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It was almost eleven, long past the time to go home, but Caitlyn
couldn't make herself get up and go. The couch was comfortable, the
baby was asleep, and the man .. . well, Matt was something else,
stirring her senses in a way that made her want more—more of
everything: his husky voice, his male scent, his wry smile. She'd never
been so aware of a man, but here in his apartment with so little
furniture, so little of anything but him and her, she felt an intimacy
that was completely at odds with their relationship.
Their friendship was barely twenty-four hours old, if you could even
call it a friendship, more of a chance relationship based on
circumstances beyond their control. If Emily hadn't arrived, Caitlyn
had no doubt that Matt would have stayed forever on his side of the
hallway, and she would have done the same. But Emily had come. And so
had Matt, a man she couldn't quite figure out.
The little he'd told her of his background had colored him as dark,
rough, edgy, intense. Yet with Emily he was tender, kind, patient. She
wondered which was the real Matt Winters. And she couldn't help
speculating how he would be with a woman he was interested in. Would he
be passionate and impulsive or slow and deliberate?
Caitlyn felt an uncomfortable uneasiness run through her as she watched
Matt clear up the remains of their pizza. His blue jeans fit him like a
glove, outlining his strong, fit body. He had a great ass, she thought,
suppressing a small giggle at the trail her thoughts were taking, a
trail
she wouldn't mind taking with her hands. Okay, enough, she told herself
firmly, setting her wineglass down on the coffee table in front of her.
She had to get a grip. She had no business ogling Matt's buns or any
other part of his anatomy.
"More wine?" Matt walked over with the bottle of red he'd opened up for
her earlier that evening.
"Did I drink all that?" she asked with a frown as he poured the last
few ounces into her glass.
"Looks that way," he said with a smile.
"If I finish that, I'll be asleep."
"Well, it is that time of the night."
"You don't look tired," she observed.
"I'm a night owl, and I'm also a little wired with my new houseguest"
"You should try to sleep while she's sleeping."
"I probably should, but I don't feel like sleeping." He walked back to
the window, a trip he'd made
many times over the past few hours.
"Thinking about Sarah?"
"I can't help it. She's out there somewhere." He waved his hand toward
the city lights. "Temperature dropped today. She must be cold."
""Maybe she's inside."
"I hope so. I feel helpless. I'd much rather be out there walking Liie
mi ecu ilian sitting in this apartment wondering where she is."
"You're doing more than sitting. You're taking care of your sister's
baby. That's pretty important. In fact, I can't think of anything more
important."
He looked back at her, his gaze connecting with hers for a long minute.
"Thanks. I think I needed the reminder."
"You're welcome. And I'm not even taking it personally that you'd
rather be anywhere else than here talking to me."
He smiled at that. "I didn't mean it that way."
"I didn't take it that way." She patted the couch beside her. "Why
don't you sit down? You're making
me nervous."
"My mother used to say the same thing. Mattie, can't you just be still
for five minutes," he mimicked.
Caitlyn smiled at the note of unexpected tenderness in his voice. "You
loved her, didn't you? In spite of everything."
He looked shocked by her suggestion. "No. I didn't love her. How can
you love someone who doesn't take care of you, who abandons you?"
"Because you can. Because love doesn't always make sense."
"Well, that's true," he said, digging his hands into his pockets. "But
I didn't love her."
"Have you ever been in love with anyone—you know, crazy,
head-over-heels in love?" she asked him.
"No."
"Do you want to think about it for ten seconds?"
"No," he said with another small smile.
"That's too bad."
"Why do you say that? It doesn't look like love got you anywhere." He
shot her a curious look.
"Are you going to see Bradley again?"
"Brian," she said with annoyance, somewhat irritated by his perceptive
remark. Although, hadn't she come to the same conclusion, that love
wasn't all it was cracked up to be?
Still, she hadn't really given up on love, she realized. How could she?
Her entire business was driven by the emotion. If she didn't believe in
love, how could she design dresses for the most important day in the
life of two lovers?
Maybe that was the problem. Maybe that's why she couldn't draw anymore.
The answer was suddenly glaringly clear. She couldn't draw because she
couldn't feel. Her designs had always come from her
heart, but her
heart had gone out of business.
"Wow, I think I just had an epiphany."
Matt raised an eyebrow. "About what?"
"About myself, about love, about my inability to draw wedding dresses."
She shook her head. "It's a
long story, but I've had a mental block
every time I've tried to design something, and I think I just
realized
why."
"I take it you're not planning to share it with me," he said after a
moment of silence. "Does it have something to do with Bradley?"
