Saving Madeline

by Rachel Ann Nunes

He took his suitcase with him, Caitlin noted, and at the last moment she said, “You could take a shower if you want. There’s time.” He stopped and met her gaze with a look that sent a longing through her. Caitlin flushed. “I mean if you want.”

  “I do want. I really need a shower. I just didn’t think you’d want . . . I could wait until the motel.”

  “No, go ahead. It’s fine.” It wasn’t like it was her bathroom. The hall bathroom was Amy’s, filled with her toys and mermaid towels. Not personal at all.

  Caitlin busied herself getting the dishes from the cupboard until she was sure he was gone. Then she put her hands to her burning face. A man showering in her house. Not something that happened every day—or ever, now that she thought about it.

  This is ridiculous, she thought. Not only was he her client, but he seemed to have no interest in her. He hadn’t even made a pass yet, which most of her male clients did within the first half hour of meeting her.

  And why not? Didn’t he find her attractive?

  She poured out the bagged salad, thinking of the connection she’d felt between them. Imagined, more like, she told herself. It was nothing.

  She set the table, using her nicer dishes. For an added touch, she lit a candle. For the aroma, not for mood. After all, she wouldn’t be turning off the light, and Amy would be right there with them.

  She took the partially thawed casserole from the microwave and slipped it into the oven. Dumping rolls into a basket and covering them with a towel, she nodded. The only thing missing was a good dressing, and she might as well make one since she had time. As she mixed the vinegar with the spices, she began to hum under her breath, and the tension drained from her. She’d forgotten how much she enjoyed puttering around the kitchen. It brought back memories of cooking with her mother while her father played cards with Amy at the table, his Irish brogue thick and musical.

  A noise at the doorway to the kitchen distracted her thoughts. Parker was there in a change of clothes and his hair combed. He looked more rested. “I’ll have to find a place to stay up here—an apartment or something. Someplace preferably with access to a washer and dryer. I’m going to run out of clothes soon. My mother didn’t pack for more than a few days.”

  “You can go home and get more,” Caitlin told him.

  “I will. If we manage to get my truck tomorrow.” Grinning, he crossed the space between them.

  “We will.”

  “You aren’t going to change into something more comfortable?” he asked, looking at her languidly.

  She glanced down at her suit. “I always dress like this.”

  “I don’t think I could stand to be in a suit all the time.”

  “It’s a matter of what you get used to. Couldn’t you imagine a time when you might be wearing a suit all day?”

  “There would have to be a big incentive.” He was close now, too close.

  “Now that you mention it, I think I will change.” She was glad to have an excuse to escape. “No use in risking a dry-cleaning bill sooner than necessary.” One moment she was wondering why he wasn’t attracted to her, and the next she was running away. What did she really want?

  Nothing, she thought. From him I want nothing. I’m just helping his daughter.

  As she changed, she tried to think of Mace, tried to imagine his handsome face bending over hers, but all she saw was Parker. She chose her clothes almost without thinking: soft black knit pants that flattered her hips, and a fitted pink and black top, also made of thin knit, lying attractively over her curves but not at all revealing or uncomfortable.

  She went to Amy’s room to see what she was doing and found her sister curled up asleep on the floor by the dollhouse their father had made them when they were young. Her favorite Barbie was in one hand, and twin babies on the carpet next to her cheek. “Amy,” Caitlin said softly. “Let’s get you to bed.”

  “I want to sleep here,” Amy muttered, not opening her eyes.

  “Okay, but don’t blame me if you end up with a cricked neck tomorrow.” Caitlin retrieved Amy’s pillow and her Ariel blanket, tucking her in as best she could. “You’re sure you’re not hungry?”

  “I ate with Sarah.”

  She always did, but that usually didn’t stop her from eating again with Caitlin. As a result, she and Sarah Burnside had worked out portion control to try to keep Amy’s weight from becoming too much of a problem.

  Caitlin smoothed her sister’s red hair. “You sleep then. If you need me, call me.”

