Barbara Freethy - Some Kind Of Wonderful (3 page)

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BOOK: Barbara Freethy - Some Kind Of Wonderful
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Ten minutes later, Matt stood under the showerhead, hoping the hot
water would ease the tension in his shoulders. Unfortunately, the knots
kept tightening every time he thought about Sarah standing outside
his
building, taking the elevator, walking down the hall. He'd been just a
few feet away when she'd left her baby by the door. Just a few damn
feet away. And he hadn't known it, hadn't sensed her presence. Why? Why?
The question screamed at him again and again and again. He'd searched
for Sarah for so long. Why couldn't she have knocked on his door?
Looked into his eyes? Asked for help?
Because she'd been afraid he would say no? Instinctively, he knew that
was the truth. He'd let her down before. He closed his eyes against the
pain of his memories. It was a mistake, because then he could see her
in his mind.
Sarah sat on the curb, her
raven-black hair drifting past her waist as
she stared up at their apartment building, at the orange-red flames
that leaped out of their windows, and the smoke billowing around
them,
reminding them that if they hadn 't been in hell before, they certainly
were now. Clutched in Sarah's hand was a stick with a picture of a doll
face on the end. She called the stick EmmaLou and pretended it was her
baby. It was the only thing she'd grabbed on their way out of the
building.
"It's just going to be for a little
while," Matt told her with every last ounce of his sixteen-year-old
bravado. "They will find
a place where we can live together, you and me."
"Don't forget EmmaLou," she 'd said
in her quiet, thin voice, and then
she'd looked up at him with a sadness that broke his heart.
"EmmaLou, too. I'll take care of us,
Sarah. No one will hurt you. I
won't let them."
"Where's Mommy? "
"I don't know." He looked helplessly
down the crowded street where
residents were huddled together praying the fire that had started in
their apartment wouldn 't consume the other buildings on the street. He
should have stayed home tonight instead of going to work at Jack in the
Box, then he would have been home. He could have made sure Sarah didn't
get a hold of the matches. Suddenly anger and an overwhelming tiredness
overcame him. "Why the hell did you have to play with those matches,
Sarah? I've told you a hundred times to leave 'em be. Now we have
nowhere to go, no place to live."
Surah looked stricken at his words,
and he wished them back, but it was
too late.
"I'm sorry, Mattie." Sarah put her
thin arms around his neck and hugged
him with all her might.
"I'm sorry."
"God," Matt muttered as he opened his eyes and stared at the water
dripping down the shower wall. Come back, Sarah, give me another
chance. Just one more chance."
By the time he finished dressing, he was twenty minutes past the
fifteen he'd promised Caitlyn. Knowing he couldn't stall a second
longer, he walked across the hall and found her door unlocked. He
walked in, steeling himself for another glimpse of Sarah's baby. At
least everything was quiet.
In fact, it was too quiet. He'd expected to see Caitlyn at her sewing
machine, but in fact she was asleep
on the couch, one hand flung over
the side, resting on Emily's tiny chest. The baby lay fast asleep in
her car seat, which sat on the floor next to the couch.
He studied them both for a second, caught by an unbelievable rush of
emotion. Caitlyn was just a woman. The baby was just a baby. He didn't
know either one of them, didn't care about them at all, but still the
sight unsettled him, made him remember a feeling he'd tried hard to
forget—the feeling of family.
Clearing his throat, Matt debated his options. They both looked
comfortable—happy, in fact. If he moved the baby, she might cry. And if
he didn't move her, maybe he could get some sleep before she woke up.
Caitlyn, on the other hand—his gaze drifted over to his neighbor— would
probably prefer he take the baby home. But then again, she was asleep.
That wasn't part of their deal.
Ignoring his conscience, he backed toward the door and quietly let
himself out. He'd be worth a lot more to both of them after a few hours
sleep. Yeah, that's what they all needed, sleep. It was the perfect
solution.
The dream was back. It began with the
fireplace and the Christmas tree,
the twinkling lights, red, green, blue, gold, and the matching sparkle
of her engagement ring, promising a lifetime of holidays
as special as
this one. Then the colors faded to white.
For a moment Caitlyn imagined her
wedding day, her satin dress with the
lace bodice and tulle skirt that would twirl when she danced. It was
picture-perfect, a beautiful dream.
