Who's the Boss? Page 12

  “Caitlin?” Vince looked at her. “You could come with me. Take your time and find something better.”

  “I don’t think so,” Joe said lightly in a voice of steel as he came back inside.

  Tim, clearly sensing the sudden tension, clapped his hands and announced cheerfully, “Well, we’ve got everything you want to bring, Caitlin. I vote we stop for a pizza on the way to the new apartment.”

  “A vegetarian one,” Andy said. “With anchovies.”

  Tim groaned loudly. “Pepperoni and sausage.”

  Vince ignored them and stared at Joe. “Have you seen her new place? If you have, you can’t possibly believe she’ll be safe there.”

  “But she’ll be safe with you?”

  Caitlin quickly stepped in between the two. “Okay,” she said with a huge, tremulous smile. “Pizza it is. But I’m sorry, Andy. Anchovies make me puke. You can have them on the side.”

  “I can’t believe you said that,” Vince said to Joe.

  “Why not? You’ve been drooling after her for weeks now. Falling all over yourself like a lovesick fool.”

  Vince shook his head in disgust. “And what is it you’ve been doing, Joe? Because it sure as hell hasn’t been working on our program.”

  “Oh, knock it off, both of you!” Caitlin tried to appeal to their common sense, but the testosterone-fueled men weren’t listening. “If you don’t, I’m going to get really tough and make you kiss and make up.”

  In tune to Andy’s and Tim’s snickers, she pushed each of them out the door toward Vince’s van, where everything was loaded. Fast as she could, she told three quick dirty jokes in a row, leaving Tim and Andy in stitches. Even Vince cracked a smile as he hopped into the driver’s seat.

  But Joe stayed solemn and quiet.

  Until they got to her new apartment—which they discovered had been given away only two hours before. Caitlin’s deposit check had bounced.

  CAITLIN HAD BEEN TRYING—really she had. But she’d lost every ounce of cheer when over an hour later, she dragged herself back into her condo.

  “I’m so sorry,” Andy said quietly, taking her hand.

  “It’s not your fault he didn’t have another apartment available,” she said wearily. “Don’t worry, guys. I’ll come up with something.”

  Joe nodded at the twins, and they reluctantly left.

  Vince hovered stubbornly at the door. “I want you to come with me. You’re practically homeless.”

  “No, I’m not. Thanks to Joe here, I can live in this empty place until the end of the month if I want to.”

  Vince and Joe stared at each other.

  “Not that again.” She rubbed her head, perilously close to tears. “I can’t handle it right now, guys. I’d like to be alone.”

  Joe’s heart cracked at the utterly forlorn expression on her face. He couldn’t stand it. “Come with me.”

  Caitlin’s eyes widened. So did his own as he realized what he’d just said, but he wouldn’t take it back, not with Vince waiting, watching. Wanting.

  “You can come to my place if you’d rather,” Vince said quietly.

  “Vince—”

  “You can stay with me as long as you like.” Immeasurable sorrow filled her eyes as she turned to Joseph’s head tech. “I’m sorry, Vince. I just...can’t.”

  Vince’s confused gaze searched hers a long moment.

  “Don’t hate me,” Caitlin whispered, squeezing his hand. “I know it sounds stupid and cliché, but I really, really need your friendship.”

  “I’ll always be your friend, Caitlin. Always. But I’ll probably also always be hoping you change your mind.” With a curt jerk of his head toward Joe, he asked, “Do you have any idea what you’re getting into?”

  “Only vaguely,” she admitted.

  “Could you stop talking about me as if I wasn’t standing right here?” Joe demanded.

  “See? He’s bad-tempered. Attitude ridden. Mean as hell,” Vince said ruthlessly.

  “He’s also fiercely loyal, generous to a fault, compassionate and the most wonderful man I’ve ever met, and you know it because he’s your best friend.”

  Vince nodded slowly. “Yes, he is, and I care about him almost as much as I’ve come to care about you. My condolences, Caitlin.”

  Caitlin tilted her head, baffled. “For what?”

  “You fell in love with him, didn’t you?”

