Some Kind of Wonderful

by Barbara Freethy

  "That would be fabulous. When can we start?"

  "I already have some ideas. Why don't I come up with something, and if you like the basic idea, we'll talk price and deadlines, okay?"

  "Sounds perfect. This will be great. I knew this was the right place to come. I had a good feeling about it. Another by-product of this thing called love -- good feelings. I used to plan everything out. Now I'm working on instinct."

  "I'll try to keep the lucky streak alive," Caitlyn said.

  'Terrific. I'll call you next week."

  Caitlyn said good-bye, then walked up to the front of the store, where Jolie was tallying receipts while Emily sat in her car seat nearby. Thankfully, Emily had been a peach of a baby all morning, gurgling and smiling and happily going from bride to bride when they asked wistfully if they could hold her.

  "Are you being good?" Caitlyn asked as she picked Emily up.

  "I'm being very good," Jolie replied with a smile. "Oh, you mean Emily. She's perfect. You, however, let someone go without making a sale." She tipped her head toward the departing Danielle. "I thought you had a fish on a hook with that one."

  "I thought I'd design a dress for her instead of selling her one off the rack," Caitlyn said casually, as if it were no big deal, as if it weren't the breakthrough they'd been waiting for.

  Jolie's eyes almost popped out of their sockets. "No freakin' way. Can you really do it?"

  "I sure hope so," Caitlyn said fervently. "My fingers were actually tingling while I was talking to her. I wanted to draw something right then and there."

  Jolie reached under the counter and pulled out a pad of paper. "Well, hell, get started."

  Caitlyn laughed. "Jeez, give me a little pressure."

  "I'm just thrilled you're even considering the idea. You are so gifted, Caitlyn. I hate to see you wasting that gift."

  "Whoa, slow down. I said I would try. I don't know if I'll be successful." Already, the fear was infiltrating her mind. What if nothing came to her? What if her hand froze on the pencil? The woman didn't want second best. She wanted the ultimate wedding dress, and Caitlyn had just told her that she could deliver that when in fact she had no idea if she could.

  "You can do it," Jolie said, reading her mind. "You've changed the last couple of days. In fact, I noticed it yesterday morning at brunch when you were hanging all over Matt."

  "I wasn't hanging all over him."

  "It's not a crime to like someone else."

  "I don't think Brian or my parents would agree with you."

  "They're not living your life. Trust your instincts."

  Caitlyn was touched by Jolie's unending loyalty and support. "You're a great friend." She paused, looking around the busy shop, knowing this wasn't the time to share but determined that it would be soon. "I do want to talk to you about some things."

  "Whenever you want, Caity. You don't owe me any explanations." Her gaze softened as she studied Caitlyn and Emily. "You're crazy about that baby, aren't you?"

  "I tried to keep my distance, but it didn't work."

  "Big surprise there. I knew the second I saw you with her that you would fall in love. What are you going to do when her mother comes back?"

  Caitlyn sighed. "Say good-bye, I guess."

  "I don't think it will be that easy."

  "I won't have a choice. If she does come back, that is."

  "What does that mean?"

  "It's possible that she might not return." Caitlyn felt guilty as the words left her mouth. Matt would hate her for losing faith in Sarah, but Caitlyn couldn't imagine how a woman could leave her baby for so many days without a word. Either something had happened to Sarah or she wasn't fit to be a mother. Neither scenario spoke well for Emily's future. Unless Emily's future could be with Matt. He would be a good father, Caitlyn thought, feeling a wave of sadness rise up and grab her around the throat. That was the problem with the truth. It didn't just hurt once. It hurt over and over and over again, every time she thought about it.

  "What happens to Emily if her mother doesn't come back?" Jolie asked.

  "I don't know. I guess Matt might have to raise her."

  Jolie nodded, her expression thoughtful. "That would make sense. Would you... never mind."

  "What?"

  "How would you feel -- raising someone else's baby?"

  Caitlyn swallowed hard, knowing inside that that was the only way she ever would raise a child.

