by Bonnie Pega
Caitlin got to her feet and stepped over to the front door. “Well, thank you, Mr. Shore, er, Max, for bringing these by. I’ll have them ready for you in a day or two,” she said in a tone of dismissal, then paused, waiting for him to take the hint and leave.
Max leaned back on the sofa, crossing his arms and looking quite at home. “As long as you’re up,” he said, “could I have a glass of water? It’s quite warm today, don’t you think?”
Caitlin took another deep breath to calm her nerves. “Perhaps you’d like iced tea or fruit juice instead,” she offered, managing to sound courteous but cool.
“Great,” Max said with a smile. “Either one. I’m not picky.” He could see through her transparent attempt to get rid of him. He had news for her. He wasn’t going anywhere.
Disgruntled, Caitlin walked into the kitchen. She’d have thought he’d have taken the hint. He wasn’t so dense that the hint escaped him. He was so pigheaded he chose to ignore it.
“Either one. I’m not picky,” she mimicked as she squeezed a slice of lemon into his tea. He was so stubborn! she thought as she absently squeezed another slice of lemon. She’d done everything but ask him to leave, but he’d apparently decided to get on her nerves instead. She squeezed a third slice, then a fourth, puzzling over how one man could be so irritating.
She would just irritate him right back if he tried anything else, she decided as she carried the glass to him.
Eve with her apple, Max thought as he stood and accepted the drink from her outstretched hand. He took a long swallow, nearly choking as the sour liquid, unrelieved by even a few grains of sugar, went down his throat. He managed to retain a straight face, however, and even gave her a bland smile as he took another sip, better prepared this time for the acidity. “Just what I needed,” he murmured, fixing an intent gaze on her. “A little tea with my lemon.”
Caitlin’s face reddened with embarrassment as she suddenly noticed the large number of lemon slices floating in his glass. Now, how had that happened? She squirmed beneath his scrutiny. She honestly hadn’t meant to do that, but there was something about him that chased her brains and good sense right out the window. He’d never believe she hadn’t done it on purpose, she realized as his eyes narrowed slightly.
From the look on his face, he was either contemplating dismembering her or kissing her. She didn’t know which alternative she preferred. But when he murmured something about needing a little sweetness, she knew which one he’d decided on.
Eyes wide, she felt her heartbeat quicken and her limbs become liquid as he slid a hand, ever so gently, behind her neck. His actions were slow and deliberate, as if he knew that a sudden move would make her bolt. His thumb toyed with her earlobe while his fingers laced through her still-damp hair.
His eyes—were they indigo? cerulean?—caressed her lips in a kiss almost as potent as the real thing. Certainly the real thing could not have sent her heart racing any faster or caused her face to flush any hotter. Caitlin stiffened, waiting for her old companion, panic, to barge in. Strangely, it seemed to be held at bay by the warmth radiating from wherever he touched her.
“Mom? Mr. Shore? Jerry’s here. Can we see your car phone?” Jordan yelled as he and his friend walked in the front door.
With a look that said this wasn’t over by a long shot, Max turned a smile to the two small boys. “Sure, Jordan. Hi, Jerry.” Shaking the tow-headed boy’s hand, he said, “I’m Max Shore,” then took the two excited boys out to his car.
Caitlin sat down abruptly as the screen door shut, and stared at the glass of tea Max had set down on the table. She realized just then that she hadn’t been afraid. When he touched her, an odd sort of breathlessness had set in, and a strange warmth had rendered her limbs all but useless. But no fear. No panic. Somehow, that scared her more than anything else.
Max spent over an hour outside with the two exuberant boys. Every time Caitlin peeked out the front door, either Jerry or Jordan would be talking animatedly on the telephone, and Max would be leaning against the side of the car, an indulgent smile on his face. She ventured out once with glasses of milk and little boxes of raisins for the kids and the rest of Max’s tea.
“Your tea,” she proffered with a straight face.
“Gee,” he said with a teasing smile. “Can’t I have milk too?”
“Certainly,” Caitlin replied primly, and turned to go back into the house.
“No lemon,” he called after her.
