Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
C aitlin finished her preliminary survey of the library the next afternoon and decided to reward herself by having a walk on the nearby beach. As she crossed the back lawn, she heard a car come up the front drive and wondered if it was Holt returning from wherever he had gone.
She hadn’t spoken to him since he left her in the library the day before. He’d even skipped dinner, which worried her a bit. Had she made such a terrible impression that he was avoiding her? She’d passed the office door several times since he’d arrived and seen him hunched over his laptop, intent on his reading, fingers flying over the keyboard as he answered emails or wrote memos or whatever he did to keep his company running smoothly. Even three thousand miles away from his business and life in California, he couldn’t leave them behind. One of the pitfalls of being the boss that she knew well. The only difference between his situation and hers was that she was her company. She had no one else to cause problems, and no one else to rely on. If she had to work twenty hours a day to finish a job, she did.
She continued down to the beach, where Holt surprised her, coming across the lawn behind her and calling her name.
“I saw you through the back windows,” he said, stopping as soon as he reached the sand to remove his shoes and socks and roll up his pants. “Ah, warm sand, cool air. Can’t beat the combination.”
“And cold water?” She gestured toward the dark green water lapping at the shoreline. She had intended to wander the beach alone but decided she would make the effort to enjoy Holt’s company, too. He seemed more relaxed, less stand-offish than he had the past two days. Perhaps getting away from the house was good for him.
“Probably colder than you’re used to.”
Caitlin kicked off her shoes and tugged off her socks, then rolled up her pants legs. “I think a highland loch would be colder than the ocean this time of year.”
Holt shook his head. “I don’t know…”
She heard his rising intonation as a challenge and decided to accept it. Walking into the water until it was ankle-deep, she fought to keep her expression serene. “It is cold, but nowhere near as cold as it would be in the Highlands.”
Holt snorted and moved toward her. She heard the breath he sucked in as soon as his toes touched the water, but he kept going, reaching her and passing until the surge hit just below his knees. “The tide’s coming in. The deeper you go, the colder it gets.”
Caitlin joined him. Holt was a few inches taller, so the water hit her legs just above the knee. “Nay. I swim in colder lochs in the summer.” As soon as she finished speaking, a wave rounding the point rushed the shore and knocked her off her feet.
Caitlin came up spluttering, soaked and chilled through, her teeth chattering. It took a moment for her to realize Holt’s arms were around her, holding her up. He’d gotten wet saving her, but he was marginally warmer than she, so she clung to him. He pushed her hair out of her face as she held onto him, and she caught her breath at his expression— pensive and dark. His lips were damp with sea water, full, and tempting. Would they be warm, or cold? Salty or sweet? Firm or soft? The urge to find out burst through any inhibitions she might have used to guard herself from this man. But before she could react, he scooped her up and carried her back to shore, where he put her down.
“Are you okay?”
She shivered. “I will be once we get back inside,” she said as she moved up the sand. Out of Holt’s embrace, the breeze deepened her chill from her dunking in cold water. Her hands shook and her teeth wanted to keep chattering, but she clenched her jaw. In a rush to collect her shoes and run back to the house to get warm, she hastened across the beach, but halfway, she stepped on something hard and sharp. With a cry, she fell flat-out, arms extended, turning her head in time to keep from getting a mouthful of sand. She pushed up onto her knees, fighting to get her breath back through the pain of the jolt to her knees and torso. Holt reached her in seconds, took her arm and helped her the rest of the way up.
“I never said you had to fall at my feet,” he teased.
Caitlin took a breath, trying to come up with a suitably snarky response. This was the version of Holt who’d mocked her in the library. Before she could speak, Holt crouched next to her.
“You’re bleeding! Give me your foot. No, the other one.”
“I didn’t feel anything.” She put a hand on his shoulder to help her balance on one foot and glanced around and down. The red staining the sand where Holt had helped her stand up surprised her.
“Probably because your foot’s so cold.” Holt brushed sand from her injured foot and inspected the bottom. “The cut’s under the heel. The edges look clean, so maybe you stepped on a broken piece of glass.” He studied the sand around them, then let go of her foot and put his hands on her hips to steady her as she lowered her toes to the sand. Then he stood. “Stay put for a second. I don’t know exactly where you got cut, but I don’t want you to step on anything sharp like that again.”
