Just A Kiss Page 7

  “And baths?” he asked again.

  Caitie sighed. “We don’t have a tub in our apartment in New York. Just a stall. But I’m not really a bath kind of girl. I don’t find it relaxing like some people do. So maybe there’s a little bit of fear there. And for the record, I’m not scared of rain, unless it starts a flood, in which case all bets are off.”

  He leaned forward, refilling her glass from the water carafe Juan had left them. Their plates of cheese and fresh French bread had long since been emptied. “If it floods, I think we’ll be okay. We’re on a hilltop, there’s no safer place to be. And if the worst comes to the worst, I’ve always fancied myself as a knight in shining armor. I’ll save you.”

  “I bet you would.” She was trying to stop an inane smile from breaking out on her lips. Spending time with him was like looking into the sun. Dazzling and bright, yet oh-so-warming. She wanted to bask in him.

  “Have you ever thought about going back to therapy? Giving it a try again?”

  She blinked. “That’s even more personal than asking me about my bathing habits.”

  Breck shrugged. “There’s nothing embarrassing about therapy. Or there shouldn’t be. I went for a couple of years after Mom died.”

  “Did it help?” She took a sip of water. Her mouth felt dryer than ever. Maybe she shouldn’t have eaten so much bread.

  “As much as it could help anybody. I was a teenage boy, remember? I wasn’t keen on talking about myself. Plus I went with Daniel, so half the time I felt like the protective older brother. I just wanted him to cry it all out.”

  “He was so young. You both were. It must have been a hell of a shock having to move east with your dad.”

  Breck leaned back on his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He was staring right past her – at the hotel, she guessed – a frown played at his lips and brow. “It was…” he trailed off, as though he couldn’t find the words. “It was devastating, I guess. I don’t remember everything. I think the mind blocks a lot of the trauma out. But having lived with Mom for the first seventeen years of my life, it was like moving in with a stranger. We hadn’t seen a whole lot of our dad until then. And if I’m being honest, I really resented him. Where was he when Mom was going through treatment, through chemo? Where was he when she was throwing up in the bathroom every day?”

  “It was a lot for a kid to take on,” Caitie said, her heart clenching. “Plus you had Daniel to look after. I don’t know how you did it.” She reached out for his hand, pulling it from his chest. He slid his fingers through hers, folding them so the tips almost covered her skin.

  “I did it because I had no choice. And if you ask my dad he’ll tell you I made him pay for it, too. I was an asshole to him for the first year we were there. I challenged his authority at every turn. If he got into a fight with me or Daniel I’d been there with my fists, telling him he wasn’t a real father..”

  “Did he hit you?” She leaned closer. The thought of anybody hurting a teenage Breck made her want to be sick.

  “Never. Nor Daniel. I was the punk back then, not him. It took me a lot of time to finally trust him. Much longer than it took Daniel. But Dad had the patience of a saint. He was willing to wait as long as it took for me to believe in him.”

  “He sounds like a good man.” Her neck felt tight. As though the lining inside her throat was swelling, restricting her airways. It made her words sound deep and thick.

  “He’s a great guy, more of a friend than a parental figure now. Plus he’s technically my boss, so I kind of have to be nice to him.” He grinned. “He’s over this way often. Maybe you can meet him the next time he comes.”

  “Oh.” She looked down at their intertwined hands. “I’m not in California very much. This is my first visit to Angel Sands in years.” Looking up, she gave him a small smile. “I don’t suppose you have a lot of work in New York?”

  Breck laughed, his chest rising and falling as he chuckled. Her eyes were drawn to his neckline again, to his strong throat, and his light brown chest hair. He hadn’t bothered shaving that morning, and his jaw was peppered with stubble. And though his eyes were covered with aviator sunglasses, she knew behind them his irises were a vivid blue.

  “Nah, we’ve never cracked into New York. New England and California, that’s pretty much as far as the Miller Empire extends.” He screwed up his nose. “I don’t think I could stand to work in New York. It’s always so crazy and busy. Noisy, too. I’m getting palpitations just thinking about it. And God only knows what the zoning laws are like.”

  “New York’s not that bad.”