Caitlin hurried away before the grin that played about her mouth broke through. She smiled the whole time she poured his milk, especially when she whimsically perched a lemon slice on the rim of the glass.
She did compose herself when she carried the drink out to Max, but one glance at his face when he saw the lemon and she couldn’t prevent a giggle from escaping. It was a little rusty from disuse, but a giggle nonetheless.
Max could tell she didn’t laugh often and felt bewildered by the sudden tenderness that welled up inside him. He vowed that he would do whatever was necessary to make her laugh, and laugh often. From the shadows that seemed always to lurk in her eyes, he knew that she’d had little enough reason to laugh in her life.
The tenderness showed in his eyes as he held her gaze for a moment, then gave a sudden wink. He took the lemon slice and dropped it into the milk. A long gulp left a milk “mustache” above a boyish grin.
Another giggle broke through and Caitlin rolled her eyes. “You’re nuts.”
“Certifiable,” Max agreed.
“Thanks for letting the boys use your car phone,” Caitlin murmured. “I know it’ll probably cost you a small fortune, but it’s given Jordan something to talk about for the next month.” With the late afternoon sun shining down, Caitlin let her gaze linger on the golden highlights glimmering in Max’s hair. Streaks of sunshine, she thought fancifully.
“They’ve gotten more use out of it than I have,” he said. “I was thinking of having it taken out. I’ve used it maybe three times in the year I’ve had it. It’s cost more to keep than it’s saved me in time.”
“Well, today has meant a lot to Jordan,” she said earnestly. “A lot of people make idle promises to kids and think it doesn’t matter whether they keep them or not. I’m glad that you made good on yours.”
“Hey, I like kids,” Max said. “I have three nephews I dote on. The oldest one’s about Jordan’s age. He’s fascinated by the car phone too. His name is Alan. and then there are Matt and Joey. They’re four-year-old twin terrors. They’re more fascinated with seeing how much trouble they can get into.”
They chatted for a few more minutes, then Caitlin went back inside to answer her telephone. It was Donna. Caitlin mentioned the contract and asked if Donna’s husband, Rick, would look it over, but decided not to mention the man who’d brought it. Donna would read more into it than there really was. After all, Max Shore was simply a business associate—no more, no less, Caitlin told herself.
She had just hung up when Jordan bounded in, his face wreathed in smiles. “Mom, I had so much fun. Jerry and I called Patrick and Kenny and Jerry’s mom and Max even let us talk to somebody at his office. Kenny couldn’t believe I talked to him on a car phone and Jerry got on the phone and said I was too. Can he stay for dinner, Mom? I think he’s gonna be my best friend.”
“Well, I don’t see why not, honey. But he needs to check with his mom first, okay?”
“Aw, gee, thanks, Mrs. Love,” drawled a very grown-up, and very male voice. “But I think my mom will let me.”
Caitlin, who had turned with a start toward the direction of the voice, now turned confused eyes back to Jordan. “Jordie, where’s Jerry?”
“He had to go home. He’s goin’ to his grandma’s for dinner. Now, can I take Max up to my room? I wanna show him my new G.I. Joe tank. It’s a Cobra vehicle, Max. That’s the bad guys. And it has—”
“Wait a minute.” Caitlin called a halt. “Jordan, I thought you wanted Jerry to eat dinner with us,” she said cautious
ly.
“Uh-uh. I want Max to. He’s my new best friend, Mom. I just told ya,” Jordan explained patiently.
“Right,” she muttered. “I think I’ve been had.” The feeling intensified when she caught the conspiratorial glance exchanged between the man and the boy. It struck Caitlin how good Max and Jordan were together. Max genuinely liked kids and Jordie knew it and responded with wholehearted acceptance, as only kids can.
Caitlin set about preparing dinner while Jordan took Max up to his room. Her hands absently shaped a mixture of grains, chick peas, and herbs into patties as her ears tuned in to the sounds trickling down the stairs. She could hear Jordan’s delighted giggles and chattering punctuated by the occasional rumble of Max’s voice. Caitlin’s throat tightened as she realized that, had her life been normal, this could have been an average family evening at home.
She resolutely pushed the idea away. Her life had been anything but normal, and the dream of an average family would always be just that—a dream.
