Trading Christmas (22 page)

“I won't have a chance to look at this for a few days,” he said.

“Oh, please, there's no rush. You happened to mention you got some useful insights from the previous article I gave you. So I thought I'd share a few others that seem relevant to what's going on with the market now.”

“It's very thoughtful of you.”

“I was happy to do it. More than happy,” she amended with her most brilliant smile. When he didn't say anything more,
Cait rose reluctantly to her feet. “You must be swamped after being in meetings for most of the day, so I'll leave you now.”

She was almost at the door when he spoke. “Actually I only dropped in to the office to collect a few things before heading out again. I've got an important date this evening.”

Cait felt as if the floor had suddenly disappeared and she was plummeting through empty space. “Date?” she repeated before she could stop herself. It was a struggle to keep smiling.

Paul's grin was downright boyish. “Yes, I'm meeting her for dinner.”

“In that case, have a good time.”

“Thanks, I will,” he returned confidently, his eyes alight with excitement. “Oh, and by the way,” he added, indicating the folder she'd worked so hard on, “thanks for all the effort you put into this.”

“You're…welcome.”

By the time Cait got back to her office she felt numb. Paul had an important date. It wasn't as though she'd expected him to live the life of a hermit, but before today, he'd never mentioned going out with anyone. She might have suspected he'd thrown out the information hoping to make her jealous if it hadn't been for one thing. He seemed genuinely thrilled about this date. Besides, Paul wasn't the kind of man to resort to pretense.

“Cait, my goodness,” Lindy said, strolling into her office a while later, “what's wrong? You look dreadful.”

Cait tried to swallow the lump in her throat and managed a shaky smile. “I talked to Paul and gave him the research I'd done.”

“He didn't appreciate it?” Lindy picked up the Christmas wreath that lay on Cait's desk and pinned it to the door.

“I'm sure he did,” she replied. “What he doesn't appreciate is me. I might as well be invisible to that man.” She pushed
the hair away from her forehead and braced both elbows on her desk, feeling totally disheartened. Unless she acted quickly, she was going to lose Paul to some faceless, nameless woman.

“You've been invisible to him before. What's different about this time?” Lindy fastened a silver bell to the window as Cait abstractedly fingered her three ceramic wise men.

“Paul's got a date, and from the way he talked about it, this isn't with just any woman, either. Whoever she is must be important, otherwise he wouldn't have said anything. He looked like a little kid who's been given the keys to a candy store.”

The information seemed to surprise Lindy as much as it had Cait. She was quiet for a few minutes before she asked, “What are you going to do about it?”

“I don't know,” Cait cried, hiding her face in her hands. She'd once jokingly suggested to Joe that she parade around naked in an effort to gain Paul's attention. Of course she'd been exaggerating, but some form of drastic action was obviously needed. If only she knew what.

Lindy mumbled an excuse and left. It wasn't until Cait looked up that she realized her friend was gone. She sighed wearily. She'd arrived at work this morning with such bright expectations, and now everything had gone wrong. She felt more depressed than she'd been in a long time. She knew the best remedy would be to force herself into some physical activity. Anything. The worst possible thing she could do was sit home alone and mope. Maybe she should plan to buy herself a Christmas tree and some ornaments. Her spirits couldn't help being at least a little improved by that; it would get her out of the house, if nothing else. And then she'd have something to entertain herself with, instead of brooding about this unexpected turn of events. Getting out of the house had
an added advantage. If Joe phoned, she wouldn't be there to answer.

No sooner had that thought passed through her mind when a large form filled her doorway.

Joe.

A bright orange hard hat was pushed back on his head, the way movie cowboys wore their Stetsons. His boots were dusty and his tool pouch rode low on his hip, completing the gunslinger image. Even the way he stood with his thumbs tucked in his belt suggested he was waiting for a showdown.

“Hi, beautiful,” he drawled, giving her that lazy, intimate smile of his. The one designed, Cait swore, just to unnerve her. But it wasn't going to work, not in her present state of mind.

“Don't you have anyone else to pester?” she asked coldly.

“My, my,” Joe said, shaking his head in mock chagrin. Disregarding her lack of welcome, he strode into the office and threw himself down in the chair beside her desk. “You're in a rare mood.”

“You would be too after the day I've had. Listen, Joe. As you can see, I'm poor company. Go flirt with the receptionist if you're trying to make someone miserable.”

