Trading Christmas

by Debbie Macomber

  “Good old Martin,” Joe said, shaking his head. “I swear he was as big on ceremony as you were. Marrying us was a turning point in his life. From that point on, he started carting a Bible around with him the way some kids do a slingshot. Right in his hip pocket. If he wasn’t burying something, he was holding revival meetings. Remember how he got in a pack of trouble at school for writing ‘God loves you, ask Martin’ on the back wall of the school?”

  “I remember.”

  “I sort of figured he might become a missionary.”

  “Martin?” She gave an abrupt laugh. “Never. He likes his conveniences. He doesn’t even go camping. Martin’s idea of roughing it is doing without valet service.”

  She expected Joe to chuckle. He did smile at her attempted joke, but that was all. He seemed to be studying her the same way she’d been studying him.

  “You surprise me,” Joe announced suddenly.

  “I do? Am I a disappointment to you?”

  “Not at all. I always thought you’d grow up and have a house full of children yourself. You used to haul those dolls of yours around with you everywhere. If Martin and I were too noisy, you’d shush us, saying the babies were asleep. If we wanted to play in the backyard, we couldn’t because you were having a tea party with your dolls. It was enough to drive a ten-year-old boy crazy. But if we ever dared complain, you’d look at us serenely and with the sweetest smile tell us we had to be patient because it was for the children.”

  “I did get carried away with all that motherhood business, didn’t I?” Joe’s words stirred up uncomfortable memories, the same ones she’d entertained earlier that afternoon. She really did love children. Yet, somehow, without her quite knowing how, the years had passed and she’d buried the dream. Nowadays she didn’t like to think too much about a husband and family—the life that hadn’t happened. It haunted her at odd moments.

  “I should have known you’d end up in construction,” she said, switching the subject away from herself.

  “How’s that?” Joe asked.

  “Wasn’t it you who built the fort?”

  “Martin helped.”

  “Sure, by staying out of the way.” She grinned. “I know my brother. He’s a marvel with people, but please don’t ever give him a hammer.”

  Their dinner arrived, and it was as delicious as Cait had expected, although by then she was enjoying herself so much that even a plateful of dry toast would have tasted good. They drank two cups of cappuccino after their meal, and talked and laughed as the hours melted away. Cait couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much.

  When at last she glanced at her watch, she was shocked to realize it was well past ten. “I had no idea it was so late!” she said. “I should get home.” She had to be up by five.

  Joe took care of the bill and collected her coat. When they walked outside, the December night was clear and chilly, with a multitude of stars twinkling brightly above.

  “Are you cold?” he asked as they waited for the valet to deliver the car.

  “Not at all.” Nevertheless, he placed his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close.

  Cait didn’t protest. It felt natural for this man to hold her close.

  His car arrived and they drove back to her apartment building in silence. When he pulled into the parking lot, she considered inviting him in for coffee, then decided against it. They’d already drunk enough coffee, and besides, they both had to work the following morning. But more important, Joe might read something else into the invitation. He was an old friend. Nothing more. And she wanted to keep it that way.

  She turned to him and smiled softly. “I had a lovely time. Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome, Cait. We’ll do it again.”

  Cait was astonished to realize how appealing another evening with Joseph Rockwell was. She’d underestimated him.

  Or had she?

  “There’s something else I’d like to try again,” he was saying, his eyes filled with devilry.

  “Try again?” she repeated. “What?”

  He slid his arm behind her and for a breathless moment they looked at each other. “I don’t know if I’ve got a chance without trading a few baseball cards, though.”

  Cait swallowed. “You want to kiss me?”

  He nodded. His eyes seemed to grow darker, more intense. “For old times’ sake.” His hand caressed the curve of her neck, his thumb moving slowly toward the scented hollow of her throat.

  “Well, sure. For old times’ sake.” She was astonished at the way her heart was reacting to the thought of Joe holding her…kissing her.

