A Special Kind of Woman

by Caroline Anderson

  Oh, dear. She hadn’t meant to tell him that, to let him know how close she came to the wire in a bad month, or what a knife-edge they lived on. She had no sickness insurance, so if she had to have time off—well, she couldn’t, and she’d always managed to struggle downstairs to the shop no matter how bad she’d felt, and luckily she’d been reasonably well.

  The threat was there, though, and it worried her, but it wasn’t Owen’s business, and he didn’t need to know.

  ‘I thought we were young, at twenty-one,’ he told her, and she did a quick calculation that made him thirty-nine, just four years older than her. ‘How on earth did you manage? At least we had help from our parents, and we had each other. It must have been a nightmare on your own.’

  Cait nodded agreement. ‘I stayed with a friend until the baby was born, then the council gave me a flat, and I started doing alterations and making clothes for people. I picked up an old sewing machine and someone gave me an overlocker that didn’t work, and I got it mended for a few pounds and used it for years.’

  ‘So what gave you the idea of the shop?’ he asked curiously, and she smiled.

  ‘Money. A friend asked me to make her a ball gown, and said she’d gone to a hire shop and the cost was outrageous. I made the dress for less than the cost of the hire, and she said it was one of the nicest at the ball. Some of her friends came to me, and then they didn’t want them again and started to swap, and I thought, if I had a hire shop, I could appeal to a wider market.’

  ‘So you opened the shop.’

  ‘Yes—and I’ve been there ever since. It’s been wonderful, because living overhead I could work in the holidays without compromising Milly’s safety, and it was within walking distance of her school and friends without being in a town centre, and it’s got parking outside for customers—it’s perfect.’

  ‘Don’t you get cabin fever?’ he asked with a little smile, and she laughed.

  ‘Every day. Still, I do what I have to do, and it’s a lovely little place. I’ve got friends who drop in for coffee, and one of them will mind the shop for me if we go on holiday or go out for the day. It’s OK.’

  ‘I think you’re amazing,’ he said softly. ‘To do what you’ve done for Milly, to hold the two of you together from the age of seventeen, to give her the chances you’ve given her with so little help—that takes a special kind of woman. I take my hat off to you. You’re one gutsy lady, Cait Cooper, and you have my unqualified admiration.’

  Soft colour flooded her cheeks, and she looked down, embarrassed and yet deeply touched by his praise. ‘Thank you,’ she said, her voice slightly choked, and he set his cup down and stood up.

  ‘Come on, let’s go back to the car and find somewhere for lunch—unless you want to go back?’

  No, of course she didn’t want to go back. She never wanted to go back.

  ‘I have an essay waiting for me, remember, but I dare say it’ll keep that long.’

  His smile was warm and coaxing. ‘I’m sure it will. Come on. You’ve spent eighteen years towing the line. It’s time to cut yourself a little slack.’

  ‘But the evening class was supposed to be for me!’

  ‘It’s work!’ he said disgustedly. ‘You need to learn how to play.’

  ‘That’s easy to say, but I don’t have a playmate,’ she said without thinking.

  ‘Oh, yes, you do,’ he said, and he sounded almost excited. ‘I’ve been working too hard as well. Why don’t we have our own Freshers’ week? The kids are having all this fun—how about us? We could do all the things they’re doing—the pub crawl, the balls, the floating restaurant, the fancy-dress party—all of it. What do you say?’

  She laughed. ‘You’re crazy,’ she told him, half-tempted. ‘You’re absolutely nuts.’

  ‘No, I’m not. I had to grow up too fast, too soon, just like you. Now Jill’s gone and Josh is away, and there’s nothing left. It’s time to start again, Cait—for both of us. Let’s go for it.’

  She looked up into his amazing liquid toffee eyes and was lost.

  ‘OK,’ she said slowly, and wondered just how long it would be before he broke her heart.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘SO, WHAT are we doing tonight?’

  Cait laughed and shook her head at Owen. ‘No. I have to go to my evening class.’

  ‘I thought we’d discussed this?’ he said with a grin, but she shook her head again.

