Chapter Seven #2
It must have been a busy day for Lindy, as well, because Cait hadn’t had a chance to talk to her, either. They’d met on their way out the door late that afternoon and Lindy had hurried past, saying she’d see Cait at Paul’s party.
“I think I’ll go help Lindy with the hors d’oeuvres,” Cait said now. “Do you want me to get you anything?”
“Nothing, thanks.” He was grinning as he strolled away, leaving Cait to wonder what he found so amusing.
Cait limped into the kitchen, leaving the polished wooden door swinging in her wake. She stopped abruptly when she encountered Paul and Lindy in the middle of a heated discussion.
“Oh, sorry,” Cait apologized automatically.
Paul’s gaze darted to Cait’s. “No problem,” he said quickly. “I was just leaving.” He stalked past her, shoving the door open with the palm of his hand. Once again the door swung back and forth.
“What was that all about?” Cait wanted to know.
Lindy continued transferring the small cheese-dotted crackers from the cookie sheet onto the serving platter. “Nothing.”
“It sounded as if you and Paul were arguing.”
Lindy straightened and bit her lip. She avoided looking at Cait, concentrating on her task as if it was of vital importance to properly arrange the crackers on the plate.
“You were arguing, weren’t you?” Cait pressed.
“Yes.”
As far as she knew, Lindy and Paul had always gotten along. The fact that they were at odds surprised her. “About what?”
“I—I gave Paul my two-week notice this afternoon.”
Cait was so shocked, she pulled out a kitchen chair and sank down on it. “You did what ?” Removing her high heels, she massaged her pinched toes.
“You heard me.”
“But why? Good grief, Lindy, you never said a word to anyone. Not even me. The least you could’ve done was talk to me about it first.” No wonder Paul was angry.
If Lindy left, it would mean bringing in someone new when the office was already short-staffed.
With Cait and a number of other people away for the holidays, the place would be a madhouse.
“Did you receive an offer you couldn’t refuse?” Cait hadn’t had any idea her friend was unhappy at Webster, Rodale and Missen. Still, that didn’t shock her nearly as much as Lindy’s remaining tight-lipped about it all.
“It wasn’t exactly an offer—but it was something like that,” Lindy replied vaguely. She set aside the cookie sheet, smiled at Cait and then carried the platter into the living room.
For the past couple of weeks Cait had noticed that something was troubling her friend.
It hadn’t been anything she could readily name.
Just that Lindy hadn’t been her usual high-spirited self.
Cait had meant to ask her about it, but she’d been so busy herself, so involved with her own problems, that she’d never brought it up.
She was still sitting there rubbing her feet when Joe sauntered into the kitchen, nibbling on a cheese cracker. “I thought I’d find you in here.” He pulled out the chair across from her and sat down.
“Has she arrived yet?”
“Apparently so.”
Cait dropped her foot and frantically worked the shoe back and forth until she’d managed to squeeze her toes inside.
Then she forced her other foot into its shoe.
“Well, for heaven’s sake, why didn’t you say something sooner?
” she chastised. She stood up, ran her hands down the satin skirt and drew a shaky breath. “How do I look?”
“Like your feet hurt.”
She sent him a scalding frown. “Thank you very much,” she said sarcastically for the second time in under ten minutes. Hobbling to the door, she opened it a crack and peeked out, hoping to catch sight of the mystery woman. From what she could see, there weren’t any new arrivals.
“What does she look like?” Cait demanded and whirled around to discover Joe standing directly behind her.
She nearly collided with him and gave a small cry of surprise.
Joe caught her by the shoulders to keep her from stumbling.
Eager to question him about Paul’s date, she didn’t take the time to analyze why her heartrate soared when his hands made contact with her bare skin.
“What does she look like?” Cait asked again.
“I don’t know,” Joe returned flippantly.
“What do you mean you don’t know? You just said she’d arrived.”
“Unfortunately she doesn’t have a tattoo across her forehead announcing that she’s the woman Paul’s dating.”
“Then how do you know she’s here?” If Joe was playing games with her, she’d make damn sure he’d regret it. Her love for Paul was no joking matter.
“It’s more a feeling I have.”
“You had me stuff my feet back into these shoes for a stupid feeling?” It was all she could do not to slap him silly. “You are no friend of mine, Joseph Rockwell. No friend whatsoever.” Having said that, she limped back into the living room.
Obviously unscathed by her remark, Joe wandered out of the kitchen behind her. He walked over to the tray of canapés and helped himself to three or four while Cait did her best to ignore him.