  "I don't know." She looked away from Jolie's questioning gaze. "But this baby will be Matt's responsibility, not mine."

  Caitlyn looked up as the subject of their conversation walked into the shop. As their eyes met, she felt the inevitable jolt of desire hit her body, making her heart pound and her palms sweat. Sharing her worst secret with this man had only made the intimacy between them that much greater.

  Jolie cleared her throat as the glance between Caitlyn and Matt went on far too long. "Nice to see you again, Matt," she said pointedly.

  He started, looking over at Jolie for the first time. Caitlyn felt a small rush of pleasure that for a second Matt had only had eyes for her.

  "I hope Emily hasn't been too much trouble," he said.

  "She's been a peach," Jolie replied. "But all this baby talk is making my uterus hurt, so I'm going back to work."

  "Any luck?" Caitlyn asked Matt when they were alone.

  "A little. The apartment was a pit, booze everywhere, probably drugs if you looked hard enough." His mouth wrinkled in disgust. "And there was a bassinet next to the bed."

  "Emily's?" Caitlyn whispered in dismay, hating the thought that the baby in her arms had once slept in such a place.

  "I think so. I can't believe Sarah lived there. Although why I'm surprised I really don't know. It's not like she grew up in a palace."

  "Did the man who lived there tell you anything?"

  "Not even his real name, but that shouldn't be too hard to find out. I picked up a few papers she left behind."

  "So you were in the right place."

  "I'm afraid so."

  "I don't understand something, Matt. Sarah knows where you are, even if you don't know where she is. Why doesn't she come back and get Emily?" Caitlyn couldn't help voicing the question, even though she knew it made Matt uncomfortable. Well, tough. He'd played hardball with her earlier this morning about telling the truth. Maybe he'd needed to tell himself the truth.

  "I can't answer that." Matt held up a hand as she started to interrupt. "I know what you're going to say, but just don't, okay?"

  She hesitated, but she was nowhere near as tough as he was. She could already see the worry and doubt in his eyes and she couldn't add to it. "All right, I'll shut up for now. I guess you're entitled to bury your head in the sand once in a while."

  Matt reached for Emily, and Caitlyn let the baby go into his arms, sensing that he needed the hug more than she did.

  "Has she driven you crazy today?" he asked.

  "No, she's been perfect."

  He raised an eyebrow. "Perfect? Our Emily?"

  She felt another gut-wrenching twist at his use of the word our, but she tried not to let it show. "I think the mornings are better for her; she does a lot of sleeping."

  'Tell me about it. It's the middle of the night she doesn't like. I guess you want me to take her home."

  Caitlyn sighed at the word home. No matter what he said, no matter how casual she tried to act, she was still allowing herself to be pulled into his life, deeper and deeper, until she doubted she'd be able to get out on her own. And he'd want her out eventually. She didn't doubt that. This fantasy they were living would come to an end. Sarah would come back. Emily would return to her mother and Matt would just be her neighbor, someone she might occasionally pass in the hallway, not someone she would kiss or share moonlit stories with on the roof. She couldn't start thinking there would ever be anything more.

  "Don't forget to dodge Mrs. Pederman," she said as he put Emily in her car seat.

  "I'll try. When will you be home?
"

  "I can leave early. Mondays are usually slow. And I have a sketch I want to get working on." She offered him a beaming smile. "I told a bride I'd try designing a dress for her, and I think I might be able to do it. I don't know what changed. Actually, that's not true. I do know what changed."

  "The truth will set you free," he quoted with a grin. "Just think what you might be able to draw when you finally tell your parents and Brian."

  She made a face at him. "Don't push it."

  "I wouldn't dream of it."

  "Ha! That's all you do is push."

  "I've never gotten anything by being patient." He leaned over and pressed a hot kiss against her lips.

  "Matt!"

  "I figured you weren't going to kiss me first," he said without apology.

  "I wasn't planning to kiss you at all."

  "That's the difference between us. I don't like to plan. I like to live in the moment."

  She felt a shiver run down her spine as the gleam in his eyes took on new meaning.

