Whose Bed Is It Anyway? (17 page)

‘Stay in the condo. Keep on sightseeing,' he said.

As if she wanted to do that
alone
? As if she wanted to sleep in that big bed by herself? ‘Thanks.'

That was when she realised it.

The headlines were right. She
was
selfish. She wanted more, more,
Moore
. Always had. Probably always would. She wanted to be
first
in someone's life. For once. Just once. But that she'd imagined even for a moment that it could have been
him
?

The drive back to Manhattan flew by in half the time it had taken to get to the Hamptons only those two days ago. It was with utter relief that she saw his building come into view. She could hold it together for only a little longer.

As soon as he pulled over, she grabbed her bag and stepped out of the car. ‘You'd better go,' she said husky and quick. ‘You don't want to miss your flight.'

‘Caitlin—'

‘Go,' she interrupted. She didn't want to hear any kind of platitude. She waved and turned away. A split second later she turned back.

But just like that, he was gone.

TWELVE

Part of the
condo was almost complete—the kitchen. In the couple of days they'd had away the builders had installed the cabinetry and the beautiful marble slab for the counter. Caitlin barely glanced at it as she dashed upstairs. She flung herself face down in pillow mountain and let the tears fall from her eyes.

Five minutes. Five minutes of moping. Then she was pulling herself together.

But she hurt so much inside. She squeezed her eyes shut. It didn't make the world go away. What an idiot. She sat up and scrubbed the tears from her face with her palms. She looked around the lovely room. Then her gaze rested on the slim black rectangle he'd left on the beside table.

It was the last thing she should do. She knew that. But she couldn't help it. She might as well see the worst. She switched it on and opened up the Internet.

Yeah. There it was. Caitlin swallowed and quickly closed down the programme. Put the iPad back. Then stood and raced to the bathroom. But as if she could run away from it at all? How could she hide from that?

How could it be that this latest round of Internet abuse upset her more than the mess with Dominic? Why was the public pillory worse this time?

Because this time it was true.

Caitlin wasn't good enough for James. He was too good for her. But not only that, he didn't feel the same about her. Once more she'd put her hopes in someone who cared more for his career than he did for her. Would she never learn?

Now she was left to deal with it alone. Again.

She couldn't stay here. She refused to take what he'd offered her. It wasn't enough. The question was where she was going to go.

She'd never ask her father for money. Or Hannah. She'd never be a leech. Hannah mightn't see it like that, but so many others definitely would. And Caitlin wasn't giving anyone any reason to doubt her—especially the sister that she'd seen so little of. With Caitlin working so much as a kid, and Hannah so much since, they'd really never had a normal kind of sibling relationship. Not the teasing and laughing James had with his brothers. She wished she could be a better sister, but for Hannah's sake Caitlin believed it was better to be an absent sister. Then she could pretend it didn't hurt so much.

She stared at her reflection and told herself to suck it up. She'd known she couldn't call on the little family she had, and she'd known she shouldn't fall for James. It just wasn't going to happen for her.

She was going to have to figure her own way through her finances, through her heartbreak. To do that she needed to go back to London as soon as she could. She'd find a job. She'd survive. She was smart. She could sew. She was strong.

She could come up with a plan.

* * *

Four days later James landed back at JFK airport. Shattered again after another flight with no sleep. But that didn't matter. He had to get home asap. He had a bad feeling. He'd called the landline at the condo several times while he was away—at the oddest of times.

She'd never picked up.

He paid off the cabbie and raced inside. The refurbished kitchen in the condo looked beautiful. But empty. The whole place felt empty.

‘Caitlin?' He ran up the stairs, his heart thudding.

He didn't want this. But he already knew. His sanctuary of a bedroom was empty. And huge. And lonely. His massive bed was made—the covers unrumpled. As if they'd never been touched.

Cold.

He didn't need to look in the wardrobe to check for her clothes. She was gone. Then he saw it—the note she'd left on top of his pile of damn T-shirts.

Thanks so much, I had a fabulous holiday.

James swore. What the hell was that? Some courteous note a schoolgirl might write? It was so
nothing
.

His chest burned as if he'd been overdoing a sprints session. He'd underestimated how much he'd been looking forward to seeing her again. Now panic seized him as it hit him. He'd been
aching
to see her. Only he hadn't realised it. Hadn't let himself. But now? Now he knew he'd been missing her every waking and sleeping moment. And he wanted to see her. He wanted her here—right now, giving him one of her defiant, teasing looks as she cut him down to size with one of her quips. And he wanted her flushed and sparkling and welcoming him with her warm body—all the while still teasing him in the way only she did.

He wanted that warmth. That acerbic wit. All the spirit and generosity that was in that woman. Only Caitlin.

Now it really hit. Just how far he'd fallen. How much he wanted her. Needed her. Loved her.