  Amy didn’t answer, having already drifted off again.

  That left Caitlin alone with Parker, and she had to admit that a part of her was just the tiniest bit excited at the prospect.

  He was sitting at the table, his sock-clad feet stretched out before him, looking as though he belonged. Caitlin had left her own shoes at the door when they’d entered and had taken off her nylons when she’d changed. Being barefoot seemed suddenly intimate, and she wished she’d taken time to put on socks like Parker had done.

  “You look nice,” he said, his eyes traveling the length of her. “Tell me the truth—it’s a lot more comfortable than a suit.”

  She laughed. “You’re right.”

  “Where’s Amy?”

  “Sleeping. She was playing with her dolls and dropped off. I couldn’t get her awake enough to get her to walk to her bed. She weighs more than I do.” Caitlin opened the top cupboard where she kept the slab of gray speckled granite that matched her countertop. It was handy for hot pans from the oven, but rarely did she have the opportunity to use it. She had to reach up with both hands to support its weight.

  He stood. “I can help if you want.”

  “Oh, she’ll be fine. She’ll wake up before too long to use the bathroom, and then I can get her into bed.”

  “I meant this.” He reached from behind her and took the heavy slab with one hand, his chest brushing her back.

  “Thanks.” She turned slowly toward him. His arm slid against hers as he brought the slab to his side. Neither moved, and the tension between them was so thick Caitlin could hardly breathe. This close she could see the details of his face, the firm line of his jaw, the slightly prominent nose, the individual hairs that made up the brows framing his brown eyes.

  Her heart thumped loudly in her ears. He was going to kiss her, she was sure of it. And she was going to let him. In fact, if he didn’t she would shrivel up and die. His face came marginally closer. Their eyes were locked. It was all she could do not to grab him and hurry things along. Then suddenly he was turning away, stepping more gracefully than she would have thought, given his bulk and their awkward proximity. Disappointment throbbed through her.

  “Don’t you want . . . ?” she began.

  He set the granite slab on the table. “Want what?”

  Her face burned and she turned away, wishing she had never spoken. He walked to her and put a firm hand on her shoulder, turning her toward him. “Want what?” he repeated.

  His pretense stung. How dare he play with her! “Nothing,” she muttered. “I need to check the casserole.” She pulled away and walked toward the oven.

  “If I’d tried to kiss you, would you have let me?”

  She swallowed hard, drawing her hand back from the oven door. “You wanted to kiss me?”

  He let out a short laugh. “Want? Oh, Caitlin. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the moment I first saw you.”

  She stiffened. He was making fun of her. “This isn’t a game.”

  “I don’t think it is. But look at it from my perspective. You’re all the hope I have right now of saving my daughter. If I scare you away . . .”

  “I don’t scare easily.”

  “Oh?” His left brow rose. “I’m not sure I believe that. In court maybe not, but this is completely different.”

  “Well, then I guess it’s good there’s nothing between us. We can focus on your case.”

  “Are you saying there could be more?” He took the three steps that separated them.<
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  She didn’t know what she was saying. “I don’t believe that’s what either of us want.”

  “Speak for yourself.”

  The gruffness in his voice thrilled her. She gazed at him from beneath lowered lids. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m saying I’m attracted to you.”

  “I don’t believe you.” He was probably saying it so she wouldn’t dump his case.

  He took another step. “I never lie.” His arms went around her, pulling her toward him. With his eyes watching her face, he lowered his lips to hers, kissing her with none of the initial tentativeness of her previous boyfriends, leaving her no doubt as to his intent.

  His hand went to her hair, freeing it from the clip. “That’s better,” he murmured, combing his hand through her unruly hair. “You are so beautiful.”

  She felt beautiful. At that moment it didn’t matter that she needed to lose ten pounds, or that she often felt awkward in social situations. All that mattered were his lips on hers and the way his hands felt in her hair. All the carefully constructed walls around her were tumbling down.

  “Caitlin,” he murmured against her lips.

