Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
T he next morning, Caitlin made sure her cut heel was bandaged and padded enough to let her walk comfortably, then got some work done before she heard Holt come down for his breakfast. She had another cup of tea while he ate, then went to grab her coat. She arrived in the foyer in time to see Holt pull the estate’s Mercedes SUV up to the front portico. So he trusted her to be on time. Or perhaps, he simply intended to warm the car so their drive would be more comfortable. He did have a considerate side, even if, like his smile, he rarely chose to display it.
She wrapped her scarf around her neck and stepped outside. The sudden cold took her breath for a moment. “Hiya. You were right,” she announced as she slid into her seat, intending to reward his consideration with an appeal to his male ego. “It’s much colder than yesterday. I hope whatever you have planned in the village is indoors.”
Holt kept his gaze averted as he pulled from the drive onto the street. “Business is typically conducted in an office, so yes, indoors. What about you? Where shall I drop you?”
“Do you know where Dr. Coates’s office is?”
Holt’s gaze cut to her. “Doctor? Is your foot infected? Are you ill?”
She appreciated his show of concern but sighed in relief when he turned his attention back to the road in front of them. “Nay, no’ even a wee. Dr. Coates is a veterinarian. A friend.” She’d never told Holt about the attempted purse-snatching but now was as good a time as any. “He saved me from getting nicked my first trip to the village. I think you call it a mugging.”
“You were mugged?” Holt’s gaze left the road again. This time, he frowned at her. “You never told me. That bandage on your hand yesterday…?”
She lifted her hand and displayed a thin, pink line, all that remained of her injury. “A scratch from the buckle on my purse strap. I refused to let go of it. Thanks to Dr. Coates, there was little to tell.” She shrugged as Holt returned his attention to the road.
“Then tell me the little there is,” he said. A muscle in his jaw flexed. Was he angry? That she hadn’t told him? Or about what happened to her?
“A man…a lad, really…tried to nick my purse. Dr. Coates was nearby and heard me yelling. He grabbed the thief, got my purse back, and held the lad until the local constable arrived and took charge of him.”
“I’m…sorry. And embarrassed you had such an unfortunate introduction to the village.”
Since when did he care what anyone thought about anything in this area? He was fighting to leave as quickly as he could, wasn’t he? “Ach, nay. Actually, it was quite fortunate. Otherwise, I might never have met the doctor or Alice Nash, the lady who owns the bakery.”
Holt frowned again. “Sounds like he did a good job rescuing you.”
Was he equating that with yesterday’s adventure in the sound? “Are you saying I need a lot of rescuing? Or that you think I’m unlucky? Getting mugged wasn’t my fault.”
“Of course not. You’re lucky the vet heard you.”
“Aye, he was very nice,” she answered, somewhat mollified. “According to Alice, he’s been in the village only two years. He’s done so much in that time. A successful veterinary practice, in the Army before that. He trains service dogs, too.”
“Admirable.”
Did Holt’s jaw look a wee more tense? Surely he wasn’t jealous. He’d never met the man, and she’d given no indication Doc Coates was more than a friend. Surprised, she changed the subject and spent the next few minutes directing Holt to the veterinary practice. Once Holt stopped the car in front of it, she reached for the door handle. “How long do you think your business will take?”
“No more than an hour and a half,” Holt responded, his gaze on the building.
Caitlin glanced around. One of the vet techs was walking a medium-sized dog with a missing front leg. She glanced back in time to see Holt wince. In sympathy for the dog? He might be an ultra-rich captain of the dot-com industry, but there was a heart in there somewhere. One he kept well-hidden and took out only to rescue damsels in distress. And maybe animals, too. “When you’re done, just come in and ask the receptionist, Rachel. She’ll ken where I am. Um…you’re not allergic to dogs or cats, are you?”
“Not that I’m aware.” His gaze followed the three-legged dog as the tech led it around the side of the building, then Holt’s brow furrowed. He sighed when it disappeared.
If he’d had a pet, he’d know if he was allergic. How sad. Caitlin took pity on him and didn’t remark on his reaction to the dog, but his sympathy for it reassured her.