“Those claws are certainly sharp this afternoon.” He ran his hands down the front of his shirt, pretending to inspect the damage she'd inflicted. “What's wrong?” Some of the teasing light faded from his eyes as he studied her.

She sent him a look meant to blister his ego, but as always Joe seemed invincible against her practiced glares.

“How do you know I'm not here to invest fifty thousand dollars?” he demanded, making himself at home by reaching across her desk for a pen. He rolled it casually between his palms.

Cait wasn't about to fall for this little game. “Are you here to invest money?”

“Not exactly. I wanted to ask you to—”

“Then come back when you are.” She grabbed a stack of papers and slapped them down on her desk. But being rude, even to Joe, went against her nature. She was battling tears and the growing need to explain her behavior, apologize for it, when he rose to his feet. He tossed the pen carelessly onto her desk.

“Have it your way. If asking you to join me to look for a Christmas tree is such a terrible crime, then—”

“You're going to buy a Christmas tree?”

“That's what I just said.” He flung the words over his shoulder as he strode out the door.

In that moment, Cait felt as though the whole world was tumbling down around her shoulders. She felt like such a shrew. He'd come here wanting to include her in his Christmas preparations and she'd driven him away with a spiteful tongue and a haughty attitude.

Cait wasn't a woman easily given to tears, but she struggled with them now. Her lower lip started to quiver. She might have been eight years old all over again—this was like the day she'd found out she wasn't invited to Betsy McDonald's birthday party. Only now it was Paul doing the excluding. He and this important woman of his were going out to have the time of their lives while she stayed home in her lonely apartment, suffering from a serious case of self-pity.

Gathering up her things, Cait thrust the papers into her briefcase with uncharacteristic negligence. She put on her coat, buttoned it quickly and wrapped the scarf around her neck as though it were a hangman's noose.

Joe was talking to his foreman, who'd been unobtrusively working around the office all day. He hesitated when he saw
her, halting the conversation. Cait's eyes briefly met his and although she tried to disguise how regretful she felt, she obviously did a poor job of it. He took a step toward her, but she raised her chin a notch, too proud to admit her feelings.

She had to walk directly past Joe on her way to the elevator and forced herself to look anywhere but at him.

The stocky foreman clearly wanted to resume the discussion, but Joe ignored him and stared at Cait instead, with narrowed, assessing eyes. She could feel his questioning concern as profoundly as if he'd touched her. When she could bear it no longer, she turned to face him, her lower lip quivering uncontrollably.

“Cait,” he called out.

She raced for the elevator, fearing she'd burst into tears before she could make her grand exit. She didn't bother to respond, knowing that if she said anything she'd make a greater fool of herself than usual. She wasn't even sure what had prompted her to say the atrocious things to Joe that she had. He wasn't the one who'd upset her, yet she'd unfairly taken her frustrations out on him.

She should've known it would be impossible to make a clean getaway. She almost ran through the office, past the reception desk, toward the elevator.

“Aren't you going to answer me?” Joe demanded, following on her heels.

“No.” She concentrated on the lighted numbers above the elevator, which moved with painstaking slowness. Three more floors and she could make her escape.

“What's so insulting about inviting you to go Christmas-tree shopping?” he asked.

Close to weeping, she waved her free hand, hoping he'd understand that she was incapable of explaining just then. Her
throat was clogged and it hurt to breathe, let alone talk. Her eyes filled with tears, and everything started to blur.

“Tell me,” he commanded a second time.

Cait gulped at the tightness in her throat. “Y-you wouldn't understand.” Why, oh, why, wouldn't that elevator hurry?

“Try me.”

It was either give in and explain, or stand there and argue. The first choice was easier; frankly, Cait didn't have the energy to fight with him. Sighing deeply, she began, “It—it all started when I made up this folder of business articles for Paul…”

“I might've known Paul had something to do with this,” Joe muttered under his breath.

“I spent hours putting it together, adding little comments, and…and… I don't know what I expected but it wasn't…”

“What happened? What did Paul do?”

Cait rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “If you're going to interrupt me, then I can't see any reason to explain.”

“Boss?” the foreman called out, sounding impatient.

Just then the elevator arrived and the doors opened, revealing half a dozen men and women. They stared out at Cait and Joe as he blocked the entrance, gripping her by the elbow.

“Joseph,” she hissed, “let me go!” Recognizing her advantage, she called out, “This man refuses to release my arm.” If she expected a knight in shining armor to leap to her rescue, Cait was to be sorely disappointed. It was as if no one had heard her.

