Chapter Seven
“You’re one smart guy, Mike,” Caitlin purred, content as a cat. They sat in a cozy booth and shared an appetizer with their drinks.
“What prompts that compliment?” He countered and snagged a crabmeat stuffed shell.
“You’ve not mentioned work once.” With the care of a gourmand, she chose the shell with the most crabmeat.
The waiters weren’t frenzied, nor did they hurry Mike and Caitlin since no one waited for a table.
After their waiter set their dinner entrees before them, she realized the evening had ripened into lighthearted relaxing fun. Even on vacation, she hadn’t unwound like this. In fact, she couldn’t remember when she’d had dinner out without having it be business related. Friendships were something she hadn’t taken much time to nurture.
Smart man that he was, Mike avoided all questions or concerns related to work. She luxuriated in the comforting softness of the buttery-soft leather banquette. Mike’s humorous stories of T-ball misadventures with his son Brendan and his lousy imitation of late night talk show host doing a monologue on political ads made her giggle.
Unbidden, a longing rose like fire in her belly. She had missed out on this side of life. Worse, she’d avoided it for too many years. Was it too late for her?
“I keep forgetting that quaint Midwest custom of eating dinner at five o’clock.” He sipped the last drops of a fine Chardonnay. From his silence, he’d run out of small talk, imitations and funny stories.
“That’s fortunate for us or we’d never have been served without a reservation. I’m so glad we’re not being hurried.” She reached across the table and patted his hand.
“Me, too,” he agreed and shot her a grin that had nothing to do with business and everything to do with...with the tingles running up and down her spine.
“Sometimes not planning works.” She suppressed a desire to remove her shoes and rest her weary feet on the opposite side of their curved booth. A faint smile at that errant thought slipped across her face. “Good idea—this evening, Rafferty. We needed it. Well, I definitely needed it.”
“A penny for those smile-provoking thoughts.” He set down his glass.
His smoldering eyes bored into her. They had always gotten to her. Did he have any idea of their power? “You’d need more than a penny for these. My thoughts don’t come cheap.” She burrowed further into the welcoming booth, enjoying the low-key evening.
“Nothing about you comes cheap.” He quirked his brow. “Are you flirting with me?”
“No, just feeling very comfortable with you.”
“This place suits you, you know. Elegant. Yep, it definitely fits you. You’re one very classy lady.”
She raised a hand to stop his flow of words. “You keep that up and...”
“And what? We aren’t at work; you’re relaxing with a friend. Allow me my opinions.”
“I am...don’t get testy.” She signaled her version of a time-out. “I was going to say if you kept that up, I’d have to comment on, ahh, how well you’ve…ah, matured.”
A half smile curved his lips. “Thanks. I think. In that case, how about another dinner, soon?”
“You got a deal, but only if we don’t talk business. Of course, you’ll need to do your silly imitations, but with new material, please. And, I don’t have to do anything but eat…” She finished her conditions and took a sip of wine, “and drink.”
Mike grinned. “Done! I’ve an arsenal of material you’ve never heard. Now tell me what made you laugh a while ago.”
Ever the negotiator, she giggled and leaned forward. “For a dollar. I told you I don’t come cheap.”
“I learned that lesson a long time ago.” He reached into his wallet, pulling out a crisp bill and placing it on the tablecloth next to her hand. Then he pulled out another one. “That’s a tip for laughing at my shtick.”
She grabbed it faster than a carnival bait and switch guy. “No fair asking for it back.”
“Wouldn’t think of it. I’m waiting…” He twiddled his spoon between his fingers.
She knew that. Anticipation danced in his liquid smoke eyes, that interesting half-smile lingered at his mouth. Both set those tingles tumbling deep in her belly.
“Well, I sure hope this doesn’t disappoint you, but I was thinking about how wonderful I’d feel with my shoes off and my feet up on the bench.” Warmth flooded her cheeks at her admission.
“Sounds like a worthwhile plan to me and worth every penny in that dollar.” He laughed and motioned her to put her feet up next to him.
