by Bonnie Pega
Caitlin sighed with frustration and hung up the phone. She tossed the pencil she’d been chewing on down on the desk and massaged her temples. Today was just another day in what had already been a long, miserable week.
K.C. had caught his mother’s flu and was out sick, so Caitlin was behind in filling orders. One grower had backed out of a commitment for Siberian ginseng. Jordie had gotten a D on a spelling test he had forgotten to study for. She’d gotten a ticket for an expired inspection sticker on her van.
And it had been a week since she had seen or heard from Max. The longest, lousiest, most wretched week of her life. It didn’t help that she kept getting accusing looks from Jordan every time she gave him a vague answer about where Max was.
Every time she thought of Max, missed Max, ached for Max, she knew she had only herself to blame. That was the worst of all. She had been too chicken to fight for what she wanted. And she was just now realizing how much she wanted Max in her life.
She hadn’t believed that she’d ever be able to feel for a man what she felt for Max. He was the kindest, gentlest, sexiest, most annoying, irritating man she’d ever met, and he made her feel wonderfully alive. What had her cowardice cost her?
Coward. That word began to loom larger and larger. Every time she looked in the mirror, she imagined big fluorescent yellow letters spelling it out on her forehead. “Caitlin is a coward, a weakling, a chicken.”
Even Donna was no help. She called Caitlin a coward right to her face. Dr. Atlee hemmed and hawed in her aggravatingly professional way and said that if Caitlin felt like a coward, then it was up to Caitlin to change that.
But how? Caitlin stared out the brand-new window in her office and absently watched a pair of finches flutter around the bird feeder she’d hung outside. Had she been a coward all her life? Or had it begun seven years before when she’d been made to feel impotent and weak? When was it that she’d been left fearing conflict of any sort? Why did she still carry those feelings of powerlessness all these years later?
She stood up. Seven years was long enough to carry around that kind of burden, she decided. It was time to talk to Max, to find out if he was indeed the kind of man she thought, hoped, he was. If he couldn’t deal with what she had to tell him, she might as well find out now rather than spend the rest of her life wondering what would have happened “if.”
“Martha.” She poked her head out the office door and called to the prematurely gray woman who was cataloguing a new shipment of rootstock.
“Yes?”
“Will you be okay if I leave you to close up today? I need to leave early.”
“Of course.”
“Just be careful and don’t overdo. I don’t want you having a relapse.”
“I’ll be fine.” Martha smiled and waved a hand toward the door. “Don’t you worry about a thing, honey. You just scoot along.”
Don’t worry about a thing? Caitlin thought to herself. She felt as if she had the worries of the world on her shoulders and it was all due to that man! Sighing, she slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder and went home.
As soon as she walked in, she called Donna. “I’m going to talk to Max,” she said.
“It’s about time!”
“Can you pick Jordie up at the sitter’s?”
“You bet. As a matter of fact, just in case you’re late getting home, why don’t we just plan on him spending the night? Patrick would love it.”
“Thanks, Donna,” Caitlin said with a sigh. “I hope I’m doing the right thing.”
“Truth is always right. It’ll all work out.”
“I hope so. Thanks, Donna.” Caitlin gently set the receiver down.
She spent nearly thirty minutes contemplating her wardrobe. She changed clothes twice before selecting a short nut-brown skirt and crocheted cream sweater. The colors complemented her brown eyes and ivory skin, and the style made her feel flirty and feminine. Heaven knows, she was going to need all the help she could get, she thought as she dialed Max’s office.
“Shore Efficiency Consultants, your time is our business. May I help you?”
Here goes nothing. Caitlin cleared her throat. “I, well, I’d like to see Mr. Shore this afternoon.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Shore is booked for the rest of the day. I’ll be glad to schedule you as soon as possible. Let’s see, how about tomorrow morning at eleven-thirty?”
Caitlin’s heart sank. “That’ll be fine, I guess.”
“Your name, please?”
“Love. Caitlin Love.”
