Trading Christmas (23 page)

“I don't know,” Joe returned flippantly.

“What do you mean you don't know? You just said she'd arrived.”

“Unfortunately she doesn't have a tattoo across her forehead announcing that she's the woman Paul's dating.”

“Then how do you know she's here?” If Joe was playing games with her, she'd make damn sure he'd regret it. Her love for Paul was no joking matter.

“It's more a feeling I have.”

“You had me stuff my feet back into these shoes for a stupid feeling?” It was all she could do not to slap him silly. “You are no friend of mine, Joseph Rockwell. No friend whatsoever.” Having said that, she limped back into the living room.

Obviously unscathed by her remark, Joe wandered out of the kitchen behind her. He walked over to the tray of canapés and helped himself to three or four while Cait did her best to ignore him.

Since the punch bowl was close by, she poured herself a second glass. The taste was sweet and cold, but Cait noticed that she felt a bit light-headed afterward. Potent drinks didn't
sit well on an empty stomach, so she scooped up a handful of mixed nuts.

“I remember a time when you used to line up all the Spanish peanuts and eat those first,” Joe said from behind her. “Then it was the hazelnuts, followed by the—”

“Almonds.” Leave it to him to bring up her foolish past. “I haven't done that since I was—”

“Twenty,” he guessed.

“Twenty-five,” she corrected.

Joe laughed, and despite her aching feet and the certainty that she should never have come to this party, Cait laughed, too.

Refilling her punch glass, she downed it all in a single drink. Once more, it tasted cool and refreshing.

“Cait,” Joe warned, “how much punch have you had?”

“Not enough.” She filled the crystal cup a third time—or was it the fourth?—squared her shoulders and gulped it down. When she'd finished, she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and smiled bravely.

“Are you purposely trying to get drunk?” he demanded.

“No.” She reached for another handful of nuts. “All I'm looking for is a little courage.”

“Courage?”

“Yes,” she said with a sigh. “The way I figure it…” She paused, smiling giddily, then whirled around in a full circle. “There
is
some mistletoe here, isn't there?”

“I think so,” Joe said, frowning. “What makes you ask?”

“I'm going to kiss Paul,” she said proudly. “All I have to do is wait until he walks past. Then I'll grab him by the hand, wish him a merry Christmas and give him a kiss he won't soon forget.” If the fantasy fulfilled itself, Paul would immediately realize he'd met the woman of his dreams, and propose marriage on the spot….

“What is kissing Paul supposed to prove?”

She returned to reality. “Well, this is where you come in. I want you to look around and watch the faces of the other women. If one of them shows signs of jealousy, then we'll know who it is.”

“I'm not sure this plan of yours is going to work.”

“It's better than trusting those feelings of yours,” she countered.

She saw the mistletoe hanging from the archway between the formal dining room and the living room. Slouched against the wall, hands tucked behind her back, Cait waited patiently for Paul to stroll past.

Ten minutes passed or maybe it was fifteen—Cait couldn't tell. Yawning, she covered her mouth. “I think we should leave,” Joe suggested as he casually walked by. “You're ready to fall asleep on your feet.”

“I haven't kissed Paul yet,” she reminded him.

“He seems to be involved in a lengthy discussion. This could take a while.”

“I'm in no hurry.” Her throat felt unusually dry. She would have preferred something nonalcoholic, but the only drink nearby was the punch.

“Cait,” Joe warned when he saw her helping herself to yet another glass.

“Don't worry, I know what I'm doing.”

“So did the captain of the
Titanic.
”

“Don't get cute with me, Joseph Rockwell. I'm in no mood to deal with someone amusing.” Finding herself hilariously funny, she smothered a round of giggles.

“Oh, no,” Joe groaned. “I was afraid of this.”

“Afraid of what?”

“You're drunk!”

She gave him a sour look. “That's ridiculous. All I had is
four little, bitty glasses of punch.” To prove she knew exactly what she was doing, she held up three fingers, recognized her mistake and promptly corrected herself. At least she tried to do it promptly, but figuring out how many fingers equaled four seemed to take an inordinate amount of time. She finally held up two from each hand.

Expelling her breath, she leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. That was her second mistake. The world took a sharp and unexpected nosedive. Snapping open her eyes, Cait looked to Joe as the anchor that would keep her afloat. He must have read the panic in her expression because he moved toward her and slowly shook his head.

“That does it, Ms. Singapore Sling. I'm getting you out of here.”

“But I haven't been under the mistletoe yet.”

“If you want anyone to kiss you, it'll be me.”

The offer sounded tempting, but it was her stubborn boss Cait wanted to kiss, not Joe. “I'd rather dance with you.”