Then the white dress turned into
puffy white clouds and powdery white
snow. The warm fire turned to ice,
hard, cold, unforgiving ice. Caitlyn
yearned to get away from it all.
And suddenly she was flying, images of speed and space surrounding her,
until she crashed into a world where nothing would ever be the same.
She cried out against the unbearable, heartbreaking pain, but it
wouldn't stop—not the pain, not the screaming.
Caitlyn wrestled against the bonds of sleep. Finally, finally, she
fought her way out, and with a jerk she sat upright, her heart
pounding, her blood roaring in her ears, her face dripping witli sweat.
"Oh, God," she murmured, feeling shaken, the way she always did when
the memories returned. Then she suddenly realized that something was
different. She wasn't asleep and she wasn't crying. Emily was crying.
Emily! She automatically reached for the infant, who was trying to
squirm out of the car seat. Caitlyn undid the straps and picked the
baby up. Then she glanced at the clock on the wall. Six forty-five in
the morning!
"Oh, my God!" she cried. "Where is your. . ." Her voice trailed away as
she tried to remember the connection to Matt. "Your uncle?" she asked
triumphantly. Her minor victory faded as the baby continued to scream
and Matt did not materialize.
"I'm going to kill him," she told Emily. "He was supposed to come back
and get you, so I could finish—" She stopped abruptly, the reality of
her situation getting worse. "Oh, no! Tiffany will be here in an hour,
and I haven't finished her dress."
First things first, Caitlyn decided, striding to the doorway. She
marched across the hall to Matt's door
and tried the doorknob. It was
locked. The bum. She knocked, then pounded, then pounded some more.
Finally, she heard swearing and the door opened. Matt appeared
bleary-eyed, dressed in a pair of gray sweats and a tank top. He was a
grumpy, sexy, irritating male. And the fact that she had the
nerve to actually consider him sexy at all only made her more angry.
Caitlyn thrust Emily at him. "You creep."
"Wait a second."
She ignored him, heading back to her apartment.
"You were asleep," Matt said, following her into her living room before
she could slam the door in his face.
"You still could have taken Emily to your place. I didn't finish the
dress. And it's all your fault."
"Hey, you fell asleep. You wouldn't have finished the dress even if
Emily wasn't here."
"I would have been done if you'd never knocked on my door."
"Maybe not. Maybe—"
"Oh, shut up," she snapped, then grabbed the baby formula out of the
diaper bag. "You change her. I'll get a bottle started. Then you are
going to leave so I can try to save myself from disaster."
"I'm not sure I can change her," he said doubtfully.
"Try." She stormed into the kitchen to mix the formula with water and
heat it up.
As she tapped her fingers impatiently on the counter-top, waiting for
the water to turn hot, she heard
Matt talking to Emily, whose cries had
diminished to whimpers.
"Let's see if we can figure this thing out," he told Emily. "I'm not
sure which is the back and which is
the front, but maybe it doesn't
matter since you're a girl."
Caitlyn felt the anger slowly seep out of her body. She tried to fight
the weakening, determined not to
let his total ineptness charm her. But
she had to admit there was something about a man and a baby
that got to
her. Damn! Don't go there, she told herself.
"Whoa, you peed enough to sink the Titanic," Matt continued. "This
sucker must weigh five pounds."
A smile broke across Caitlyn's face with his last comment. Well, the
baby had slept a good six or seven hours, she calculated. Quite a long
time for her age. Emily must have been exhausted, poor thing. Who knew
when she'd slept before she'd arrived. Sarah certainly had some
explaining to do.
The water warmer, Caitlyn mixed the bottle and walked out to the living
room to see Matt holding Emily aloft with a proud smile on his
ridiculously attractive face.
"I did it," he said.
"Not bad for your first time." She handed him the bottle. "Here you go."
"That wasn't my first time," he confessed.
She raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"No, but it's been a while." Matt put the bottle into Emily's greedy
mouth, and for a moment they simply watched the baby suck on the
bottle, her little hands trying to grab it as if she were afraid it
would disappear.
Caitlyn felt a catch in her throat, a fluttering in her stomach. It was
happening. She was getting attached, the way she always did, a soft
touch for babies and animals and anyone in need. But she couldn't let
herself get attached. She had to stay cool, calm, collected.