  ‘No, you told me it was work, and it is work, but it’s work for me and not just for the coffers, and that’s different. Anyway, I’m enjoying it,’ she lied. ‘Another night.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’

  ‘I’ve got to finish that wedding dress. It’ll take me all week.’

  ‘Friday, then,’ he said promptly. ‘We’ll start on Friday—and no more excuses.’

  She couldn’t help her answering smile. ‘No excuses,’ she agreed.

  There was a pause, and then his hands came up and cupped her shoulders, and he lowered his mouth to hers—just briefly, the merest brush of his lips, but it sent fire skittering through her body. He lifted his head, and his eyes were molten gold.

  ‘I’ll see you on Friday,’ he said huskily, and turned away, leaving her propping herself up against the shop door because her legs had simply stopped working and if she moved she’d fall over.

  He drove away with a lift of his hand, and she watched him go before turning and letting herself inside. She went up to the flat on her rubbery legs and looked around, and thought what a dismal and tired little place it was after his barn.

  She’d done her best with it, making curtains and loose covers to brighten it up, but when you were starting from something pretty ordinary it was hard to make it special. Perhaps it was time to decorate it—go for a new look, perhaps?

  Or perhaps it was time to write her essay before her evening class started in three hours!

  Owen phoned on Friday at five to ask what time he should pick her up, and told her to wear something nice.

  ‘What are we doing?’ she asked.

  ‘Milly and Josh are going to a toga party,’ he told her. ‘I thought we could do a modern version.’

  ‘Of a toga party!’ she all but shrieked.

  His chuckle came down the line. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to strut around doing Charlton Heston impressions. I thought we could go to that floating Italian restaurant for dinner.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with togas?’ she asked warily.

  ‘Nothing. Modern-day Romans.’

  She felt her shoulders drop with relief. ‘So, how smart?’ she asked, mentally scanning her rather slight wardrobe.

  ‘How smart do you want to be? It can be quite dressy there.’

  She’d drawn a blank on her own wardrobe, but she did have a rather lovely little black dress in stock downstairs—

  ‘Dressy will do fine,’ she said, suddenly decided. ‘Pick me up whenever. Do you have a reservation?’

  ‘No—I’ll make one and call you back.’

  By the time he rang, she’d dashed down to the shop, rummaged through the rails and found the dress. She’d just slipped it over her head when the phone rang, and she picked it up and said ‘Hello?’ a little breathlessly.

  ‘Been running?’ Owen teased, and she laughed and put her hand over her chest to steady her pounding heart that owed much more to the sound of his voice than the exercise.

  ‘I was trying on a dress,’ she told him, turning this way and that and looking at it in the mirror. Good grief. She really ought to put on proper clothes more often, they made her feel wonderful!

  ‘How does seven sound?’ he asked, and she had to bite her tongue so she didn’t tell him it was too soon. She had to shower and wash her hair, and inevitably it would refuse to behave and so she’d have to put it up, and she had no idea where her make-up was or if Milly had ‘borrowed’ it and taken it to London—

  ‘Seven’s fine,’ she lied, and then ran round like a headless chicken, panicking.

&nbs
p; Still, she was ready at a quarter to seven and had to force herself to sit still and not haunt the window looking out for him. Even so, she saw the sweep of Owen’s headlights as he came into the little square, and she grabbed her coat and bag and ran down the stairs, locking the shop door behind her just as he stepped out of the car.

  She stopped in her tracks. He was wearing a dinner jacket and black bow-tie on crisp white, and she could see the gleam of his shoes from where she was standing. He looked gorgeous, and her heart began to hammer.

  ‘Hi, there,’ she said with a dredged-up smile, and he smiled back a little distractedly.

  His eyes scanned her and then came back and locked with hers. ‘You look beautiful,’ he said softly, and she felt the colour rise in her cheeks and take the place of the blusher she hadn’t been able to find.

  No matter. If he kept paying her compliments like that, she’d never need it again!

  Cait was stunning. All week long she’d been on his mind, her courage and her determination astounding him. Most girls in her situation would have taken the easy way out, but she’d hung on and had had her baby and raised a young woman to be proud of, at the cost of her own youth.