And she wasn't here.

Where had she gone? Was she okay? He didn't even have her phone number. So how the hell was he going to find her now?

He grabbed his phone and called George. ‘I need Hannah Moore's number.'

‘Really?'

‘Urgently.'

‘Okay.' George caught the desperation. ‘I'll get it to you.'

Less than three minutes later James' phone chimed with a text. A number. He didn't care what time it was wherever in the world Hannah was right now, James was calling.

A woman answered after five interminable rings. ‘Hello?'

‘Hey, is this Hannah Moore?'

‘Who is this?' she asked, all frigid caution.

‘Don't hang up.' James clenched his empty fist in frustration. ‘I really need to find Caitlin.'

‘Caitlin?'

‘Your sister.' He spoke through gritted teeth.

‘Who
is
this?'

‘Look, my name's James Wolfe. I'm George Wolfe's twin. I met Caitlin when she came to New York and I—'

‘She's in New York?'

James paused. Stunned. ‘You didn't know that?'

‘No, I—'

‘When did you last talk to Caitlin?' Fury rose in him. And it was obvious Hannah heard it.

‘Look, I'm really sorry,' she said in a far too quiet voice. ‘I don't know where she is.'

‘Well, would your father know?'

There was a pause. ‘He's with me. And no. He doesn't know.' Another pause. ‘I really am sorry.'

‘You should be,' James snapped. ‘All this crap she's been through and you don't even know where she is?'

‘She doesn't tend to get in touch much.'

‘Do you try to? Or is it just easier for you to leave her out in the cold?'

Irate, James ended the call. He was appalled at the fact that her own damn family had no idea where she was. Was it that they really didn't care? Or were they too bound up in their own business? Either way it wasn't good enough.

His heart burned. She deserved so much more than that. She deserved to be loved. Damn it. He'd love her.

Just as soon as he could find her.

He glanced round the bedroom once more. His iPad was on the bedside table. He snatched it up. The Internet browser opened on the last site it had been on. James froze as he read the headline. He clicked back a few pages in the history file.

Shit.

That stupid picture of him and Caitlin. Those wretched people with nothing better to do. It had bothered him—because of what he'd seen on his own face. But it had bothered Caitlin for a whole other reason.

Oh, God, he was such an idiot.

Once again she'd had been left to deal with something like this alone—the vitriol, the painful words. No wonder she'd run. All her life she'd lacked emotional support. And James had failed her too.

He was useless.

He breathed in and tried to think.
Where
would she go? In a city of millions, where would he find her?

THIRTEEN

Caitlin walked through
the studio, amazed all over again at the incredible sight of so many people—tailors, seamstresses, milliners and assistants working to get the hundreds of costumes required ready.

She'd done the necessary. Rebooked her return flight—sucking up the change fee—so she'd be back in London by the end of the week. Then she'd crossed her fingers that Peggy didn't read the trash on Twitter. She contacted her and asked if she could take her up on that offer to see the costume department.

So here she was. At the Met costume studio, blown away by the skill and expertise, the vast vaults of costumes stored so they could restage a previous production. It was like Aladdin's cave, or the lost tomb of Cleopatra or something—filled with treasures and inspiration. She spent a couple of hours being shown around by an assistant as jazzed about the place as she was.

It was exactly what she'd needed.

But once her visit ended, she went to the station and boarded a train to Queens. She'd found the cheapest hostel she could, sharing a dorm with five strangers. She'd barely slept these last few nights. Not because of the noise of the trains on the tracks right next door, but because the minute she closed her eyes, she thought of James.

The sooner she got back to London, the better. Whatever it took, she'd get herself back together. Seeing that costume studio today had spurred her. She'd build a career. And she'd get on with it. Alone. Independent.

She walked up the stairs into the hostel, going straight up to the first floor. She passed the other dorm-room doors—hers was the last.

‘Caitlin?'

She froze partway down the corridor, then turned.

‘James?' She stared at him in total confusion. But she wasn't imagining things. He really was there—all stubble and smoky eyes and crumpled grey tee. ‘What are you doing here?'

Why was he here and looking so fabulous and intense and magnetic just when she was kidding herself she could get over him?

‘What do you think?' he exploded, taking five energy-filled strides closer. ‘Finding you.'

Oh. She swallowed.

‘You left,' he accused.

No.
He'd
left. ‘I left a note,' she said coldly.

‘That told me nothing.'

‘What do you want to know?'

‘That you're okay. For starters.'

Of course he did. Mr Hero himself. ‘Well, as you can see, I'm okay.' She struggled to pull herself together. ‘I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. I didn't think that—'
He'd care
.

His lips compressed. ‘You have a shockingly low opinion of me. And an even worse one of yourself.' He glanced behind her and frowned.