“Unfortunately there isn't any music at the moment.”

“You need music to dance?” It sounded like the saddest thing she'd ever heard, and her bottom lip began to tremble at the tragedy of it all. “Oh, dear, Joe,” she whispered, clasping both hands to the sides of her head. “I think you might be right. The punch seems to be affecting me….”

“It's that bad, is it?”

“Uh, yes… The whole room's just started to pitch and heave. We're not having an earthquake, are we?”

“No.” His hand was on her forearm, guiding her toward the front door.

“Wait,” she said dramatically, raising her index finger. “I have a coat.”

“I know. Stay here and I'll get it for you.” He seemed worried about leaving her. Cait smiled at him, trying to reassure
him she'd be perfectly fine, but she seemed unable to keep her balance. He urged her against the wall, stepped back a couple of paces as though he expected her to slip sideways, then hurriedly located her coat.

“What's wrong?” he asked when he returned.

“What makes you think anything's wrong?”

“Other than the fact that you're crying?”

“My feet hurt.”

Joe rolled his eyes. “Why did you wear those stupid shoes in the first place?”

“I already told you,” she whimpered. “Don't be mad at me.” She held out her arms to him, needing his comfort. “Would you carry me to the car?”

Joe hesitated. “You want me to carry you?” He sounded as though it was a task of Herculean proportions.

“I can't walk.” She'd taken the shoes off, and it would take God's own army to get them back on. She couldn't very well traipse outside in her stocking feet.

“If I carry you, we'd better find another way out of the house.”

“All right.” She agreed just to prove what an amicable person she actually was. When she was a child, she'd been a pest, but she wasn't anymore and she wanted to be sure Joe understood that.

Grasping Cait's hand, he led her into the kitchen.

“Don't you think we should make our farewells?” she asked. It seemed the polite thing to do.

“No,” he answered sharply. “With the mood you're in you're likely to throw yourself into Paul's arms and demand that he make mad passionate love to you right then and there.”

Cait's face went fire-engine red. “That's ridiculous.”

Joe mumbled something she couldn't hear while he lifted her hand and slipped one arm, then the other, into the satin-lined sleeves of her full-length coat.

When he'd finished, Cait climbed on top of the kitchen chair, stretching out her arms to him. Joe stared at her as though she'd suddenly turned into a werewolf.

“What are you doing now?” he asked in an exasperated voice.

“You're going to carry me, aren't you?”

“I was considering it.”

“I want a piggyback ride. You gave Betsy McDonald a piggyback ride once and not me.”

“Cait,” Joe groaned. He jerked his fingers through his hair, and offered her his hand, wanting her to climb down from the chair. “Get down before you fall. Good Lord, I swear you'd try the patience of a saint.”

“I want you to carry me piggyback,” she insisted. “Oh, please, Joe. My toes hurt so bad.”

Once again her hero grumbled under his breath. She couldn't make out everything he said, but what she did hear was enough to curl her hair. With obvious reluctance, he walked to the chair, and giving a sigh of pure bliss, Cait wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged his lean hips with her legs. She laid her head on his shoulder and sighed again.

Still grumbling, Joe moved toward the back door.

Just then the kitchen door opened and Paul and Lindy walked in. Lindy gasped. Paul just stared.

“It's all right,” Cait was quick to assure them. “Really it is. I was waiting under the mistletoe and you—”

“She downed four glasses of punch nonstop,” Joe inserted before Cait could admit she'd been waiting there for Paul.

“Do you need any help?” Paul asked.

“None, thanks,” Joe returned. “There's nothing to worry about.”

“But…” Lindy looked concerned.

“She ain't heavy,” Joe teased. “She's my wife.”

 

The phone rang, waking Cait from a sound sleep. Her head began throbbing in time to the painful noise and she groped for the telephone receiver.

“Hello,” she barked, instantly regretting that she'd spoken loudly.

“How are you feeling?” Joe asked.

“About like you'd expect,” she whispered, keeping her eyes closed and gently massaging one temple. It felt as though tiny men with hammers had taken up residence in her head and were pounding away, hoping to attract her attention.

“What time does your flight leave?” he asked.

“It's okay. I'm not scheduled to leave until this afternoon.”

“It is afternoon.”

Her eyes flew open. “What?”

“Do you still need me to take you to the airport?”

“Yes…please.” She tossed aside the covers and reached for her clock, stunned to realize Joe was right. “I'm already packed. I'll be dressed by the time you get here. Oh, thank goodness you phoned.”

