Trading Christmas - Debbie Macomber [90]
This shopping trip was a good example, and so was the pizza that led up to it. No woman in her right mind should’ve allowed Joe into her apartment after what he’d said to her in front of Lindy. Not only had she invited him inside her home, she’d agreed to let him accompany her Christmas shopping. She ought to have her head examined!
“What’s wrong?” Joe asked, tearing open the package of bread sticks. Rather pointless in Cait’s opinion, since their lunch would be served any minute.
“What’s wrong?” she cried, dumbfounded that he had to ask. “You mean other than the hostess believing I’ve suffered a head injury and the waitress thinking we’re drug dealers or something equally disgusting?”
“Here.” He handed her one of the miniature bread sticks. “Eat this and you’ll feel better.”
Cait sincerely doubted that, but she took it, anyway, muttering under her breath.
“Relax,” he urged.
“Relax,” she mocked. “How can I possibly relax when you’re doing and saying things I find excruciatingly embarrassing?”
“I’m sorry, Cait. Really, I am.” To his credit, he did look contrite. “But you’re so easy to fluster and I can’t seem to stop myself.”
Their sandwiches arrived, thick with slices of turkey, ham and a variety of cheeses. Cait was reluctant to admit how much better she felt after she’d eaten. Joe’s spirits had apparently improved, as well.
“So,” he said, his hands resting on his stomach. “What do you have planned for the rest of the afternoon?”
Cait hadn’t given it much thought. “I suppose I should wrap the gifts I bought this morning.” But that prospect didn’t particularly excite her. Good grief, after the adventures she’d had with Joe, it wasn’t any wonder.
“You mean you actually wrap gifts before Christmas Eve?” Joe asked. “Doesn’t that take all the fun out of it? I mean, for me it’s a game just to see if I can get the presents bought.”
She grinned, trying to imagine herself in such a disorganized race to the deadline. Definitely not her style.
“How about a movie?” he suggested out of the blue. “I have the feeling you don’t get out enough.”
“A movie?” Cait ignored the comment about her social life, mainly because he was right. She rarely took the time to go to a show.
“We’re both exhausted from fighting the crowds,” Joe added. “There’s a six-cinema theater next to the restaurant. I’ll even let you choose.”
“I suppose you’d object to a love story?”
“We can see one if you insist, only…”
“Only what?”
“Only promise me you won’t ever expect a man to say the kinds of things those guys on the screen do.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. Women hear actors say this incredible drivel and then they’re disappointed when real men don’t.”
“Real men like you, I suppose?”
“Right.” He looked smug, then suddenly he frowned. “Does Paul like romances?”
Cait had no idea, since she’d never gone on a date with Paul and the subject wasn’t one they’d ever discussed at the office. I imagine he does,” she said, dabbing her mouth with her napkin. “He isn’t the type of man to be intimidated by such things.”
Joe’s deep blue eyes widened with surprise and a touch of respect. “Ouch. So Martin’s little sister reveals her claws.”
“I don’t have claws. I just happen to have strong opinions on certain subjects.” She reached for her purse while she was speaking and removed her wallet.
“What are you doing now?” Joe demanded.
“Paying for lunch.” She sorted through the bills and with drew a twenty. “It’s my turn and I insist on paying…” She hesitated when she saw Joe’s deepening frown. “Or don’t real men allow women friends to buy their lunch?”
“Sure, go ahead,” he returned flippantly.
It was all Cait could do to hide a smile. She guessed that her gesture in paying for their sandwiches would somehow be seen as compromising his male pride.
Apparently she was right. As they were walking toward the cashier, Joe stepped up his pace, grabbed the check from her hand and slapped some money on the counter. He glared at her as if he expected a drawn-out public argument. After