“Don't worry, folks, we're married.” Joe charmed them with another of his lazy, lopsided grins.

“Boss?” the foreman pleaded again.

“Take the rest of the day off,” Joe shouted. “Tell the crew to go out and buy Christmas gifts for their wives.”

“You want me to do
what?
” the foreman shouted back. Joe moved into the elevator with Cait.

“You heard me.”

“Let me make sure I understand you. You want the men to go Christmas shopping for their wives? I thought you just said we're on a tight schedule?”

“That's right,” Joe said loudly as the elevator doors closed.

Cait had never felt more conspicuous in her life. Every eye was focused on her and Joe, and it was all she could do to keep her head high.

When the tension became intolerable, Cait turned to face her fellow passengers. “We are not married,” she announced.

“Yes, we are,” Joe insisted. “She's simply forgotten.”

“I did not forget our marriage and don't you dare tell them that cock-and-bull story about amnesia.”

“But, darling—”

“Stop it right now, Joseph Rockwell! No one believes you. I'm sure these people can figure out that I'm the one who's telling the truth.”

The elevator finally stopped on the ground floor, a fact for which Cait was deeply grateful. The doors glided open and two women stepped out first, but not before pausing to get a good appreciative look at Joe.

“Does she do this often?” one of the men asked, directing his question to Joe, his amusement obvious.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he answered, chuckling as he tucked his hand under Cait's elbow and led her into the foyer. She tried to jerk her arm away, but he wouldn't allow it. “You see, I married a forgetful bride.”

P
acing the carpet in the living room, Cait nervously smoothed the front of her red satin dress, her heart pumping furiously while she waited for Joe to arrive. She'd spent hours preparing for this Christmas party, which was being held in Paul's home. Her stomach was in knots.

She,
the mysterious woman Paul was dating, would surely be there. Cait would have her first opportunity to size up the competition. Cait had studied her reflection countless times, trying to be objective about her chances with Paul based on looks alone. The dress was gorgeous. Her hair flawless. Everything else was as perfect as she could make it.

The doorbell sounded and Cait hurried across the room, throwing open the door. “You know what you are, Joseph Rockwell?”

“Late?” he suggested.

Cait pretended not to hear him. “A bully,” she said. “A badgering bully, no less. I'm sorry I ever agreed to let you take me to Paul's party. I don't know what I was thinking.”

“You were probably hoping to corner me under the mistletoe,” he remarked with a wink that implied he wouldn't be difficult to persuade.

“First you practically kidnap me into going Christmas-tree shopping with you,” she raged. “Then—”

“Come on, Cait, admit it, you had fun.” He lounged indolently on her sofa while she got her coat and purse.

She hesitated, her mouth twitching with a smile. “Who'd ever believe that a man who bought his mother a rib roast and a case of cat food for Christmas last year would be so particular about a silly tree?” Joe had dragged her to no fewer than four lots yesterday, searching for the perfect tree.

“I took you to dinner afterward, didn't I?” he reminded her.

Cait nodded. She had to admit it: Joe had gone out of his way to help her forget her troubles. Although she'd made the tree-shopping expedition sound like a chore, he'd turned the evening into an enjoyable and, yes, memorable one.

His good mood had been infectious and after a while she'd completely forgotten Paul was out with another woman—someone so special that his enthusiasm about her had overcome his normal restraint.

“I've changed my mind,” Cait decided suddenly, clasping her hands over her stomach, which was in turmoil. “I don't want to go to this Christmas party, after all.” The evening was already doomed. She couldn't possibly have a good time watching the man she loved entertain the woman
he
loved. Cait couldn't think of a single reason to expose herself to that kind of misery.

“Not go to the party?” Joe repeated. “But I thought you'd arranged your flight schedule just so you could.”

“I did, but that was before.” Cait stubbornly squared her shoulders and elevated her chin just enough to convince Joe
she meant business. He might be able to bully her into going shopping with him for a Christmas tree, but this was entirely different. “
She'll
be there,” Cait added as an explanation.

“She?” Joe repeated slowly, burying his hands in his suit pockets. He was exceptionally handsome in his dark blue suit and no doubt knew it. He was as comfortable in tailored slacks as he was in dirty jeans.

A lock of thick hair slanted across his forehead; Cait managed—it was an effort—to resist brushing it back. An effort not because it disrupted his polished appearance, but because she had the strangest desire to run her fingers through his hair. Why she'd think such a thing now was beyond her. She'd long since stopped trying to figure out her feelings for Joe. He was a friend and a confidant even if, at odd moments, he behaved like a lunatic. Just remembering some of the comments he'd made to embarrass her brought color to her cheeks.