"Partly. I did love Brian once, but so much has happened. I don't
really know how I feel anymore. But one thing I do know is that Brian
is going to get everyone riled up. They won't wait for me to make up my
own mind, they'll drive me crazy until I become convinced that getting
back together with Brian is
the absolutely right thing to do and, in
fact, was my idea all along."
"Who's they?" Matt asked, joining her on the couch.
"My mother, for one. She loves Brian like the son she never had. She's
already given him my phone number, my address, and invited him to
Sunday brunch tomorrow. I'm sure she intends to have me re-engaged by
next Friday and married the week after."
He raised an eyebrow. "Your mother would encourage you to get back
together with that idiot who left you on your sickbed?"
"She doesn't know the whole story."
"Why don't you tell her?"
Caitlyn shrugged, not willing to admit that she hadn't told anyone the
full story, not even him. In fact,
she could barely tell it to herself.
"You don't know my mother. She always wants what's best for me.
At
least that's what she tells herself when she decides it's time to haul
me in for repairs."
"What kind of repairs?"
Caitlyn waved her hand in the air. "Oh, you name it, I've had
it—braces, contact lenses, laser eye surgery, fat camp, hot wax."
"Ouch."
"You don't even want to know what it feels like to have hot wax
dripping down your thigh—"
"Don't go there," he interrupted with an outstretched hand. "How women
can do that to themselves,
I do not understand. Nor do I understand how
your mother could possibly look at you and see anything that needs
fixing. You look pretty damn good to me."
His gaze traveled from her face down her body and up again, drawing a
hot blush to her cheeks. The sparks smoldering between them suddenly
burst into flame. Caitlyn couldn't seem to look away from Matt's eyes.
She saw his pupils dilate, watched the gleam of desire awaken and
stretch like a slumbering lion ready to pounce. And if she'd had any
sense, she would have run like hell, because she had absolutely no
business leaning forward, and neither did he, but the distance between
them vanished like
a puff of smoke.
Matt's breath touched her lips first, teasing her with his scent; then
his mouth covered hers, drawing her into a deep, heart-stopping,
soul-shattering kiss that might have lasted for seconds or minutes or
hours. Caitlyn was so immersed in the texture and taste of his mouth,
the scent of his skin, his fingers running through her hair and
trapping her head so she couldn't move that she lost all track of time.
It
was a kiss that completely consumed her, and it was only ended because
of the shocking cry of a very small baby.
They broke apart in breathless amazement, their eyes connecting on the
same note.
"What the hell was that?" Matt asked her.
She shook her head, unable to release a coherent word of explanation.
Matt looked from her to the
crying baby and back again. "I—"
"Have to get Emily, I know," Caitlyn finished, finally finding her
voice. "'I must have had too much wine."
"You're going to blame it on the wine?"
"I'm thinking about it," she admitted.
Matt leaned over to pick Emily up off the floor. "What's wrong now,
sweetheart? Hungry, wet, what?"
Emily answered him with a downturned mouth that turned into a scream.
"Okay, I get the picture. You're mad."
"Probably hungry, too. I'll fix her a bottle." Caitlyn said, anxious to
get to her feet, to move away from Matt, to give herself a chance to
regroup
"I'll change her," he said. "Might as well take care of both ends."
And for a few minutes, they focused only on Emily's needs, the air
bristling with electricity, unanswered questions, and unsatisfied
desire. When Emily had settled down with her bottle, comfortably tucked
into the curve of Matt's arm, Caitlyn decided it was time to leave.
"I'll see you later," she told Matt, staying a safe distance away from
him.
"You don't want to talk about it, do you?"
"It was just a kiss, nothing to get too excited about."
"Really? You weren't excited at all?" he asked with a skeptical raise
of his eyebrow.
She felt the warmth cover her cheeks again. "I told you, it was the
wine."
"It wasn't the wine. It was you and me together, going up in
spontaneous combustion. I've been around the block a few times, and
believe me that rarely happens."
She cleared her throat. "Yes, well, there might be an attraction—"
"Might be?"
"That doesn't mean we have to do anything about it."
"I think we already did."
"I mean again."
"Well, it could get awkward," he conceded. "I don't usually kiss my
neighbors."
"You don't usually talk to your neighbors."
"Exactly."
"We'll just forget it happened. Chalk it up to . . ."
"The wine," he finished. "But I didn't have any. So what's my excuse?"
"You were temporarily insane."
"I suppose you could drive a man to insanity."
"Very funny. But I'm not like this, Matt."
"Not like what? Beautiful, smart, sexy?"
