Trading Christmas - Debbie Macomber [73]
“I don’t need any broken pledge in order to torture you, Joseph Rockwell. In two days you’ve managed to turn my life into—” She paused midsentence as Paul Jamison casually strolled past. He waved in Cait’s direction and smiled benignly.
“Hello, Paul,” she called out, weakly raising her right hand. He looked exceptionally handsome this morning in a three-piece dark blue suit. The contrast between him and Joe, who was wearing dust-covered jeans, heavy boots and a tool pouch, was so striking that Cait had to force herself not to stare at her boss. If only Paul had been the one to invite her to dinner…
“If you’ll excuse me,” she said politely, edging her way around Joe and toward Paul, who’d gone into his office. Their office. The need to talk to him burned within her. Words of explanation began to form themselves in her mind.
Joe caught her by the shoulders, bringing her up short. Cait gasped and raised shocked eyes to his.
“Dinner,” he reminded her.
She blinked, hardly knowing what to say. “All right,” she mumbled distractedly and recited her address, eager to have him gone.
“Good. I’ll pick you up tonight at six.” With that he released her and stalked away.
After taking a couple of moments to compose herself, Cait headed toward the office. “Hello, Paul,” she said, standing just inside the doorway. “Do you have a moment to talk?”
He glanced up from a file on his desk. “Of course, Cait. Sit down and make yourself comfortable.”
She moved into the room, closing the door behind her. When she looked back at Paul, he’d cocked his eyebrows in surprise. “Problems?” he asked.
“Not exactly.” She pulled out the chair opposite his desk and slowly sat down. Now that she had his full attention, she was at a loss. All her prepared explanations and witticisms had flown out of her head. “The rate on municipal bonds has been extremely high lately,” she said nervously.
Paul agreed with a quick nod. “They have been for several months now.”
“Yes, I know. That’s what makes them such excellent value.” Cait had been selling bonds heavily in the past few weeks.
“You didn’t close the door to talk to me about bonds,” Paul said softly. “What’s troubling you, Cait?”
She laughed uncomfortably, wondering how a man could be so astute in one area and so blind in another. If only he’d reveal some emotion toward her. Anything. All he did was sit across from her and wait. He was cordial enough, gracious even, but there was no hint of anything more. Nothing to give Cait any hope that he was starting to care for her.
“It’s about Joseph Rockwell.”
“The contractor who’s handling the remodeling?”
Cait nodded. “I knew him years ago when we were just children.” She glanced at Paul, whose face remained blank. “We were neighbors. In fact Joe and my brother, Martin, were best friends. Joe moved out to the suburbs when he and Martin were in the sixth grade and I hadn’t heard anything from him since.”
“It’s a small world, isn’t it?” Paul remarked affably.
“Joe and Martin were typical young boys,” she said, rushing her words a little in her eagerness to have this out in the open. “Full of tomfoolery and pranks.”
“Boys will be boys,” Paul said without any real enthusiasm.
“Yes, I know. Once—” she forced a light laugh “—they actually involved me in one of their crazy schemes.”
“What did they put you up to? Robbing a bank?”
She somehow managed a smile. “Not exactly. Joe—I always called him Joseph back then, because it irritated him. Anyway, Joe and Martin had this friend named Pete who was a year older and he’d spent part of his summer vacation visiting his aunt in Peoria. I think it was Peoria…. Anyway he came back bragging about having kissed a girl. Naturally Martin and Joe were jealous and as you said, boys will be boys, so they decided that one of them should test it out and see if kissing a girl was everything Pete claimed it was.”
“I take it they decided to make you their guinea pig.”
“Exactly.” Cait slid to the edge of the chair, pleased that Paul was following this rather convoluted explanation. “I was eight and considered something of