Only You (12 page)

Max closed his eyes against the pain that stabbed him at those words, then pulled her into his arms. “Nothing, and no one, will ever hurt you again, Caitie”, he said. He repeated the statement over and over. It was his litany, his prayer, his promise.

Caitlin forgot her resolve to stay out of Max’s life. Being in his arms felt so safe, so warm, so secure, and she reveled in those feelings. She savored every second he held her, storing memories for the long, lonely days ahead. She relished the clean, fresh scent of him, the beating of his heart beneath her cheek, the warmth of his body, the firm but yielding ridges of muscle, the way his arms cradled but didn’t confine. His embrace was a warm, living haven.

It took her a nearly superhuman effort to gently disengage herself. She’d never be able to say what she had to say if he kept touching her. “I’m glad you’re here, Max,” she began, looking down at her hands, which she had folded together in her lap. “We need to talk.”

“So let’s talk.” Max brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.

She ducked her head away and cleared her throat. The words wouldn’t come, so she took a
deep breath and shifted away from him, somehow forcing out the words. “I can’t see you anymore.”

Whatever Max had been expecting Caitlin to say, it wasn’t that. “What?”

“I said, I can’t see you anymore,” Caitlin repeated, stronger this time.

“What in God’s name are you talking about?” Max suddenly felt as if he were adrift in the middle of an ocean with no compass or idea of where he was headed.

“Max, I honestly thought I was ready for—for, well, ready to—” She floundered to a stop, not sure how to proceed.

Max reached over and took hold of one of her hands. “Talk to me, Caitie. Tell me,” he said firmly. “I think you owe me that much.”

She did owe him that, she thought. Owed him the truth about what had happened so many years before and how it had scarred her. She shut her eyes briefly against the pain, then opened her mouth, intending to tell him, but couldn’t make the words come out. She took a deep breath, swallowed, and tried again—and failed once more.

She began to get angry. She shouldn’t have to say anything if she didn’t want to. Max had no right to insist, especially since he’d be out of her life in another week or two. He’d soon tire of dealing with her and move on to easier game. She stiffened her back. “My reasons aren’t important. But the fact remains that I think it would be best for us not to see each other anymore.”

“Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” Max was confused. Now he didn’t even know which ocean he was in.

“I don’t owe you anything. My reasons have nothing to do with you,” Caitlin replied stiffly.

“Anything to do with you has everything to do with me.” Max’s voice was low but intense.

Why couldn’t he just leave it alone? Why did he keep pushing? Caitlin gritted her teeth. “Let it be, Max. Just let it be.”

“Caitlin, I only want to—”

“I know what you want to do. You want to meddle in my life.” The desperate urge to make him leave before he got too close to the truth made her words sharper than she intended.

Max was stunned. The ocean had turned into a raging hurricane. “I’m only concerned, Caitlin,” he said carefully. “I know we can’t have a relationship until—”

“That’s right! We can’t have a relationship!” Caitlin broke in and jumped to her feet. Please leave, she begged silently. Her control was so fragile, so tenuous, she was afraid it would shatter at any moment. And she was afraid that once that happened, she’d never be able to put the pieces back together. She turned her back to him. “Max, please just go.”

Max stood, his fists clenched at his sides, but with an effort he managed to keep his voice gentle. “I want only to help, Caitlin.”

“I don’t want your help! I don’t need it! I just want you to go now!”

Max laid a hand on her shoulder, but she stepped away. He sighed in frustration and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I can see I need to give you a little time,” he said. “I’ll call you tomorrow, then.”

“Please don’t. There’s no reason.”

“There’s every reason.”

Caitlin’s dark ghost reared its head then, and she felt a trembling begin deep inside. She had to
get Max out of there before she exposed all her emotional bruises. Holding her fear at bay with every ounce of strength she had, she faced him. “What’s the matter, Max? Why can’t you believe that I simply don’t want to see you anymore? I’m sure you’re not used to being turned down by women, but maybe I’m one who just doesn’t happen to find you irresistible. It’s possible, you know.” Her voice wasn’t shaking, thank God.

“Maybe,” he said, “but I don’t believe you. I don’t believe you for a minute.”