  A large drop of rain fell into her water glass, another following close behind. She looked up to the sky, watching as the clouds overhead turned even darker. A third raindrop splashed her face. “I think the sky’s about to empty,” she told Breck, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. They stood up, gathering her things, stuffing folders, papers, and pens into Caitie’s bag.

  “You know the offer’s still open,” Breck said, sliding his sunglasses over his brow. She’d never get tired of staring at those eyes.

  “What offer?”

  “I can carry you in. It’ll be as romantic as hell. At least until I pull a muscle in my back.”

  “Osteopathy’s always sexy,” she agreed, lifting her bag up to cover her head. The rain began coming down fast, fat droplets splashed against the stones beneath them. “Thanks, but I’ll be okay. I can save myself.”

  “I bet you can.”

  The way he was looking at her took her breath away. All narrow eyed and strong, sharp jawed. She swallowed hard, feeling her dress as it started to cling to her skin, her hair falling in wet tendrils in spite of the shelter her bag provided.

  Yes, she could save herself. She’d been doing it for years. But she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to let somebody else do it for a change.

  8

  “Come on. I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer.” Harper grabbed at Caitie’s arm, urging her out of the dining chair she’d been holed up in for the past nine hours. “Seriously, girl, it’s almost eight on a Friday night. You’re twenty-eight, not ninety-five. Come out and have some fun.”

  Caitie had been back in New York for over a week, but she hadn’t settled into her usual breakneck speed. Maybe it was something to do with the fact she wasn’t sleeping well. She’d blame it on the wedding planning, but thanks to Breck, that was actually going well – they’d secured the hotel, and now she was working on the little details.

  Of course, she was swamped with work as usual. More so, since she was preparing for a big pitch after Thanksgiving, hoping to win a five-year-contract at the Hollywood Hills Theme Park as their Holiday Coordinator. If she got it, she’d be spending a lot more time in California. The thought of it made her skin fizz.

  Then there was Brecken Miller. She hadn’t heard from him since she’d flown back from LAX, but that hadn’t stopped her from thinking about him every night as she tossed and turned in her bed. It was stupid. He was being his usual kind self, helping her out with the hotel and talking to her about her fears. Yes, she still found him crazily attractive, but there was nothing she could do about that. They lived across the country from each other, and even if they didn’t he didn’t see her as anything more than a friend.

  She’d have to get used to it.

  “You look amazing,” Caitie said, looking at Harper. “I love that dress. Is it new?”

  “I made it myself,” Harper told her, tucking a lock of her blonde-and-pink hair behind her ear. She gave Caitie a little twirl, her broderie anglais skirt fanning out as she turned. “I found this material in a thrift store downtown. Somebody had donated a whole roll of it. I’ll make you something out of it if you like.”

  “I’d love that.” Caitie grinned. To supplement her income as a costume designer on Broadway, Harper made one-off designs and sold them on eBay and Etsy, as well as in markets around New York. For a while she’d considered giving up her day
job altogether and concentrating on her dressmaking, but in the end the lure of a regular wage was too strong.

  Still, their apartment was filled with racks of one-off dresses, along with the boxes of decorations and samples Caitie regularly brought home from work. When people walked in they always did a double take, wondering if they were in a private residence or a downtown boutique.

  “Okay, I’ll make you a dress. But only if you come out tonight. Come on, I need to spend some time with my friend.” Harper gave her an impish grin. “Pretty please?”

  “Maybe…” Caitie vacillated. “If I can just get this board finished off.”

  “What are you doing?” Harper asked, putting her hand on Caitie’s shoulder as she looked at her laptop screen.

  “I’m making a mood board for Ember and Lucas’s wedding. We need to get everything ordered by next week, and I want to make sure they’re happy with the designs.” She leaned back to let Harper see.

  The mood board was a screen full of photographic ideas. On the left was a picture of the venue at Christmas, the exterior decorated with snow tipped garlands and surrounded by fir trees all lit up with stars on top. The second photograph showed the interior, with its sweeping staircase that Ember would walk down. Caitie had done a mock up to show how the Christmas tree would coordinate with the colors Ember had chosen, with thick silken ribbons of burgundy and ivory swathed around the branches. Then there were the chair decorations and the table settings, along with suggestions for the invitations and the placement cards. Everything was painstakingly chosen to be festive yet elegant. Caitie hoped to hell Ember and Lucas would like it when she sent the link to them tonight.

