by Willa Blair
“Thanks, but I can manage.” She got up to limp to her room and took a couple of mincing steps.
“Here.” Holt scooped her up and, over her protests that she could manage for herself, carried her upstairs. He paused at the door to her room and put her down, a pained expression on his face.
“What’s wrong? Did you pull something carrying me up here?” How mortifying would that be?
“No, it’s not that. I…Farrell told me you were using my mother’s old room. I’ve never seen it.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” She opened the door. “Sorry my things are all over, but look all you want.”
“I’ll wait until you’re not soaking wet, cold, and injured. Go on. Try to keep your foot dry.”
“In the shower?” Shite, there was an image she should not have put in his head. Of course, it was probably already there. On the other hand, he hadn’t reacted to her saying look all you want the way most guys would.
Instead he nudged her forward into the room. “Okay, I’ll re-bandage it when you’re dressed.” Then he pulled the door shut with him on the outside. Damn.
****
Holt let hot water run over his body, showering off the salt and sand from his adventure at the beach with Caitlin. He didn’t need the heat. Holding Caitlin had warmed him entirely too well, though she hadn’t seemed to notice how holding her soft curves had hardened him.
He turned off the hot water and clenched his muscles as a blast of cold replaced it. Not quite as cold as the wave that knocked her down and soaked him when he hauled her against him, shocked by more than the cold.
She fit against him so well. That contact made him hungry for her in a way he knew was trouble. Picking her up, holding her against his chest, feeling her fingers in his hair and her palm cupping the back of his head, her gentle touch on his cheek, he would stand in cold water for hours for the chance to feel that again and to see the way she looked at him. His face must have given away his desire, but hers did, too.
It was way too soon for that. He would be foolish to think there could be anything more than infatuation between them. Not this fast, not the way they argued. But touching her reinforced the attraction he’d felt for her the first time he’d seen her pert rear backing out of the cabinet in the office. The attraction that had kept him away from her for the last twenty-four hours. He should have continued to keep his distance instead of joining her on the beach. Caitlin Paterson fit against him as if she belonged in his arms. And because they were both here for only a short time, there was no danger of the kind of entanglement Helen had woven around him into his business affairs.
Damn Helen for spoiling any chance he had at trusting another woman. She’d made him miserable and put his company at some risk. If she hadn’t gone after his company, he could’ve moved on from their breakup and put her out of his mind. But her betrayal would stay with him for a long time.
He should have expected it—just another betrayal in a long list of them, starting with his absent father and moving on to his great-aunt’s treatment of his mother and him. Still, Scotland—where Caitlin was headed as soon as she finished the job she’d come here to do—was comfortably far off. She wasn’t staying. As near as he could tell, she was no Helen. He ducked his head under the spray, then shoved his hair back and scrubbed cold drops of water from his face. No. Her job didn’t include sleeping with him.
They had no future, so he needed to stop wasting his time getting all worked up. But if he went into this knowing it had a short shelf-life, maybe they both could enjoy themselves. If she was willing. Afterward she’d be out of his life forever.
****
Caitlin limped a bit on the way down to dinner, but the gash in her foot was not bad enough to require a doctor. After her shower, she’d dressed and limped back to the kitchen to re-bandage her foot herself.
Mrs. Smith had come in as she pulled on thick socks.
“What are you doing in here?” She set some shopping bags on the counter and turned to Caitlin, hands-on-hips, and surveyed the remains of her first-aid—the open kit, gauze and a tape dispenser on the table.
“A little damage control. I stepped on something on the beach.”
“You were out there, barefoot?”
“Aye, well, Holt and I had a wee contest to see which was colder, the ocean or a loch. So I had to take off my shoes.”
Mrs. Smith laughed at that. “And who won?”
“Actually we never came to a decision. A wave knocked me under, and Holt had to rescue me.” Caitlin finished replacing supplies in the kit and closed it.
