Trading Christmas - Debbie Macomber [101]
“I’d imagine you’d want to meet her,” Joe challenged. “That way you can size her up.”
“I don’t even want to know what she looks like,” Cait countered sharply. She didn’t need to. Cait already knew everything she cared to about Paul’s hot date. “She’s beautiful.”
“So are you.”
Cait gave a short, derisive laugh. She wasn’t discounting her own homespun appeal. She was reasonably attractive, and never more so than this evening. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she was pleased to see how nice her hair looked, with the froth of curls circling her head. But she wasn’t going to kid herself, either. Her allure wasn’t extraordinary by any stretch of the imagination. Her eyes were a warm shade of brown, though, and her nose was kind of cute. Perky, Lindy had once called it. But none of that mattered. Measuring herself against Paul’s sure-to-be-gorgeous, nameless date was like comparing bulky sweat socks with a silk stocking. She’d already spent hours picturing her as a classic beauty…tall…sophisticated.
“I’ve never taken you for a coward,” Joe said in a flat tone as he headed toward the door.
Apparently he wasn’t even going to argue with her. Cait almost wished he would, just so she could show him how strong her will was. Nothing he could say or do would convince her to attend this party. Besides, her feet hurt. She was wearing new heels and hadn’t broken them in yet, and if she did go, she’d be limping for days afterward.
“I’m not a coward,” she told him, schooling her face to remain as emotionless as possible. “All I’m doing is exercising a little common sense. Why depress myself over the holidays? This is the last time I’ll see Paul before Christmas. I leave for Minnesota in the morning.”
“Yes, I know.” Joe frowned as he said it, hesitating before he opened her door. “You’re sure about this?”
“Positive.” She was mildly surprised Joe wasn’t making more of a fuss. From past experience, she’d expected a full-scale verbal battle.
“The choice is yours of course,” he granted, shrugging. “But if it was me, I know I’d spend the whole evening regretting it.” He studied her when he’d finished, then gave her a smile Cait could only describe as crafty.
She groaned inwardly. If there was one thing that drove her crazy about Joe it was the way he made the most outrageous statements. Then every once in a while he’d say something so wise it caused her to doubt her own conclusions and beliefs. This was one of those times. He was right: if she didn’t go to Paul’s, she’d regret it. Since she was leaving for Minnesota the following day, she wouldn’t be able to ask anyone about the party, either.
“Are you coming or not?” he demanded.
Grumbling under her breath, Cait let him help her on with her coat. “I’m coming, but I don’t like it. Not one darn bit.”
“You’re going to do just fine.”
“They probably said that to Joan of Arc, too.”
Cait clutched the punch glass in both hands, as though terrified someone might try to take it back. Standing next to the fireplace, with its garlanded mantel and cheerful blaze, she hadn’t moved since they’d arrived a half hour earlier. “Is she here yet?” she whispered to Lindy when her friend walked past carrying a tray of canapés.
“Who?”
“Paul’s woman friend,” Cait said pointedly. Both Joe and Lindy were beginning to exasperate her. “I’ve been standing here for the past thirty minutes hoping to catch a glimpse of her.”
Lindy looked away. “I…I don’t know if she’s here or not.”
“Stay with me, for heaven’s sake,” Cait requested, feeling shaky inside and out. Joe had deserted her almost as soon as they got there. Oh, he’d stuck around long enough to bring her a cup of punch, but then he’d drifted away, leaving Cait to deal with the situation on her own. This was the very man who’d insisted she attend this Christmas party, claiming he’d be right by her side the