Cait didn't have time to listen to the pounding of the tiny men in her head. She showered and dressed as quickly as possible, swallowed a cup of coffee and a couple of aspirin, and was just shrugging into her coat when Joe arrived at the door.

She let him in, despite the suspiciously wide grin he wore.

“What's so amusing?”

“What makes you think I'm amused?” He strolled into the room, hands behind his back, as if he owned the place.

“Joe, we don't have time for your little games. Come on, or I'm going to miss my plane. What's with you, anyway?”

“Nothing.” He circled her living room, still wearing that silly grin. “I don't suppose you realize it, but liquor has a peculiar effect on you.”

Cait stiffened. “It does?” She remembered most of the party with great clarity. Good thing Joe had taken her home when he had.

“Liquor loosens your tongue.”

“So?” She picked up two shopping bags filled with wrapped packages, leaving the lone suitcase for him. “Did I say any thing of interest?”

“Oh, my, yes.”

“Joe!” She glanced quickly at her watch. They needed to get moving if she was to catch her flight. “Discount whatever I said—I'm sure I didn't mean it. If I insulted you, I apologize. If I told any family secrets, kindly forget I mentioned them.”

He strolled to her side and tucked his finger under her chin. “This was a secret, all right,” he informed her in a lazy drawl. “It was something you told me on the drive home.”

“Are you sure it's true?”

“Relatively sure.”

“What did I say? Did I declare my undying love for you? Because if I—”

“No, no, nothing like that.”

“Just how long do you intend to torment me with this?” She was rapidly losing interest in his little guessing game.

“Not much longer.” He looked exceptionally pleased with himself. “So Martin's a minister now. Funny you never thought to mention that before.”

“Ah…” Cait set aside the two bags and lowered herself to the sofa. So he'd found out. Worse, she'd been the one to tell him.

“That may well have some interesting ramifications, my dear. Have you ever stopped to think about them?”

“T
his is exactly why I didn't tell you about Martin,” Cait informed Joe as he tossed her suitcase into the back seat of his car. She checked her watch again and groaned. They had barely an hour and a half before her flight was scheduled to leave. Cait was never late. Never—at least not when it was her own fault.

“It seems to me,” Joe continued, his face deadpan, “that there could very well be some legal grounds to our marriage.”

Joe was saying that just to annoy her, and unfortunately it was working. “I've never heard anything more ludicrous in my life.”

“Think about it, Cait,” he said, ignoring her protest. “We could be celebrating our anniversary this spring. How many years is it now? Eighteen? How the years fly.”

“Listen, Joe, I don't find this amusing.” She glanced at her watch. If only she hadn't slept so late. Never again would she have any Christmas punch. Briefly she wondered what else she'd said to Joe, then decided it was better not to know.

“I heard a news report of a three-car pileup on the freeway, so we'll take the side streets.”

“Just hurry,” Cait urged in an anxious voice.

“I'll do the best I can,” Joe said, “but worrying about it isn't going to get us there any faster.”

She glared at him. She couldn't help it. He wasn't the one who'd been planning this trip for months. If she missed the flight, her nephews and niece wouldn't have their Christmas presents from their Auntie Cait. Nor would she share in the family traditions that were so much a part of her Christmas. She
had
to get to the airport on time.

Everyone else had apparently heard about the accident on the freeway, too, and the downtown area was crowded with the overflow. Cait and Joe were delayed at every intersection and twice were forced to sit through two changes of the traffic signal.

Cait was growing more panicky by the minute. She just had to make this flight. But it almost seemed that she'd get to the airport faster if she simply jumped out of the car and ran there.

Joe stopped for another red light, but when the signal turned green, they still couldn't move—a delivery truck in front of them had stalled. Furious, Cait rolled down the window and stuck out her head. “Listen here, buster, let's get this show on the road,” she shouted at the top of her lungs.

Her head was pounding and she prayed the aspirin would soon take effect.

“Quite the Christmas spirit,” Joe muttered dryly under his breath.

“I can't help it. I have to catch this plane.”

“You'll be there in plenty of time.”

“At this rate we won't make it to Sea-Tac before Easter!”

“Relax, will you?” Joe suggested gently. He turned on the
radio and a medley of Christmas carols filled the air. Normally the music would have calmed her, but she was suffering from a hangover, depression and severe anxiety, all at the same time. Her fingernails found their way into her mouth.

Suddenly she straightened. “Darn! I forgot to give you your Christmas gift. I left it at home.”

“Don't worry about it.”

“I didn't get you a gag gift the way I said.” Actually she was pleased with the book she'd managed to find—an attractive coffee-table volume about the history of baseball.