  His mouth began a slow descent toward hers, his warm breath nuzzling her skin.

  “Just remember,” she whispered when his mouth was about to settle over hers. Her hands gripped his lapels. “Old times’…”

  “I’ll remember,” he said as his lips came down on hers.

  She sighed and slid her hands up his solid chest to link her fingers at the base of his neck. The kiss was slow and thorough. When it was over, Cait’s hands were clutching his collar.

  Joe’s fingers were in her hair, tangled in the short, soft curls, cradling the back of her head.

  A sweet rush of joy coursed through her veins. Cait felt a bubbling excitement, a burst of warmth, unlike anything she’d ever known before.

  Then he kissed her a second time…

  “Just remember…” she repeated when he pulled his mouth from hers and buried it in the delicate curve of her neck.

  He drew in several ragged breaths before asking, “What is it I’m supposed to remember?”

  “Yes, oh, please, remember.”

  He lifted his head and rested his hands lightly on her shoulders, his face only inches from hers. “What’s so important you don’t want me to forget?” he whispered.

  It wasn’t Joe who was supposed to remember; it was Cait. She didn’t realize she’d spoken out loud. She blinked, uncertain, then tilted her head to gaze down at her hands, anywhere but at him. “Oh…that I’m in love with Paul.”

  There was a moment of silence. An awkward moment. “Right,” he answered shortly. “You’re in love with Paul.” His arms fell away and he released her.

  Cait hesitated, uneasy. “Thanks again for a wonderful dinner.” Her hand closed around the door handle. She was eager now to make her escape.

  “Any time,” he said flippantly. His own hands gripped the steering wheel.

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Soon,” he echoed. She climbed out of the car, not giving Joe a chance to come around and open the door for her. She was aware of him sitting in the car, waiting until she’d unlocked the lobby door and stepped inside. She hurried down the first-floor hall and into her apartment, turning on the lights so he’d know she’d made it safely home.

  Then she removed her coat and carefully hung it in the closet. When she peeked out the window, she saw that Joe had already left.

  Lindy was at her desk working when Cait arrived the next morning. Cait smiled at her as she hurried past, but didn’t stop to indulge in conversation.

  Cait could feel Lindy’s gaze trailing after her and she knew her friend was disappointed that she hadn’t told her about the dinner date with Joe Rockwell.

  Cait didn’t want to talk about it. She was afraid that if she said anything to Lindy, she wouldn’t be able to avoid mentioning the kiss, which was a subject she wanted to avoid at all costs. She wouldn’t be able to delay her friend’s questions forever, but Cait wanted to put them off until at least the end of the day. Longer, if possible.

  What a fool she’d been to let Joe kiss her. It had seemed so right at the time, a natural conclusion to a delightful evening.

  The fact that she’d let him do it without even making a token protest still confused her. If Paul happened to hear about it, he might think she really was interested in Joe. Which, of course, she wasn’t.

  Her boss was a man of principle and integrity—and altogether a frustr
ating person to fall in love with. Judging by his reaction to her dinner with Joe, he seemed immune to jealousy. Now if only she could discover a way of letting him know how she felt…and spark his interest in the process!

  The morning was hectic. Out of the corner of her eye, Cait saw Joe arrive. Although she was speaking to an important client on the phone, she stared after him as he approached the burly foreman. She watched Joe remove a blueprint from a long, narrow tube and roll it open so two other men could study it. There seemed to be some discussion, then the foreman nodded and Joe left, without so much as glancing in Cait’s direction.

  That stung.

  At least he could have waved hello. But if he wanted to ignore her, well, fine. She’d do the same.

  The market closed on the up side, the Dow Jones industrial average at 2600 points after brisk trading. The day’s work was over.

  As Cait had predicted, Lindy sought her out almost immediately.

  “So how’d your dinner date go?”

  “It was fun.”

  “Where’d he take you? Sam’s Bar and Grill as you thought?”