  "Listen, my editor, David, and his wife, Jackie, are expecting a baby," he continued. "They'd like to meet Emily and they've invited us to dinner."

  "Oh, well, that's good. You won't have to cook."

  "Neither will you."

  "They don't want to meet me."

  "Yes, they do. David specifically said he wanted to meet the woman who'd gotten me into a baby store."

  Caitlyn felt ridiculously pleased by the invitation. It wasn't a date. It wasn't even close to a date, but it felt good, better than good. And she wasn't planning to examine that feeling any more closely.

  "Will you come?" Matt asked.

  "Sure."

  "Good." He put the diaper bag over his shoulder. "By the way, David and Jackie thought they should get some baby practice while they have the chance. They've offered to keep Emily overnight, so I can get some sleep..." He smiled wickedly at Caitlyn. "Or not, depending on if I get a better offer.”

  * * *

  A better offer... The words were still running through Caitlyn's mind several hours later as she put on a casually elegant black shift dress. She had no idea if Matt's friends were the dress-for-dinner type, and she wanted to fit in either way.

  Of course, whatever his friends were or weren't shouldn't have affected her underwear choice, but Matt's parting shot... a better offer... had certainly made her consider pulling out the new silk undies. Not that Matt would be seeing her underwear. They did not have that kind of relationship. They were friends, just friends, she told herself firmly as she took one final glance in her bedroom mirror and saw a woman who had dressed up for a man, a very special man.

  Who the hell was she kidding? She was attracted to Matt in a way that was far more friendly than friendship required. In fact, she had the hots for him, plain and simple. And every time he kissed her only made her want to do it again, longer and slower, and over and over and over.

  She put a hand to her hot cheeks as she turned away from the mirror, somewhat embarrassed by her own lust. She'd never considered herself a passionate person. Her sex life had not been overwhelming. While Brian had been attentive and caring, in retrospect it had never been all that hard to sleep in the bed with him without having sex. In fact, they'd spent a lot of nights sharing the same space without making love. Why? She wondered now. Why hadn't she been overwhelmed with need and desire?

  Maybe because she hadn't realized just how strong those emotions could be. Because Brian had never made her want him as much as she wanted Matt. She let out a breath, another truth rearing its ugly head. And the worst part was that Matt didn't even try for the most part. Oh, sure, a few teasing kisses now and then, but he got to her just by walking into a room. And his smile literally made her knees weak. Was this love, then?

  No, it couldn't be. It shouldn't be. It was too damn confusing and unsettling. This wasn't comfortable and safe. This was scary and... and exciting... and wonderful. Maybe it was just lust. That's it, pure, unadulterated lust. She'd heard about it before. She'd just never experienced it until now. But everyone knew that lust wasn't love. You couldn't compare the two -- could you?

  Before an answer could register in her brain, she heard Matt knocking. She grabbed her purse and walked into the living room, her pulse already in overdrive, and she hadn't even opened the door yet. She was in trouble, big trouble.

  "For once, you're on time--” she said, then stopped abruptly, shocked to find yet another unexpected visitor in her hall.

  Chapter Fourteen

  "Mom. What are you doing here?" Caitlyn asked.

  Marilyn Devereaux stood in the doorway wearing a stark black suit with a silky white blouse. Her power suit, she liked to call it, the one she reserved for faculty dinners. Caitlyn felt her heart sink down to her stomach. Marilyn wanted something, and Caitlyn had a feeling her mother wouldn't be leaving until she got it.

  "I came to speak to you, of course," Marilyn replied. "Can I come in?"

  "I'm actually on my way out."

  "I can see that." Marilyn's brows knitted into a thoughtful frown, as if Caitlyn's attire had suddenly thrown her plans off kilter. "Are you going to see Brian?"

  "No."

  "Oh. Well, I won't keep you long."

  "All right." Caitlyn stepped back and let her mother into the apartment, feeling a bit like a child who had just been caught with a messy bedroom.

  "My goodness," Marilyn exclaimed. "This looks more like a sweatshop than an apartment."

  "Since I'm the one doing the sweating, I guess that's okay."