Doing so, Caitlin eased into the warmth of his leg against the side of her foot. Sipping the last of her wine, she watched him, her eyes looking over the glass rim.
He took her foot and moved it on to his thigh. His eyes telegraphed his challenge—now what will you do?
Liquid tremors skittered around her spinal column, nestled low in her tummy before slipping further down. Saying nothing, she indulged in a deeper awareness of him and what he was igniting in her. Time slipped past like ashes caught in an updraft.
“You look…relaxed…and so sexy.” He slid her foot between his thighs, her toes touching his erection. His eyes smoldered and she flicked her big toe against him.
“You want me to make a scene?” he growled, his voice deep with want.
“Not here,” she murmured and pulled back her foot.
His hand caught and held it. “Right, think with my head, not my—”
“Another time, another place.” She pulled her foot away and down to the floor. It cost her.
“Those are words I intend to see you keep.”
“I’m sure you will.” She sipped and looked at her empty wine glass. She couldn’t watch the desire in his eyes. Did hers show the same? “My wine’s finished and we should probably leave.”
She licked her lips for that last taste of wine and knew she shouldn’t have done so when she saw Mike tense. “It’s getting late and I really have a very busy day tomorrow.”
“Fine. It’s your call.” He looked disappointed but donned an agreeable smile. “But I liked what happened just now, Cait. You need to hear that—from my lips to your brain. Because I know you’ll analyze it to death.”
“You stopped it.”
“I said I’d follow. For tonight.”
She puddled like melted chocolate at the heat in his mellow voice, at the promise contained in his words. What she’d just done wasn’t like her, but she loved the needy feeling it produced. And Mike’s response.
“We’ll see how things go.” Slipping into her shoes, she rose from the banquette, hating to leave, knowing she should, wishing life were different, wishing she were different. Mike hadn’t had this effect on her before. So what made tonight different? Whatever it was, she better get her control back. Fast.
Outside, he leaned her against her car door. “I’m taking the lead with this,” he murmured and bent toward her.
His lips found hers with such tenderness a tear rolled from her eye. He thumbed it away and kissed her again, taking her breath and her common sense away. If he hadn’t put her into her car, sending her on her way, she’d have done something stupid, like ask him to follow her home.
****
Later, in her deep green velvet robe, Caitlin lay on the bedroom chaise in front of the window facing the lake. Outside waves slapped loudly against the shoreline, their sound penetrating the thermopane window. Two candles flickered their sandalwood fragrance—the only light in the room. She held a stemmed glass of white wine and stared out upon the dark winter lake, so stark against the ice-rimmed pier and shoreline. Some of the ice had melted with the day’s unusual warmth. Like her?
Like Mike hinted she would warm up to him, and she had—maybe too much so. What happened tonight unsettled her. She didn’t want to analyze, though her mind zeroed right back to it. She couldn’t sleep; yet she tried not to pursue these thoughts. “Fat chance of that,” she muttered as she sipped her wine. Not even the swooshing waves cleared her pensive mood while sensual feelings still bubbled within her.
“I could have jumped his bones,” she told the window. It remained mute.
Beside her, the phone chirped. She smiled as she checked caller ID. “I’m not giving back your dollar.”
“Don’t want it. You analyzing what happened tonight?”
“You’re so smart,” she grumbled into the wine glass. “That’s probably why I am what I am.”
“What you are is special. Don’t beat yourself up.”
“I should have asked you here.”
“I wouldn’t have come. Not because I didn’t want to, but because you’d hate me in the morning. And yourself, too.”
“When did you get so smart?”
“When you were working your great little ass off. Night.” Mike clicked off just like Keith. It had to be a guy thing.
She refilled her glass and smiled at her reflection in the window. “Great little ass.” No one had ever said that about her before.
Most people believed she had her world as she wanted it. Always in control of herself and her surroundings. She worked assiduously at maintaining that facade—at believing the guise herself. She had no other choice. She’d spent her adult years achieving this persona, this life.
She’d never really wanted to jump any guy’s bones before—ever. Frigid, ice-queen, or worse, that’s what her ex had called her. It hadn’t mattered.