Mrs. Smith gave her a speculative look then turned back to her groceries. “As long as you are all right.”
“I am. I’ll get out of your way.” As she put the kit in the drawer where Holt had found it, her gaze fell on the picture on the window ledge. “Who is this?”
Mrs. Smith paused from putting away groceries to smile at the photo. “My son, on the day he graduated from basic training. He lived here while he went to school, then joined the service.”
“He’s very handsome.” What was it about men in uniform? It seemed to make a square jaw sharper, the glint in the eye more steely.
“Thank you. Dinner will be ready in an hour, dear.”
“Brilliant. I’ll see you then.”
Holt glanced at her foot as she walked in the small dining room later that evening, but Caitlin forced herself not to limp, and he didn’t mention her injury or ask why she hadn’t let him re-bandage it. Nor did he mention their contest or anything that followed. True, he’d been rescuing her, but the touching and the heated looks, she hadn’t imagined them, right? Instead he behaved as if they hadn’t been wrapped in each other’s arms a few hours earlier. He’d retreated back into himself and didn’t have much to say.
When the dessert course arrived, Holt announced casually, “I need to run into town tomorrow morning. Is there anything I can pick up for you while I’m there?”
Caitlin knew an opportunity when she saw one and wasn’t going to let this one pass her by. Going with Holt would save her a drive on the wrong side of the road, and might give her a chance, away from the estate he loathed, to see him unbend even more than he had in the water today. In any case, she could deliver the coffee she’d promised Doc Coats, then if there was time, do some quick shopping for gifts for Farrell and Mrs. Smith.
“Actually I owe a visit to a…friend…before the holiday.” What did one call one’s rescuer? Not a friend exactly, but acquaintance didn’t feel right, either. “Perhaps I could do that while you’re busy, then you could pick me up?” She could see the wheels turning in Holt’s mind as he debated how much of an imposition her request would be on his time and plans. After much less cogitation than was his usual practice, he nodded.
“Sure. No problem. Can you be ready to leave right after breakfast?”
“Aye,” she said, sipping her wine. “Earlier, if you need…”
“After breakfast will work,” Holt said around his last bite of cake. He rose and headed for the door, then turned back. “Wear something warm. It’s supposed to snow tomorrow.”
“Thanks, I will.” She grimaced at his retreating back. Though they’d discussed where she came from several times, including during their contest on the beach, he still didn’t seem to understand that she came from a cold climate in Scotland and was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.
Chapter Five
The next morning, she got some work done before she heard Holt come down for his breakfast. She had another cup of tea while he ate, then went to grab her coat. She arrived in the foyer in time to see Holt pull the estate’s Mercedes SUV under the porte-cochère. So he trusted her to be on time. Or perhaps, he simply intended to warm the car so their drive would be more comfortable. He did have a considerate side, even if, like his smile, he rarely chose to display it.
She wrapped her scarf around her neck and stepped outside. The sudden cold took her breath for a moment. “Hiya. You were r
ight,” she announced as she slid into her seat, intending to reward his consideration with an appeal to his male ego. “It’s much colder than yesterday. I hope whatever ye have planned in the village is indoors.”
Holt kept his gaze averted as he pulled from the drive onto the street. “Business is typically conducted in an office, so yes, indoors. What about you? Where shall I drop you?”
“Do you know where Dr. Coats’s office is?”
“Doctor? Is your foot infected? Are you ill?”
“Nay, no’ even a wee. Dr. Coats is a veterinarian. A friend.” She’d never told Holt about the attempted purse-snatching but now was as good a time as any. “He saved me from a robbery my first trip to the village. I think you call it a mugging.”
“You were mugged?” Holt’s gaze left the road, and he frowned at her. “You never told me. That bandage on your hand yesterday…?”
She lifted her hand and displayed a thin, pink line, all that remained of her injury. “A scratch. Thanks to Dr. Coats, there was little to tell.” She shrugged as Holt returned his attention to the road.