  "Jolie told me that your customer base is growing and that the shop is very successful. You must be proud."

  "I am proud for both Jolie and myself. We're still taking it day by day, though. We don't want to get overconfident, but for the most part things look good."

  Marilyn picked up a piece of lace and fingered it thoughtfully. "You're so different from me," she mused. "I was never interested in sewing. I can't even hem a pair of pants. In fact, not many of the womanly arts come naturally to me. Thank goodness for housekeepers," she said with a quick smile.

  "You didn't come to talk to me about housekeepers, did you, Mom?" Somehow Caitlyn didn't think her mother had come to talk about her wedding business, either.

  "No. I wanted to speak to you about Brian."

  Caitlyn sighed, knowing what was ahead. "I know how you feel, Mom. I know you and Dad love Brian."

  "You used to love him, too. And I saw the care you took planning your wedding, designing your dress, the invitations we picked out together."

  "What's your point?"

  "I know that you were angry when Brian left to take the fellowship. You thought he was putting his career before you -- the way your father and I had done."

  Caitlyn couldn't quite believe her mother would admit to that.

  "I'm not stupid," Marilyn said, catching her eye. "I know I'm not the mother you wanted. I remember when you used to visit Stacey Dempsey. You would describe Mrs. Dempsey's homemade after-school snacks ad nauseum. And the lunches Mrs. Dempsey made for Stacey always had Tupperware containers in them with roast beef and carrots and all the little things that made a lunch special, including silly notes from her mother. And Mrs. Dempsey made Halloween costumes and volunteered at school and even made her own candles. You wanted to be her little girl so badly. I was terribly jealous."

  "I don't think that's entirely true," Caitlyn said, somewhat uncertain and wary of her mother's odd reflective mood. They'd never shared many confidences over the years; her mother had been far too busy for such conversations. In fact, she was surprised her mother even remembered Mrs. Dempsey.

  "Oh, it was true, all right. You wanted me to be the kind of mother I didn't know how to be."

  "I suspect you didn't get the daughter you wanted, either."

  "I wish I could fix this breach between us, dear."

  "I know you do. You always want to fix everything."

  "It's been worse since the accident," Marilyn cont
inued. "Nothing I said was right. And after Brian left, you grew even more distant. I wish you would have seen a therapist. Although it's not too late."

  "A therapist wouldn't have made me feel differently about Brian, because the truth is..." Caitlyn hesitated, realizing how big a place the truth had come to demand. "The truth is that I feel differently about myself, and I have since the accident."

  "You're just the same, Caitlyn, more beautiful than ever. Even the scars have faded. No one would ever know."

  "But I know. And I can't sweep it under the rug even though that's what the rest of you want to do."

  "We don't want to do that. We just want you to get on with your life."

  "I have gotten on with my life. I'm just not doing it in the manner you'd like to see. But you know what, Mother, that's okay, because I don't hear the same tune you do."

  Marilyn looked confused. "What does this have to do with music?"

  Caitlyn smiled, feeling more self-assured than she had in years, maybe because for the first time in her life she wasn't trying to defend herself. "I march to a different beat than you and Dad and Brian. I've tried forever to keep up with you, but I can't. I've only just now realized that it's all right. You're a great Marilyn Devereaux. You don't need a clone. I don't have to be you."

  "I never wanted you to be me."

  "Didn't you? Why all the repairs, then? The extreme efforts you took to make me better?"

  "I just wanted you to be the best you could be."

  Caitlyn looked into her mother's eyes and saw that she really believed what she was saying. "Maybe that was your motive, but your repairs always made me feel like a very ugly work in progress. When I had a problem I was afraid to tell you, because I knew you'd criticize whatever choice I'd made."

  Marilyn shook her head in amazement. "All these years you've felt this way, and you've never said anything?"

  "I tried about a thousand times."

  "Well, you didn't try hard enough."

  Caitlyn smiled with exasperation. "Did you just hear yourself?"

  Marilyn started, then stopped. "Oh, that didn't come out right, did it?"