Only You (2 page)

Her last name was Love. So that explained the
Love
, Incorporated. “What sort of business do you own?” Max couldn’t wait any longer. He just had to know what she did for a living.

“I deal in organically grown herbs. Some I grow here, others I import.”

“Herbs? Like for cooking?” Max tried not to show his relief that she wasn’t involved in some illicit racket.

“We do handle culinary herbs. However, we also deal in medicinal herbs.” Caitlin could see the skeptical look on his face and knew what he was thinking. Any mention of medicinal herbs always conjured up images of wizened old women living in one-room mountaintop cabins, dispensing love potions and tonics. Well, she acknowledged, it wouldn’t hurt if he was suspicious of her. That was a lot easier to deal with than desire. Anything was easier to deal with than desire. Desire frightened her.

“Would you like to come in and walk around?” she offered hesitantly. Wearing a conservative European-tailored suit and hand-tooled Italian leather shoes, he wasn’t exactly dressed for a greenhouse. But he did look good, Caitlin had to admit, though she tried not to notice how good.

“Yes,” Max said, “I would.” It might be best if he investigated this herbal business very carefully before deciding whether or not to take on the job. Although, working on Love, Inc., could have its advantages, he decided as Caitlin turned and headed toward the door, her firm bottom swaying from side to side.

The reason for the peculiar arching roof became apparent when they entered. It was made of transparent heavyweight plastic shaded only by an open-weave cloth so dappled sunlight reached every corner of the interior. Gravel covered the floor and long benches supported hundreds, perhaps thousands, of potted plants. Floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked with bags and cartons lined one end of the building.

“The office is back here.” Caitlin led the way to the far corner.

Max picked his way across what amounted to a small obstacle course comprised of tables, lengths of watering hoses, and bags of potting soil. He didn’t want to think about what the gravel was doing to the soles of his shoes. But things were well organized, he thought. Considering. All the plants were lined up in neat, labeled rows, each with its own watering siphon. All the packages on the shelves were marked and organized alphabetically.

The office was another matter altogether, and Max groaned inwardly when he saw it. No wonder
her accountant had threatened to walk out. It was a wall-to-wall disaster. A small mountain of paper adorned the top of the lone file cabinet. A whole mountain range marched across what he could only suppose was the desk. Assorted cardboard boxes filled with more papers were stacked on the floor. Mail covered half the telephone and he saw the cord to what he assumed was a calculator hanging off the end of the desk. The calculator itself was completely buried. He’d have to take this job, Max told himself. She needed him.

She was entirely too gorgeous and distracting, however. Something told him that she was the kind of woman he could get involved with and he feared getting involved. He could ill afford to be, especially after Jackie. He couldn’t afford the emotional energy, and he couldn’t afford it financially.

The company was the one thing Jackie hadn’t gotten away from him, and for the past two years he’d put his heart and soul into it. The first six months after the divorce, he’d even slept in his office. Partly out of dedication, but mostly because he couldn’t afford the rent for an apartment. Almost everything he earned he’d channeled back into the business. Even the expensive suit and nice car were business related. After all, an efficiency consultant needed to project a successful image.

He was doing well now. So well that he could give this assignment to any one of several people working for him—Michael, maybe, or Emily Jane. No, not Michael. He was too slick, a bit of a ladies’ man. Max didn’t want him around Caitlin. He’d give it to Emily Jane instead.

“Well, what do you think?” Caitlin asked. “Is it hopeless?”

“Not at all,” he replied. “But I think it will require my personal attention.” Damnation! So much for giving it to Emily Jane. “First I need to find out what it is you’re looking for from Shore Efficiency Consultants, what it is you want us to do.”

“I need help in organizing my office. You can feel free to do it any way you like. I just have to have really good record-keeping.” Caitlin sighed. “The IRS audited me this year and I couldn’t find half my receipts. That’s why my accountant rebelled.”

I shouldn’t wonder
, Max thought, casting another glance around the office. “We should be able to organize it and set up a record-keeping system in just a week or two. I’d like to meet with your office personnel this Friday, if I could, to discuss present office procedures.”

“You’ve already met with my office personnel,” Caitlin said dryly.

“You’re it?”

“I’m it.”