“Then tell me the little there is.”
“A man…a lad, really…tried to nick my purse. Dr. Coats was nearby and heard me yell. He grabbed the thief, got my purse back, and held the lad until the local constable arrived and took charge of him.”
“I’m…sorry. And embarrassed you had such an unfortunate introduction to the village.”
“Ach, nay. Actually, it was quite fortunate. Otherwise I might never have met the doctor or Alice, the lady who owns the bakery.”
Holt frowned again. “Sounds like he did a good job rescuing you.”
Was he equating that with yesterday’s adventure in the sound? “Are you saying I need a lot of rescuing? Getting mugged wasn’t my fault.”
“Of course not. You’re lucky he heard you.”
“Aye, he was very nice,” she answered, deliberately vague. “According to Alice, he’s been in the village only two years. He’s done so much in that time. A successful veterinary practice, in the Army before that. He trains service dogs, too.”
“Admirable.”
Did Holt’s jaw look a wee tense? Why? He’d never met the man, and she’d given no indication Doc Coats was more than a friend. Surprised, she changed the subject and spent the next few minutes directing Holt to the veterinary practice. Once Holt stopped the car in front of it, she reached for the door handle. “How long do you think your business will take?”
“No more than an hour and a half,” Holt responded, his gaze on the building.
Caitlin glanced around. One of the vet techs led out a medium-sized dog with a missing front leg. She glanced back in time to see Holt wince. In sympathy for the dog? He might be an ultra-rich captain of the dot-com industry, but there was a heart in there somewhere. One he kept well-hidden and took out only to rescue damsels in distress. And maybe animals, too. “When you’re done, just come in and ask the receptionist, Rachel. She’ll ken where I am. Um…you’re not allergic to dogs or cats, are you?”
“Not that I’m aware.” His gaze followed the three-legged dog as the tech led it around the side of the building, then Holt's brow furrowed. He sighed when it disappeared.
If he’d had a pet, he’d know if he was allergic. How sad. Caitlin took pity on him and didn’t remark on his reaction to the dog, but his sympathy for it reassured her.
“Great. I’ll see you in an hour or so.” She opened the door and popped out before he could respond. As soon as she closed it, he pulled away. Caitlin stood on the sidewalk, watching as his brake lights came on and he rounded the next corner. Caitlin suspected Holt had depths he’d yet to reveal, but she liked the hints she’d gotten from him yesterday and today.
****
Holt met with Mr. Thornton, the lawyer who had shown up in his California office. After reading through the papers Thornton left on Holt’s desk that day, Holt had a few procedural questions, but the one item forefront in his mind was the paper he’d found from his alma mater.
“You are correct,” Thornton told him, to Holt’s disbelief. “Your great-aunt funded the scholarship that allowed you to attend Stanford.”
“Why would she have done that?” Holt demanded, though he suspected he knew the reason. Sending him to school across the country had been another way to punish his mother.
“Her reasons were never communicated to me,” Thornton told him. “But her gift served to provide you with an excellent education and gave you the start to the successful life you’ve made for yourself.”
Holt refused to argue the point with him. If Thornton wanted to think the best of his great-aunt, Holt wouldn’t waste time trying to dissuade him.
“Do you intend to remain for the stipulated period to retain the estate?”
Now that he had seen the property, he was no less eager to unload it than he’d been in California when he got the news about his inheritance. “Besides being dragged into court, what happens if I refuse the bequest?”
“It becomes the property of the local jurisdiction. I understand some developers are already filing paperwork to buy it. They would change the character of the area forever, I fear.”
Holt could imagine what Caitlin’s reaction would be to some local politician disposing of the estate. She’d be furious, but even though he was beginning to see some of what she appreciated in the estate, he had not changed his mind about getting rid of it. Thornton’s comment only cemented Holt’s resolve that he would be the one to determine what happened to it. “At my office, you mentioned that brief visits away are allowed.”