“Um…what about you?”
“I’m tough.” Holt gave her a grin, then went back to business. “I’m going to put on my shoes, grab yours, then carry you back to the house. Mrs. Smith must keep a first aid kit somewhere.”
“How bad is the cut?” Caitlin did her best to ignore her reaction to Holt’s unexpected grin— there was no reason why it should make her insides melt. She was too cold for that nonsense, and his moods were too changeable. Instead, she turned her foot from side to side, but she could only see bloody sand, not the cut. Stymied, she brushed at the sand coating the front of her body from her fall. She was pretty sure Mrs. Smith wouldn’t appreciate her bringing half the beach into the house with her.
“I don’t think it needs stitches.” Holt stepped up onto the grassy verge, swept sand from his feet with his socks, shook them out and pocketed them, then slipped on his shoes. “But you’ll need to let it heal before you run your next marathon.”
“No problem then. I don’t have one scheduled until….oh, never.”
He stepped back down onto the sand and handed her shoes to her. “Okay, up you go.” He bent and scooped her up before she had time to object that she could probably wrap the injury in her socks and walk on the toes of that foot.
Secure in his arms, Caitlin decided she’d keep her mouth shut. Being snuggled against his body, warmed by his heat, was worth a small cut on her foot. She couldn’t believe stand-offish Holt taking care of her like this. “Do you often rescue damsels in distress?”
He snorted and shrugged off her question. But he held her close and gazed at her, pupils dilated and expression heated in a way she couldn’t mistake. His hand warmed her back as he carried her toward the house. His lips, slightly parted, tempted her again.
Then he looked away. “I don’t often get the opportunity. Women nowadays want to rescue themselves.”
Another reason to be glad she hadn’t insisted on walking.
“I’d think you’d have lasses throwing themselves at your feet, a big, strong, handsome lad like you.” Flustered, Caitlin couldn’t believe she’d just said that, though Holt had said it first, teasing her. But he was giving her that look again, so maybe making a fool of herself had been worth it. “I’m sorry I was so clumsy,” she added, hoping to restore some semblance of her dignity. Yet, that look in his eye told her he wanted her.
“You weren’t clumsy. You were unlucky.”
So, he was ignoring her description of him. Maybe he thought she was making fun of him. But she’d meant every word. Especially now that she was this close to him, with the muscles of his arms burning into her back and the backs of her thighs, one hand curled around her leg, the other holding her against his chest. She lifted her hand, wrapped it around his neck and tunneled her fingers into his hair, telling herself she only meant to warm them. When he leaned his head back into her palm, Caitlin traced his cheek with her other hand. “Thank you.”
“Not necessary. You’d have done the same for me.”
“Well, except for the carrying you to the house part, I suppose.”
Holt laughed at that, his chest vibrating against her ribs, eyes sparkling with mirth and teeth flashing white behind his full lips. “You’re a resourceful woman. You’d have thought of something.” He stepped up onto the back porch. “Can you get the door?”
Caitlin managed to twist the knob and open the door, surprised. This was a very different Holt Ridley than the one she’d dealt with the last two days.
Holt used his shoulder to widen the opening far enough that he could carry her inside. With his foot, he hooked a chair away from the kitchen table then set her down.
“Cross your leg and prop your foot up,” he told her, then turned away. While his back was turned to close the door they’d used, Caitlin shivered, missing his body heat, and watched him move around the kitchen. His wet clothes clung to him in intriguing— and revealing— ways, confirming the sense she’d gotten in his arms that Holt was more muscular than he might appear.
“Any idea where Mrs. Smith would keep emergency supplies?” Holt started pulling open drawers, stretching his wet shirt across his back and shoulders, the sleeves clinging to the muscles of his arms. She pulled her gaze away. Despite how friendly he’d seemed on the beach, and how heroic rescuing her from the waves and the cut on her foot, getting caught drooling over the man who’d hired her was a good way to lose this job.
Instead, she studied their surroundings. This had to be the cleanest kitchen she’d ever seen. The countertops were clear except for a simple white canister set. The cabinets looked old but well-kept. The window over the sink sparkled. On its sill, a small, framed picture of a young man in uniform was the only personal item Caitlin saw.
