Trading Christmas - Debbie Macomber [114]
After taking a moment to collect her thoughts, Cait walked down the hallway to Lindy’s office and found her friend on the phone. Lindy glanced up, smiled feebly in Cait’s direction, then abruptly dropped her gaze as if the call demanded her full concentration.
Cait waited a couple of minutes, then decided to return later when Lindy wasn’t so busy. She needed to talk to her friend, needed her counsel. Lindy had always encouraged Cait in her dreams of a relationship with Paul. When she was discouraged, it was Lindy who bolstered her sagging spirits. Yes, it was definitely time for a talk. She’d try to get Lindy to confide in her, too. Cait valued Lindy’s friendship; true, she couldn’t help being hurt that the person she considered one of her best friends would give notice to leave the firm without even discussing it with her. But Lindy must’ve had her reasons. And maybe she, too, needed some support right about now.
Hearing her own phone ring, Cait hurried back to her office. She was consistantly busy from then on. The New York Stock Exchange was due to close in a matter of minutes when Joe happened by.
“Hi,” Cait greeted him, her smile wide and welcoming. Her gaze connected with Joe’s and he returned her smile. Her heart reacted automatically, leaping with sheer happiness.
“Hi, yourself.” He sauntered into her office and threw himself down in the same chair Paul had taken earlier, stretching his long legs in front of him and folding his hands over his stomach. “So how’s the world of finance doing this fine day?”
“About as well as usual.”
“Then we’re in deep trouble,” he joked.
His smile was infectious. It always had been, but Cait had initially resisted him. Her defenses had weakened, though, and she responded readily with a smile of her own.
“You done for the day?”
“Just about.” She checked the time. In another five minutes, New York would be closing down. There were several items she needed to clear from her desk, but nothing pressing. “Why?”
“Why?” It was little short of astonishing how far Joe’s eyebrows could reach, Cait noted, all but disappearing into his hairline.
“Can’t a man ask a simple question?” Joe asked.
“Of course.” The banter between them was like a well-rehearsed play. Never had Cait been more at ease with a man—or had more fun with a man. Or with anyone, really. “What I want to know is whether ‘simple’ refers to the question or to the man asking it.”
“Ouch,” Joe said, grinning broadly. “Those claws are sharp this afternoon.”
“Actually today’s been good.” Or at least it had since he’d arrived.
“I’m glad to hear it. How about dinner?” He jumped to his feet and pretended to waltz around her office, playing a violin. “You and me. Wine and moonlight and music. Romance and roses.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. “You work too hard. You always have. I want you to enjoy life a little more. It would be good for both of us.”
Joe didn’t need to give her an incentive to go out with him. Cait was thrilled at the mere idea. Joe made her laugh, made her feel good about herself and the world. Of course, he possessed a remarkable talent for driving her crazy, too. But she supposed a little craziness was good for the spirit.
“Only promise me you won’t wear those high heels of yours,” he chided, pressing his hand to the small of his back. “I’ve suffered excruciating back pains ever since Paul’s Christmas party.”
Paul’s name seemed to leap out and grab Cait by the throat. “Paul,” she repeated, sagging against the back of her chair. “Oh, dear.”
“I know you consider him a dear,” Joe teased. “What has your stalwart employer done this time?”
“He asked me out to dinner,” Cait admitted, frowning. “Out of the