“Great. I’ll see you in an hour or so.” She opened the door and popped out before he could respond. As soon as she closed it, he pulled away. Caitlin stood on the sidewalk, watching as his brake lights came on and he rounded the next corner. Caitlin suspected Holt had depths he’d yet to reveal, but she liked the hints she’d gotten from him yesterday and today.
* * *
H olt met with Mr. Thornton, the lawyer who had shown up in his California office. After reading through the papers Thornton left on Holt’s desk that day, Holt had a few procedural questions, but the one item forefront in his mind was the paper he’d found from his alma mater.
“You are correct,” Thornton told him, to Holt’s disbelief. “Your great-aunt funded the scholarship that allowed you to attend Stanford.”
“Why would she have done that?” Holt demanded, though he suspected he knew the reason. Sending him to school across the country had been another way to punish his mother.
“Her reasons were never communicated to me,” Thornton told him. “But her gift served to provide you with an excellent education and gave you the start to the successful life you’ve made for yourself.”
Holt didn’t see anything to be gained by arguing the point with him. If Thornton wanted to think the best of Holt’s great-aunt, he wouldn’t waste time trying to dissuade him.
“Do you intend to remain for the stipulated period to retain the estate?”
Now that he had seen the property, he was no less eager to unload it than he had been in California when he got the news about his inheritance. “Besides being dragged into court, what happens if I refuse the bequest?”
“It becomes the property of the local jurisdiction. I understand some developers are already filing paperwork to buy it. They would change the character of the area forever, I fear.”
Holt could imagine what Caitlin’s reaction would be to some local politician disposing of the estate. And of a developer tearing down the house to build something else. Condos? Even he couldn’t stomach the idea. She’d be furious, but even though he was beginning to see some of what she appreciated in the estate, he had not changed his mind about getting rid of it. Thornton’s comment only cemented Holt’s resolve that he would be the one to determine what happened to it. “At my office, you mentioned that brief visits away are allowed.”
“As long as you clear them with me.”
“Our meeting today is well-timed, then. I have a contracts meeting in New York City starting tomorrow. I’ll take the train and return as soon as my business is finished. Likely no more than three days.”
Thornton agreed, of course. Holt knew he would. It was a necessary and reasonable business-related request.
His next meeting, with a real estate attorney, would tell him more about putting the estate on the market. He killed some time before the appointment, walking around the village. Every shop window he passed boasted a riot of red and green ribbons, evergreen boughs, wrapped presents, or fake snow and crystals suspended from the ceiling on nearly invisible fishing line. The colors and sparkles caught his gaze, but images of Caitlin with this Doctor Coates, the veterinarian, kept intruding.
The cold water yesterday and the Christmas decorations in the village today must have frozen his brain’s logic centers. That could be the only explanation for why he stood here longing for some fantasy full of colored lights, unwrapping presents— or undressing Caitlin— and happy endings.
It was too soon after the Helen debacle to take up with another woman, especially one he’d known for only two, no, three days. He had to stop thinking about Caitlin that way, but it didn’t stop him from wondering what kind of friend the doc was to her. Her enthusiasm, as she’d told him about the vet and his good works, made Holt’s blood pressure rise. In addition to apparently having a heart of gold, was he tall and handsome? No woman in her prime could resist that combination.
Caitlin was definitely a woman in her prime with curves in all the right places that felt like heaven in his arms. Her smile ranged from sweet to snarky, and she had a temperament to match. Intelligent. Dedicated, with a sterling reputation in her profession. If he had any sense, he’d go after her. Since their visit to the beach, the thought of her with another man made his jaw lock.
Was he jealous? And of someone he’d never met? Ridiculous. Impossible. He shouldn’t care. Before long, he would return to California, and she to Scotland. But the idea persisted.
After the meeting with the realtor, he reclaimed his car, then parked on the street in front of the vet’s office and took a breath. He saw only one way to put his wild imaginings to rest. Meet the man. Watch Caitlin interact with him. Accept whatever he observed and get on with his life back in California as quickly as possible.