“I'd imagine you'd want to meet her,” Joe challenged. “That way you can size her up.”

“I don't even want to know what she looks like,” Cait countered sharply. She didn't need to. Cait already knew everything she cared to about Paul's hot date. “She's beautiful.”

“So are you.”

Cait gave a short, derisive laugh. She wasn't discounting her own homespun appeal. She was reasonably attractive, and never more so than this evening. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she was pleased to see how nice her hair looked, with the froth of curls circling her head. But she wasn't going to kid herself, either. Her allure wasn't extraordinary by any stretch of the imagination. Her eyes were a warm shade of brown, though, and her nose was kind of cute. Perky, Lindy had once called it. But none of that mattered. Measuring herself against Paul's sure-to-be-gorgeous, nameless date was like comparing bulky sweat socks with a silk stocking. She'd
already spent hours picturing her as a classic beauty…tall…sophisticated.

“I've never taken you for a coward,” Joe said in a flat tone as he headed toward the door.

Apparently he wasn't even going to argue with her. Cait almost wished he would, just so she could show him how strong her will was. Nothing he could say or do would convince her to attend this party. Besides, her feet hurt. She was wearing new heels and hadn't broken them in yet, and if she did go, she'd be limping for days afterward.

“I'm not a coward,” she told him, schooling her face to remain as emotionless as possible. “All I'm doing is exercising a little common sense. Why depress myself over the holidays? This is the last time I'll see Paul before Christmas. I leave for Minnesota in the morning.”

“Yes, I know.” Joe frowned as he said it, hesitating before he opened her door. “You're sure about this?”

“Positive.” She was mildly surprised Joe wasn't making more of a fuss. From past experience, she'd expected a full-scale verbal battle.

“The choice is yours of course,” he granted, shrugging. “But if it was me, I know I'd spend the whole evening regretting it.” He studied her when he'd finished, then gave her a smile Cait could only describe as crafty.

She groaned inwardly. If there was one thing that drove her crazy about Joe it was the way he made the most outrageous statements. Then every once in a while he'd say something so wise it caused her to doubt her own conclusions and beliefs. This was one of those times. He was right: if she didn't go to Paul's, she'd regret it. Since she was leaving for Minnesota the following day, she wouldn't be able to ask anyone about the party, either.

“Are you coming or not?” he demanded.

Grumbling under her breath, Cait let him help her on with her coat. “I'm coming, but I don't like it. Not one darn bit.”

“You're going to do just fine.”

“They probably said that to Joan of Arc, too.”

 

Cait clutched the punch glass in both hands, as though terrified someone might try to take it back. Standing next to the fireplace, with its garlanded mantel and cheerful blaze, she hadn't moved since they'd arrived a half hour earlier. “Is
she
here yet?” she whispered to Lindy when her friend walked past carrying a tray of canapés.

“Who?”

“Paul's woman friend,” Cait said pointedly. Both Joe and Lindy were beginning to exasperate her. “I've been standing here for the past thirty minutes hoping to catch a glimpse of her.”

Lindy looked away. “I…I don't know if she's here or not.”

“Stay with me, for heaven's sake,” Cait requested, feeling shaky inside and out. Joe had deserted her almost as soon as they got there. Oh, he'd stuck around long enough to bring her a cup of punch, but then he'd drifted away, leaving Cait to deal with the situation on her own. This was the very man who'd insisted she attend this Christmas party, claiming he'd be right by her side the entire evening in case she needed him.

“I'm helping Paul with the hors d'oeuvres,” Lindy explained, “otherwise I'd be happy to stay and chat.”

“See if you can find Joe for me, would you?” She'd do it herself, but her feet were killing her.

“Sure.”

Once Lindy was gone, Cait scanned the crowded living room. Many of the guests were business associates and clients Paul had worked with over the years. Naturally everyone from the office was there, as well.

“You wanted to see me?” Joe asked, reaching her side.

“Thank you very much,” she muttered, doing her best to sound sarcastic and keep a smile on her face at the same time.

“You're welcome.” He leaned one elbow on the fireplace mantel and grinned at her boyishly. “Might I ask what you're thanking me for?”

“Don't play games with me, Joe. Not now, please.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, drawing his attention to her shoes.

“Your feet hurt?” he asked, frowning.

“Walking across hot coals would be less painful than these stupid high heels.”