Achievement, that’s what her life had been about. Excellent career in a well-paid position, which daily challenged her. Lakeshore condominium in a wooded, exclusive subdivision—mostly paid for, too. Some well-chosen pieces of fine furniture, designer clothes, a few pieces of exquisite jewelry, money in the bank, a good retirement plan, a solid 401K, a few judiciously purchased stocks, an excellent education, which she worked and paid for, while she received top honors in all her classes. A law degree, financed by hefty scholarships earned on scholastic merit. Most recently, her first luxury car.
Achievement. Possessions. Position. Things she’d been told she’d never have. Caitlin sighed at remembering her father’s often repeated, drunken words. Well, she showed him. But only with solid success could she overcome the stifling control of her family. She loved them, but had many times hated them far too much. Theirs was still a bittersweet relationship.
Now having celebrated her thirty-ninth birthday, she intended to hold all further birthdays until her body or face betrayed her age. However, in all those years, she never had a night like this. In slow motion, she swiveled her neck to release the tension nostalgia produced and sipped another bit of wine.
Damn, she hated remembering.
****
She grew up lonely and unhappy. The only daughter after three boisterous sons, in a Catholic Irish family. Her mischievous brothers loved taunting their little sister. Mom was overworked and overwhelmed. Dad was rarely there. He drank too much, too often. His “affliction” as Mom referred to it, ruled the house, the family, and Caitlin’s early social life. She had nothing except school and home and they never intersected. She excelled at school to forget about home and married much too early, at her first opportunity in order to get away from home and family—to gain some control and security in her life.
“Out of the frying pan and into the fire.” She grimaced at those nightmarish memories. A marriage made for disaster and hell. Again, following her pattern, she escaped to school, finishing college this time, determined to achieve a better life, and gain self-worth. Always having control was her goal.
By her junior year of college, she ended her travesty of a marriage. Traumatized on several emotional and spiritual levels from her church’s and family’s anger and rejection at her divorce, she treasured independence, responsible only to and for herself.
“Couldn’t afford wine like this back then.” The wine was too grand to drink alone but she did so anyway—tempting the gods? Or reaffirming her fate? Or because she could. She sank further into the comfortable chair and her memories.
Mike entered her life then, for the first time. She wanted nothing to do with men, people, the old traditional life and values. Despite his youth, he blatantly embodied all that baggage but somehow rose above it. They’d started as competitive classmates. He always appreciated her successes. Since she was older than he was, he was “safe.”
He proved far from safe.
They progressed toward a reserved, platonic friendship. She ignored telltale signs of his growing romantic interest in her. She acknowledged only their friendship, their camaraderie. She enjoyed those study sessions in the library cramming for finals and his ready help when her decrepit car died. Even the time a flat tire occurred and he found her walking for help as her spare was flat, too—she had the situation in hand. They bickered and she accepted his help, applauding his kindness. Big mistake. She’d hurt his feelings.
Once the sky fell in on their friendship, she vowed never to accept help of any kind, never to acknowledge any weakness, especially to a male, because the situation could be misinterpreted. Above all, she learned fast and didn’t make the same mistake twice.
Uncomfortable with her memories of that time, she shifted position, noted that it was two a.m., and still her eyes wouldn’t close. Caitlin stared into the dark night; her mind drifting back once more.
She’d been more at fault than he because she was older and supposedly wiser. She insisted she wanted and needed no relationships. So she listened only to Mike’s words of agreement with her ideas, but she had never looked clearly into his eyes. Or his soul.
Until too late.
As a result, she lost a friend. She had grieved for that lost friendship, but had never told him so. She learned he grieved, but not for long. He married a few years later just as she had known he would. After Mike, she always looked often and deeply into people’s eyes. Windows to the soul and heart where emotions couldn’t hide.
Her new knowledge came from the debacle of their opposing views and values. He’d proposed one night, in his car, after he kissed her with a deep passion and demanding urgency. When this kiss ended and she’d pulled away, she opened her eyes and really delved into his eyes for the first time. She had seen the passion revealed in their smoldering depths. It scared the hell out of her and she slapped her hand against the door to find the latch.
