Only You (6 page)

When she walked back to the table to get Max’s plate, she saw a sudden appreciative gleam light his eyes, and followed his intent gaze to where it rested on her chest. The cool air had caused another reaction as well. Her nipples had puckered into hard points and pressed quite obviously against her shirt. Max’s gaze lingered and his hands twitched as if ready to reach out.

“Well.” She whirled around and hurried over to the window. “That’s enough fresh air for now, I think,” she said as she closed the window, her cheeks instantly heating.

Max leaned back in the chair and stretched out his legs, lacing his fingers together behind his head. He grinned, enjoying Caitlin’s discomfiture. So much for round one, he thought in devilish satisfaction.

“Here’s your shirt.” The moment the dryer stopped, Caitlin jerked opened the door, grabbed Max’s shirt, and thrust it at him. “Put it on before you catch cold.”

“I’m perfectly comfortable,” Max said complacently. “Especially now that you’ve closed the window.”

“Put the shirt on or I’ll open the window again,” Caitlin said through gritted teeth as she stalked past him and went down the hall.

She tapped on the bathroom door, then poked in her head. “Jordan, have you finished? Did you use soap? Hmm. Looks dry.” She paused. “Try it again, Jordie, and this time use the soap, okay?” She shook her head as she closed the bathroom door.

“Does he do that often?”

Caitlin jumped at the voice coming from just behind her and spun around.

“Are you okay?” Max asked in concern. Her face suddenly pale, she looked as if she might faint.

Caitlin took a deep breath, her hands clenching the door frame. “Oh, yes, yes, I’m fine. I just don’t handle surprises very well.” She managed to smile, but her voice shook a little. “To answer your first question, yes, Jordan tries to skip the soap every chance he gets. I think there’s some kind of contest in first grade to see which boy can accumulate the most dirt.”

“Who’s winning?” Max said lightly, though his watchful eyes perused her thoughtfully.

“I don’t know, but I hope it’s not Jordie.” Caitlin was thankful that Max had put on his shirt. “By the way, I thought I’d fix myself a cup of herb tea. Do you want one?”

“Would you happen to have any coffee on hand?”

Caitlin shook her head a little. She figured Max would be a coffee drinker. Obviously, he didn’t know about all the deleterious effects caffeine had on the human body. “I’ll see what I can find.” With an effort she released her grip on the wooden frame and went back into the kitchen.

Max followed her and watched as she put on a pot of water to boil, then rummaged through her kitchen cabinets. So far he’d come up with two intriguing pieces to the puzzle. One, Caitlin did not like to be touched. Two, she panicked when someone came up behind her without warning. Max considered this for a moment and didn’t like the picture he came up with. Had Caitlin been married to an abuser? He had never considered himself the violent sort, but he’d love to get his hands on the guy, whoever he was. Ten minutes with him, that was all he’d need to even the score. Hell, he’d take five minutes.

Caitlin couldn’t help but be aware of his considering
looks. As a matter of fact, she had just realized that she seemed to know
whenever
Max looked at her, as if she had built-in radar where he was concerned. She frowned at the thought as she set a steaming cup in front of him. “Um, I managed to find a jar of instant decaf. I’m not sure how old it is, but I guess that kind of coffee doesn’t spoil or anything, does it?”

Max gave a weak smile and surreptitiously sniffed the brew, just to make sure it didn’t smell of some unknown substance. Obviously cooking was not one of her strong points. A sudden picture of the clutter in her living room flashed through his head. Apparently, neither was housekeeping.

Just then a flesh-colored blur partially wrapped in blue terry cloth came dashing out of the bathroom, ran down the hall and up the stairs, dripping water all the way.

“Jordan?” Caitlin called after his disappearing figure. “Next time, dry yourself before you leave the bathroom.” With a shrug she reached for the sponge mop and blotted up the trail of water spots. She looked up to see Max’s grin.

“He’s some kid, isn’t he?” he commented.

“He is that,” she agreed softly. “He’s a real mess sometimes, and too clever for his own good, but he’s the most important thing in my life.”

“Does, ah, your ex-husband see Jordan very often?”