“Ah, right.” Max paused. “Would it be okay if I spent a day or two looking over everything?”

“I—that would be fine,” Caitlin murmured even as she thought that he was too disturbing to have hanging around, even for a day or two.

She made a mistake then and looked up directly into his eyes. There were blues and there were blues—slate blues, baby blues, cornflower blues, navy blues. But she didn’t think anyone had ever coined a name for the blue of his eyes. And those eyes were currently darkened with hazy appreciation. Caitlin swallowed hard, her gaze glued to his. Her heart began to pound and she felt breathless.

The moment was full of tension and attraction,
wonder and fear. It was also over quickly because Jordan tugged on Max’s sleeve. “Mr. Shore, next time you come back, can I talk on your car phone? Can I? Please?”

With relief Caitlin turned away from that mesmerizing gaze and admonished her son. “Jordan. Mr. Shore doesn’t have time for—”

“Sure you can,” Max interjected smoothly. “Who would you like to call?”

“My best friend, Patrick. Boy, he won’t believe that I’m calling him from a car phone!” Jordan continued to chatter on as he followed Caitlin and Max to the front door.

“Um, thank you for taking me on as a client,” Caitlin said, feeling uncomfortable. “I—uh, I guess I’ll see you Friday. Well, good-bye.” She shut the door a little too hastily, but couldn’t shut out the memories of unfathomable blue eyes.

Although Caitlin spent the rest of the afternoon cataloging a new shipment, thoughts of a different kind occupied her mind. Maximillian Shore. He made her aware of her own femininity in a way she hadn’t been in a long time. As a matter of fact, it had been a long time since her best friend Donna had accused her of exiling herself to a sexual and emotional desert.

Maybe she had, she admitted to herself, but it was a lot safer that way. She didn’t take chances. What frightened her about Max Shore was that he made her feel as if she wanted to.

With her thoughts in such a jumble, Caitlin wasn’t in the mood for the boisterous dinner that evening. If it weren’t for Jordie, she’d have called Donna and begged off from going over. But one of Donna’s sons was Patrick and Jordie had been looking forward to seeing him all day.

After the meal the kids were dispatched upstairs to play video games while Caitlin and Donna took glasses of lemonade into the living room.

“I meant to ask you earlier, how did the meeting go yesterday with the IRS?”

“I got off pretty lucky, considering. But Arnie told me in no uncertain terms that unless I called in somebody to organize the office and records, he was going to quit.”

“Boy, if sweet li’l ol’ Arnie said that, I’d take him seriously.”

“Oh, I did. I called an efficiency expert yesterday afternoon. He came by today to look over the business. He said they should be able to get things in decent shape in a couple of weeks.”

“A couple of weeks in a pig’s eye!” retorted Donna. “Don’t forget, I’ve seen your office. What I don’t understand is how you’ve managed not to lose a few bills in all that mess.”

“I pay ’em as I get ’em, that’s why. I have to. I know paperwork’s not my strong point. It’s a miracle I ever made it through college.”

Donna snorted. “Having a nearly photographic memory didn’t hurt.”

Caitlin fell silent. She did have an extraordinarily good memory, and it wasn’t always a blessing. There were a few things she wished she could forget. Although she liked her memories of Max Shore’s eyes. Mentally she catalogued all the blues she could think of: lapis lazuli; forget-me-nots; her son’s favorite Braves baseball cap…

“Hello. Anybody in there?”

“Hmm? What?” The glittering blue eyes in her memory gave way to reality.

“Where were you, Caitlin?”

“Oh, um, sorry, Donna. Just daydreaming.”

“About who?” Donna teased.

To her chagrin, Caitlin could feel the flush that crept up her cheeks.

“Aha!” Donna said with glee. “There
is
somebody! It’s about time!”

“No, there isn’t,” Caitlin protested.

“Who is he?”

“No one. I mean, I only just met—” Caitlin broke off abruptly, realizing that she’d given herself away. Now Donna would never give up. “C’mon, Donna. Just let it drop, okay?”

“No way,” Donna stated. “You going to tell me or what?”

“There’s nothing to tell. Really.” She protested weakly, but Caitlin knew Donna was going to worry this the rest of the night like a terrier with a bone.

“I repeat. Who is he?”