“Then why did you wear them?”

“Because they go with the dress. Listen, would you mind very much if we got off the subject of my shoes and discussed the matter at hand?”

“Which is?”

Joe was being as obtuse as Lindy had been. She assumed he was doing it deliberately, just to get a rise out of her. Well, it was working.

“Did you see her?” she asked with exaggerated patience.

“Not yet,” he whispered back as though they were exchanging top-secret information. “She doesn't seem to have arrived.”

“Have you talked to Paul?”

“No. Have you?”

“Not really.” Paul had greeted them at the door, but other than that, Cait hadn't had a chance to do anything but watch him mingle with his guests. The day at the office hadn't been any help, either. Paul had breezed in and out without giving Cait more than a friendly wave. Since they hadn't exchanged a single word, it was impossible for her to determine how his date had gone.

It must have been a busy day for Lindy, as well, because Cait hadn't had a chance to talk to her, either. They'd met on their way out the door late that afternoon and Lindy had hurried past, saying she'd see Cait at Paul's party.

“I think I'll go help Lindy with the hors d'oeuvres,” Cait said now. “Do you want me to get you anything?”

“Nothing, thanks.” He was grinning as he strolled away, leaving Cait to wonder what he found so amusing.

Cait limped into the kitchen, leaving the polished wooden door swinging in her wake. She stopped abruptly when she encountered Paul and Lindy in the middle of a heated discussion.

“Oh, sorry,” Cait apologized automatically.

Paul's gaze darted to Cait's. “No problem,” he said quickly. “I was just leaving.” He stalked past her, shoving the door open with the palm of his hand. Once again the door swung back and forth.

“What was that all about?” Cait wanted to know.

Lindy continued transferring the small cheese-dotted crackers from the cookie sheet onto the serving platter. “Nothing.”

“It sounded as if you and Paul were arguing.”

Lindy straightened and bit her lip. She avoided looking at Cait, concentrating on her task as if it was of vital importance to properly arrange the crackers on the plate.

“You were arguing, weren't you?” Cait pressed.

“Yes.”

As far as she knew, Lindy and Paul had always gotten along. The fact that they were at odds surprised her. “About what?”

“I—I gave Paul my two-week notice this afternoon.”

Cait was so shocked, she pulled out a kitchen chair and sank down on it. “You did
what?
” Removing her high heels, she massaged her pinched toes.

“You heard me.”

“But why? Good grief, Lindy, you never said a word to anyone. Not even me. The least you could've done was talk to me about it first.” No wonder Paul was angry. If Lindy left, it would mean bringing in someone new when the office was already short-staffed. With Cait and a number of other people away for the holidays, the place would be a madhouse.

“Did you receive an offer you couldn't refuse?” Cait hadn't had any idea her friend was unhappy at Webster, Rodale and Missen. Still, that didn't shock her nearly as much as Lindy's remaining tight-lipped about it all.

“It wasn't exactly an offer—but it was something like that,” Lindy replied vaguely. She set aside the cookie sheet, smiled at Cait and then carried the platter into the living room.

For the past couple of weeks Cait had noticed that something was troubling her friend. It hadn't been anything she could readily name. Just that Lindy hadn't been her usual high-spirited self. Cait had meant to ask her about it, but she'd been so busy herself, so involved with her own problems, that she'd never brought it up.

She was still sitting there rubbing her feet when Joe sauntered into the kitchen, nibbling on a cheese cracker. “I thought I'd find you in here.” He pulled out the chair across from her and sat down.

“Has she arrived yet?”

“Apparently so.”

Cait dropped her foot and frantically worked the shoe back and forth until she'd managed to squeeze her toes inside. Then she forced her other foot into its shoe. “Well, for heaven's sake, why didn't you say something sooner?” she chastised. She stood up, ran her hands down the satin skirt and drew a shaky breath. “How do I look?”

“Like your feet hurt.”

She sent him a scalding frown. “Thank you very much,”
she said sarcastically for the second time in under ten minutes. Hobbling to the door, she opened it a crack and peeked out, hoping to catch sight of the mystery woman. From what she could see, there weren't any new arrivals.

“What does she look like?” Cait demanded and whirled around to discover Joe standing directly behind her. She nearly collided with him and gave a small cry of surprise. Joe caught her by the shoulders to keep her from stumbling. Eager to question him about Paul's date, she didn't take the time to analyze why her heartrate soared when his hands made contact with her bare skin.

“What does she look like?” Cait asked again.