Max knew he’d broached a taboo subject when her eyes shuttered and she averted her head. He expected her to ignore his ill-timed question, but to his surprise she murmured, “I’ve never been married.” Her voice held a slight trace of defiance, as if daring him to say anything about it.

Max fell silent. So she was an unwed mother.
The idea didn’t bother him at all. In this day and age, when alternatives were so readily available, he admired that she’d chosen to keep and raise her child. “You’ve done a wonderful job with him,” he said, mentally filing away the fact that she hadn’t been married to an abusive husband.

“You really think so?” She turned to look at Max, her face earnest. “I’ve tried, but sometimes it’s hard. I mean, with the business and all, I don’t exactly run my life on a schedule or anything.”

“He seems happy and healthy. He’s polite, friendly, and normally rambunctious. That means he’s well adjusted. Remember, I have three nephews. That qualifies me as an expert on kids.”

She smiled a little. “Oh, it does, does it?”

“Just call me Dr. Spock.”

Caitlin’s smile widened. “Oh, do you want some more coffee?” She gestured at his nearly empty cup. “There’s more in the jar.”

“No, thanks anyway. I better be—”

“Mom?” Jordan called from the top of the stairs. “I’m ready to go to bed now.”

“Okay, honey,” Caitlin called back. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

“Can Max say good night too?”

She quickly looked at Max, and he nodded. “Yes, Jordie.”

They went up, and Caitlin watched Max with thoughtful eyes as he sat on the edge of Jordan’s bed and told Jordan a funny story with obvious relish. Maybe it was the time he spent with his three nephews, but Max acted so natural, so comfortable with Jordan and, of course, Jordan responded to this interest without reservation.

Her heart ached a little. She knew Jordan hungered for a male influence in his life. Rick had
tried, whenever possible, to include Jordan in his activities with his son, like camping and backyard baseball, but it wasn’t the same as having a male’s undivided attention. It was no wonder he’d responded so quickly to Max.

But she worried Jordan would end up being hurt. After all, Max was going to be around for only a week or two longer. How was Jordan going to feel when Max went on to the next job? Perhaps she should stop this before it went any further. Not that she was involved with Max, but she had let him sort of barge his way in. She needed to make Max back off. She tried to ignore the twinge of pain that thought caused as she watched Max give Jordan a friendly hug.

Caitlin fell silent as she and Max went back downstairs, thoughts tumbling one after the other through her head. She had to have time to get her head together. She walked straight to the front door and opened it, letting Max know without words that he was being told to leave.

“Thank you for dinner,” he said, then smiled wryly. “And thanks for the—ahem!—breath of fresh air.”

An answering smile, albeit a small one, curved her lips. “I’ll have the contract for you in a couple of days. It was nice of you to bring it by.”

Max reached over and took Caitlin’s hand. He pretended not to notice her subtle efforts to pull it away as he held it cradled between both of his. “I guess I owe you a dinner now. How about one night this week? You can bring Jordie if you like.”

Caitlin felt a trembling begin deep inside when Max’s thumb started tracing circles in her palm. “I, uh, dinner’s not necessary.”

“Oh, but it is. You fed me.”

The trembling spread to her legs. “Consider it thanks for letting Jordie and his friend use your car phone.”

“Letting the boys use my phone was my pleasure, so I still owe you a dinner.”

“That’s okay,” she insisted breathlessly, trying once more to slide her hand from between his. “It was just a sandwich.”

Max tightened his warm grip, both of his thumbs now massaging the sensitive inside of her wrist. “Oh, but I insist on paying you back with dinner. What night?”

Caitlin gave one more tug, and this time met with success. “Thanks anyway, Max, but no.”

“How about Friday night?” He did not give up easily.

Caitlin drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I don’t date.” She opened the screen door. “If you come to the greenhouse tomorrow, you’d better wait until after lunch. Mornings are pretty hectic. You may want to wear jeans and a T-shirt since it’s supposed to be hot again. Good night, Max.” Her no-nonsense tone told him not to push his luck any further.

Max didn’t often do as he was told. He slid a finger under her chin and tilted her head. “Such a stubborn chin,” he murmured just before brushing his lips across hers. “But stubbornness intrigues me.” He brushed another kiss across her nose. “Good night, Cait.”