  Her smile was both dazzling and wobbly. “Yes,” she whispered.

  And Joseph’s heart stopped.

  11

  VINCE’S SMILE was bittersweet. “I’m glad for him, even if I am jealous as hell.” He met Joseph’s stunned gaze and shook his head. “Unbelievable, Joe. Your luck keeps holding.”

  Joe didn’t know whether he’d call it luck or not, but either way, he still couldn’t speak. Not with his body humming in disbelief, his eyes glued to the woman who’d just declared herself.

  “You’re the most courageous woman I know,” Vince told Caitlin. “And I hope you’re patient, too, because you certainly haven’t taken the easy road.”

  She loves me, Joe thought, bowled over by the knowledge. This unbearably sweet, chaotic, intelligent woman loved him, and all he’d given her in return was a hard time and grief.

  “I’ll be okay,” Caitlin said softly, looking at Joe.

  He wanted to hold her, never let her go. He wanted to run like hell and never look back. She deserved better, far better. He’d never been able to handle intimacy. Never. To think he could now was foolish. Worse, he would hurt her. He’d get hurt.

  The fear of it overwhelmed him, which was ironic. He wasn’t afraid of much. Just a lush, beautiful blonde whose smile and innate kindness knocked him for a loop.

  Vince leaned close and gave Caitlin a hug. Joe told himself he wouldn’t hurt his best friend unless he kissed her, but then Vince did exactly that, on the cheek.

  Caitlin kissed him back, sniffed and opened the door for him. “See you Monday, Vince. Thanks. For everything.”

  Vince smiled once and was gone.

  Joe didn’t know whether he was relieved or terrified. Both, he decided a minute later when Caitlin turned around and walked into her empty living room. “Chastity’s clearly finished,” she said. “Everything’s gone.”

  Maybe she could ignore what had just happened, but he couldn’t. “Why did you pick me, Caitlin?”

  “I wonder if she took the toaster?” She sighed deeply. “I wanted her to because it was an antique, but whoever buys it won’t know you have to turn the bread halfway through or you get burned toast.”

  “Caitlin.”

  She was wringing her fingers, and her voice came low and fast. “Well, I’d hate to have someone pay good money for the thing and feel like they got ripped off—”

  “Caitlin.” He moved up close to her, knowing she was as nervous as he was.

  “And the cord! Oh, God. I forgot to tell her it occasionally catches fire, and you’ve seen my luck with such things. Do you think I should call her? Because—”

  “The damn toaster is gone.” He grabbed her shoulders, whipped her around. “Now talk to me.”

  “I know the toaster’s gone!” she shouted unexpectedly. “Everything is gone. Do you think I can’t see that?” She threw off his touch. “I have eyes in my head, you know!” Her voice cracked. “I’m not a...complete idiot.”

  Then, to his utter horror, she burst into tears.

  “Ah, hell,” he said to the empty room, and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You’re only sorry you’re the one that’s left to deal with me.” Her tears soaked his shirt and destroyed his heart.

  Selfish, he called himself silently, as quiet sobs shook her body. Holding her close, he ran his hands gently over her back and shoulders. Selfish to enjoy holding her so much, when she was hurting so badly.

  “I’m tired of being alone,” she said on a sniff.

  Tell her, his conscience urged. Tell he
r that her father didn’t abandon her on purpose, that he had no choice. Tell her you’re the jerk for not reading the letter sooner. But he’d been asked to remain silent by the only man who ever showed him kindness and he couldn’t break that promise.

  Caitlin squeezed him, hiccuping, and she felt so small, so defenseless...so perfectly right in his arms.

  “You smell like roses,” she said finally, sliding her hands up around his neck.

  It felt so good to have her touch him, he shuddered at the contact. “I should. I took a bath in them, remember?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Those shoes were ridiculous.”

  “Hey, I needed my height. Extra boost of confidence, you know.”

  His smile faded as he stroked her hair and rubbed his cheek against the top of her head. He hated that she continually felt self-conscious about herself, knowing that a good portion of that just might be his fault. “Did I ever tell you I’m rather fond of petite women that I can tuck in close and wrap myself around?” He tightened his arms to prove his point.