Taking a deep breath, she pulled her thoughts back to the task at hand and put the patties in a pan with a splash of olive oil, then turned on the burner. When the patties were done, she hurriedly sliced some whole wheat bread, made sandwiches, and opened a jar of applesauce. This was a favorite meal that she and Jordan had almost every Sunday night.
By the look on Max’s face when he entered the kitchen, however, it was obvious that it wasn’t going to be his favorite meal. He gave a weak smile as he sat, but Caitlin wasn’t fooled. What did she expect from someone who liked Chinese food full of monosodium glutamate and little squiggly pieces of pork?
What he did would be interesting to see. Would he make some polite excuse to avoid eating, or would he grin and bear it as she had the Chinese food? Of course, she’d gotten hives for her trouble. She wondered whimsically what Max would get. Keeping an eye on him, she ate her meal and listened with half an ear to Jordan’s chatter.
Max pushed the applesauce around on his plate for a while, then subtly lifted the top slice of bread and peeked inside. An Unidentified Fried Object. Well, it looked harmless enough. Gamely, he picked up his sandwich, squeezing the bread a little so he could get it into his mouth. No sooner had he done that than a glob of yogurt mixed with bits of green herbs dropped on the front of his pristine white shirt.
With a sigh Max placed the sandwich back on his plate. He should have known this would happen if he tried to eat something he really didn’t like. Unidentified Fried Objects were not on his list of favorite foods. He’d attempted to eat it only out of politeness, and now look at him. He glanced down at the spot with disgust. At least it had missed his silk tie.
“Here.” Caitlin handed him a damp paper towel. “If you want to take off your shirt, I’ll rinse it in the sink. Yogurt can leave a spot if you don’t get it out right away.”
When Max’s hands loosened his tie and began to unbutton his shirt, Caitlin wished she’d kept her mouth shut. As his shirt fell open, more and more of his chest came into view. It was as richly tanned as the backs of his hands, and glinted with a dusting of the same reddish-gold hair.
When Max shrugged off his shirt, Caitlin felt as if she’d just been blind-sided. The sight of his tanned broad shoulders, muscular arms, and powerful back mesmerized her. She attempted to draw in a deep breath, but there didn’t seem to be enough air in the room. She found her eyes tracing the path her hands would have liked to trace, and hastily averted her eyes.
She took the shirt from his hand, walked over to the kitchen sink, and turned on the water. As she scrubbed the stain, she mentally searched through her closets for something for Max to wear. Unfortunately the only things she could come up with that were large enough were a blanket and a man’s shirt Caitlin used while painting.
Anything would do at this point, she decided. She just needed to get him covered. And quick. His half-naked torso ruined her concentration and gave her hands a peculiar itchy feeling that she knew would be eased only by touching him.
“Jordan? Would you go upstairs and get my painting shirt?” Caitlin asked as she put Max’s shirt in the clothes dryer.
“Oh, don’t bother about me,” Max said. “I’m fine like I am.”
“It’s no bother,” Caitlin told him quickly. “Jordan, go get the shirt, okay?”
“It’s not necessary,” Max insisted as Jordan bounded up the stairs.
“Oh, yes, it is,” Caitlin muttered. “It’s getting a bit cool in here.”
“Cool?” Caitlin sure did want to get him dressed quickly, Max thought, then noticed her eyes lingering over his torso. He liked the idea that the sight of his bare chest bothered her. It meant she wasn’t indifferent. He decided that he wasn’t going to cover up after all. “I don’t think it’s a bit cool in here. I think it’s on the warm side.”
Caitlin’s eyes met his and saw the challenge there. She never could resist a challenge. “It won’t be when I open the windows,” she said sweetly.
Max fell silent, though a smile played about his lips. He seemed as determined not to put on a shirt as she was for him to wear one.
Jordan galloped down the stairs and handed Max the old, paint-smeared shirt. “Here’s Mom’s shirt. It was Patrick’s dad’s. It’s real big.”
“Thank you very much, Jordan. I don’t need it though,” Max said, glancing at Caitlin. “I’m comfortable like I am.”