“Ms. Love?” The secretary’s voice relayed renewed interest. “Ah, I believe I just had a cancellation and can work you in, oh, let’s say about thirty minutes?”
Caitlin’s heart leapt from her stomach up into her throat. “I’ll be there.”
When she arrived in his building, she stood outside the glass door to his suite of offices for a long time, trying to get her erratic breathing under control. She frowned at her reflection in the glass, then straightened an imaginary crease in her sleeve and wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt. Sticking out her jaw in determination, she pushed open the door.
The first thing she saw was a tall, slender brunette with Max’s eyes. Caitlin simply stared until the woman said, “Ms. Love?”
“Um, yes.” She had to be Max’s sister.
The woman stood and held out a hand. “Hi, I’m Patsy Shore Elliott. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said with frank curiosity.
The two women shook hands, then Patsy waved at the chair next to her desk. “Please, sit down. My brother is currently tied up on the phone. Conference call.” She propped her elbows on the desk and leaned forward. “So, I guess you’re the reason Max has been biting at the furniture all week.”
Caitlin could feel color slowly creep from beneath her collar and up her cheeks. “I beg your pardon?”
“Not that there’s anything wrong with that, mind you. A little furniture-chewing is good for you. Sharpens the teeth and all that.”
Caitlin squirmed uncomfortably, not sure what to say. “What makes you think I’m the reason?” she finally managed to ask.
“Well, when my brother the grouch slouched into the office Monday morning, the first thing he said was that if a certain Ms. Love called, I was to tell her he was out of town. And the second thing he said was to change that. If a certain Ms. Love called, he wanted the pleasure of telling her he was out of town.”
Caitlin winced. “I’m sorry. I—I don’t know what to say.”
Patsy smiled, her eyes twinkling. “You don’t have to say anything to me, but I sure hope you’re gonna say something to Max that will change his prickly attitude before he leaves teeth marks in the chair legs.”
In spite of her nervousness and embarrassment, Caitlin smiled a little at Patsy’s brash, amiable humor. She decided that she liked Max’s sister very much. Just then the intercom on Patsy’s desk buzzed, a sound that made Caitlin jump.
“Patsy,” Max’s voice crackled over the electronic device, “when Mr. McKenna gets here, send him straight in, please.”
Patsy gave a conspiratorial wink to Caitlin and pressed the button to answer, “Your next appointment is already here.”
“Send him in.”
Caitlin’s knees were shaky as she stood and crossed the few feet to Max’s private office. Her sweaty hand slipped on the polished brass doorknob and she had to tighten her grip to twist it open. She glanced back at Patsy, who gave her an encouraging thumbs-up signal.
“Mr. McKenna.” Max, who’d been sitting with his back to the door, stood and held out his hand. When he saw who it was, his features hardened and his hand dropped slowly to his side. He was silent for a moment, as if searching for the right words, before saying formally, “Caitlin. I’m afraid you’ve dropped by at an inconvenient time. I have another appointment due any minute.”
Caitlin would have turned tail and run had she not seen a flicker of something, pain maybe, in Max’s eyes before the impenetrable mask d
ropped down. “Your secretary worked me in.”
Max immediately punched the button on his intercom. “Patsy, when Mr. McKenna comes in, please have him wait in the office next door.”
“Gee, Max, I’m afraid Mr. McKenna won’t be in at all this afternoon.”
“What?”
“As a matter of fact, I’ve rescheduled all of your afternoon appointments. And since you have such a light afternoon schedule, I’m leaving early. Ciao!”
“Patsy. Patsy.” When she didn’t respond, he strode out of his office only to see the flip of her skirt hem as she went out the door. He turned suspicious eyes back to Caitlin. “Just what did you and my sister cook up?”
Caitlin, her cheeks burning, held up her hands. “All I did was call for an appointment. Anything your sister did, she did on her own.”
“Well, you have your appointment,” Max said flatly. “What do you want?” His eyes lit on the length of leg revealed by the alluringly short shirt, and he swallowed hard, hastily averting his gaze. He had wondered how she would look in a skirt. Now he knew. Legs like that could turn even the most jaded playboy’s head.