Turning away, she fixed her gaze on Tiffany Waterhouse's wedding dress
and tried to focus on her priorities: work, work, and work. If she just
thought about her business, everything would be fine. It
was the mantra
that had driven her life for the past eighteen months.
Taking a breath and letting it out, she walked over to her sewing
machine. She still had one seam left to stitch, then she would be done.
Grabbing the material, she sat down at her machine and maneuvered the
settings to where she wanted them. She felt Matt's eyes on her and
looked up. "You can go, you know."
"I'll let her finish eating," he said, sitting down on one of the
chairs by her kitchen table.
"Then you'll go?"
"You don't like my company?"
"I have work to do."
"So do it."
"You're staring at me," she said pointedly.
"I've never seen anyone sew before."
Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. "Oh, come on, your mother must have sewed a
hem on your pants at one
time or another."
He shook his head, a dark look in his eyes. "No."
Matt didn't elaborate, and Caitlyn couldn't bring herself to ask what
he so obviously didn't want to share. Besides, she had more important
things to worry about, like Tiffany's dress. She was only a few
stitches in when a knock came at her door. "That can't be her." she
whispered, staring at the door in dismay.
"You going to find out?" Matt asked with a lazy drawl.
"She's not supposed to be here for an hour. What am I going to do?"
"Tell her it's not done."
"You don't understand. She paid extra for the rush job. I promised her
it would be done by this morning."
His raised eyebrow told her she must look as wild and worried as she
felt. Caitlyn glared at him. "This is all your fault. And that sister
of yours. I'd like to give her a piece of my mind."
"Hey, lay off Sarah," Matt said sharply, protectively.
"She left her baby in a hallway, and you're defending her?"
"Sarah left her baby for me."
"Then why are you in my apartment?" she cried in frustration as the
impatient knock came again. Putting the dress aside, she walked over
and opened the door.
"Hello," Tiffany sang out. "I'm here." She walked into the apartment,
her face glowing with excitement and love.
Caitlyn hated to see that glow fade, but she had a feeling it would
only take a couple of words. "You're
an hour early. Your dress isn't
ready yet," she burst out.
"But you promised! You said you'd work all night. I gave you a thousand
dollars."
Caitlyn cleared her throat. "Something came up."
"More important than my wedding?" Tiffany's face was a picture of
shocked hurt.
Caitlyn knew that this spoiled socialite had never once considered that
someone or something could be more important than her.
"I'm sure Caitlyn didn't mean it that way," Matt interrupted.
Tiffany's gaze swung to him. "Who are you?"
"A neighbor."
"Well," Tiffany sputtered, her glance lingering on Matt far longer than
it should have for a woman about to be married in a few hours.
Caitlyn frowned. Seeing Matt flash a smile in Tiffany's direction made
her once again aware of just how ruggedly handsome he was, especially
this morning. His just-gotten-out-of-bed look, the ruffled hair, and
the muscle T-shirt were enough to put any woman's motor into overdrive.
Not that her motor was humming. That wasn't attraction, that was anger,
frustration, and not to be confused with
any other emotion, she told herself firmly.
"I think this is so unprofessional," Tiffany continued, evidently
unwilling to let even Matt's presence foil her hysterics. "I'm going to
tell all my friends how disappointed I am in you, and I have a lot of
friends. You let me down, Caitlyn."
"I'm sorry," Caitlyn said helplessly as Tiffany began to sniff back
tears.
"Why don't you let Caitlyn finish your dress? After all, you're an hour
early." Matt patted the seat next
to him. "Come and tell me all about
your wedding plans and your husband-to-be. You must have a few minutes
to spare."
"I guess," she said slowly, softening under Matt's irresistible smile.
"Sure you do. Does your fiance know how lucky he is to be marrying you?"
Caitlyn's mouth fell open. She wouldn't have figured Matt for charming,
but apparently he could be
when he wanted to.
"I have to be at Antoines at eight, though," Tiffany said sharply to
Caitlyn. "That's why I came early.
My hair appointment got moved up,
and.no one is late for Antoine."
Caitlyn nodded. "You'll make it. I just have a little left to do." She
sat down in front of her sewing machine and readjusted the fabric. She
couldn't quite believe Matt had come to her rescue, but this was hardly
the time to ask him why or if he had an ulterior motive. Which he
undoubtedly did.

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