A bell tinkled over the door as he entered. Tiny twinkling white lights framed the interior of every window. Construction paper ornaments shaped like dog biscuits, and kittens and puppies with wings were strung across the glass and embellished with names spelled out in glitter. Holt surmised they must be the names of peoples’ pets. Silver garland and shiny red and green balls draped the front of the reception desk. A small, decorated tree sat on a corner table. Holiday music played low in the background, almost covered by the occasional outraged feline yowl or canine whine. A whiff of animal urine and wet fur made him wrinkle his nose. A few people sat with animal carriers on their laps or larger dogs at their feet, the dogs’ tails thumping in excitement— or more likely, anxiety. He sympathized.
“I’m looking for Caitlin Paterson,” he told the girl at the desk. “I’m supposed to meet her here.”
“You must be Mr. Ridley,” the girl answered with a blazing white smile. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Rachel. Merry Christmas.”
“Um…Merry Christmas.” He summoned a smile.
The girl nodded. “Follow me.” She gestured to an adjoining hallway.
Holt followed her down a long hall lined with examination rooms. If Caitlin was alone with the vet in his office, Holt hoped he wouldn’t walk in on anything too friendly.
“Here we are,” the receptionist announced cheerily. “Caitlin, your friend Mr. Ridley is here.”
The receptionist moved out of the way, and Holt found himself looking into another exam room. Caitlin was stripping off gloves as she turned toward him. The vet, if that is who he was, was putting a puppy into a carrier, his back to Holt. The lab coat hid his build, but he appeared to be a little shorter than Holt.
“Thanks, Rachel. Holt Ridley,” Caitlin said as she walked forward, then took Holt’s arm. “Come meet Doc Coates.”
The vet turned around and pulled off his gloves, then held out a hand to Holt. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Ridley. Caitlin has had a lot of nice things to say about you.”
Caitlin had nice things to say about him? Since when? “Good to meet you, too.” Holt shook his hand while he studied the man. He was older than Holt had imagined, with a little silver sprinkled in his hair, but his build was still trim and strong, as was his grip. He looked familiar, yet Holt was sure they’d never met. The vet seemed to consider him, too. Holt nearly asked, but Caitlin interrupted.
“I’ve told Holt what little I know about what you do here, Doc, but if you have a few minutes, I hoped you might show him more.”
“I don’t want to take up your time,” Holt objected, thinking of the crowded waiting room. “I’m sure you’re busy.”
“Not at the moment. My techs are dealing with the routine cases— vaccinations and so forth. This little guy,” he said, gesturing at the puppy in the carrier, “just finished his wellness check. He’s going to board with us while his foster family is out of town for the holidays. He’s also one of the potential search-and-rescue trainees.”
Caitlin beamed at the puppy, then at the vet.
Holt fought to keep a frown from his face. “That’s very interes?—”
“Doc Coates,” the receptionist called as she burst into the room, cheeks red against her suddenly pale face. “Someone just brought in a puppy that might have Parvo.”
“Put them in the nearest empty exam room. I’ll be right there.” He turned to include both Caitlin and Holt in his gaze. “I’m sorry, but this is dangerous for the other canine patients. I’ve got to go.” He gave Holt a quick nod. “Thanks for stopping by.”
“I still owe you a coffee,” Caitlin told him as he left, not quite at a run.
Holt heard him exchange a few words with his receptionist, then the hallway got quiet again, except for a faint Christmas melody that suddenly seemed out of place.
“I hope that puppy is all right,” Caitlin said, her gaze on the door. Then the puppy in the room with them whined, and Caitlin stepped over to its carrier. “Don’t ye fash , ye wee lad. Ye’ll be fine. They’ll take good care of ye here.”
“We’d better go,” Holt said, suddenly eager to get away from this place. Caitlin’s interaction with the vet had been too brief for Holt to determine anything about their relationship, but at any rate, she seemed to be getting way too attached to the puppy. He couldn’t argue with its cuteness, but he did not need her to decide that fostering it over the holidays would make their Christmas complete.
* * *
A fter they left the veterinary office, Holt remained quiet, his gaze on the traffic that had appeared since their trip into town.
In moments, the silence became heavy, weighted with Caitlin’s own disappointment that he hadn’t had more time to learn about the search and rescue work Doc Coates told her about. To break it, she asked, “Last-minute shoppers?”