  “Caitlin?” came a loud echo. Amy’s voice came from the doorway.

  They broke apart self-consciously. Caitlin knew her face was redder than her hair. “Amy,” she said faintly.

  “What were you doing?” Amy asked, rubbing her sleep-filled eyes with one hand while the other still clutched a Barbie. “Why were you kissing?”

  “I, um—”

  “You told me never to let a boy kiss me.”

  “This is different,” Caitlin said.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m older and because I know Parker.” Caitlin glanced at him. He was watching the interaction, an amused smile on his face. He was enjoying this!

  Amy leaned forward and said in a loud whisper, “So do we get a baby now?”

  “No.” Caitlin felt her face flush again. Turning, she busied herself with the oven.

  Amy was right. She had thrust aside all propriety, and for what? For a man who was likely taking advantage of her weakness. She had never considered dating a client before, and Parker, for all his charm, was nothing more than a client, willing to do whatever it took to get him free of the charges against him. Even romancing his attorney, who hadn’t had a decent boyfriend in two years.

  Anger slowly replaced the attraction in her heart. Caitlin welcomed it, stoked it, glad for the strength it gave her. If she’d wanted casual kissing, she could have found that anywhere. But that wasn’t her intention. She wanted a real relationship, and that meant looking elsewhere. “I thought you were sleeping, Amy. What woke you up?”

  “Something,” Amy said, shrugging. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m hungry.”

  Or maybe she’d felt Caitlin’s emotions clear from the bedroom. “Sit at the table then,” Caitlin told her. “Dinner’s ready.”

  Caitlin didn’t look at Parker until they were safely eating. He didn’t seem to have changed his attitude toward her or to be dwelling on their kiss. Instead, he concentrated on his food, wolfing it down with the air of a man who had gone a long time without a meal. She picked more slowly at her plate, her appetite gone. The food tasted like cardboard.

  “Great salad,” Parker commented. “I didn’t think I’d like these red things.”

  “Cranberries.”

  “I like them better than raisins,” Amy put in. She was wiggling a little in her seat, a sure sign she needed to use the bathroom.

  “Great idea, putting them in a salad.”

  Caitlin didn’t feel obligated to tell him it came from a bag.

  Parker looked over at her, still eating. “This is really great. Thanks for having me.”

  “You’re welcome.” Caitlin looked quickly away from his unsettling eyes.

  Amy yawned. “My Barbie wants to sleep.”

  She hadn’t eaten anything except the cranberries from the salad. Caitlin sighed. “Go to the bathroom first and then put her to bed.” Amy stumbled off, muttering something to her doll.

  Parker set down his fork, though his plate was still half full with his second helping. “Sorry about that.”

  She knew he was referring to how Amy had walked in on them. “You enjoyed it!” Caitlin let annoyance color her voice.

  “I was just thinking how I’d explain it to Madeline. You know, if she’d been the one to walk in.” He took a long drink of milk before picking up his fork again.

  Caitlin’s annoyance melted away, taking with it most of the anger she’d wanted to hold against him. “I’ve tried to keep Amy protected, you know, from boys who’d take advantage of her. Once when my parents were still alive, a boy in our neighborhood in Chicago got her in a field all alone. I was sent out to look for her and found her—just in time. Thankfully, he ran off when he saw me. My father was furious.” She gave him a wry grin. “You’ve never seen an angry man until you’ve see an Irish man angry.”

  Parker chewed his food thoughtfully. “I thought the Irish were fun-loving.”

  “They’re as fiery as they are fun.”

  “Which is why you are so wicked in court, I bet. And now I know what I’m hearing in your voice. You sound a little Irish.”

  Caitlin laughed. “My father was a first-generation immigrant from Ireland. I was a big copycat when I was little. My mother hated it. She was born in England, and even after her family moved to the States she had a very proper English upbringing. But I loved to make my father laugh, so I learned the accent pretty well. I guess it still comes through a little.”

  “Did you ever visit Ireland?”

  “A few times when I was small.”