“Wait, here’s a first-aid kit. Got it.” He grabbed a dishtowel, wet it, sat across from her and pulled her foot and lower leg onto his thighs.
If cleaning the sand from her cut didn’t hurt so much, Caitlin would have sighed at the feel of his muscle beneath her calf. Instead, she winced.
“Sorry.” Holt found a tube of antiseptic ointment in the kit and smeared some on her cut, then tore open a gauze square and stuck it on top. “It stopped bleeding. All this should keep it from getting infected,” he said, reaching for a tape dispenser.
“Don’t bother to tape it,” Caitlin told him. “I need to get cleaned up and put on some dry clothes, then I’ll bandage it again.”
“I’ll help you.”
In the shower? She bit her lip to keep from blurting out the thought. They’d met only two days ago and spent most of that time arguing. She knew better than to encourage him. Or herself.
“Thanks, but I can manage.” She got up to limp to her room and took a couple of mincing steps on her toes.
“Wait.” Holt scooped her up and, over her continued protests that she could manage for herself, carried her upstairs.
“Hush. I’m rescuing you again. Let me enjoy it.” He paused at the door to her suite and put her down, a pained expression on his face.
“What’s wrong? Did you pull something carrying me up here?” How mortifying would that be?
“No, it’s not that. I…Farrell told me you were using my mother’s old rooms. I’ve never seen them.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” She opened the door. “Sorry, my things are all over but look all you want.”
“I’ll wait until you’re not soaking wet, cold, and injured. Go on. Try to keep your foot dry.”
“In the shower?” Shite, there was an image she should not have put in his head. Of course, it was probably already there. On the other hand, he hadn’t reacted to her saying look all you want the way most guys would.
Instead, he nudged her forward into the room. “Okay, I’ll re-bandage it when you’re dressed.” Then he pulled the door shut. With him on the outside. Damn.
* * *
H olt let hot water run over his body, showering off the salt and sand from his adventure at the beach with Caitlin. He didn’t need the heat. Holding Caitlin had warmed him entirely too well, though she hadn’t seemed to notice how holding her soft curves had hardened him.
He turned off the hot water and clenched his muscles as a blast of cold hit his chest and belly. It was not quite as cold as the wave that knocked her down and soaked him, but it did the job.
When he hauled her up, he’d been shocked by more than the cold. She fit against him so well. That contact made him hungry for her in a way he knew was trouble. Picking her up, holding her against his chest, feeling her fingers in his hair and her palm cupping the back of his head, her gentle touch on his cheek, he would stand in cold water for hours for the chance to feel that again and to see the way she looked at him in that moment. His face must have given away his desire, but hers did, too.
It was way too soon for them to go there. He would be foolish to think there could be anything more than infatuation between them. Not this fast, and not the way they argued. But touching her reinforced the attraction he’d felt for her the first time he’d seen her pert rear backing out of the cabinet in the office. The attraction that had kept him away from her for the last twenty-four hours. He should have continued to keep his distance instead of joining her on the beach.
Still, Caitlin Paterson fit against him as if she belonged in his arms. And because they were both here for only a short time, there was no danger of the kind of entanglement Helen had woven around him into his business affairs. Helen had made him miserable and put his company at risk. Damn her for spoiling any chance he had at trusting another woman. If she hadn’t gone after his company, he could have moved on from their breakup and put her out of his mind. But her betrayal would stay with him for a long time. He should have expected it. It was just another betrayal in a long list of them, starting with his absent father and moving on to his great-aunt’s treatment of his mother and him. But Helen had caught him by surprise, nonetheless.
He ducked his head under the spray, then shoved his hair back and scrubbed cold drops of water from his face. As near as he could tell, Caitlin was no Helen. And Scotland— where Caitlin was headed as soon as she finished the job she’d come here to do— was comfortably far off. She wasn’t staying. She would not have time to become so enmeshed in his life.
He stepped from the shower, grabbed a towel and paused. They had no future. Maybe he needed to stop wasting his time getting all worked up. If he went into this knowing it had a short shelf-life, maybe they both could enjoy themselves. If she was willing. If she was as interested in him as she seemed to be, maybe they could enjoy a few days or weeks together. Afterward, she’d be out of his life forever.
* * *
A fter her shower, Caitlin dressed and limped back to the kitchen to re-bandage her foot herself, then sweep up any sand they’d left behind.
