For the third time that afternoon, Cait indignantly wiped
sawdust from the top of her desk. If this remodeling mess
got much worse, the particles were going to get into her
computer, destroying her vital link with the New York Stock
Exchange.
"We'll have to move her out," a gruff male voice said from
behind her.
"I beg your pardon," Cait demanded, rising abruptly and
whirling toward the doorway. She clapped the dust from her
hands, preparing to do battle. So much for this being the
season of peace and goodwill. All these men in hard hats
strolling through the office, moving things around, was
inconvenient enough. But at least she'd been able to close
her door to reduce the noise. Now, it seemed, even that
would be impossible.
"We're going to have to pull some electrical wires through
there," the same brusque voice explained. She couldn't see
the man's face, since he stood just outside her doorway, but
she had an impression of broad-shouldered height. "We'll
have everything back to normal within a week."
"A week!" She wouldn't be able to service her customers, let
alone function, without her desk and phone. And exactly
where did they intend to put her? Certainly not in a
hallway! She wouldn't stand for it.
The mess this simple remodeling project had created was one
thing, but transplanting her entire office as if she were
nothing more than a…a tulip bulb was something else again.
"I'm sorry about this, Cait," Paul Jamison said, slipping
past the crew foreman to her side.
The wind went out of her argument at the merest hint of his
devastating smile. "Don't worry about it," she said, the
picture of meekness and tolerance. "Things like this happen
when a company grows as quickly as ours."
She glanced across the hallway to her best friend's office,
shrugging as if to ask, Is Paul ever going to notice me?
Lindy shot her a crooked grin and a quick nod that
suggested Cait stop being so negative. Her friend's
confidence didn't help. Paul was a wonderful district
manager and she was fortunate to have the opportunity to
work with him. He was both talented and resourceful. The
brokerage firm of Webster, Rodale and Missen was an
affiliate of the fastest-growing firm in the country. This
branch had been open for less than two years and already
they were breaking national sales records. Due mainly, Cait
believed, to Paul's administrative skills.
Paul was slender, dark-haired and handsome in an urbane,
sophisticated way—every woman's dream man. Certainly Cait's.
But as far as she could determine, he didn't see her in a
similar romantic light. He thought of her as an important
team member. One of the staff. At most, a friend.
Cait knew that friendship was often fertile ground for
romance, and she hoped for an opportunity to cultivate it.
Willingly surrendering her office to an irritating crew of
carpenters and electricians was sure to gain her a few
points with her boss.
"Where would you like me to set up my desk in the meantime?"
she asked, smiling warmly at Paul. From habit, she lifted
her hand to push back a stray lock of hair, forgetting she'd
recently had it cut. That had been another futile attempt to
attract Paul's affections—or at least his attention. Her
shoulder-length chestnut-brown hair had been trimmed and
permed into a pixie style with a halo of soft curls.
The difference from the tightly styled chignon she'd always
worn to work was striking, or so everyone said. Everyone
except Paul. The hairdresser had claimed it changed Cait's
cooly polished look into one of warmth and enthusiasm. It
was exactly the image Cait wanted Paul to have of her.
Unfortunately he didn't seem to detect the slightest
difference in her appearance. At least not until Lindy had
pointedly commented on the change within earshot of their
absentminded employer. Then, and only then, had Paul made a
remark about noticing something different; he just hadn't
been sure what it was, he'd said.
"I suppose we could move you.…" Paul hesitated.
"Your office seems to be the best choice," the foreman said.
Cait resisted the urge to hug the man. He was tall, easily
six three, and as solid as Mount Rainier, the majestic
mountain she could see from her office window. She hadn't
paid much attention to him until this moment and was
surprised to note something vaguely familiar about him.
She'd assumed he was the foreman, but she wasn't certain. He
seemed to be around the office fairly often, although not on
a predictable schedule. Every time he did show up, the level
of activity rose dramatically.
"Ah…I suppose Cait could move in with me for the time
being," Paul agreed. In her daydreams, Cait would play back
this moment; her version had Paul looking at her with
surprise and wonder, his mouth moving toward hers and—
"Miss?"
Cait broke out of her reverie and glanced at the foreman—the
man who'd suggested she share Paul's office. "Yes?"
"Would you show us what you need moved?"
