Only You (7 page)

“Besotted!” Max protested. “What do you mean, besotted?”

“Just what I said. You start going on about computers in the same reverent voice that Jordan uses when he talks about his favorite baseball player.”

“I do not!”

Caitlin smiled. “Oh, yes, you dooooo,” she singsonged.

“Oh, no, I dooon’t,” Max sang back, and took a step toward her.

“Do too!” she teased.

“Do not!” He took another step toward her.

“Too!”

“Not!” Max took one more step, then placed his hands on the desk, one on either side of her, effectively trapping her. His eyes greedily fastened on her mouth.

“I am not besotted with computers,” he murmured, his warm breath fanning her cheek. “The only thing I seem to be besotted with these days is a pint-sized angel with golden curls and chocolate-brown eyes.” He lowered his head and feathered soft kisses across her cheek to her mouth.

“No—” was all Caitlin got out before his lips moved over hers. As delicate as a baby’s touch, as warm as a summer day, his lips seduced until hers softened in surrender.

Caitlin quivered at the hot, weak feeling that suffused her. Her hands fluttered up and lay, open-palmed, on his chest. Her mouth opened to the persistent urging of his tongue, and with a groan of triumph he moved in to explore this new territory as his arms tightened around her.

One minute she was feeling the heat of his body,
the beating of his heart. The next, her private demon infused her hands with the strength necessary to push him away.

Max stared at her for a long moment before he realized that it was terror, not passion, that glazed her eyes. Her lips had tasted so sweet, so right, and only the blind panic that flared in her unseeing gaze kept Max from pulling her back. He took a deep breath, realizing that he’d crossed some invisible barrier.

The fear on her face ate at him like acid, and he knew he had to do something to ease it. He tentatively reached out a hand and ran his fingers gently down her cheek, all the while murmuring reassurances. He wasn’t even sure what he said, but it didn’t seem to matter.

After a minute or two Caitlin blinked and gave a tremulous smile. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was a choked whisper, and a dull flush crept up her cheeks. “I’m all right.”

“You want to talk about it, Cait?” Max’s voice was steady. Amazing, he thought, considering the confusion inside.

Caitlin shook her head vigorously, refusing to meet his eyes. “No.”

“For God’s sake! What happened to you? Who did this to you?” The words burst out before Max could stop them. A stricken look crossed her face.

“Caitlin,” he began more calmly, but she whirled and ran out of the office before he could reach out a hand to her.

“You want to tell me why you’re here in the middle of the day instead of at work?” Donna asked as she set iced herb tea in front of Caitlin.

Caitlin picked up her glass and took a sip. “Can’t I just come visit a friend if I want?”

“You don’t usually,” Donna replied dryly. “Not during a business day.”

“Maybe I just felt like seeing a friend today,” Caitlin said defensively.

“Maybe you just needed to talk to somebody today.”

Caitlin’s voice was almost a whisper. “Maybe I did.”

“So talk.”

Silence fell for a long moment, then Caitlin said, “I’m thinking about calling Dr. Atlee.”

Donna pondered this briefly. “Your therapist?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you stopped seeing her several years ago because she wasn’t helping.”

Caitlin sighed. “I stopped seeing her because she told me I was clinging to fear because it was safer than dealing with other feelings. I didn’t want to hear that. I wanted her to say some magic words and make all the fear go away.”

“And now?”

“Now I think I understand what she meant. It was safer to be afraid than to risk being hurt emotionally. But I’m tired of being afraid now.”

“Does this man you’ve met have anything to do with this decision?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Caitlin stared down at her drink as if it held the answer. “I’m not doing this because I want a relationship with him—because I don’t. We’re too different. But he’s made me see what an emotional basket-case I’ve become. I’m doing this for me.”

She paused for a moment, then continued. “It’s like I live with a very ugly ghost. Everywhere I go,
everything I do, I can see that ghost watching from the shadows, ready to pounce if I get too happy. Maybe I wasn’t up to fighting that ghost several years ago, but I’m going to fight it now.”

“Gonna put on the ol’ boxing gloves, huh?” Donna said gently.

Caitlin smiled. “Yeah.”

Donna walked over to Caitlin and gave her a hug. “Good for you. Welcome back, Caitlin dear.”