“As long as you clear them with me.”
“Our meeting today is well-timed, then. I have a contracts meeting in New York City starting tomorrow. I’ll take the train and return as soon as my business is finished. Likely no more than three days.”
Thornton agreed, of course. Holt knew he would. It was a necessary and reasonable business-related request.
His next meeting, with a real estate attorney, would tell him more about putting the estate on the market. He killed some time before the appointment walking around the village. Every shop window he passed boasted a riot of red and green ribbons, evergreen boughs, wrapped presents, or fake snow and crystals suspended from the ceiling on nearly invisible fishing line. The colors and sparkles caught his gaze, but images of Caitlin with this Doctor Coats, the veterinarian, kept intruding.
The cold water yesterday and the Christmas decorations in the village today had frozen his brain’s logic centers. He longed for some fantasy full of colorful lights, unwrapping presents—or undressing Caitlin—and happy endings. It was too soon after the Helen debacle to take up with another woman, especially one he’d known for only two, no, three days. He had to stop thinking about her that way, but it didn’t stop him from wondering what kind of friend the doc was to her. Her enthusiasm, as she’d told him about the vet and his good works, made Holt’s blood pressure rise. In addition to apparently having a heart of gold, was he tall and handsome? No woman in her prime could resist that combination.
Caitlin was definitely a woman in her prime with curves in all the right places that felt like heaven in his arms. Her smile ranged from sweet to snarky, and she had a temperament to match. Intelligent. Dedicated, with a sterling reputation in her profession. If he had any sense, he’d go after her. Since their visit to the beach, the thought of her with another man made his jaw lock.
Was he jealous? And of someone he’d never met? Ridiculous. Impossible. He shouldn’t care. Before long, he would return to California, and she to Scotland. But the idea persisted.
After the meeting with the realtor, he reclaimed his car, then parked on the street in front of the vet’s office and took a breath. He saw only one way to put his wild imaginings to rest. Meet the man. Watch Caitlin interact with him. Accept whatever he observed and get on with his life back in California as quickly as possible.
A bell tinkled over the door as he entered. Tiny twinkling whi
te lights framed the interior of every window. Construction paper ornaments shaped like dog biscuits, kittens and puppies with wings were strung across the glass and embellished with names spelled out in glitter. Holt surmised they must be the names of peoples’ pets. Silver garland and shiny red and green balls draped the front of the reception desk. A small, decorated tree sat on a corner table. Holiday music played low in the background, almost covered by the occasional outraged feline yowl or canine whine. A whiff of animal urine and wet fur made him wrinkle his nose. A few people sat with animal carriers on their laps or larger dogs at their feet, the dogs’ tails thumping in excitement or anxiety. He sympathized.
“I’m looking for Caitlin Paterson,” he told the girl at the desk. “I’m supposed to meet her here.”
“You must be Mr. Ridley,” the girl answered with a blazing white smile. “It’s nice to meet you. Merry Christmas.”
“Um…Merry Christmas.” He summoned a smile.
The girl nodded. “Follow me.” She gestured to an adjoining hallway.
Holt followed her down a long hall lined with examination rooms. If Caitlin was alone with the vet in his office, Holt hoped he wouldn’t walk in on anything too friendly.
“Here we are,” the receptionist announced cheerily. “Caitlin, your friend Holt Ridley is here.”
The receptionist moved out of the way, and Holt found himself looking into another exam room. Caitlin was stripping off gloves as she turned toward him. The vet, if that is who he was, was putting a puppy into a carrier, his back to Holt. The lab coat hid his build, but he appeared to be a little shorter than Holt.
“Holt Ridley,” Caitlin said as she walked forward, then took Holt’s arm. “Come meet Doc Coats.”
The vet turned around and pulled off his gloves, then held out a hand to Holt. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Ridley. Caitlin has had a lot of nice things to say about you.”