Cait waited for Joe to mention
her
gift. Surely he'd bought her one. At least she fervently hoped he had, otherwise she'd feel like a fool. Though, admittedly, that was a feeling she'd grown accustomed to in the past few weeks.

“I think we might be able to get back on the freeway here,” Joe said, as he made a sharp left-hand turn. They crossed the overpass, and from their vantage point, Cait could see that the freeway was unclogged and running smoothly.

“Thank God,” she whispered, relaxing against the back of the seat as Joe drove quickly ahead.

Her chauffeur chuckled. “I seem to remember you lecturing me—”

“I never lecture,” she said testily. “I may have a strong opinion on certain subjects, but let me assure you, I never lecture.”

“You were right, though. The streets of Bethlehem must have been crowded and bustling with activity at the time of that first Christmas. I can see it all now, can't you? A rug dealer is held up by a shepherd driving his flock through the middle of town.”

Cait smiled for the first time that morning, because she could easily picture the scene Joe was describing.

“Then some furious woman, impatient to make it to the
local camel merchant before closing, sticks her nose in the middle of everything and shouts at the rug dealer to get his show on the road.” He paused to chuckle at his own wit. “I'm convinced she wouldn't have been so testy except that she was suffering from one heck of a hangover.”

“Very funny,” Cait grumbled, smiling despite herself.

He took the exit for the airport and Cait was gratified to note that her flight wasn't scheduled to leave for another thirty minutes. She was cutting it close, closer than she ever had before, but she'd confirmed her ticket two days earlier and had already been assigned her seat.

Joe pulled up at the drop-off point for her airline and gave Cait's suitcase to a skycap while she rummaged around in her purse for her ticket.

“I suppose this is goodbye for now,” he said with an endearingly crooked grin that sent her pulses racing.

“I'll be back in less than two weeks,” she reminded him, trying to keep her tone light and casual.

“You'll phone once you arrive?”

She nodded. For all her earlier panic, Cait now felt oddly unwilling to leave Joe. She should be rushing through the airport to her airline's check-in counter to get her boarding pass, but she lingered, her heart overflowing with emotions she couldn't identify.

“Have a safe trip,” he said quietly.

“I will. Thanks so much…for everything.”

“You're welcome.” His expression sobered and the ever-ready mirth fled from his eyes. Cait wasn't sure who moved first. All she knew was that she was in Joe's arms, his thumb caressing the softness of her cheek as they gazed hungrily into each other's eyes.

He leaned forward to kiss her. Cait's eyes drifted shut as his mouth met hers.

At first Joe's kiss was tender but it quickly grew in fervor. The noise and activity around them seemed to fade into the distance. Cait could feel herself dissolving. She moaned and arched closer, not wanting to leave the protective haven of his arms. Joe shuddered and hugged her tight, as if he, too, found it difficult to part.

“Merry Christmas, love,” he whispered, releasing her with a reluctance that made her feel…giddy. Confused.
Happy
.

“Merry Christmas,” she echoed, but she didn't move.

Joe gave her the gentlest of nudges. “You'd better hurry, Cait.”

“Oh, right,” she said, momentarily forgetting why she was at the airport. Reaching for the bags filled with gaily wrapped Christmas packages, she took two steps backward. “I'll phone when I get there.”

“Do. I'll be waiting to hear from you.” He thrust his hands into his pockets and Cait had the distinct impression he did it to stop himself from reaching for her again. The thought was a romantic one, a certainty straight from her heart.

Her heart… Her heart was full of feeling for Joe. More than she'd ever realized. He'd dominated her life these past few weeks—taking her to dinner, bribing his way back into her good graces with pizza, taking her on a Christmas shopping expedition, escorting her to Paul's party. Joe had become her whole world. Joe, not Paul. Joe.

Given no other choice, Cait abruptly turned and hurried into the airport, where she checked in, then went through security and down the concourse to the proper gate.

The flight had already been called and only a handful of passengers had yet to board.

Cait dashed to the counter with her boarding pass. A young soldier stood just ahead of her. “But you don't understand,”
the tall marine was saying to the airline employee. “I booked this flight over a month ago. I've got to be on that plane!”

“I'm so sorry,” the woman apologized, her dark eyes regretful. “This sort of thing happens, especially during holidays, but your ticket's for standby. I wish I could do something for you, but there isn't a single seat available.”

“But I haven't seen my family in over a year. My uncle Harvey's driving from Duluth to visit. He was in the marines, too. My mom's been baking for three weeks. Don't you see? I can't disappoint them now!”

Cait watched as the agent rechecked her computer. “If I could magically create a seat for you, I would,” she said sympathetically. “But there just isn't one.”