"Of course," she returned crisply. This romantic heart of
hers was always getting her into trouble. She'd look at Paul
and her head would start to spin with hopes and fantasies
and then she'd be lost….
Cait's arms were loaded with files as she followed the
carpenters, who hauled her desk into a corner of Paul's much
larger office. Her computer and phone came next, and within
fifteen minutes she was back in business.
She was on the phone, talking with one of her most important
clients, when the same man walked back, unannounced, into
the room. At first Caitlin assumed he was looking for Paul,
who'd stepped out of the office. The foreman—or whatever he
was—hesitated for a few seconds.
Then, scooping up her nameplate, he grinned at her as if he
found something highly entertaining. Cait did her best to
ignore him, flipping needlessly through the pages of the file.
Not taking the hint, he stepped forward and plunked the
nameplate on the edge of her desk. As she looked up in
annoyance, he boldly winked at her.
Cait was not amused. How dare this…this…redneck flirt with her!
She glared at him, hoping he'd have the good manners and
good sense to leave—which, of course, he didn't. In fact, he
seemed downright stubborn about staying and making her as
uncomfortable as possible. Her phone conversation ran its
natural course and after making several notations, she
replaced the receiver.
"You wanted something?" she demanded, her eyes meeting his.
Once more she noted his apparent amusement. She didn't
understand it.
"No," he answered, grinning again. "Sorry to have bothered you."
For the second time, Cait was struck by a twinge of the
familiar. He strolled out of her makeshift office as if he
owned the building.
Cait waited a few minutes, then approached Lindy. "Did you
happen to catch his name?"
"Whose name?"
"The…man who insisted I vacate my office. I don't know who
he is. I thought he was the foreman, but…" She crossed her
arms and furrowed her brow, trying to remember if she'd
heard anyone say his name.
"I have no idea." Lindy pushed back her chair and rolled a
pencil between her palms. "He is kinda cute, though, don't
you think?"
A smile softened Cait's lips. "There's only one man for me
and you know it."
"Then why are you asking questions about the construction crew?"
"I…don't know. That guy seems familiar for some reason, and
he keeps grinning at me as if he knows something I don't. I
hate it when men do that."
"Then ask one of the others what his name is. They'll tell you."
"I can't do that."
"Why not?"
"He might think I'm interested in him."
"And we both know how impossible that would be," Lindy said
with mild sarcasm.
"Exactly." Lindy and probably everyone else in the office
complex knew how Cait felt about Paul. The district manager
himself, however, seemed to be completely oblivious. Other
than throwing herself at him, which she'd seriously
considered more than once, there was little she could do but
be patient. One of these days Cupid was going to let fly an
arrow and hit her lovable boss directly between the eyes.
When it happened—and it would!—Cait planned to be ready.
"You want to go for lunch now?" Lindy asked.
Cait nodded. It was nearly two and she hadn't eaten since
breakfast, which had consisted of a banana and a cup of
coffee. A West Coast stockbroker's day started before dawn.
Cait was generally in the office by six and didn't stop work
until the market closed at one-thirty, Seattle time. Only
then did she break for something to eat.
Somewhere in the middle of her turkey on wholewheat, Cait
convinced herself she was imagining things when it came to
that construction worker. He'd probably been waiting around
to ask her where Paul was and then changed his mind. He did
say he was sorry for bothering her. If only he hadn't winked.
He was back the following day a tool pouch riding on his hip
like a six-shooter, hard hat in place. He was issuing orders
like a drill sergeant, and Cait found herself gazing after
him with reluctant fascination. She'd heard he owned the
construction company, and she wasn't surprised.
As she studied him, she realized once again how striking he
was. Not because he was extraordinarily handsome, but
because he was somehow commanding. He possessed an
authority, a presence, that attracted attention wherever he
went. Cait was as drawn to it as those around her. She
observed how the crew instinctively turned to him for
directions and approval.
The more she observed him, the more she recognized that he
was a man who had an appetite for life. Which meant
excitement, adventure and probably women, and that confused
her even more because she couldn't recall ever knowing
anyone quite like him. Then why did she find him so…familiar?
Cait herself had a quiet nature. She rarely ventured out of
the comfortable, compact world she'd built. She had her job,
a nice apartment in Seattle's university district, and a few
close friends. Excitement to her was growing herbs and
participating in nature walks.