Holt glanced at her, then back at the road. “What?”
“All the cars, all of a sudden. I’m wondering if they’re all last-minute shoppers. Christmas is coming, ye ken.”
“Oh. Maybe.”
“No, really. Christmas is coming,” she replied and waited for a reaction to her jest.
Holt glanced aside at her, then back at the road.
Disappointed that stone-faced Holt was back, she cast about for something to say. “Of course,” she added after checking the analog clock on the dashboard, “it is nearly lunchtime. Everyone could be on the way to their favorite takeaway.”
“Takeaway?”
“Um, where ye pick up food and take it back to the office.”
“Take-out. Or carry-out,” he said with more animation. “Or a fast food place. Burgers, pizza, fried chicken.” Holt glanced at her then back at the road.
He seemed more relaxed now that they were away from the vet’s office. She liked it when he became more open, more talkative, and wanted him to stay that way. “Another thing that’s simpler in Scotland,” she told him. “Takeaway. Done. Usually Indian, or fish and chips.”
“Are you hungry?”
“I wasn’t, but then I mentioned fish and chips— not that I expect you’ll have anything like good Scottish fish and chips here.”
Holt quirked an eyebrow. “You might be surprised. Mrs. Smith suggested a seafood place with the best lobster rolls on the island. Fish and chips, too, I’ll bet.”
“Really?” Caitlin’s stomach growled.
“There’s my answer.” Holt turned at the next cross street and headed out of town, at right angles to the road back to the estate. “Don’t worry, it’s just far enough to let your appetite develop.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Holt Ridley?” Caitlin muttered under her breath, happy to see him unwind.
In moments, the village gave way to forest-lined streets, then to a wider, faster highway, and the trees changed from the mix of hardwoods and pines in the area surrounding the village and the estate to short pines. In the suddenly sandy-looking soil, the trees grew sparse and spindly. Caitlin got glimpses of water through breaks in the trees. “There’s nothing out here. Are you sure you know where you’re going?”
“Have a little faith,” Holt replied, a quirk on his full lips.
Caitlin eyed him in disbelief. He’d almost smiled. She could get used to seeing him smile. And laugh, she thought, recalling the day she’d cut her foot. For the most part, those expressions had been un-Holt-like. Maybe this meant he was warming to her. Heartened, she turned back to take in the view, which was becoming more and more beachy. Suddenly buildings appeared, and after a few whizzed by, Holt slowed and turned the car into a car park. Until he stopped the car, the tires crunched on the white shell fragments that covered the sandy ground.
“Watch your step,” Holt advised as he got out. “Let me know if your foot hurts.”
Caitlin exited the car to tinny Christmas music from the restaurant’s outdoor speakers. She took a few tentative steps, feeling the shells shift beneath her feet.
Holt came around the bonnet and put a hand on the small of her back.
Was he going to pull her into his arms and carry her to the door?
“The oyster shells rock a bit if they’re not dug into the sand, but you’ll get the hang of it.” He turned her and walked beside her toward the building.
“Everyone does, it seems,” Caitlin remarked, glancing around at the nearly full car park to avoid looking at Holt. She kicked herself for sounding whiney instead of droll, but she deserved congratulations for being capable of speech. Her face had to be red in response to the heat radiating from Holt’s hand on her back. She hadn’t expected his touch, but even less, her immediate, overpowering reaction to it— her desire for him to take her in his arms. She’d nearly turned into him and burrowed into his embrace like a child. That rescue on the beach made her sensitive to his touch. She wanted more. A bad idea, that. And not just because the car park was dotted here and there with people coming and going. Holt was too near, too warm, and his grip was too firm as he encouraged her toward their destination. It reinforced the impression his trim, but muscular physique had given her when they first met, even more so as he carried her to the house from the beach and moved around the kitchen with wet clothes sticking to his body. His hand on her lower back now made her even more curious about what delights he kept hidden under that buttoned-up exterior.
“You’re doing fine,” Holt encouraged her after a minute, releasing her to open a screen door and gesture her through.