Without saying a word Caitlin opened the kitchen window, hiding a smile as a breeze wafted through the room. It was a normal April night, with temperatures in the low fifties. She couldn’t help but notice the gooseflesh appearing on Max’s forearms. Surely he’d put that shirt on now, she thought, then wondered why it had become so important to her that he did.
Max hung the garment on the back of his chair, then picked up his fork and began eating the rest of his applesauce. He looked at Caitlin with a nonchalant smile and gestured at her plate. “You don’t want your food to get cold.” Although that wasn’t the only thing getting chilled around there, he thought as cool air rushed over him.
Caitlin took her chair at the table and picked up her sandwich. She barely suppressed a shiver at the breeze that flirted around the room, but she refused to give Max the satisfaction.
“Gee, Mom, it’s cold in here, don’t you think?” Jordan complained.
“Certainly not, Jordie. I find a nice, cool breeze refreshing, especially after the past few unusually warm days. Don’t you, Max?” Caitlin blinked her eyes innocently in his direction.
“Oh, indeed I do,” he agreed, staring her down in what had somehow become a battle of wills.
“Well, I think it’s cold, Mom. Anyway, I’m finished eating,” Jordan mumbled as he stuffed the last of his sandwich into his mouth. “Can I go play?”
“Hmm?” With an effort Caitlin tore her gaze from Max’s. “Oh, sure, Jordie. No, wait. Maybe you’d better have your bath first. Okay?”
“Do I hafta?” At her nod, he grimaced, then brightened. “I’ll take some G.I. Joe men with me.” Jordan ran down the hall into the bathroom.
“Can I get you anything else?” Caitlin offered politely, looking back at Max. “Another sandwich or more applesauce?” Why didn’t he put on the shirt? It was downright chilly now. She wondered sourly if it was possible to get frostbite in April.
“No, I’m fine, thanks,” Max answered. For Pete’s sake, would you please close that window? he silently implored. His goose bumps had goose bumps.
Caitlin stood, took her plate over to the sink, and rinsed it off. A stiff breeze billowed the yellow gingham curtains and ruffled Caitlin’s hair.
When she walked back to the table to get Max’s plate, she saw a sudden appreciative gleam light his eyes, and followed his intent gaze to where it rested on her chest. The cool air had caused another reaction as well. Her nipples had puckered into hard points and pressed quite obviously against her shirt. Max’s gaze lingered and his hands twitched as if ready to reach out.
“Well.” She whirled around
and hurried over to the window. “That’s enough fresh air for now, I think,” she said as she closed the window, her cheeks instantly heating.
Max leaned back in the chair and stretched out his legs, lacing his fingers together behind his head. He grinned, enjoying Caitlin’s discomfiture. So much for round one, he thought in devilish satisfaction.
Four
* * *
“Here’s your shirt.” The moment the dryer stopped, Caitlin jerked opened the door, grabbed Max’s shirt, and thrust it at him. “Put it on before you catch cold.”
“I’m perfectly comfortable,” Max said complacently. “Especially now that you’ve closed the window.”
“Put the shirt on or I’ll open the window again,” Caitlin said through gritted teeth as she stalked past him and went down the hall.
She tapped on the bathroom door, then poked in her head. “Jordan, have you finished? Did you use soap? Hmm. Looks dry.” She paused. “Try it again, Jordie, and this time use the soap, okay?” She shook her head as she closed the bathroom door.
“Does he do that often?”
Caitlin jumped at the voice coming from just behind her and spun around.
“Are you okay?” Max asked in concern. Her face suddenly pale, she looked as if she might faint.
Caitlin took a deep breath, her hands clenching the door frame. “Oh, yes, yes, I’m fine. I just don’t handle surprises very well.” She managed to smile, but her voice shook a little. “To answer your first question, yes, Jordan tries to skip the soap every chance he gets. I think there’s some kind of contest in first grade to see which boy can accumulate the most dirt.”
“Who’s winning?” Max said lightly, though his watchful eyes perused her thoughtfully.
“I don’t know, but I hope it’s not Jordie.” Caitlin was thankful that Max had put on his shirt. “By the way, I thought I’d fix myself a cup of herb tea. Do you want one?”