  Well, he couldn’t give her back her youth, but he could give it his best shot, and he had spent the week dreaming up a whole plethora of things he could do with her. He’d jotted down a list of things Josh had told him they’d done, and he’d racked his brains to find adult equivalents.

  He’d come up with something for most of them, but he’d drawn a blank on a respectable and acceptable version of licking vodka jelly off each other! He thought maybe he’d save that one for later on.

  Much later on!

  In the meantime, he was faced with the most beautiful woman he’d seen in a long, long time, and he didn’t know if it was because she was classically beautiful, which she wasn’t, or if it was because of the glow in her skin and the light in her eyes and the way her mouth trembled in that shy smile when he complimented her.

  There was a staggering innocence about her, a virginal quality that brought out the chivalrous hero in him and subdued the caveman who wanted nothing more than to drag her off to his cave and make babies with her. Even so, standing here looking at her in that incredibly sexy little dress, he could hear the caveman roaring with frustration.

  Down, boy, he cautioned. Allowing himself the privilege of dropping a light kiss on her cheek, he ushered her into the car and drove her to the docks. He parked near the restaurant at the back of a friend’s gallery, and they strolled arm in arm along the water’s edge to the converted barge that housed their destination.

  Their table was by a window, and they could see the lights of the converted maltings opposite reflected in the ruffled water. There was soft music playing in the background, and everything they said seemed wittier than usual.

  Finally, though, their meal was over and they’d drained the coffee-pot, and she looked round the nearly empty restaurant and smiled sadly. ‘I suppose we ought to go,’ she said, and she sounded regretful.

  Owen hailed the waiter, unwilling to let the evening end, and after paying the bill he drew her to her feet. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘the night’s still young.’

  ‘It’s nearly eleven!’ she protested.

  ‘Perfect. We’re going clubbing.’

  ‘Clubbing!’ she squeaked, making the other diners look up in surprise. She blushed and he hid a smile and put his arm round her shoulders and led her down to the lower deck and out onto the dockside.

  ‘Clubbing,’ he repeated. ‘It’s over-thirties night, and we both qualify. Come on, you were complaining you hadn’t lived.’

  ‘I was?’ she said with a laugh. ‘I haven’t been clubbing for about fifteen years!’

  ‘Well, it’s high time you did.’ Owen turned her collar up against the cold, tucked her under his arm and they strolled down the dock to the centre of the local nightspots. The music was loud, the beat heavy and insistent, and he drew her into his arms on the dance floor and felt the caveman roar to life.

  Cait moved like a dancer, her body fluid and supple, and her head found a natural resting place in the hollow of his shoulder. He forced the caveman back under control, and cradled her against his chest. She was too sweet and innocent to deal with the raging need that was surfacing in him, and he kept it firmly at bay, denying his urge to rock her hard against his aching body.

  The tempo changed, to his relief, and became faster, and he released her and instead had to endure the torture of watching her body move to the music. Then it slowed again, and she went back into his arms, and he gave in and held her close, and for an instant he felt her stiffen with shock as she became aware of his arousal.

  Then she moved closer, her body relaxing against him, and he rested his head against hers and let out his breath in a long, ragged sigh. His lips brushed her neck, and it arched for him instinctively. No, he told himself. Don’t start what you can’t finish.

  An ache of longing racked his body, and he closed his eyes against it and swayed with her to the music, content for now just to hold her. Oh, his body wasn’t content, but his head was, and it was his head he had to listen to.

  He wasn’t ready yet for more, and nor was she, at least not with him.

  Not yet, and maybe not ever.

  She’d had fun, more fun than she’d had for years, and in the way Owen had he’d made her feel really special, but inevitably it had to come to an end. He took her home at a little after one, because she had to open the shop next morning and she needed a few hours’ sleep.

  He pulled up outside, and Cait hesitated before opening the car door. ‘Would you like a coffee?’ she asked, but he shook his head.

  ‘No. I don’t think so. It’s late, and you’ve got to get up.’

