Debbie Macomber - Home for the Holidays - The Forgetful Bride / When Christmas Comes

“Good old Martin,” Joe said, shaking his head. “I swear he was as big on ceremony as you were. Marrying us was a turning point in his life. From that point on, he started carting a Bible around with him the way some kids do a slingshot. Right in his hip pocket. If he wasn’t burying something, he was holding revival meetings. Remember how he got in a pack of trouble at school for writing ‘God loves you, ask Martin’ on the back wall of the school?”

“I remember.”

“I sort of figured he might become a missionary.”

“Martin?” She gave an abrupt laugh. “Never. He likes his conveniences. He doesn’t even go camping. Martin’s idea of roughing it is doing without valet service.”

She expected Joe to chuckle. He did smile at her attempted joke, but that was all. He seemed to be studying her the same way she’d been studying him.

“You surprise me,” Joe announced suddenly.

“I do? Am I a disappointment to you?”

“Not at all. I always thought you’d grow up and have a passel of children yourself. You used to haul those dolls of yours around with you everywhere. If Martin and I were too noisy, you’d shush us, saying the babies were asleep. If we wanted to play in the backyard, we couldn’t because you were having a tea party with your dolls. It was enough to drive a ten-year-old boy crazy. But if we ever dared complain, you’d look at us serenely and with the sweetest smile tell us we had to be patient because it was for the children.”

“I did get carried away with all that motherhood business, didn’t I?” Joe’s words stirred up uncomfortable memories, the same ones she’d entertained earlier that afternoon. She really did love children. Yet, somehow, without her quite knowing how, the years had passed and she’d buried the dream. Nowadays she didn’t like to think too much about a husband and family—the life that hadn’t happened. It haunted her at odd moments.

“I should have known you’d end up in construction,” she said, switching the subject away from herself.

“How’s that?” Joe asked.

“Wasn’t it you who built the fort?”

“Martin helped.”

“Sure, by staying out of the way.” She grinned. “I know my brother. He’s a marvel with people, but please don’t ever give him a hammer.”

Their dinner arrived, and it was as delicious as Cait had expected, although by then she was enjoying herself so much that even a plateful of dry toast would have tasted good. They drank two cups of cappuccino after their meal, and talked and laughed as the hours melted away. Cait couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much.

When at last she glanced at her watch, she was shocked to realize it was well past ten. “I had no idea it was so late!” she said. “I should get home.” She had to be up by five.

Joe took care of the bill and collected her coat. When they walked outside, the December night was clear and chilly, with a multitude of stars twinkling brightly above.

“Are you cold?” he asked as they waited for the valet to deliver the car.

“Not at all.” Nevertheless, he placed his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close.

Cait didn’t protest. It felt natural for this man to hold her close.

His car arrived and they drove back to her apartment building in silence. When he pulled into the parking lot, she considered inviting him in for coffee, then decided against it. They’d already drunk enough coffee, and besides, they both had to work the following morning. But more important, Joe might read something else into the invitation. He was an old friend. Nothing more. And she wanted to keep it that way.

She turned to him and smiled softly. “I had a lovely time. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome, Cait. We’ll do it again.”

Cait was astonished to realize how appealing another evening with Joseph Rockwell was. She’d underestimated him.

Or had she?

“There’s something else I’d like to try again,” he was saying, his eyes filled with devilry.

“Try again?” she repeated. “What?”

He slid his arm behind her and for a breathless moment they looked at each other. “I don’t know if I’ve got a chance without trading a few baseball cards, though.”

Cait swallowed. “You want to kiss me?”

He nodded. His eyes seemed to grow darker, more intense. “For old times’ sake.” His hand caressed the curve of her neck, his thumb moving slowly toward the scented hollow of her throat.

“Well, sure. For old times’ sake.” She was astonished at the way her heart was reacting to the thought of Joe holding her…kissing her.

His mouth began a slow descent toward hers, his warm breath nuzzling her skin.

“Just remember,” she whispered when his mouth was about to settle over hers. Her hands gripped his lapels. “Old times’…”

“I’ll remember,” he said as his lips came down on hers.

She sighed and slid her hands up his solid chest to link her fingers at the base of his neck. The kiss was slow and thorough. When it was over, Cait’s hands were clutching his collar.

Joe’s fingers were in her hair, tangled in the short, soft curls, cradling the back of her head.

A sweet rush of joy coursed through her veins. Cait felt a bubbling excitement, a burst of warmth, unlike anything she’d ever known before.

Then he kissed her a second time…

“Just remember…” she repeated when he pulled his mouth from hers and buried it in the delicate curve of her neck.

He drew in several ragged breaths before asking, “What is it I’m supposed to remember?”

“Yes, oh, please, remember.”

He lifted his head and rested his hands lightly on her shoulders, his face only inches from hers. “What’s so important you don’t want me to forget?” he whispered.

It wasn’t Joe who was supposed to remember; it was Cait. She didn’t realize she’d spoken out loud. She blinked, uncertain, then tilted her head to gaze down at her hands, anywhere but at him. “Oh…that I’m in love with Paul.”

There was a moment of silence. An awkward moment. “Right,” he answered shortly. “You’re in love with Paul.” His arms fell away and he released her.

Cait hesitated, uneasy. “Thanks again for a wonderful dinner.” Her hand closed around the door handle. She was eager now to make her escape.

“Any time,” he said flippantly. His own hands gripped the steering wheel.

“I’ll see you soon.”

“Soon,” he echoed. She climbed out of the car, not giving Joe a chance to come around and open the door for her. She was aware of him sitting in the car, waiting until she’d unlocked the lobby door and stepped inside. She hurried down the first-floor hall and into her apartment, turning on the lights so he’d know she’d made it safely home.

Then she removed her coat and carefully hung it in the closet. When she peeked out the window, she saw that Joe had already left.

Lindy was at her desk working when Cait arrived the next morning. Cait smiled at her as she hurried past, but didn’t stop to indulge in conversation.

Cait could feel Lindy’s gaze trailing after her and she knew her friend was disappointed that she hadn’t told her about the dinner date with Joe Rockwell.

Cait didn’t want to talk about it. She was afraid that if she said anything to Lindy, she wouldn’t be able to avoid mentioning the kiss, which was a subject she wanted to avoid at all costs. She wouldn’t be able to delay her friend’s questions forever, but Cait wanted to put them off until at least the end of the day. Longer, if possible.

What a fool she’d been to let Joe kiss her. It had seemed so right at the time, a natural conclusion to a delightful evening.

The fact that she’d let him do it without even making a token protest still confused her. If Paul happened to hear about it, he might think she really was interested in Joe. Which, of course, she wasn’t.