Trading Christmas - Debbie Macomber [72]
“If you’re so worried about it, talk to him,” Lindy advised without lifting her eyes from the screen. “Honesty is the best policy, you know that.”
“Yes, but it could prove to be a bit embarrassing, don’t you think?”
“Paul will respect you for telling him the truth before he hears the rumors from someone else. Frankly, Cait, I think you’re making a fuss over nothing. It isn’t like you’ve committed a felony, you know.”
“I realize that.”
“Paul will probably be amused, like everyone else. He’s not going to say anything.” She looked up quickly, as though she expected Cait to try yet another argument.
Cait didn’t. Instead she mulled over her friend’s advice, gnawing on her lower lip. “You might be right. Paul will respect me for explaining the situation myself, instead of ignoring everything.” Telling him the truth could be helpful in other respects, too, now that she thought about it.
If Paul had any feeling for her whatsoever, and oh, how she prayed he did, then he might become just a little jealous of her relationship with Joseph Rockwell. After all, Joe was an attractive man in a rugged outdoor sort of way. He was tall and muscular and, well, good-looking. The kind of good-looking that appealed to women—not Cait, of course, but other women. Hadn’t Lindy commented almost immediately on how attractive he was?
“You’re right,” Cait said, walking resolutely toward the office she was temporarily sharing with Paul. Although she’d felt annoyed at first about being shuffled out of her own space, she’d come to think of this inconvenience as a blessing in disguise. However, she had to admit she’d been disappointed thus far. She had assumed she’d be spending a lot of time alone with him. That hadn’t happened yet.
The more Cait considered the idea of a heart-to-heart talk with her boss, the more appealing it became. As was her habit, she mentally rehearsed what she wanted to say to him, then gave herself a small pep talk.
“I don’t remember that you talked to yourself.” The male voice booming behind her startled Cait. “But then there’s a great deal I’ve missed over the years, isn’t there, Caitlin?”
Cait was so rattled she nearly stumbled. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “Why are you following me around? Can’t you see I’m busy?” He was the last person she wanted to confront just now.
“Sorry.” He raised both hands in a gesture of apology contradicted by his twinkling blue eyes. “How about lunch later?”
He was teasing. He had to be. Besides, it would be insane for her to have anything to do with Joseph Rockwell. Heaven only knew what would happen if she gave him the least bit of encouragement. He’d probably hire a skywriter and announce to the entire city that they’d married as children.
“It shouldn’t be that difficult to agree to a luncheon date,” he informed her coolly.
“You’re serious about this?”
“Of course I’m serious. We have a lot of years to catch up on.” His hand rested on his leather pouch, giving him a rakish air of indifference.
“I’ve got an appointment this afternoon…” She offered the first plausible excuse she could think of; it might be uninspired but it also happened to be true. She’d made plans to have lunch with Lindy.
“Dinner then. I’m anxious to hear what Martin’s been up to.”
“Martin,” she repeated, stalling for time while she invented another excuse. This wasn’t a situation she had much experience with. She did date, but infrequently.
“Listen, bright eyes, no need to look so concerned. This isn’t an invitation to the senior prom. It’s one friend to an other. Strictly platonic.”
“You won’t mention…our wedding to the waiter? Or any one else?”
“I promise.” As if to offer proof of his intent, he licked the end of his index finger and crossed his heart. “That was Martin’s and my secret pledge sign. If either of us broke our word, the other was entitled to come up with a punishment. We both understood it would be a fate worse than death.