  “No.” Her voice was breathless. “You’ve told me very little about yourself.” Warily, she lifted her head. “Are you really?”

  “Really.” Of its own accord, one hand skimmed down her spine, cupped her bottom and very purposely rubbed her against the painfully hard part of him that could prove his point.

  Her mouth opened, as if she couldn’t get enough air.

  “And here’s the really ironic part,” he told her in a stage whisper. “Curvaceous blondes are my wildest fantasy.”

  She lifted her head. Her curtain of gold hair tickled his chin. Those beautiful, drenched eyes of hers met his. And heaven help him, but he recognized some of the emotion there. Need. Hunger. Desire. His body reacted with matching emotions, fast and hot, leaving him shaken, for he’d never felt that way about anyone. “Caitlin... come with me?”

  “Where to?”

  “My place.” He took her hand.

  She resisted. “That’s not a good idea.”

  “Probably not,” he agreed. “But I’m not leaving you here alone.” He hesitated, cupped her cheek and met her uncertain gaze. “Let’s stop fighting this and follow through with it for once, okay?”

  She bit her lip and studied him for a long moment, searching for he could only imagine what. Apparently, she found it.

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  SHE FELL ASLEEP in his car on the way to his house. When she felt herself being lifted into a pair of strong arms, hoisted up against a hard, warm chest, she bit back her drowsy grin.

  “Oh, Vince. I had no idea you felt so good.”

  Joseph’s arms tightened around her and he growled, making her laugh. Her arms snaked around his neck, and she buried her face into his throat.

  “Say my name,” he demanded.

  “Joe,” she whispered obediently, winning herself a quick, hard hug. “Mmm. You smell good,” she murmured, inhaling deeply.

  “You’re awake,” he accused. “Why am I carrying you into my house?”

  It was a lovely house. Small, inexplicably cozy.

  And messy.

  She had a quick view of high vaulted ceilings, airy rooms, magazines and books scattered haphazardly throughout...his home.

  Uncertain yet tingling with anticipation, she closed her eyes again.

  She had the weightless sensation of going up stairs. She held him tight and kept her eyes closed. “Did I ever tell you I fantasize about this modern-day pirate?” She felt him pause, could feel the weight of his curious stare. It almost made her giggle. “He’s tall, dark and so gorgeous and he takes me into his cabin and bounces me onto the—” The sentence ended on a scream as he tossed her into the air.

  She hit a soft, giving bed and bounced high. Her eyes flew open. They were in a large bedroom, with dark oak furniture. There were clothes and more books scattered around, not that the mess surprised her; she’d seen his office.

  What did surprise her was that she was sprawled on the biggest bed she’d ever seen. With forest-green, soft, Joe-scented bedding that she wanted to bury her nose in.

  He laughed roughly and followed her down on the bed. “Do I ravish you now, fair maiden? Or after I tie up your crew?”

  “Now, please.” The words popped out of her mouth before she could stop them. He lowered himself to her, bracketing her body with his arms.

  And it was then that trickle of doubt spurted. Just a trickle, though, because he was tall and dark and oh so gorgeous. “Joe, wait a sec—”

  “Pirates wait for no one,” he growled in a voice that sent delicious shivers running over her skin.

  His tough, lean body pressed against hers, holding her pinned where she’d dreamed about being. But that was her dream, not his. “Joe...this isn’t just because you feel sorry for me, is it?”

  He blinked, then knelt in the bed, pulling her up with him so that they were face-to-face.

  “What?”

  “We both know I’m not exactly your type.”

  He stroked her cheek. “I told you I fantasize about you. I meant it.”

  “You had to say that.”

  She made a move to leave the bed, and he stopped her, putting his hands on her hips. “What is this? I want you. You have to know that.”

  “You don’t just feel bad because I cried?”

  “You’re kidding me, right?” Taking her hand, he pressed it down between their bodies, holding it up against the fly of his jeans, and his erection. “If anyone should feel bad for anyone,” he announced, his eyes crossing with lust when she caressed him through the fabric, “then feel sorry for me. For this.” Unable to help himself, he thrust into her hand, groaning when she squeezed gently. “I’ve been in this pathetic state since the day you walked into my office weeks ago and smiled at me, and it has absolutely nothing to do with pity!”