Since the punch bowl was close by, she poured herself a second glass. The taste was sweet and cold, but Cait noticed that she felt a bit light-headed afterward. Potent drinks didn’t sit well on an empty stomach, so she scooped up a handful of mixed nuts.
“I remember a time when you used to line up all the Spanish peanuts and eat those first,” Joe said from behind her. “Then it was the hazelnuts, followed by the—”
“Almonds.” Leave it to him to bring up her foolish past. “I haven’t done that since I was—”
“Twenty,” he guessed.
“Twenty-five,” she corrected.
Joe laughed, and despite her aching feet and the certainty that she should never have come to this party, Cait laughed, too.
Refilling her punch glass, she downed it all in a single drink. Once more, it tasted cool and refreshing.
“Cait,” Joe warned, “how much punch have you had?”
“Not enough.” She filled the crystal cup a third time—or was it the fourth?—squared her shoulders and gulped it down. When she’d finished, she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and smiled bravely.
“Are you purposely trying to get drunk?” he demanded.
“No.” She reached for another handful of nuts. “All I’m looking for is a little courage.”
“Courage?”
“Yes,” she said with a sigh. “The way I figure it...” She paused, smiling giddily, then whirled around in a full circle. “There is some mistletoe here, isn’t there?”
“I think so,” Joe said, frowning. “What makes you ask?”
“I’m going to kiss Paul,” she said proudly.
“All I have to do is wait until he walks past. Then I’ll grab him by the hand, wish him a merry Christmas and give him a kiss he won’t soon forget.
” If the fantasy fulfilled itself, Paul would immediately realize he’d met the woman of his dreams, and propose marriage on the spot. ...
“What is kissing Paul supposed to prove?”
She returned to reality. “Well, this is where you come in. I want you to look around and watch the faces of the other women. If one of them shows signs of jealousy, then we’ll know who it is.”
“I’m not sure this plan of yours is going to work.”
“It’s better than trusting those feelings of yours,” she countered.
She saw the mistletoe hanging from the archway between the formal dining room and the living room. Slouched against the wall, hands tucked behind her back, Cait waited patiently for Paul to stroll past.
Ten minutes passed or maybe it was fifteen—Cait couldn’t tell. Yawning, she covered her mouth. “I think we should leave,” Joe suggested as he casually walked by. “You’re ready to fall asleep on your feet.”
“I haven’t kissed Paul yet,” she reminded him.
“He seems to be involved in a lengthy discussion. This could take a while.”
“I’m in no hurry.” Her throat felt unusually dry. She would have preferred something nonalcoholic, but the only drink nearby was the punch.
“Cait,” Joe warned when he saw her helping herself to yet another glass.
“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”
“So did the captain of the Titanic .”
“Don’t get cute with me, Joseph Rockwell. I’m in no mood to deal with someone amusing.” Finding herself hilariously funny, she smothered a round of giggles.
“Oh, no,” Joe groaned. “I was afraid of this.”
“Afraid of what?”
“You’re drunk!”
She gave him a sour look. “That’s ridiculous.
All I had is four little, bitty glasses of punch.
” To prove she knew exactly what she was doing, she held up three fingers, recognized her mistake and promptly corrected herself.
At least she tried to do it promptly, but figuring out how many fingers equaled four seemed to take an inordinate amount of time. She finally held up two from each hand.
Expelling her breath, she leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes.
That was her second mistake. The world took a sharp and unexpected nosedive.
Snapping open her eyes, Cait looked to Joe as the anchor that would keep her afloat.
He must have read the panic in her expression because he moved toward her and slowly shook his head.
“That does it, Ms. Singapore Sling. I’m getting you out of here.”
“But I haven’t been under the mistletoe yet.”
“If you want anyone to kiss you, it’ll be me.”
The offer sounded tempting, but it was her stubborn boss Cait wanted to kiss, not Joe. “I’d rather dance with you.”
“Unfortunately there isn’t any music at the moment.”
“You need music to dance?” It sounded like the saddest thing she’d ever heard, and her bottom lip began to tremble at the tragedy of it all. “Oh, dear, Joe,” she whispered, clasping both hands to the sides of her head. “I think you might be right. The punch seems to be affecting me....”
“It’s that bad, is it?”
“Uh, yes... The whole room’s just started to pitch and heave. We’re not having an earthquake, are we?”
“No.” His hand was on her forearm, guiding her toward the front door.
“Wait,” she said dramatically, raising her index finger. “I have a coat.”