Caitlin turned and saw another traveller walking towards them. James wrapped a hand around her upper arm. She flinched and turned back to face him. His fingers instantly loosened, stroked, but then he walked, urging her to come into the room with him.

She did, knowing it was better to have this conversation with some degree of privacy. It wasn't a dorm room, but a tiny space with room for only a bed and a chair. Single occupancy. Double at a squeeze. Nothing like the magnificent room they'd shared in his condo.

‘Of course I was worried about you.' He shut the door and turned to her. His face was paler than usual, it made the line of his scar all the more obvious. ‘You're not interested in whether I'm okay?'

‘I can see that you are.' She tried to shrug.

‘Do I
really
look okay to you?'

She glanced back at him swiftly. He sounded angry. Well, she was fast joining him on that one. She didn't want him here. Didn't want him feeling as if he had to ensure she was ‘okay'. That wasn't anywhere near enough for her. And she sure as hell didn't want him thinking he could pick up where they'd left off. No way could she touch him again—the fling was flung. And just because they were in a bedroom again, didn't mean she was going to let him—

‘What's the problem?' She yanked on the toughest shell she could. ‘Blue balls?'

‘Caitlin.'

To her annoyance, the man smiled.

No. She wasn't letting him do this to her. She wasn't falling for his charm again. For his tease and flirt. For his gorgeousness and good humour and generosity.

It wasn't enough.

There was only one thing she could do—push him away. Hard. Fast. For ever.

‘Look, it was just sex, James,' she said as blithely as she could. ‘That convenient holiday-fling thing. We were sharing the room, why not have a few frolics at the same time?'

He stared at her. To her discomfort, his expression only grew even more amused.

‘Oh, Caitlin.'

‘Don't go thinking it was anything special.' She shook her head and backed up as he walked towards her. The backs of her legs bumped against the metal-framed bed.

‘You think you can do the bad-girl act and push me away?'

‘It's no act. I am what I am.' She shrugged, curling her damp fingers into fists.

‘Nothing is black and white. No one is a stereotype. You're not all bad girl. And I'm sure as hell not all hero.'

But he was. He so was. He couldn't help himself.

‘You know I'm far from perfect,' he reminded her.

She switched tack. ‘Quite right. I was getting bored already.'

‘That so?'

‘Yeah. I'm ready to change it up.'

He took the last pace to stand directly in front of her. Reached for her. ‘You think some other guy can turn you on the way I do?'

She stood like a stone, refusing to move. To
be
moved. ‘So we do good sex,' she said crassly. ‘We can make each other come in record speed. So what? You can't construct a relationship built on something so ephemeral. So meaningless.'

His eyes gleamed. He didn't seem bothered by her crude bluntness. ‘It's a starting point.' He was too calm. Being too damn reasonable.

She didn't want him to be reasonable. She wanted to push him away. Had to push him. ‘But it's sand, not rock. Sexual appetite will wash away. And there's nothing else to us. There never has been.'

He put his head on the side, ran his hands down her arms. ‘You really want me to believe that?'

Caitlin's heart stopped. To believe her? To believe in her
lies
? She suppressed all the pain. But she'd suppressed too much pain, for too long. ‘It doesn't matter to me what you believe,' she choked.

‘So you're going to walk away?'

‘I'm not walking away from anything much.' Blinking, she determinedly stuck to her line, wishing like crazy that
he'd
walk away right now. ‘A bit of sex. A few laughs. But that's it. There's nothing more to this and never has been.'

‘People might have accused you of all kinds of things, but I never thought you were a coward,' he said quietly.

‘I'm
not
a coward.' She shook with defiance. She wasn't. She'd tried and tried and she'd keep on trying.

‘Yes, you are,' he said softly. ‘You run. You hide. You won't stand up and say what's really true. What you really
feel
. What you really
want
.' His hands slipped up and gripped her shoulders. ‘And I don't blame you for that. You've been hurt. Your dad. Hannah. Dominic. And me.'

Caitlin bit on the inside of her lip. Hard. Stupid when she was already trying to blink back tears. But she had to stop herself from speaking. From breaking down.

‘I hurt you.' He stepped forward, right into her space so she could feel his heat. His rock-solid strength. ‘I left you when you needed me. And I'm sorry. It won't happen again.'

She stared up at him—at his dark, dark, beautiful eyes. She tried to swallow the lump of jagged glass in her throat.

‘Caitlin.'

She closed her eyes. ‘Please leave.'

‘No.'

‘Please leave. Now.'

‘No.'

Couldn't he do that for her? Couldn't he leave her with that illusion of dignity before she sank to the floor and howled? She opened her burning eyes and pleaded.

‘I can't do this,' she begged him. ‘Please don't ask me to do this.'

‘Don't try to push me away. It won't work.'