He had no idea. Fine didn’t begin to describe what she was feeling. Other than being glad to be back on a smooth surface, even if it was only stained concrete, Caitlin regretted Holt no longer needed to steady her. Or so she thought. His touch had done something to her equilibrium. Or maybe it was just low blood sugar. While Holt arranged for a table with the lass at the reception desk, Caitlin took deep breaths to restore herself. Mouthwatering scents filled her nose.
Before her stomach could growl loudly enough to embarrass her, Holt beckoned for her to follow the hostess to their table, then handed her into her seat. The hostess left them each a lengthy menu and the promise that their server would be right with them.
“Lobster rolls, ye say? I’ve never heard of them,” Caitlin said as they picked up their menus. She glanced down its contents until she spotted what she wanted.
Holt nodded. “You might have if you hadn’t locked yourself in the midst of dusty old— very old— furnishings for days. The only breaks you’ve taken have been to go into the village, where you got mugged. And again with me.”
“Checked up on me, have ye?”
“Farrell filled me in on what you’ve been doing, though he neglected to mention the mugging. And I have been there for part of the time since you arrived.”
“Aye, well, some of those old— and some ancient— furnishings are quite interesting to me. And valuable.”
“Not all of them?”
“Nay.” Caitlin set her menu aside. She didn’t need it to order what she hoped were the best fish and chips on the island. “The precious pieces are where you might expect— where visitors to the house see them. The more private spaces tend to have more disposable furnishings which, I expect, have changed over time with fashions and the family’s taste.”
“Makes sense. So?—”
Their server interrupted at that point and took their orders.
“So?” Caitlin prompted once they were alone again.
“How much more do you have to do?”
“I’ve done a cursory look in the bedrooms and the upstairs parlor but want to get a closer look at a few pieces up there.” Warming to her favorite subject, she went on to describe the ones that had caught her eye but cut short her explanation when she saw Holt’s gaze wandering around the room. His attention clearly had wandered, too. She clamped down on her irritation. She’d hoped her enthusiasm for the estate and its contents would begin to sway Holt in its favor, but she’d been fooling herself. “As for the main floor, I’m nearly done.” Caitlin frowned at the thought. She should be glad to finish a job where she was so at odds with the client’s wishes. It would allow her to return home for the holidays rather than remain here with strangers, but for some reason, she wasn’t eager to leave.
“Is there a problem?”
Damn, Holt noticed her frown. She needed to guard her expression more carefully. “Nay. I was just trying to recall how many days until Christmas. I don’t mind missing it so much, but I would like to be home for Hogmanay— New Year’s to ye.”
Holt frowned at that. “So, you’ll be here for an American Christmas. Of course, you’re welcome at the estate, though you won’t find much of the spirit of the season there.”
Caitlin nodded. “I know you said you wanted me to finish quickly, but I don’t think I can do a proper job and be gone before Yule. Christmas.”
“No. I…that’s fine. You should know I’m going to the city for work tomorrow. I’ll be back in a few days. But that makes me think. If you wanted to see an American Christmas, New York City is a good place to experience it all.”
“Are you asking me to go with you?”
He leaned back, his expression suddenly hooded. “No, not this time.”
“Is there a problem?” Caitlin echoed his earlier question.
“I will be in meetings the entire time I’m there. And you said you have more to do. You did say you wanted to be home for New Years.”
“Okay.” Caitlin chided herself for thinking he would offer to show her the city. But her stomach sank at the thought of days without having the distraction of Holt around to talk to. To spar with. “I thought the will said you had to remain at the estate.” On the other hand, with him out of the way, she’d get a lot more work done.
“And here you go,” a waiter interrupted before Holt could answer, setting beers and baskets of fried fish and chips for her and a lobster roll for him in front of them. “Is there anything else you need?”
A thick wedge of lemon decorated one side of the pile of golden-brown breaded and fried fish, and Caitlin had noticed the bottle of malt vinegar on the table earlier, so she shook her head.
“We’re fine,” Holt told him.
“Thanks,” Caitlin added. Despite wondering what else Holt had been about to say, she turned her attention to lunch. After a few bites, she told Holt, “You were right. This is good. Not quite up to Scottish standards,” she added with a grin, “but entirely acceptable.” She broke off a piece of the fried fish and handed it to him. “Taste that.”