She swallowed hard as his gaze swept over her once again, making her
tingle all over as if he were touching her. And she wanted him to touch
her. Wanted the kiss to start over again. Wanted to do it in slow
motion this time so she could feel every second. She cleared her
throat, trying to clear her head at the same time. "I don't usually
kiss men I don't know very well, especially a man I'm not even dating."
"I did buy you dinner," he said pragmatically.
"And I saved you from a screaming baby." She tucked a piece of hair
behind her ear. "This isn't even a romantic situation.
I don't know what came over me."
He smiled at her, a slow, sensuous, knowing smile that didn't just come
from his mouth, but his eyes.
"It's okay to want someone without having
a good reason. Men do it all the time."
"Well, I'm not a man."
"Thank God!"
She smiled and shook her head at the teasing note in his voice. "You're
not making this easy."
"Do you want me to?"
"Yes."
"Okay, it was momentary insanity."
"And it won't happen again," she said firmly.
"I don't know if I can promise that."
"Matt!"
"All right. I don't think it will ever happen again."
She supposed that was as good as she was going to get. She turned to
leave.
Mart's voice caught her at the door.
"Caitlyn," he said.
"What?"
"You don't need any fixing. You're fine the way you are."
"You don't know the half of it," she muttered as she shut the door. Out
in the hall, she leaned against
the door and drew in a deep breath. "No
one does."
seven
After fitfully trying to get to sleep, Caitlyn was not happy to hear
pounding at her door just after she'd finally dozed off. The angry
shrieks that followed could belong to only one person—Emily. Caitlyn
rushed out of her bedroom in her oversized T-shirt, stubbing her toe on
the way into the living room.
She opened the door with a curse on her
lips.
Matt's shirt hung open, his jeans missing the top button, as if he'd
thrown on his clothes in the dark. Emily's face was red, sweat
dampening her face, mixing with the tears running down her cheeks.
And besides the din of Emily's cries. Matt had his stereo cranked up
full blast.
"Why on earth are you playing that music?"
"I'm trying to cover up her screaming. She won't stop crying, Caitlyn,"
Matt said, panic in his voice.
"It's been hours. What are we going to
do?"
If it hadn't been two o'clock in the morning, and she hadn't been so
exhausted, she might have found the "we" in his
statement endearing. "We could try giving her a bath," she suggested.
"A bath? Are you crazy?"
"It's just a thought."
"You want me to strip her down and put her in a tub of water? I don't
think that's going to make her happy," he said with a wave of his hand.
The movement sent a flutter of air between them, and for a moment Emily
gasped and stopped crying, then immediately started again.
"I have an idea," Caitlyn said. "Go get the comforter."
"Why?"
"Just do it. Jeez, you ask a lot of questions. And turn off that music,
too."
While Matt was gone, Caitlyn grabbed her overcoat out of the closet and
threw it on. Then she met him in the hallway, which was thankfully a
bit more quiet, although Emily was still crying. "Are we going
somewhere?" he asked.
"The roof."
"What?"
"Come on." She led the way to the stairwell at the end of the hall and
up the flight of stairs to the roof. She opened the door and stepped
out onto the flat landing. The air was bracingly cold and stopped Emily
in mid scream.
Caitlyn waited for a second, which turned into a minute, holding her
own breath and hoping, just hoping, that something she'd read about
babies liking to be outside was true.
"I think she stopped," Matt whispered in amazement.
"Don't jinx her. She might just be catching her breath."
Both Caitlyn and Matt stared at Emily as she blinked suspiciously at
them both.
'Let's walk over there," Caitlyn suggested, heading toward the railing.
She'd discovered the roof a few months earlier when her father had told
her to find a good spot to watch an eclipse. Since then she'd come up a
few times to clear her head, to soak in the great city view, or just to
get away from it all.
There was a large step-down at the far end of the
roof that made a nice bench. Caitlyn sat down with Matt and helped him
adjust the comforter around Emily.
It was a clear night for a change, the fog remaining safely offshore.
Caitlyn took several deep breaths,
her pulse attempting to settle down
now that Emily was quiet.
"This is incredible," Matt said. "I think she's falling asleep."
Caitlyn watched as Emily's eyes blinked once, twice, then her lids
settled with a soft sigh.
"Now what?" Matt asked.
Caitlyn sent him a smile. "I have no idea. I guess maybe we could go
back inside, see if she stays asleep."
"Let's give her a minute, make sure she's really out." He sighed. "I
never appreciated the quiet until just this second. I wonder if Emily
cried this much with Sarah T can see how the constant crying could
drive you nuts."
"She might have colic. One of my friends had a baby who cried all the
time, especially at night. She used to try everything to get her to
calm down."