“Caitlin,” she corrected him automatically.

“I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. Maybe we can decide where to go to dinner on Friday.” He flashed a quick grin, pressed a brief kiss on her lips, and left, not giving her a chance to say anything.

Caitlin closed the door, then leaned back against it. Those kisses hadn’t even lasted long enough for the fear to start, so how come they had lasted long enough for her lips to still be tingling from his touch? Every time he touched her, her body seemed to turn traitor. Her breasts swelled and ached with loneliness. Her hands seemed to move toward him as if attracted by magnets. Why? What was there about this one man that sent her hormone production into overdrive?

Caitlin continued to ponder that question as she lay in bed a couple of hours later staring at the ceiling. She felt like a child playing with matches. She knew she was going to be hurt and she was afraid, but she kept right on, fascinated by the warm, bright flame.

The next morning Caitlin decided not to go by the greenhouse right away. Instead, she went by the office supply company that Max had recommended. An hour later she left, her car loaded with almost everything Max had told her to get. She had even placed an order for letterhead stationery. After all, she’d been in business for some time now, and she felt her correspondence should look professional.

Out of curiosity she had priced a couple of the new electronic typewriters but decided that she got along just fine with her twelve-year-old electric. Actually she had an uneasy truce with it. True, the Z and the Q stuck a little, but she didn’t use those letters very often anyway. She didn’t want to press her luck with a fancy, expensive machine, only to find out it hated her.

By a quarter to one, Caitlin had watered the
entire greenhouse and spent two hours on the telephone. She was putting together an order of two hundred assorted potted herbs to be picked up the next day, when the sound of shoes scrunching across the gravel brought up her head. It was Max. Her heart pounded a little faster, but she decided it was because he’d startled her. She hid a smile when she noticed what he wore. If those clothes were his idea of casual, he needed lessons.

He wore dress slacks and another pristine white shirt with a maroon tie. In concession to the heat, he’d left off the jacket, but he still wore those expensive leather shoes. Maybe it was just as well he didn’t show up in jeans. She had a feeling that his long legs and narrow hips outlined in tight denim would thoroughly arouse her libido.

“Hi,” Caitlin said, feeling somewhat shy. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes. I need to finish getting this order together.”

“Can I help?” Max asked as his eyes swept over her. Jeans again. He stifled a sigh. He knew dresses wouldn’t exactly be appropriate for working in a greenhouse, but he had a sudden longing to see her bare legs again. Of course, the way the snug denim hugged her firm bottom wasn’t bad, and he really couldn’t complain about the way the pink T-shirt clung to her breasts.

“If you want. Right now I’m picking twenty-five pots of sweet basil—that’s what’s on this end of the table here—and putting them into these boxes. You could turn to that table right behind you and pick twenty-five pots of garlic chives—that’s the grassy-looking stuff—and put them into this box right here.”

As Caitlin talked, she finished packing the basil
and moved on to English lavender. She savored the spicy scent as she began loading them.

“Now what?” Max asked when he was done with his task.

“Now I’m going to carry the boxes up to the front, by the door, so they’ll be ready to be picked up first thing in the morning.”

“Was that what those boxes up there were? I noticed them when I came in.”

“That’s right. Customers send their trucks for them. I already have a box of Italian parsley, one of sage, one of thyme, one of lemon balm. And one of tarragon. They’re for The Green Unicorn. That’s a retail plant shop in Richmond.”

“These are all for cooking, right?”

Caitlin grinned. “No bubbling caldrons today. Sorry to disappoint you. Although parsley is a natural diuretic, and tea made from sage or thyme is supposed to help upset stomachs.”

“It would give me one,” Max mumbled as he followed Caitlin to the office.

When Max saw the bags of supplies on the desk, he gave a low whistle. “You actually got these.”

“You said I needed them, didn’t you?”

“Well, you seemed reluctant—”

“Not about average, everyday office supplies. The only thing I objected to was the computer,” Caitlin reminded him.

“And that’s the one thing that you could really put to good use. If you could only see what it—”

“Here, kitty, kitty,” Caitlin interrupted him.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m calling Charlemagne. Now that I know he’s an attack cat, I’m going to train him to get you every time you mention computers in that besotted tone of voice.”