The following day while she was studying the construction
worker, he'd unexpectedly turned and smiled at something one
of his men had said. His smile, she decided, intrigued her
most. It was slightly off center and seemed to tease the
corners of his mouth. He looked her way more than once and
each time she thought she detected a touch of humor, an
amused knowledge that lurked just beneath the surface.
"It's driving me crazy," Caitconfessed to Lindy over lunch.
"What is?"
"That I can't place him."
Lindy set her elbows on the table, holding her sandwich
poised in front of her mouth. She nodded slowly, her eyes
distant. "When you figure it out, introduce me, will you? I
could go for a guy this sexy."
So Lindy had noticed that earthy sensuality about him, too.
Well, of course she had—any woman would.
After lunch, Cait returned to the office to make a few
calls. He was there again.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't place him. Work
became a pretense as she continued to scrutinize him,
racking her brain. Then, when she least expected it, he
strolled past her and brazenly winked a second time.
As the color clawed up her neck, Cait flashed her attention
back to her computer screen.
"His name is Joe," Lindy rushed in to tell her ten minutes
later. "I heard one of the men call him that."
"Joe," Cait repeated slowly. She couldn't remember ever
knowing anyone named Joe.
"Does that help?"
"No," Cait said, shaking her head regretfully. If she'd ever
met this man, she wasn't likely to have overlooked the
experience. He wasn't someone a woman easily forgot.
"Ask him," Lindy said. "It's ridiculous not to. It's driving
you insane. Then," she added with infuriating logic, "when
you find out, you can nonchalantly introduce me."
"I can't just waltz up and start quizzing him," Cait argued.
The idea was preposterous. "He'll think I'm trying to pick
him up."
"You'll go crazy if you don't."
Cait sighed. "You're right. I'm not going to sleep tonight
if I don't settle this."
With Lindy waiting expectantly in her office, Cait
approached him. He was talking to another member of the crew
and once he'd finished, he turned to her with one of his
devastating lazy smiles.
"Hello," she said, and her voice shook slightly. "Do I know
you?"
"You mean you've forgotten?" he asked, sounding shocked and
insulted.
"Apparently. Though I'll admit you look somewhat familiar."
"I should certainly hope so. We shared something very
special a few years back."
"We did?" Cait was more confused than ever.
"Hey, Joe, there's a problem over here," a male voice
shouted. "Could you come look at this?"
"I'll be with you in a minute," he answered brusquely over
his shoulder. "Sorry, we'll have to talk later."
"But—"
"Say hello to Martin for me, would you?" he asked as he
stalked past her and into the room that had once been Cait's
office.
Martin, her brother. Cait hadn't a clue what her brother
could possibly have to do with this. Mentally she ran
through a list of his teenage friends and came up blank.
Then it hit her. Bull's-eye. Her heart started to pound
until it roared like a tropical storm in her ears.
Mechanically Cait made her way back to Lindy's office. She
sank into a chair beside the desk and stared into space.
"Well?" Lindy pressed. "Don't keep me in suspense."
"Um, it's not that easy to explain."
"You remember him, then?"
She nodded. Oh, Lord, did she ever.
"Good grief, what's wrong? You've gone so pale!"
Cait tried to come up with an explanation that wouldn't
sound…ridiculous.
"Tell me," Lindy said. "Don't just sit there wearing a
foolish grin and looking like you're about to faint."
"Um, it goes back a few years."
"All right. Start there."
"Remember how kids sometimes do silly things? Like when
you're young and foolish and don't know any better?"
"Me, yes, but not you," Lindy said calmly. "You're perfect.
In all the time we've been friends, I haven't seen you do
one impulsive thing. Not one. You analyze everything before
you act. I can't imagine you ever doing anything silly."
"I did once," Cait told her, "but I was only eight."
"What could you have possibly done at age eight?"
"I…I got married."
"Married?" Lindy half rose from her chair. "You've got to be
kidding."
"I wish I was."
"I'll bet a week's commissions that your husband's name is
Joe." Lindy was smiling now, smiling widely.
Cait nodded and tried to smile in return.
"What's there to worry about? Good grief, kids do that sort
of thing all the time! It doesn't mean anything."