Max wandered around the greenhouse. His shoes crunching in the gravel and the constant whirr of the fans were the only sounds he could hear, though he kept listening for something that would let him know Caitlin had returned. She’d been gone over an hour.

He kept replaying certain things in his mind. Caitlin did not like being touched. Caitlin got nervous when someone came up behind her. Caitlin had not been married to an abusive husband. Caitlin was afraid. Yet she was so feisty and independent, he could think of only one thing that would leave her spirit wounded in that way.

A sick feeling hit Max in the stomach and he clenched his fists so tight, his fingernails dug into his palms. She’d been raped. Maybe he was wrong, but try as he would, that seemed to be the only thing that fit. A bitter anger began to burn in Max at whoever had dared to hurt her. He could only hope the rapist had been caught and was still serving a long, long sentence. It would be safer for the bastard, he thought darkly, because God help him if he ever got his hands on him.

Max heard a footstep behind him and turned around to see Caitlin standing there.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d still be here,” she murmured.

“I’m not going anywhere.” His words were a promise.

Caitlin looked up but did not meet his eyes, her gaze fastening on his chin instead. “Look, I’m sorry about—about what happened before. I guess I overreacted. I—”

“I understand, Cait,” Max said quietly. He reached over and took her hand, holding it between his.

“Caitlin,” she corrected him once more.

Max went on as if he hadn’t heard. “I’d like to know what those plants are over there.” He walked toward a long, low bench of seedlings in the back.

Since he still held her hand, Caitlin had no choice but to follow. As he slowly led her down the narrow aisle, he stopped at each row of seedlings and asked Caitlin what they were. Through it all, he kept a gentle but firm grip on her. Caitlin gave a few experimental tugs to free herself, but Max only tightened his fingers momentarily.

“Shouldn’t we go into the office?” Caitlin asked, wondering what Max was up to.

“Hmm? Oh, no. Not yet anyway. I want to know what you use this for.” He pointed to the half-bench of Scutellaria lateriflora. “Do you use this for cooking or for something else?”

Caitlin cast a puzzled glance at him. She had a feeling that he didn’t really care what they were, but she answered anyway. “It’s a Native American wildflower commonly called skullcap. It’s a medicinal herb originally used by the American Indians. It blooms in summer with little lavender flowers at the top.”

“And what’s this?” He pointed to another half-bench of plants.

“Are you really interested in all this?” Caitlin asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

Max flashed an angelic smile. “Cait—”

“Caitlin,” she interrupted.

“Cait, I’m interested in anything you have to say.”

Caitlin snorted doubtfully. “Well then, that’s Echinacea. It’s also called purple coneflower. It’s another native wildflower.”

“What’s it used for?”

“It has antiseptic qualities and is supposed to boost the immune system.”

“Have you ever tried it?”

“I take some every day.” Caitlin gave a quick tug to her hand.

This time Max not only tightened his grip a little but laced his fingers with hers. Caitlin frowned. “Excuse me, but could I have my hand back, please?”

“Why? Are you using it?”

“I will be.”

“Well, when you’re ready to use it, let me know and I’ll give it back,” Max said reasonably.

“Maybe I’d like to have it back now.”

“But I’m getting so much use out of it now,” Max said. “You wouldn’t take it away just when I was getting so attached to it, would you?”

Caitlin found a smile twitching at her lips. “If you need something to hold that bad, I think Jordan has a teddy bear he could lend you.” Her smile widened at the thought of Max snuggling with a teddy bear at night, then faded when the thought took one step further and had her snuggling with Max at night, their arms and legs
entwined. Caitlin pressed her free hand to her stomach. What was happening to her? She’d never had fantasies like this before!

“Hey, Ms. Love, guess where I took Diana Friday night?” K.C. bounded up, then stopped short. From the look on his face it was obvious to Max that he wasn’t used to coming in and finding his boss holding hands with anyone. This was something that Max dedicated himself to changing. If he had his druthers, Caitlin was going to get used to holding his hand, and often.

So far, so good, Max thought as Caitlin’s hand relaxed in his and she chatted with the boy about his date and asked about Martha, who was still out with the flu. But it turned out that Max let his guard down too soon. No sooner had his grip loosened than Caitlin gave a sudden tug, freeing her hand.