  “I went to Ireland once.”

  That surprised her. He didn’t seem the type. “You did?”

  “Yeah. After high school, some friends and I went backpacking in Europe for a month. I was interested in construction even then, and I convinced myself it was a good chance to look at all sorts of buildings.”

  “And was it?”

  He laughed. “Believe it or not, it wasn’t nearly as fun as we expected, though it was certainly exciting. We ended up sleeping on the roadside a lot, and found ourselves in more than a few dangerous situations. I was extremely homesick after a few weeks. Looking back, I think we went more to give our parents grief than anything. We thought we were so mature.”

  “How long were you in Ireland?”

  “Three or four days. We caught a boat or something over from England. What I remember most is green. It was beautiful. The girls, especially.” He winked. “But it was different from what I expected—I guess because there seemed to be fewer extremists. You know, fighting in the streets or whatever. The quiet majority seemed to be just regular folks, caring more about daily life rather than worrying if you were Protestant or Catholic.”

  “That’s true—unless you happen to stray into one of the more volatile neighborhoods—especially in my dad’s era. That’s why he left the country in the first place. He emigrated to Chicago and met my mom. Later, he actually convinced her to give Ireland a try—that was before I was born—but going back didn’t work out, so they stayed in Chicago. Both taught history at the University of Chicago.”

  “How’d they end up in Utah?”

  “My mom’s family originally emigrated to Utah for religious purposes, so she spent a lot of time here as a child, and she always wanted to move back. She was offered a job at the University of Utah, and convinced my father to come with her—after all, she’d tried Ireland. Later my father began teaching at the university, too. They liked it here, especially the mountains. So they stayed.”

  “I love the mountains. Another place you shouldn’t wear suits.” He scooped up his last bite as Caitlin rolled her eyes.

  “I can do anything in a suit.”

  “Impressive.”

  Caitlin took a breath. “Look, Parker, about what happened earlier. . .”

  He slid his chair next to hers, reaching
over to touch her hand. She rose, avoiding contact that might not allow her to think properly.

  “What I’m saying is that we made a mistake.” She began picking up dishes, avoiding his eyes.

  “A mistake. But I thought—”

  “We need to focus on your case right now. Distractions are the last thing we need. Besides, we both have responsibilities.” Yet Caitlin knew the real reason was that she didn’t want to be used and thrown away. She had a problem with commitment, but once she was committed, she wanted the relationship to last longer than the rinse cycle. Parker might not be like most of her clients, but he was still a man whose life didn’t exactly match her own.

  He frowned, his eyes narrowing. “Now you’re the one playing games.”

  Caitlin recoiled. “I’m the one being professional. Look, Parker, if you want a casual relationship, you’ll have to look elsewhere.” She met his eyes now, her chin lifted firmly. Was that hurt in his expression? Before she could decide, the emotion was gone.

  “Whatever you want.” There was heat in his voice but carefully held in check. “Maybe you’d better take me to that motel now.”

  She nodded. “I can clean this up later.”

  But he was already gathering the rest of the dishes from the table. “I’ll help you now. It’s getting late.”

  They worked in frosty silence, each minute a torture. When they finally finished, Caitlin said, “I’ll go wake up Amy. The motel’s really close, but I can’t leave her.”

  “Okay.” He dried his hands on her dish towel.

  She stared at those strong hands, the ones that had so tenderly combed through her hair. Abruptly, she felt weak with indecision. Maybe she should give him a chance.

  No. She forced herself to leave the kitchen. When she returned with an extremely sleepy and cranky Amy, she found Parker sitting at the table, staring at a picture of Madeline in his wallet. “You’re right,” he said softly. “I can’t ever let myself forget, not even for a moment, what I’m fighting for.”

  She nodded and moved away quickly before her heart could feel too much pity. If she stayed to offer him comfort, things could too easily escalate to more—much more. Why did I let it happen? She wished desperately that the moment in the kitchen hadn’t occurred. Now her heart had been awakened to him. Now she wanted more.