‘I'm trying to do the right thing,' she whispered.

‘Then do the right thing, the right way.'

And what was the right thing?

She knew already. Being honest. Being brave. Speaking up.

‘What is it you really want?' he asked softly. ‘Tell me what you really want.'

She licked away a tear that had tumbled down to her lips. A pointless action as several more immediately followed the track of the first.

‘Caitlin?'

She knew that look on his face. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to hold her close. More than anything she wanted that too. But she couldn't. She was too selfish. And he needed to know that.

‘I want
you
,' she cried. ‘But I can't have you. Not the way I want. I can't cope with being left alone time and time again. I know it's pathetic of me. I know what you do is so important. Much more important than anything else. Than me.' She dragged in a jerky breath. ‘But I don't want to stop you doing what you have to. What kind of person would I be if I tried? I can't—'

‘Stop.' He slid his hands from her shoulders down her back to her waist, pulling her close, cradling her against him. ‘It's okay. Darling, it's going to be okay.'

‘It's not. It can't be.' Her words were muffled against his chest. She wanted him here for her—all for her. And he couldn't be.

‘I would do anything for you,' he breathed into her ear. ‘Listen to me. Anything.' He bent his forehead to hers. ‘If you asked me to walk away from my job, I'd do it in a heartbeat.'

Her hand fisted in his shirt. ‘I'd never ask you to do that.'

‘I know.'

‘I'm sorry,' she said, lifting her head, trying to get a grip on herself. ‘I want too much. It's not right how much I want from you.'

‘Sure it is. It's okay to want it all from me.' His smile was crooked and sweet and heartbreaking. ‘Don't just demand what you want from me in bed, but in everything. Ask me for it all. Because all I have to give is yours.'

She shook her head.

He moved, quickly framing her face with gentle hands—stopping her from denying him.

‘I've never felt so empty as when I got home and you weren't there,' he said, a hurried low tumble of words. ‘I haven't felt that afraid in a long, long time.'

Caitlin swallowed hard.

‘I thought I had it all figured,' he said. ‘That I was okay. That I'd worked everything through in my past, found the career I could live for. That I was happy. But you were right in that I'd gone too far in that direction. I'd isolated myself—shut out my family. I had no idea I was lonely. I was using work—all that travel—to plug a hole I didn't realise was there. Then
you
landed, claiming that spot, filling the emptiness, warming me. I want you back there.'

‘Not
me
.' She shook her head. ‘It's just you needed a holiday—'

‘No.' His sharp laugh broke in the middle. ‘I needed
you
. Your challenge, your determination, your humour. Your laughter. You woke me up. Warmed me up. Made me realise everything I've been missing. And everything that I want. It's all you.'

‘But—'

He kissed her. Deeply, sweetly. Lovingly.

Caitlin had no chance. She sank into it, already lost. He'd come for her—for all of her.

‘I'm not going to leave you again,' he said.

He'd given her everything. Only now she knew she couldn't accept it. ‘You
have
to. You have places to go. People to help.'

‘There are plenty of people to help in New York.'

She shook her head. ‘You love what you do.'

‘Okay.' He nodded. ‘I do. But I can find a different balance. Because I love you more.'

Caitlin trembled, the tears instantly springing to her eyes again. It was the one thing she'd never thought she'd hear from anyone. And to hear it from him?

‘Stay in New York.' He urged her closer with hands and words and heat. ‘Find a job in a theatre. Design costumes. Stay with me.'

Warmth exploded in her chest. He meant it—he wanted her, needed her, loved her. Her courageous, generous man. And suddenly she felt strengthened.
Secure
.

Suddenly she knew she could share him, because she understood he'd always come home to her.

‘I love you.' She put her hand to his face. ‘And I will stay. I'll love you. And I'll be there for you when you get back. But you have to keep doing your assignments.'

He gazed at her, his cocoa eyes searching, softening. ‘Not as many,' he said. ‘There are other things I need too—time with my family. Time with you. And that's okay.'

‘Yes.'

‘But what if...?' He paused and drew in a juddering breath. ‘What if you sometimes came with me? I know it's not easy, but you could help in so many ways,' he said in a rush. ‘Make clothes? Entertain people? Give a couple of kids something to smile at? Just offer comfort? Chocolate? Hell.' He drew another breath. ‘Be there for me.'

She'd go anywhere for him. ‘I'd like that.'

He kissed her again. His hands pressed her closer, his hold tightening almost enough to crush her. She loved it.

‘We'll stay outside the spotlight,' he continued, that loveable wicked look lighting his eyes. ‘No scandal. Just a boring loved-up couple.'

He was offering it all to her. No longer alone, she had the one person she needed most. The one person who believed in her. Who saw worth in her. Who wanted to be with her more than he wanted anything else.