Caitlin gave up. “His name is Max Shore,” she said reluctantly. “He’s the owner of the consulting firm I called.”

“And?” Donna leaned forward, her eyes gleaming.

“And nothing.”

“Did he ask you out?”

“No. And if he did, I wouldn’t go. You know I don’t date much.” Caitlin stood and walked over to the window, looking out at the night, but seeing only old images in her mind.

“Yeah, and the guys you do date could all qualify for the Caspar Milquetoast of the Year Award. You haven’t been out with an honest-to-God sexy man in years. How about this Max Shore? Is he sexy?”

Caitlin let out a heartfelt “Yes. A little stuffy, but
definitely sexy.” Memories teased her—of Max’s broad shoulders, thick, soft-looking hair, long legs—and always those warm, enigmatic, intriguing blue eyes.

“Then go for it, why don’t you?”

With an effort Caitlin snapped her attention back to Donna. “I can’t.” She lifted troubled eyes to her friend. “Donna, you know exactly what I’ve been through. It’s taken me all of these past seven years to put my life back together.”

“But you did. That’s what counts,” Donna said gently.

“Oh, I did all right. But there are times I feel as if I’m held together with paper clips and rubber bands. I’m scared to do anything to rock the boat.”

Donna was silent for a moment, then said, “I know you’re scared. But what happened to you happened a long time ago and you can’t let it color the rest of your life. Find a man—a real man. Get married. Settle down. Or don’t settle down, have a passionate affair. Whatever you do, you’ve got to let go of the past.”

“I don’t know if I can.” Caitlin’s voice was the barest whisper. “Oh, Donna, I don’t know if I can.”

Maximillian Shore will be at the greenhouse today, Caitlin thought the minute she awakened. She still wasn’t sure if she liked the idea. Nonetheless, after she scurried Jordan out the door to the waiting school bus, she took extra care dressing for work.

Instead of the usual faded jeans and T-shirt, she wore newer black denims and a spring-green blouse. She harnessed her unruly shoulder-length blond curls into a topknot, but despite all her efforts, dozens of little tendrils escaped to spiral softly about her face. She even brushed a light coat of mascara over her lashes. Here goes nothing, she thought as she grabbed her purse and headed to her van.

As luck would have it, unusually slow traffic made Caitlin fifteen minutes late, and she saw Max already standing by the greenhouse door when she pulled into the parking lot. She should have known that an efficiency expert would not only be on time, but would be looking at his watch. He appeared elegant—and, again, too conventional—in
another suit and tie. Perhaps she should tell him that there was no air-conditioning in the greenhouse and by midafternoon, with the late April sun streaming in, it could get pretty warm.

“You’re late,” Max said flatly.

Caitlin bit back the apology she’d been ready to offer. On second thought, she wouldn’t tell him about the heat. Let him cook in his dull little suit. She gave a saccharine smile. “Good morning to you too, Mr. Shore.”

“The first thing I want to do this morning is go over your standard office procedure with you,” Max said as soon as they walked inside the building.

“Well,” Caitlin retorted mildly, “the first thing
I’m
going to do is water the back third of the greenhouse. Perhaps you could familiarize yourself with my office while you’re waiting.”

Max sighed. “Fine. Then—”

“Then I’m going to water the middle third. Then I’m going to water the front third.”

“Can any of that wait?”

“No, it can’t. Plants wilt. People don’t.” With that parting shot, she spun on her heels and walked to the back of the building.

Max frowned as he watched her. Damn! Did he have to start off this morning by snapping at her? He didn’t know why he’d done it. One minute he’d been thinking how good she looked; the next minute a curt “You’re late!” popped out of his mouth. Maybe some ancient deep-rooted sense of male self-preservation had caused it, he thought ruefully. Though she hadn’t exactly been the soul of graciousness either. She’d been tart, even testy.

Was this the same woman who’d been haunting his dreams? Max couldn’t understand it. He had
always preferred his women soft and compliant and classy. So what attracted him to this sarcastic pint-sized Attila the Hun who dressed like a teenage refugee? Hell, she was probably married. He frowned at the thought. She wore no ring, he’d noticed, but then, she was also cussedly independent, perhaps she simply chose not to. Max frowned again and headed to the office. This day wasn’t turning out at all as he’d hoped.