  “Actually, no,” she said, clearing her throat, feeling more than a little foolish for having suggested such a thing. “He took me to Henry’s.” She announced it louder than necessary, since Paul was strolling into the office just then. But for all the notice he gave her, she might as well have been fresh paint drying on the office wall.

  “Henry’s,” Lindy echoed. “He took you to Henry’s? Why, that’s one of the best restaurants in town. It must have cost him a small fortune.”

  “I wouldn’t know. My menu didn’t list any prices.”

  “You’re joking. No one’s ever taken me anyplace so fancy. What did you order?”

  “Grilled salmon.” She continued to study Paul for some clue that he was listening in on her and Lindy’s conversation. He was seated at his desk, reading a report on short-term partnerships as a tax advantage. Cait had read it earlier in the week and had recommended it to him.

  “Was it wonderful?” Lindy pressed.

  It took Cait a moment to realize her friend was quizzing her about the dinner. “Excellent. The best fish I’ve had in years.”

  “What did you do afterward?”

  Cait looked back at her friend. “What makes you think we did anything? We had dinner, talked, and then he drove me home. Nothing more happened. Understand? Nothing.”

  “If you say so,” Lindy said, eyeing her suspiciously. “But you’re certainly defensive about it.”

  “I just want you to know that nothing happened. Joseph Rockwell is an old friend. That’s all.”

  Paul glanced up from the report, but his gaze connected with Lindy’s before slowly progressing to Cait.

  “Hello, Paul,” Cait greeted him cheerfully. “Are Lindy and I disturbing you? We’d be happy to go into the hallway if you’d like.”

  “No, no, you’re fine. Don’t worry about it.” He looked past them to the doorway and got to his feet. “Hello, Rockwell.”

  “Am I interrupting a meeting?” Joe asked, stepping into the office as if it didn’t really matter whether he was or not. His hard hat was back in place, along with the dusty jeans and the tool pouch. And yet Cait had no difficulty remembering last night’s sophisticated dinner companion when she looked at him.

  “No, no,” Paul answered, “we were just chatting. Come on in. Problems?”

  “Not really. But there’s something I’d like you to take a look at in the other room.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Joe threw Cait a cool smile as he strolled past. “Hello, Cait.”

  “Joe.” Her heart was pounding hard, and that was ridiculous. It must have been due to embarrassment, she told herself. Joe was a friend, a boy from the old neighborhood; just because she’d allowed him to kiss her didn’t mean there was—or ever would be—anything romantic between them. The sooner she made him understand this, the better.

  “Joe and Cait went out to dinner last night,” Lindy said pointedly to Paul. “He took her to Henry’s.”

  “How nice,” Paul commented, clearly more interested in troubleshooting with Joe than discussing Cait’s dating history.

  “We had a good time, didn’t we?” Joe asked Cait.

  “Yes, very nice,” she responded stiffly.

  Joe waited until Paul was out of the room before he stepped back and dropped a kiss on her cheek. Then he announced loudly enough for everyone in the vicinity to hear, “You were incredible last night.”

  FOUR

  “I thought you said nothing happened,” Lindy said, looking intently at a red-faced Cait.

  “Nothing did happen.” Cait was furious enough to kick Joe Rockwell in the shins the way he deserved. How dared he say something so…so embarrassing in front of Lindy! And probably within earshot of Paul!

  “But then why would he say something like that?”

  “How should I know?” Cait snapped. “One little kiss and he makes it sound like—”

  “He kissed you?” Lindy asked sharply, her eyes narrowing. “You just got done telling me there’s nothing between the two of you.”

  “Good grief, the kiss didn’t mean anything. It was for old times’ sake. Just a platonic little kiss.” All right, she was exaggerating a bit, but it couldn’t be helped.

  While she was speaking, Cait gathered her things and shoved them in her briefcase. Then she slammed the lid closed and reached for her coat, thrusting her arms into the sleeves, her movements abrupt and ungraceful.