  “Oh,” she breathed, her eyes bright and luminous, sensuous and innocent at the same time. Just looking at her had heat spearing his body, weakening his limbs with a needy languor.

  She kept on touching him, forbidden delight and discovery lighting her face as her fingers explored him through his jeans. “I did this to you?” she asked in wonder.

  “Yeah. You,” he said, grabbing her waist. “You. Only you, Caitlin.”

  Her eyes met his, full and warm. “I love you, Joe.”

  It should have turned him off to hear the words, but instead they had the opposite effect. “I can’t give you more than this,” he told her, his voice rough and torn as he pushed against her hand mindlessly. “No promises. I can’t.”

  “I know,” she whispered, sighing deeply when he flexed his buttocks again. “Don’t worry, Joe. This is enough for me.”

  It wasn’t, shouldn’t be, and he wanted to tell her so, but then she planted her wet, open mouth on his throat and her fingers moved on him again, and he was lost to reason. Lost to anything but what she was doing to him.

  Then she let him go, and he thought he would die right there on the spot. So much emotion swirled in her eyes; heat, need, desire...and then with one fluid motion, she pulled off her ribbed tank top with the happy face. She was wearing nothing beneath but glorious, proud, full curves.

  “Caitlin.” He said just that, just her name, because he could hardly breathe, but she covered herself with her arms. The most difficult thing he’d ever done was to bite back his own raging needs, to soothe and excite. He wanted to see her wild, out of control. For him. He ran a finger down her arm, watching as goose bumps rose. He touched her hair reverently, then eased it aside to kiss the sensitive spot beneath her ear.

  His fingers, light as air, played on her throat, then moved to the back of her neck. Stroking, teasing, always barely touching, but still she covered herself, not wanting to stop, he knew, but not knowing how to make him continue.

  With his large, warm, tender hands, he cupped her face and tilted it up. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “So very beautiful, Caitlin.” Then he kissed her, ste
aling any breath she had left. That warm, sexy mouth deepened the connection, his powerful body pressing into hers. When he finally raised his head, she moaned in protest.

  “Be sure, Caitlin,” he said softly. “I won’t have you regretting this.”

  “I have nothing to regret,” she promised. The words were no sooner out of her mouth than his head descended. Each kiss got hotter, wetter, deeper. He ran his hands down her arms to her elbows.

  “Why would you try to hide such an incredible body?” he wondered hoarsely.

  “Because I’m embarrassed.” She closed her eyes. “I’m too...”

  “Too perfect.” He finished her sentence in a husky whisper. “Don’t tell me you’re hiding something. Tan lines? Freckles?”

  “Both,” she admitted with a choked laugh, which died on a harsh intake of breath when his fingers explored the soft flesh spilling out above and below her crossed arms. “Oh...oh. Joe, hurry.”

  “Don’t rush me,” he murmured. “I want to see and touch and taste each little bit as we go.”

  She had melted at his tender touch, but his words finished the job.

  Gently, Joe took her hands and pulled them away from her body. His gaze held hers, and she’d never felt so exposed or so aroused in her entire life.

  “No, don’t do that. Don’t be embarrassed,” he told her. “Save it for when you sail down the stairs on your ass. Or when you blow up my coffeemaker. But not here. There’s no room for it. Only for you, and me and what we make each other feel.” Without another word, he lowered his head, splaying his hands on her bare back to draw her close, and opened his mouth on her breast.

  Fire speared through her, and Caitlin bit her lip to keep any sounds she might make inside, but it was difficult, made more so by what he continued to do to her. With his tongue, he teased, using a maddening light touch, then suckled hard and strong.

  She was burning up. Her toes were curling. Her insides were churning, shaking. So were her legs. She shook her head to clear it. Still, her body raced, each pulse a desperate, needy beat “I feel... funny,” she whispered, realizing she was holding tight to his shirt with a death grip.