Caitlin’s fingernails dug into the material of her clutch purse, but her voice was steady. “I need to talk to you, Max.”
He cleared his throat, his eyes still focused somewhere past her. “If it’s about the greenhouse, I’ve decided it might be best to assign Emily Jane to—”
“It isn’t about business. It’s about you and me.” Caitlin licked her sandpaper-dry lips, trying in vain to moisten them.
Max’s gaze quickly swung to her face. “You and me?”
Caitlin nodded. “I—I owe you an apology. I wasn’t fair to you.”
Her voice was so low that Max could hardly make out her words, but he heard enough to want to leap to her and pull her into his arms. He controlled himself though, and instead leaned back against the doorjamb and stuffed his itchy hands into his pockets. “And?”
Drat! He wasn’t going to make this easy, was he? Not that she deserved it easy, she thought ruefully, but he could have been nicer about it. “And I—we need to talk.”
“So talk.”
“Not here.”
“Well, it just so happens I have a free afternoon.” The barest hint of Max’s familiar wry smile flitted across his face. “Your place or mine?”
They chose Max’s place because Max suggested it and Caitlin was too caught up in her own thoughts to suggest otherwise. Max decided Caitlin should go with him in his car, and again, she didn’t argue. She didn’t speak a single word the entire ride, but Max couldn’t help but notice that every muscle in her body was tense and ready—to fight or to flee. He didn’t know which.
His heart ached at the sight of her pale face and trembling hands, but he couldn’t let her off the hook, not this time. Their entire future together depended on what and how much she said.
Oh, God, I don’t know if I can do it! Caitlin thought in anguish as they walked into his house. How could she bear to say the ugly words? How could she bear the look on Max’s face when he heard them?
They sat on the sofa, side by side, Caitlin wondering desperately if she could somehow avoid the truth. Finally, Max reached over a hand and laid it on top of hers. “Tell me, Caitie,” he urged gently.
“I’m afraid,” she whispered. “Max, I’m so afraid. I don’t know if I can make the words come out. I haven’t said them in a long time.”
“I know it’s hard, sweet Cait. But you have to try. I need to know.”
Caitlin knew he was right. She stiffened her back and took a deep breath. “Seven years ago, when I was seventeen and a senior in high school, I was pretty shy so I, um, didn’t date much. You can imagine how surprised I felt when the most popular boy in town, a sophomore in college, asked me out during Christmas break.”
Max stared at the far wall, seeing in his mind a younger, more idealistic Caitlin with the promise of her woman’s beauty already beginning to show. A shy, innocent seventeen-year-old. He closed his eyes in a brief moment of panic. Did he really want to hear about the destruction of that innocence?
“My friends couldn’t believe it. Neither could I. Part of me was so flattered that he’d asked me out. The other part was scared. He was everything I wasn’t—wealthy, self-assured, a member of the ‘in’ crowd. I just couldn’t imagine what he wanted with a bookworm like me.” Caitlin stood abruptly and walked over to stand by the big picture window.
She stared out the window for a long while, then continued, her voice flat. “He took me to a very elegant restaurant. I certainly wasn’t dressed properly in my little Sunday-school dress—most of the women there were wearing cocktail dresses. Br-Brad,”—Caitlin had to force the name out—“Brad said I looked fine. After dinner we went dancing at a really fancy nightclub. We were both well under twenty-one, but the manager took one look at Brad and I guess he could read the money. He never said a word. I was so impressed.”
She fell silent again, but Max could see her knuckles whiten as her fists clenched at her sides. A tear ran down her cheek, then another, but when she spoke, her voice was quiet and steady. “When we left the club, Brad drove me to a little spot overlooking the lake. He said it was time to pay up.”
“Caitlin,” Max broke in, “you don’t have to go on with this.”