“Well, you’ll just have to, won’t you?” Caitlin could feel her already flimsy control beginning to fray, so she walked to the door and opened it. “Good night, Max.”

He walked to her, fixing her with a sharp, burning gaze. “This isn’t over, Caitlin. Not by a long shot.”

“It
is
over, Max. Good night.”

Without another word Max strode through the door and slammed it shut behind him, the sound reverberating in the air. The tremors overcame her and she sank down on the sofa, her legs no longer able to support her. Wrapping her arms around herself, she sat for a long time. Finally, she buried her face in her hands and wept.

“What do you mean, you’re out of angelica?… Do you know anybody else who has it? Martin’s is a good customer of mine and I don’t want to let them down. I already cut their order of Siberian ginseng.… Well, I guess I’ll just have to check over at Organifarms.… Thanks.”

Caitlin sighed with frustration and hung up the phone. She tossed the pencil she’d been chewing on down on the desk and massaged her temples. Today was just another day in what had already been a long, miserable week.

K.C. had caught his mother’s flu and was out sick, so Caitlin was behind in filling orders. One grower had backed out of a commitment for Siberian ginseng. Jordie had gotten a D on a spelling test he had forgotten to study for. She’d gotten a ticket for an expired inspection sticker on her van.

And it had been a week since she had seen or heard from Max. The longest, lousiest, most wretched week of her life. It didn’t help that she kept getting accusing looks from Jordan every
time she gave him a vague answer about where Max was.

Every time she thought of Max, missed Max, ached for Max, she knew she had only herself to blame. That was the worst of all. She had been too chicken to fight for what she wanted. And she was just now realizing how much she wanted Max in her life.

She hadn’t believed that she’d ever be able to feel for a man what she felt for Max. He was the kindest, gentlest, sexiest, most annoying, irritating man she’d ever met, and he made her feel wonderfully alive. What had her cowardice cost her?

Coward.
That word began to loom larger and larger. Every time she looked in the mirror, she imagined big fluorescent yellow letters spelling it out on her forehead. “Caitlin is a coward, a weakling, a chicken.”

Even Donna was no help. She called Caitlin a coward right to her face. Dr. Atlee hemmed and hawed in her aggravatingly professional way and said that if Caitlin felt like a coward, then it was up to Caitlin to change that.

But how? Caitlin stared out the brand-new window in her office and absently watched a pair of finches flutter around the bird feeder she’d hung outside. Had she been a coward all her life? Or had it begun seven years before when she’d been made to feel impotent and weak? When was it that she’d been left fearing conflict of any sort? Why did she still carry those feelings of powerlessness all these years later?

She stood up. Seven years was long enough to carry around that kind of burden, she decided. It was time to talk to Max, to find out if he was
indeed the kind of man she thought, hoped, he was. If he couldn’t deal with what she had to tell him, she might as well find out now rather than spend the rest of her life wondering what would have happened “if.”

“Martha.” She poked her head out the office door and called to the prematurely gray woman who was cataloguing a new shipment of rootstock.

“Yes?”

“Will you be okay if I leave you to close up today? I need to leave early.”

“Of course.”

“Just be careful and don’t overdo. I don’t want you having a relapse.”

“I’ll be fine.” Martha smiled and waved a hand toward the door. “Don’t you worry about a thing, honey. You just scoot along.”

Don’t worry about a thing? Caitlin thought to herself. She felt as if she had the worries of the world on her shoulders and it was all due to that man! Sighing, she slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder and went home.

As soon as she walked in, she called Donna. “I’m going to talk to Max,” she said.

“It’s about time!”

“Can you pick Jordie up at the sitter’s?”

“You bet. As a matter of fact, just in case you’re late getting home, why don’t we just plan on him spending the night? Patrick would love it.”

“Thanks, Donna,” Caitlin said with a sigh. “I hope I’m doing the right thing.”

“Truth is always right. It’ll all work out.”

“I hope so. Thanks, Donna.” Caitlin gently set the receiver down.

She spent nearly thirty minutes contemplating her wardrobe. She changed clothes twice before
selecting a short nut-brown skirt and crocheted cream sweater. The colors complemented her brown eyes and ivory skin, and the style made her feel flirty and feminine. Heaven knows, she was going to need all the help she could get, she thought as she dialed Max’s office.