He chewed for a moment, swallowed, and said, “If the Scots have something better than this, I want to taste it. I’ll have to come over so you can show me all your favorite spots.”
Caitlin nodded, butterflies suddenly fluttering among the bites of fish in her belly. Her favorite spots? She could take that several ways, at least one having nothing to do with food, but everything to do with enjoyment. She studied him while he focused on his food. Had he meant the double entendre, or was she reading more into his comment than she should? At the very least, for a change, Holt only seemed to be trying to charm her. Would he really come to Scotland? Surely not just to try the fish and chips. For her? She sipped her beer, trying to cool the fire that bloomed in her blood. “I have a few ye would enjoy,” she allowed. “But it’s a long flight from California.”
“My business does take me to Europe now and again. I could show up on your doorstep someday.”
An image filled her mind of Holt at her door, stepping inside, and then pulling her into his arms. Ach , she had to stop that right there. Heat was climbing her neck, and she knew her face was going to be red in moments. “Ye’re welcome any time,” she managed to say, grabbed a chip and dribbled enough malt vinegar on it to clear her sinuses for a week— or explain her sudden excess color.
* * *
H olt took a bite of his lobster roll, trying to distract himself from the blush staining Caitlin’s cheeks. So she’d realized, just as he had, that his earlier statement could be taken several ways, as could her response.
He’d like to explore her favorite spots, the ones that had nothing to do with food. Or sightseeing. Only with her. He dropped his gaze to his basket to keep Caitlin from seeing the desire for her in his eyes. He had no business letting such thoughts overtake him. Better he kept his gaze and his thoughts on the heaped fries and the soft roll bursting with lobster meat. He was about to be gone for three days, and after that? He might be stuck here through the winter, but she wasn’t.
Still, he could see himself arriving in Scotland at her door, which made him wonder. Did she live in a house? An apartment, or flat, if they used that term in Scotland and not just in England? Would there be a roommate in the way? If so, he would let Caitlin take him to her favorite spots of a different kind. While showing him around her country, they would find the privacy he imagined they would want.
He wasn’t sure what their relationship was at the moment. Boss and employee? Contractor and client? Friends? Potential lovers? Going to Scotland to see Caitlin could lead to more than either of them were prepared for at this moment. The hell with playing tourist. He could easily imagine what would happen between them, at least up to a point. It bothered him that he didn’t know what it would mean to either of them. At the end, he would leave, and she would remain. Was it worth the pain of that leave-taking? Or of reinventing a relationship neither was certain of while they were here? When she left for home, she might forget all about him. He might meet someone and forget all about her. He could be wasting his time enjoying any sort of future encounter with her. He should let this drop before he said or did something monumentally stupid.
So why couldn’t he?
She certainly recognized the double entendre she’d used, whether she did it intentionally or not. Her color had climbed quickly soon after she spoke, giving her skin a rosy hue that made him imagine that heat spreading to other parts of her body. And making him hard.
Using the vinegar to try to disguise her reaction was clever, but an act of desperation to hide the desire her blush gave away. Or was it embarrassment? That thought sent a cold wash of disappointment through him. Perhaps she wasn’t as into him as he’d been convincing himself with his daydreams. They might be a foolish waste of time, but if he was right, there was something going on between them. No, they weren’t foolish. He was right.
He hid a smirk, amused at himself, but also intrigued and getting more and more interested in her, despite what his head and his recent experience with another woman were telling him. Something was developing between them. Something that might be worth exploring, if only they had the time. He made a mental note to have his office look into her background, surprised he didn’t think of it before. The lawyer could give him whatever bona fides his firm used to decide to hire her, but Holt’s interest went well beyond that. Whether it should or not.
He hated the necessity, but he’d learned he needed to be more careful than he had in the past. No matter how much Caitlin Paterson intrigued him, he would take whatever this was slowly. His upcoming trip to the city was well-timed. Their adventure on the beach had brought them closer very quickly. His desire for her had spiked while he held her up in the rough surf. He had felt her heart pounding in her chest and watched it pulse in the vein in her throat. And carrying her to the house had made it clear to him that she felt the pull, too. There was no question that both of them were interested in the other. But one important question remained— should they be?