“But when I bought the ticket, the woman told me I wouldn't have a problem getting on the flight. She said there're always no-shows.”

“I'm so sorry,” the agent repeated, looking past the young marine to Cait.

“All right,” he said, forcefully expelling his breath. “When's the next flight with available space? Any flight within a hundred miles of Minneapolis. I'll walk the rest of the way if I have to.”

Once again, the woman consulted her computer. “We have space available the evening of the twenty-sixth.”

“The twenty-sixth!” the young man shouted. “But that's after Christmas and eats up nearly all my leave. I'd be home for less than a week.”

“May I help you?” the airline employee said to Cait. She looked almost as unhappy as the marine, but apparently there wasn't anything she could do to help him.

Cait stepped forward and handed the woman her boarding pass. The soldier gazed at it longingly, then moved dejectedly
from the counter and lowered himself into one of the molded plastic chairs.

Cait hesitated, remembering how she'd stuck her head out the window of Joe's truck on their drive to the airport and shouted impatiently at the truck driver who was holding up traffic. A conversation she'd had with Joe earlier returned to haunt her. She'd argued that Christmas was a time filled with love and good cheer, the one holiday that brought out the very best in everyone. And sometimes, Joe had insisted, the very worst.

“Since you already have your seat assignment, you may board the flight now.”

The urge to hurry nearly overwhelmed Cait, yet she hesitated once again.

“Excuse me,” Cait said, drawing a deep breath and making her decision. She approached the soldier. He seemed impossibly young now that she had a good look at him. No more than eighteen, maybe nineteen. He'd probably joined the service right out of high school. His hair was cropped close to his head and his combat boots were so shiny Cait could see her reflection in them.

The marine glanced up at her, his face heavy with defeat. “Yes?”

“Did I hear you say you needed to be on this flight?”

“I have a ticket, ma'am. But it's standby and there aren't any seats.”

“Listen,” she said. “You can have mine.”

The way his face lit up was enough to blot out her own disappointment at missing Christmas with Martin and her sister-in-law. The kids. Her mother… “My family's in Minneapolis, too, but I was there this summer.”

“Ma'am, I can't let you do this.”

“Don't cheat me out of the pleasure.”

They approached the counter to effect the exchange. The marine stood, his eyes wide with disbelief. “I insist,” Cait said. “Here.” She handed him the two bags full of gifts for her nephews and nieces. “There'll be a man waiting at the other end. A tall minister—he'll have a collar on. Give him these. I'll phone so he'll know to look for you.”

“Thank you for everything…I can't believe you're doing this.”

Cait smiled. Impulsively the marine hugged her, then swinging his duffel bag over his shoulder, he picked up the two bags of gifts and jogged over to Security.

Cait waited for a couple of minutes, then wiped the tears from her eyes. She wasn't completely sure why she was crying. She'd never felt better in her life.

 

It was around six when she awoke. The apartment was dark and silent. Sighing, she picked up the phone, dragged it onto the bed with her and punched out Joe's number.

He answered on the first ring, as if he'd been waiting for her call. “How was the flight?” he asked immediately.

“I wouldn't know. I wasn't on it.”

“You missed the plane!” he shouted incredulously. “But you were there in plenty of time.”

“I know. It's a long story, but basically, I gave my seat to someone who needed it more than I did.” She smiled dreamily, remembering how the young marine's face had lit up. “I'll tell you about it later.”

“Where are you now?”

“Home.”

He exhaled sharply, then said, “I'll be over in fifteen minutes.”

Actually it took him twelve. By then Cait had brewed a pot
of coffee and made herself a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. She hadn't eaten all day and was starved. She'd just finished the sandwich when Joe arrived.

“What about your luggage?” Joe asked, looking concerned. He didn't give her a chance to respond. “Exactly what do you mean, you gave your seat away?”

Cait explained as best she could. Even now she found herself surprised by her actions. Cait rarely behaved spontaneously. But something about that young soldier had reached deep within her heart and she'd reacted instinctively.

“The airline is sending my suitcase back to Seattle on the next available flight, so there's no need to worry,” Cait said. “I talked to Martin, who was quick to tell me the Lord would reward my generosity.”

“Are you going to catch a later flight, then?” Joe asked. He helped himself to a cup of coffee and pulled out the chair across from hers.

“There aren't any seats,” Cait said. She leaned back, yawning, and covered her mouth. Why she should be so tired after sleeping away most of the afternoon was beyond her. “Besides, the office is short-staffed. Lindy gave Paul her notice and a trainee is coming in, which makes everything even more difficult. They can use me.”