"Like going up to the roof at two o'clock in the morning in a nightgown
and overcoat?" he asked with an appreciative grin.
Caitlyn pulled her coat more closely around her shoulders. "You're not
supposed to be looking at me."
"Why not? The view is good from where I'm sitting."
His voice held a note of genuine appreciation that sent an unexpected
thrill down her spine. So much for forgetting about kissing him and
ignoring their attraction. A few hours into
their agreement, and she was already wondering just how hot his lips
would be in the cool night air.
"Say something," Matt commanded her.
"Like what?"
"Doesn't matter. Just something to distract me from.. ."
"From what?"
"You."
She swallowed hard, searching for something to say to deflect his
attention from her. The answer was in the sky overhead. "Did you know
that there are eighty-eight constellations that you can see from Earth?"
Matt shook his head with a wry smile. "I had no idea."
"It's true. Although the constellations are somewhat arbitrary
depending on where you are." Caitlyn tilted her head back, studying the
stars. "It's not as easy to see them here in the city, but when you go
up in the mountains away from the lights, you can see things you'd
never imagine."
Matt looked up at the sky overhead. "I know nothing about the stars.
The way I grew up, it was more practical to keep your eyes on the
ground, watch where you were stepping or who you were tripping over."
"That's kind of sad."
Matt shrugged. "There are a lot of sad things in the world. Oh, I
forgot—you wouldn't know about them, because you don't read the
newspaper."
She shrugged off his teasing jab. "I keep up with what I need to know,
but I think you can drown in the bad stuff if that's all you ever hear
about. It's like a traffic accident. I don't have to look when I go by.
I don't have to see the mangled metal car doors and the bloodstains on
the ground to figure out something nasty happened. But that's what the
news gives us, every last icky detail."
"Which fascinates most people, by the way. That's why the traffic comes
to a dead stop when there's an accident. Everyone wants to see."
"Well, I'd rather not."
"You'd rather bury your head under the covers."
"Or look toward the stars," she told him. "Come on, you have to admit
the universe is awe inspiring."
"I guess," he said grudgingly, following her gaze toward the heavens.
"My father—an astronomy professor, by the way— would love to get on the
space shuttle and fly to the moon. He has always been mesmerized by the
limitlessness of space. Infinity is his favorite number.
He's a real
dreamer, the quintessential absentminded professor."
"Tt sounds like you take after him."
"Maybe a little in the dreaming department. It's funny, though, how
different he and my mom are. They're both smart as can be, but my
mother has to be in absolute control of everything in her life, and my
father is like a leaf on the wind, drifting down, then up and away, I'm
never quite sure when he's going to touch down."
"Doesn't sound like he was there much for you." Matt observed.
She shrugged. "He loves his work. So does my mother. She's a math
professor."
"You're surrounded by eggheads."
"Geniuses," she agreed. "All mentally gifted. Brian, too. Sometimes, I
think he should have been their
real child. He fits in so perfectly
with them. They rarely know what to do with me."
"I don't think you're a dummy, Caitlyn."
"Maybe not a dummy, but I wasn't a good student. I used to daydream and
doodle all over my papers. My parents would get so frustrated with me.
And when I said I wanted to major in fashion design, they almost
collapsed. I think when
I brought Brian home, they breathed a sigh of relief, because now they
could be with me but have someone sort of in between us to be a bridge,
a translator, whatever you
want to call it."
"That's why you got engaged to the guy?" Matt asked, a note of
amusement in his voice.
"No," she said firmly, shooting him a dark look. "I got engaged to him
because I loved him. Having my parents love him was an added bonus—at
the time, anyway. Now it's more like a nightmare."
"You could just take him back. That's what he wants."
"I could. Probably even should. Don't you hate that word, shouldl It
seems to drive my life. What I should do always seems more important
than what I want to do."
"Duty versus desire," he said, rolling his tongue around the word
desire in such a way that made her shiver.
Just the night air she told herself, another lie in the growing
attraction between them. Because if Brian
was duty, then Matt was
definitely desire. But she wasn't choosing between them, for heaven's
sake. Matt was her neighbor. She couldn't even call him a friend. How
could she desire a man she didn't
know anything about?
But that was the problem, their whole relationship thus far had been
one of intensity, unusual depth, telling each other things usually
reserved for best friends. Why? Why did she feel comfortable with him
one second and edgy the next? How did Matt arouse feelings in her that
had taken Brian months to get to?
"I've known Brian for a long time," she said out loud, trying to remind
herself of that fact. "We dated
for almost three years before he asked
me to marry him."
"Fast mover, huh?"