Mrs. Smith came in as she pulled on thick socks.
“Good heavens, what happened to you? Are you all right?” She set some shopping bags on the counter and turned to Caitlin, hands-on-hips, and surveyed the remains of her first aid— the open kit, gauze and a tape dispenser on the table.
“A little damage control. I stepped on something on the beach. Sorry for any mess we made. I’ll sweep up.”
Mrs. Smith ignored her offer. “You were out there, barefoot?”
“Aye, well, Holt and I had a wee contest to see which was colder, the ocean or a loch. So I had to take off my shoes.”
Mrs. Smith laughed at that. “And who won?”
“Actually, we never came to a decision. A wave knocked me under, and Holt had to rescue me.” A warm tingle ran down her spine at the memory of being held in Holt’s arms. Caitlin wanted to wallow in the feeling, but with Mrs. Smith eyeing her, she pushed it away, finished replacing supplies in the kit and closed it.
Mrs. Smith gave her a speculative look. “As long as you’re sure you don’t need stitches.” When Caitlin shook her head, she turned back to her groceries.
“’Tisn’t bad,” she managed to say. “I’ll get out of your way soon.” As she put the kit in the drawer where Holt had found it, her gaze fell on the picture on the window ledge. “I don’t want to pry, but that’s a fine-looking lad. Who is he?”
Mrs. Smith paused from putting away groceries to smile at the photo. “My son, on the day he graduated from basic training. He lived here while he went to school, then joined the service.”
“He’s very handsome.” What was it about men in uniform? It seemed to make a square jaw sharper, the glint in the eye more steely.
“Thank you.” Mrs. Smith gazed at the picture for a moment longer, then seemed to recollect herself. “Dinner will be ready in an hour, dear. You should go upstairs and rest until then”
“Brilliant. I’ll take your advice.”
An hour later, Caitlin limped a bit on the way down to dinner. The gash in her foot hurt like mad if she put too much weight on it but was not enough to require a doctor. Holt glanced at her foot as she walked in the small dining room. She forced herself not to limp, despite the discomfort it caused.
He didn’t mention her injury or ask why she hadn’t let him re-bandage it. Nor did he mention their contest or anything that followed. She tamped down on the disappointment that hollowed out her chest. True, he’d been rescuing her, but the touching and the heated looks, she hadn’t imagined them, right? Instead, now he behaved as if they hadn’t been wrapped in each other’s arms a few hours earlier. He’d retreated back into himself, and for the entire dinner, didn’t have much more to say than politeness required.
When the dessert course arrived, Holt announced casually, “I need to run into town tomorrow morning. Is there anything I can pick up for you while I’m there?”
Caitlin knew an opportunity when she saw one and wasn’t going to let this one pass her by. Going with Holt would save her a drive on the wrong side of the road, and might give her a chance, away from the estate he loathed, to see him unbend even more than he had in the water today. In any case, she could deliver the coffee she’d promised Doc Coates, then if there was time, do some quick shopping for gifts for Farrell and Mrs. Smith.
“Actually, I owe a visit to a…friend…before the holiday.” What did one call one’s rescuers? Not a friend exactly, but acquaintance didn’t feel right, either, not for Holt and not for Doc Coates. “Perhaps I could do that while you’re busy, then you could pick me up?” She could see the wheels turning in Holt’s mind as he debated how much of an imposition her request would be on his time and plans. After much less cogitation than was his usual practice, he nodded.
“Sure. No problem. Will you be okay walking on your cut foot?”
Finally! So he did remember what happened today. Caitlin appreciated his concern, no matter how belatedly he expressed it. “I’ll be fine.”
He studied her for a moment, then asked, “Can you be ready to leave right after breakfast?”
Did he doubt her word? If she didn’t want him to do her this favor, she might have challenged him on that look, but she didn’t want him to withdraw his offer. “Aye,” she said, sipping her wine. “Earlier, if you need…”
“After breakfast will work,” Holt said around his last bite of cake. He rose and headed for the door, then turned back. “Wear something warm. It’s supposed to snow tomorrow.”
“Thanks, I will.” She grimaced at his retreating back. Though they’d discussed where she came from several times, including during their contest on the beach, he still didn’t seem to understand that she came from a cold climate in Scotland, and she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.