“Shore Efficiency Consultants, your time is our business. May I help you?”

Here goes nothing. Caitlin cleared her throat. “I, well, I’d like to see Mr. Shore this afternoon.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Shore is booked for the rest of the day. I’ll be glad to schedule you as soon as possible. Let’s see, how about tomorrow morning at eleven-thirty?”

Caitlin’s heart sank. “That’ll be fine, I guess.”

“Your name, please?”

“Love. Caitlin Love.”

“Ms. Love?” The secretary’s voice relayed renewed interest. “Ah, I believe I just had a cancellation and can work you in, oh, let’s say about thirty minutes?”

Caitlin’s heart leapt from her stomach up into her throat. “I’ll be there.”

When she arrived in his building, she stood outside the glass door to his suite of offices for a long time, trying to get her erratic breathing under control. She frowned at her reflection in the glass, then straightened an imaginary crease in her sleeve and wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt. Sticking out her jaw in determination, she pushed open the door.

The first thing she saw was a tall, slender brunette with Max’s eyes. Caitlin simply stared until the woman said, “Ms. Love?”

“Um, yes.” She had to be Max’s sister.

The woman stood and held out a hand. “Hi, I’m
Patsy Shore Elliott. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said with frank curiosity.

The two women shook hands, then Patsy waved at the chair next to her desk. “Please, sit down. My brother is currently tied up on the phone. Conference call.” She propped her elbows on the desk and leaned forward. “So, I guess you’re the reason Max has been biting at the furniture all week.”

Caitlin could feel color slowly creep from beneath her collar and up her cheeks. “I beg your pardon?”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that, mind you. A little furniture-chewing is good for you. Sharpens the teeth and all that.”

Caitlin squirmed uncomfortably, not sure what to say. “What makes you think I’m the reason?” she finally managed to ask.

“Well, when my brother the grouch slouched into the office Monday morning, the first thing he said was that if a certain Ms. Love called, I was to tell her he was out of town. And the second thing he said was to change that. If a certain Ms. Love called,
he
wanted the pleasure of telling her he was out of town.”

Caitlin winced. “I’m sorry. I—I don’t know what to say.”

Patsy smiled, her eyes twinkling. “You don’t have to say anything to me, but I sure hope you’re gonna say something to Max that will change his prickly attitude before he leaves teeth marks in the chair legs.”

In spite of her nervousness and embarrassment, Caitlin smiled a little at Patsy’s brash, amiable humor. She decided that she liked Max’s sister very much. Just then the intercom on Patsy’s desk buzzed, a sound that made Caitlin jump.

“Patsy,” Max’s voice crackled over the electronic device, “when Mr. McKenna gets here, send him straight in, please.”

Patsy gave a conspiratorial wink to Caitlin and pressed the button to answer, “Your next appointment is already here.”

“Send him in.”

Caitlin’s knees were shaky as she stood and crossed the few feet to Max’s private office. Her sweaty hand slipped on the polished brass doorknob and she had to tighten her grip to twist it open. She glanced back at Patsy, who gave her an encouraging thumbs-up signal.

“Mr. McKenna.” Max, who’d been sitting with his back to the door, stood and held out his hand. When he saw who it was, his features hardened and his hand dropped slowly to his side. He was silent for a moment, as if searching for the right words, before saying formally, “Caitlin. I’m afraid you’ve dropped by at an inconvenient time. I have another appointment due any minute.”

Caitlin would have turned tail and run had she not seen a flicker of something, pain maybe, in Max’s eyes before the impenetrable mask dropped down. “Your secretary worked me in.”

Max immediately punched the button on his intercom. “Patsy, when Mr. McKenna comes in, please have him wait in the office next door.”

“Gee, Max, I’m afraid Mr. McKenna won’t be in at all this afternoon.”

“What?”

“As a matter of fact, I’ve rescheduled all of your afternoon appointments. And since you have such a light afternoon schedule, I’m leaving early.
Ciao!
”

“Patsy. Patsy.” When she didn’t respond, he
strode out of his office only to see the flip of her skirt hem as she went out the door. He turned suspicious eyes back to Caitlin. “Just what did you and my sister cook up?”