"Some decisions should be made carefully."
"If you say so."
"I do. And since you've never been in love or engaged, I think I have
more experience than you do in
this matter."
"Okay," he said agreeably, too agreeably for her taste.
"You're laughing at me."
"I'm not. Do you always worry this much about what people think of you?"
"Yes."
"You shouldn't."
She groaned. "There's that word again. I know I'm a mess, Matt. I can't
make heads nor tails of my thoughts. If someone looked into my brain
right now they'd run screaming into the night."
Matt laughed out loud. "Shush, don't give Emily any ideas."
Caitlyn smiled back at him. "Sorry."
"You can't please everyone. Why try?"
"I'll probably die trying. I've been surrounded my whole life by people
who are highly intelligent, incredibly focused, and totally obsessed by
what they do for a living. There hasn't been much room
for flexibility
or understanding." She cast him a curious glance. ''You're like that,
too, aren't you? I bet you go days without sleeping or eating when
you're on a story."
"Sometimes. It's not a bad thing."
"'It can be lonely for the people you leave behind."
"I don't leave anybody behind," he said flatly. "There's never been
anybody there."
"But there could be now. There's nothing to stop you from getting
married, having children. You could have as big a family as you want."
Matt glanced down at the baby in his arms, his expression suddenly
somber. "Children are a big responsibility."
"That's true. But you seem to be a responsible guy to me."
He thought about that for a moment. "I've spent so much time looking
back, searching for Sarah, looking for the family that I once had, that
I haven't spent much time thinking about the future. But. . ."
"But," she prodded, feeling a terrible need to push the point, even
though she had a feeling she wouldn't be that happy with his answer.
"I might like to have kids," he admitted. "Someday, but I'm not sure
I'd be a great father."
"Sure you would. Look at how Emily trasts you to take care of her."
"Only because you got us up here on the roof. She was pretty pissed off
at me before."
"I made a lucky guess." She leaned back on her elbows and looked toward
the sky once again.
"What about you, Caitlyn?" Matt asked. "What's in your game plan?"
"Building my business, starting some new designs, having my own
collection."
"So you're saying you're also driven by work." he teased.
"I guess. It used to be when I'd sit down to sketch that I'd lose a!!
track of lime. It could have been a minute or an hour that passed. But
the creative juices have left me, and I don't know how to get them
back. It's like my muse has gone on an extended vacation. Does that
ever happen to you when you write?"
"Never. The stories happen; I tell 'em. Now, maybe if I weie writing a
book I'd get stumped on what to say next. But I simply record the facts
as they happen."
"And nothing but the facts," she said with a grin.
"That's right."
"Unfortunately, I can't draw dresses by the numbers."
"Maybe you need a new approach."
"Or a new head."
"Bradley really did a number on you, didn't he?"
"Brian, and it wasn't just him," she murmured.
"Then what? What happened that took away your creativity?"
She looked into his eyes and found herself wanting to confide in him.
But the words wouldn't come, couldn't come. She'd never let them hit
the surface of the air, never let them come to life, and she couldn't
allow the quiet intimacy of the night to lull her into sharing secrets
she didn't want to share.
"What are you hiding, Caitlyn?" Matt persisted.
She looked away from his invading gaze. "Nothing. What you see is what
you get."
"You want to know what I see?"
"I don't know. Do I?"
"I see a beautiful woman with a big heart who can't resist helping
someone in need. She has a bit of a temper, especially when someone is
a little laic, but—"
"Perpetually late is more like it."
"But she can also be hard on herself, and I have a feeling she's hiding
something, a secret that is eating away at her."
She shivered at his words, words that hit too close to home. "That
sounds mysterious," she said, forcing some lightness into her voice.
"You should write a novel someday. You've got a great imagination."
"Am I wrong?"
"Yes."
"I don't think so."
"Well, I think Emily is fast asleep, and we can go inside."
"Did I also mention that you have an annoying habit of running away
just when things are getting interesting?"
"Thanks for the psychoanalysis. How much do I owe you?"
"Five more minutes. I'm not quite ready to test Emily yet."
"It's late, Matt."
"It's nice out here. Peaceful. Do you think that blinking light is a
plane or a star?"
"A plane."
"Damn. So where's the Big Dipper or the Little Dipper or whatever they
call it?"
"Over there." she said, pointing out the Big Dipper to him.
"So your father is an astrologer?"
"He's a professor of astronomy. Astrologers do your horoscope."
"Oh, sorry."
She smiled at him. "But there are all kinds of incredible stories tied
to the stars."
"Stories or facts?"
She ignored that. "My favorite is the story of the Milky Way."

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