  “Have a nice weekend,” she said tightly, not completely understanding why she felt so annoyed with Lindy. “I’ll see you Monday.” She marched through the office, but paused in front of Joe.

  “You wanted something, sweetheart?” he asked in a cajoling voice.

  “You’re despicable!”

  Joe looked downright disappointed. “Not low and disgusting?”

  “That, too.”

  He grinned from ear to ear just the way she knew he would. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Cait bit back an angry retort. It wouldn’t do any good to engage in a verbal battle with Joe Rockwell. He’d have a comeback for any insult she could hurl. Seething, Cait marched to the elevator and jabbed the button impatiently.

  “I’ll be by later tonight, darling,” Joe called to her just as the doors were closing, effectively cutting off any protest.

  He was joking. He had to be joking. No man in his right mind could possibly expect her to invite him into her home after this latest stunt. Not even the impertinent Joe Rockwell.

  Once home, Cait took a long, soothing shower, dried her hair and changed into jeans and a sweater. Friday nights were generally quiet ones for her. She was munching on pretzels and surveying the bleak contents of her refrigerator when there was a knock on the door.

  It couldn’t possibly be Joe, she told herself.

  It was Joe, balancing a large pizza on the palm of one hand and clutching a bottle of red wine in the other.

  Cait stared at him, too dumbfounded at his audacity to speak.

  “I come bearing gifts,” he said, presenting the pizza to her with more than a little ceremony.

  “Listen here, you…you fool, it’s going to take a whole lot more than pizza to make up for that stunt you pulled this afternoon.”

  “Come on, Cait, lighten up a little.”

  “Lighten up! You…you…”

  “I believe the word you’re looking for is fool.”

  “You have your nerve.” She dug her fists into her hips, knowing she should slam the door in his face. She would have, too, but the pizza smelled so good it was difficult to maintain her indignation.

  “Okay, I’ll admit it,” Joe said, his deep blue eyes revealing genuine contrition. “I got carried away. You’re right, I am an idiot. All I can do is ask your forgiveness.” He lifted the lid of the pizza box and Cait was confronted by the thickest, most mouthwatering masterpiece she’d ever seen. The top was crowded with no less
than ten tempting toppings, all covered with a thick layer of hot melted cheese.

  “Do you accept my humble apology?” Joe pressed, waving the pizza under her nose.

  “Are there any anchovies on that thing?”

  “Only on half.”

  “You’re forgiven.” She took him by the elbow and dragged him inside her apartment.

  Cait led the way into the kitchen. She got two plates from the cupboard and collected knives, forks and napkins as she mentally reviewed his crimes. “I couldn’t believe you actually said that,” she mumbled, shaking her head. She set the kitchen table, neatly positioning the napkins after shoving the day’s mail to one side. “The least you can do is tell me why you found it necessary to say that in front of Paul. Lindy had already started grilling me. Can you imagine what she and Paul must think now?” She retrieved two wineglasses from the cupboard and set them by the plates. “I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life.”

  “Never?” he prompted, opening and closing her kitchen drawers until he located a corkscrew.

  “Never,” she repeated. “And don’t think a pizza’s going to ensure lasting peace.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “It’s a start, but you’re going to owe me a long time for this prank, Joseph Rockwell.”

  “I’ll be good,” he promised, his eyes twinkling. He agilely removed the cork, tested the wine and then filled both glasses.

  Cait jerked out a wicker-back chair and threw herself down. “Did Paul say anything after I left?”

  “About what?” Joe slid out a chair and joined her.

  Cait had already dished up a large slice for each of them, fastidiously using a knife to disconnect the strings of melted cheese that stretched from the box to their plates.

  “About me, of course,” she growled.

  Joe handed her a glass of wine. “Not really.”

  Cait paused and lifted her eyes to his. “Not really? What does that mean?”