“Oh, but I do. For my sake as well as yours,” she said. “I told him that I didn’t think it was funny and demanded he take me home. I told him to stop, I begged him to stop, but—”
“No more.” Max jumped to his feet and covered the distance separating them in two steps. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “You don’t have to say any more, Caitie. I know now.”
“No!” She nearly screamed the word as she pushed his hands away. “I have to say it. He raped me, Max. He raped me.” The words seemed to echo around the room. She gave a short, ugly laugh. “He took me home afterward as if nothing had happened. He even said he’d call me over spring break. Maybe we could do it again.”
“Oh, God,” Max exclaimed. “Oh, God.” His whole body burned with incredible anger and pain. “You weren’t to blame, Cait.”
Caitlin slapped the wall with the palm of her hand. “I know that now, but he was so matter-of-fact about it that I spent days wondering what I had done to lead him on. What I had done to ask for it.”
Max ran a hand over her hair. When she didn’t shy away, he did it again. “What did you do?”
“I finally decided that it wasn’t my fault, that no girl should have to do what she doesn’t want to do, and I went to the police. But by then it was all over school that Caitlin Love was an easy mark. All I had was a torn dress and my word against his money. I got a ruined reputation. He got sent to Europe.” Caitlin lifted her gaze then and met Max’s eyes. “My own father couldn’t handle it. He kicked me out when he found out I was pregnant.”
“Jordan.” Max felt as though he’d been punched in the stomach. That bright, curious, delightful little boy was the result of such violence? He couldn’t say anything more, but he pulled Caitlin into his arms and held her tightly, burying his face in her neck.
Her arms slid around his shoulders and held on as if for dear life.
The burning tears that she had kept at bay with an iron will now poured out in bitter healing release. Max cradled her in his embrace, his body absorbing the force of her anger, anguish, and fear, while his mind tried to absorb the reality of what his beautiful Caitlin had endured. He wondered briefly why Caitlin hadn’t had an abortion, then realized she was too much of a nurturer to have even considered the option.
When the sobs finally eased to snuffles, Max led Caitlin back to the sofa and sat down, pulling her into his lap. She stiffened for an instant, then relaxed, allowing him to hold her and wipe the tears from her cheeks. He tilted her face up, pressed a light kiss on her forehead, then asked, “And now, sweet Cait?”
She took a deep breath. “And now? I don’t know. I love Jordan more than anything
, but I’ve been unable to deal with … other feelings. I was in therapy for four years and still couldn’t handle a normal date. It’s only been during the past couple of years that I’ve been able to go out, as long as the man didn’t get too close.”
She smiled tremulously. “Then along came Maximillian Tobias Shore. He didn’t take no for an answer and he made me feel again.” She paused, wiping the back of her hand across one cheek. “Granted, he often made me feel angry,” she said, smiling again, “but at least I wasn’t numb anymore.”
“Why did you try to push me away?”
She dropped her gaze. “What happened last week only proved to me that I may never be able to get past the bad memories and build a future. You need someone who can.”
“But I want you, Cait.”
“Max.” She struggled halfheartedly to get up out of his lap, but he stopped her with his hands on her shoulders. She shook her head ruefully. “If you were really smart, you’d run like crazy.”
“If you were really smart, you wouldn’t presume to tell me what I need or want.” Max kissed her nose. “I’m a big boy now and I’ve been picking out my own clothes for years. I think I can pick out my own lady too. I want you, and if I have to fight every single solitary private dragon of yours to get you, I will. I’m not going anywhere, Caitie. You can’t chase me away, you can’t send me away, and you can’t shut me out.”
“I was afraid I had chased you away,” she murmured.
“Why did you think that?”
“Because of this past week. You hadn’t called or anything.”
Max hugged Caitlin and rested his head atop hers. “I was angry. And I was hurt. But I was already trying to decide whether to march over to that greenhouse and take you by storm or whether to send flowers and candy and try to woo you back.”
She pulled back enough to see his face clearly. A smile played around her lips. “I don’t eat candy.”
“Carob-coated almonds.”
