal. Well, he amended, thinking of Charlemagne, maybe for one animal. Wasn’t it nice of Caitlin, though, to order from them just because they happened to be close. However, nice was one thing Max wasn’t when it came to his food. He’d order in some real dishes, he thought with satisfaction. Caitlin would probably appreciate a decent meal.

Caitlin spent the next hour in the back of the greenhouse at the phone extension, trying to track down American ginseng. As she hung up after finalizing an order for eighty pounds, she felt the back of her neck prickle and turned to see Max standing behind her, watching her. She wondered how long he’d been there. “Hi,” she said, feeling somewhat shy.

“Lunch is in the office.”

“Um, thanks. I’ll be right in.” Caitlin turned, walked over to the sink, and rinsed her hands. She hoped Max had gotten the tabouli. The Garden made really great tabouli. The grilled tofu sandwiches weren’t bad either, and the house salad with
yogurt dressing was outstanding. Her mouth watering, she pushed open the door to the office.

She nearly groaned aloud, her appetite shrinking like a wool sweater in hot water. Chinese food. She couldn’t eat Chinese food. It wasn’t just that it happened to be sweet and sour pork—she didn’t eat meat—but it had lots of monosodium glutamate. Monosodium glutamate gave her hives. She was about ready to tell Max, when she saw how neatly everything was arranged. The desk was cleared and plates, along with napkins, set in place as carefully as if they were china and not just paper.

He had gone to great pains, and Caitlin couldn’t bring herself to say anything except “Oh, you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.” In fact, she wished he hadn’t.

“It was no trouble at all,” he replied cheerfully. “I thought this would be something we could both enjoy.”

When he smiled that boyish yet disturbingly masculine smile, Caitlin resigned herself to a long night of itching.

Lunch was quiet as Max ate with enthusiasm and Caitlin unobtrusively picked out the green pepper and pineapple, leaving the pork on the plate. After the meal Caitlin explained her general office procedure—or more precisely, her lack of it. To Max’s credit, he said nothing, though had he been the type to raise his eyebrows, they would have long since disappeared beneath the thatch of hair that fell across his brow.

Interesting, he thought more than once over the course of the afternoon, Caitlin seemed to make a concerted effort
not
to be organized. After all, in an office as small as hers, it wouldn’t be any more
trouble to tuck something in a folder than it was to dig through stacks of paper for it. As a matter of fact, it would be less.

Considering how carefully she tried to control her feelings, it was an interesting contradiction. Perhaps, he mused, she wasn’t as controlled as she wanted everyone to think. Maybe she was trying to suppress a creative, passionate nature and the sloppiness and lack of organization were simply outlets for those stifled emotions. A sudden jolt ran through Max, and he knew he wanted to be there the day she gave her creativity and passion free rein.

He had one more piece to the puzzle that was Caitlin, a puzzle that he desperately yearned to put together. Most of all, he wanted to figure out why she avoided physical contact. Was it him in particular or contact in general? In the office it was next to impossible to move around without brushing by each other. But instead of saying a friendly “excuse me,” Caitlin would lower her eyes and draw in her breath.