Caitlin gave him a superior smile and fluttered her lashes, but Max could only grin. Slowly, he licked the end of his index finger and made an imaginary mark in the air. So much for round two, he thought. That made one for Cait. Guess they were even Steven.

Caitlin didn’t see Max again for two weeks. He was in northern Virginia on business, and he called every night. Each call lasted only a few minutes, but Caitlin looked forward to them anyway. She also felt a bit jealous when Jordan answered the phone and spent twenty minutes with Max, whereas when she answered, she rated only a measly ten.

On Sunday afternoon Caitlin sat on a lounge chair in the backyard and practiced the breathing relaxation exercises Dr. Atlee had told her to try. She’d seen her every day since Max went out of town. In the middle of an “inhale—count five—exhale,” she heard that oh so familiar voice. “Cait?”

“Caitlin,” she corrected him, then smiled up at Max. It was so good to see him, even in his dark gray three-piece suit. “Did northern Virginia finally kick you out?”

He grinned. “They said if I didn’t leave, they’d shoot me on sight. May I ask what you’re doing?”
Max’s gaze ran over her, cataloging the details. She wore jean cutoffs that showed off her shapely legs and another T-shirt that faithfully outlined the full curves beneath, even the points of her nipples. His eyes lingered for a moment on the topknot of rebellious curls, then fastened on her warm brown eyes.

“What am I doing?” Caitlin repeated, fidgeting beneath his thorough appraisal. “I’m practicing my breathing.”

“Oh, well, sure,” Max murmured. “We wouldn’t want to forget how to do that.”

“It’s a relaxation technique, Max.” Caitlin sighed. “Was there a particular reason you came by?”

Max dropped down on the grass next to the chair—after spreading his handkerchief to keep his pants clean. “Yeah. I want to learn how to breathe too. Teach me, Cait.”

“Caitlin.”

“Hey, you call me Max, so—”

“All right then,” Caitlin teased. “Maximillian.”

Max gave an indignant snort. “I’ll never know what my parents were thinking of when they stuck that name on me. My sister has a nice, normal name. Even my younger brother has a nice, normal name. I got stuck with Maximillian. Can you imagine the fun the other kids had with that?”

“Why didn’t you go by your middle name?”

“Never.” He looked horrified at the very idea.

“Why not?”

Max cast exaggerated looks over his left shoulder, then his right, as if looking for spies. In a stage whisper he said, “Cross your heart, and promise never to repeat what I am about to tell you.”

Caitlin rolled her eyes and suppressed a giggle. “I promise.”

“My middle name is worse than Maximillian.”

“No!” Caitlin pretended to be shocked.

“Yes! It’s—” He crooked his finger and motioned her closer. When she inclined her head to his, he whispered, “It’s Tobias.”

Her suppressed giggle finally escaped. “Tobias? Maximillian Tobias?” She flashed him an impish grin, thinking how appealing he was. “Well, since you insist on calling me Cait, I think I shall begin calling you Maximillian Tobias.”

“All right,
Caitlin.
You win.”

“Thank you,
Max.
I’m glad you appreciate my point of view.”

“It’s easy to appreciate something when you see it from the wrong end of a loaded gun,” Max muttered. “Okay, Caitlin, teach me to breathe, in case I ever forget how.”

Caitlin told him the basics of the exercise, but when she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, Max found himself watching her instead of joining in. He was reminded of when his sister had been pregnant. He wondered how Caitlin would look pregnant—her breasts even lusher, her body ripe with the baby. His baby?

His fantasy extended to the making of the baby—her breasts pliant and responsive to his touch, those beautiful legs wrapped around him. The thoughts were so arousing that Max found he needed the deep breathing exercise just to regain his control.

Despite his arousal, Max couldn’t help but notice that there was something different about her. He wasn’t sure what. Maybe it was that her eyes had not erected their protective shield as soon as
she’d seen him. Maybe it was that she had not automatically stiffened her back and squared her shoulders. Maybe it was that she seemed warmer, softer. Whatever it was, it had Max at a loss for words.

That situation was remedied quickly, however, when Jordan shot across the lawn and attacked Max, knocking him on his back. “Hi, Max. How long you been here? I thought you might call. I’m glad you came instead. When you called me, did you call from your car phone? I never got called from a car phone before.” Jordan made this ninety-mile-an-hour speech as he sat on Max’s chest.