Mike countered and pulled her into him again. Holding her tightly in the solid curve of his arms, he whispered of feelings to last a lifetime, a love leading to marriage, a life sharing work, home, family, kids.
She froze, astounded at him—dumbfounded at her stupidity and carelessness. To this day, she remembered the staccato beating of Mike’s heart. Sometimes the memory woke her at night, like Poe’s tell-tale heart.
She had pulled herself away from his embrace, found the door latch again, and bounded from his red convertible. Outside, near her front door, he caught her, grabbed her wrist, twisted her toward him, ground her against his aroused body. She groaned, agonized at the harm she’d done. He misread her sound for passion and acceptance. His eyes deepened into smoldering holes of desire just as his penis surged further to life. His large, blunt-fingered hands cupped her buttocks as his powerful body wedged her up against the door casement. He ground against her, moving one hand from her buttock to breast.
Tears flowed down her cheeks as she fully realized what was happening.
When she finally broke away, she turned the key in the door lock, and slipped inside. Mike, too astounded or too cautious, didn’t follow immediately. When he did, she had the door firmly bolted and refused to let him in. Instead she cowered against the interior wall.
“Cait, I’m sorry...didn’t mean to frighten you...thought you knew...”
She ignored his words. “Go away! Leave me alone.”
“I’ll be back.” He promised as he stepped off the porch.
“Don’t bother. Ever.” Tears dribbled down her cheeks as she listened to his vanishing footsteps. How could she have been so stupid? Never again, she promised herself.
That night she spent much like this one, fifteen years later. Her furnishings were different but the characters were the same. Were she and Mike still thinking different thoughts? Was he heading down paths she wasn’t considering? Could he be so blind? Again? Could she? What exactly where her feelings?
Life should be simpler.
All those years ago, after a miserable night, she composed a letter to him. She explained her feelings of loss at their broken friendship. She wrote the reasons their relationship wouldn’t work—his age, her divorce, his desire for children, her need to assert herself as an individual and gain control for herself, the possibility that she might never want children in her life. Mostly, however, she wrote about timing and the fact that while they shared a lot, the sharing was, in her eyes, a platonic one and always would be.
In blunt words, she would never feel anything other than that. He was a nice young man. She was embarrassed at that lie—and still was. Five years wasn’t that much and Mike had never been a kid in her eyes.
He had a fierce black Irish pride and temper and she knew the kid reference would anger him. When once riled, he took a long time to quiet down. Time was what he needed and so did she. She’d written that, too, and told him that soon he’d find another, better woman. One who would fit his dreams and the roles he saw for his wife and lover. Her letter would devastate Mike, but she sent it anyway.
“God, that was long ago,” she groaned and looked at the clock pushing four o’clock.
She’d never forgotten Mike. Or those liquid-smoke eyes yearning for her. No one since Mike had ever looked that way at her, though she’d given no man the chance. More than that, few people had been her friend the way Mike had been. For that loss, she grieved over the years.
Much was missing in her life. She admitted that now, knowing Mike’s presence had prompted these latent feelings to surface. Tonight, she’d wanted to jump his bones. Unwilling to go down that path, she moved from the chair to her wide empty bed, crawled under the eiderdown quilt, and stared at the ceiling. Sleep gritted beneath lids, which wouldn’t close. Her mind raced and plunged further into memory.
Control and achievement. Ultimately even with her family, she’d gained that. Once her father “got better” in her mother’s words, her strained relationship with her parents eased. Her brothers still teased her but held a solid admiration for her accomplishments. Along the way, she had learned that brothers do tease and she’d been too sensitive, egging them on. Maturity had a way of putting family love and relationships into perspective. A very special sister-in-law whose mere presence promoted love and acceptance of family differences also helped mend the family rifts.
What wise words might her sister-in-law give regarding Mike? Conjuring that talk over a glass of wine, her eyes finally closed. Waves slapped the shore, lulling Caitlin with the cadence. Her dreams centered around Mike, a kiss, a wandering, warmed foot…