  His hand reached out and cupped her cheek gently, and drew her towards him. ‘Thank you for a wonderful evening,’ he murmured softly, and then his lips claimed hers in a chaste, tender kiss that nevertheless made her bones melt and her breath jam in her throat.

  Then, all too soon, he drew away and got out of the car, opening the door for her and seeing her in, brushing her lips one last time before he turned on his heel and walked back to the car.

  She nearly ran after him, but her pride stopped her at the last moment, and instead she stood there on legs that seemed permanently useless these days and watched him go, then closed the door and locked it.

  It had been a wonderful evening, he was right, and she hadn’t wanted it to end. He had, though, or he would have taken her up on her offer of coffee. Perhaps it was just as well. It wasn’t really coffee that she’d wanted, but just more time with him, and maybe that would have been too dangerous.

  She went upstairs and found a message on the answering machine from Milly. She sounded puzzled that her mother had been out, and Cait sighed and took off the dress and hung it up. She’d get it dry-cleaned and put it back in stock—or maybe she’d keep it. She’d felt wonderful in it tonight, elegant and sexy and beautiful.

  Yes, she’d keep it.

  She looked at her watch. It was too late to ring Milly now. She’d phone her in the morning. It didn’t sound urgent, but the mother in her suffered a pang of guilt because she hadn’t been there.

  What if it had been urgent? What if Milly had needed her?

  The phone rang, and she answered it instantly.

  ‘I just wanted to say goodnight,’ Owen said, his voice soft and slightly gruff. ‘I didn’t wake you, did I?’

  ‘No—no, you didn’t wake me, I haven’t gone to bed yet. I missed a call from Milly,’ she told him, and heard him sigh.

  ‘I’m sorry. Was it urgent?’

  ‘Didn’t sound it, but you can’t always tell. I don’t know. Tell me I’m being silly.’

  ‘I can’t. I missed a call from Josh. I’ll message him on his mobile—want me to message Emily?’

  So that she knew her mother had been with Owen? Not likely! The inquisition would be unparalleled. ‘Don’t wo
rry, I’ll ring her tomorrow. Owen?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Have you told Josh we’ve…seen each other?’ she asked, not sure how to put it.

  He sighed. ‘No. I didn’t know what to say, or even if there was anything to tell him. There hasn’t been anyone since Jill—I don’t know how he’ll react. I’ll tell him myself maybe, face to face. What about you? Have you told Milly?’

  ‘No. I don’t…have a social life. Well, not this sort, anyway,’ she added, feeling the colour climb her cheeks.

  ‘Cait, we haven’t done anything wrong,’ he said gently, and she sighed.

  ‘I know. It’s just—’

  ‘I know. Don’t worry—maybe we’ll cross that bridge together later, if we get to that point. In the meantime, tell her something else—tell her you went to the supermarket,’ he suggested, and she laughed.

  ‘It wouldn’t be the first time,’ she told him. ‘Since it started opening twenty-four hours a day, I’ve often been in the middle of the night. It’s sometimes the only time left. I just hate lying to her.’

  ‘So tell her you went out with a friend. It’s not so far from the truth, is it?’

  He sounded almost wistful, and Cait smiled sadly. ‘No. No, it’s not far from the truth at all. I’ll tell her that.’

  ‘Good. And I’ll see you tonight.’

  ‘Tonight?’ she echoed, her heart racing. He hadn’t mentioned another date, and she’d been feeling a little rejected. How silly.

  ‘Or tomorrow, whatever you want to call it. Saturday night. Wear something more casual, and don’t eat. I’ll see you at seven-thirty.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to it,’ she said, wondering if he could hear the eagerness she knew must be in her voice. ‘And…Owen?’

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘Thank you for tonight.’

  There was a tiny hesitation, then he said softly, ‘You’re welcome, sweetheart. It was my pleasure. See you soon. Sleep well.’

  She replaced the phone regretfully, stripped off her make-up and climbed into bed in her serviceable old nightshirt. Her body was still humming from the contact with his as they’d danced, and just the memory made her ache for more.