  “That’s amazing,” Harper breathed. “You’re so talented.”

  “Says the girl who makes beautiful clothes.”

  “I swear we need to go into business together,” Harper said, still staring open mouthed at the screen. “We could make everybody’s dreams come true.”

  “You can make the bride’s dress and be the wedding singer, I’ll do the rest,” Caitie grinned.

  “Wouldn’t it be a blast? Let’s give up our jobs and run away together.” Harper looped her arms around Caitie’s shoulders and hugged her. “You know you want to.”

  “I haven’t got time to run away,” Caitie said ruefully. “I need to organize this wedding. And I haven’t even booked our plane tickets for Thanksgiving. They’re bound to have gone up by two hundred dollars since I last looked.”

  “Eek!” Harper tipped her head to the side. “You want me to get them? I can take a look tomorrow?”

  Caitie shook her head. “Don’t worry. I said I’d do it, and it’s my own fault I haven’t. And I’m kidding about the cost. It’ll be fine.”

  Caitie’s mom had invited Harper to join them for Thanksgiving, and Harper had jumped at the chance to fly to California. Especially now that the temperatures had plummeted in New York.

  “I bet you feel like you’re living on airplanes at the moment,” Harper said, giving her a soft smile. “It feels like you’ve only just come back from Angel Sands.”

  “I’ve been back for a week. Although with the amount of work I’ve had to catch up on it feels like longer.” Caitie grimaced.

  Harper shook her head, her black hair swinging out behind her. “You work too hard. I’ve been telling you this for years. That’s why you need to come out tonight. I’ve only got a few weeks off before I start the next production, and after that I won’t be going out on Friday nights at all. So do your friend a favor and come out and have some fun. I miss you. New York misses you.”

  “Okay, okay!” Caitie put her hands up in submission. “Let me email this to my brother and I’ll go and get ready.”

  Harper did a fist pump. “Yes! I knew you’d give in eventually. And while you’re making yourself pretty, I’ll make us both a cocktail. It’s Friday night and it’s time to feel good.”

  * * *

  An hour later, they were walking into the Dead Rabbit Bar, their hair sprinkled with rain, which began to fall as they scrambled out of their cab. The bar – a converted warehouse in the meatpacking district – was packed, and it took them a while to make their way to the corner where their friend Kristi and her workmates had gathered at a booth.

  “Hey, stranger!” Kristi stood up and grabbed Caitie, pulling her close. They’d been friends ever since they’d all moved to New York, having shared an apartment until Kristi moved in with her boyfriend, and Harper and Caitie had upgraded. “I haven’t seen you for months. Where’ve you been holed up?”

  “Work.” Caitie screwed her nose up. “And I should have called you, I’m sorry. How’s Trent?”

  “He’s good. Just got a promotion. We’re hoping we’ll be able to save enough money to get married next year.”

  “That’s wonderful. I guess it’s still too early to say congratulations?”

  “It’s never too soon,” Kristi said, grinning.

  “How about Trent?” Caitie asked her. “Is he excited?”

  “He’s over there.” Kristi gestured at the bar. “You should say hi later. He brought Damon with him.”

  Against her better judgment, Caitie looked over at the bar. Trent was there, leaning on the counter, chatting to the bartender. She saw Damon right away. He was standing next to Trent, holding a bottle of beer, his hip resting against the bar. She felt her mouth go dry. Their friends had been trying to matchmake them for forever. He really was a nice guy, but he wasn’t…

  …the one she wanted. Ugh.

  “Oh, Damon’s here?” She tried to rearrange her features into something less awkward. Why did she agree to come out tonight?

  “Don’t sound so innocent. We both know he’s got a thing for you. As soon as Trent told him we were coming to see you guys, he found an excuse to join us.”

  Carrying two glasses of wine, Harper walked back to the group. “Hey, did you see Damon’s here?”

  Kristi inclined her head to the bar. “Oh yes.”

  “Ooh, he’s looking fine. Here’s your chance, Caitie. You need to have some fun and we all know Damon’s up for the job.” Harper wiggled her eyebrows. “If you’d ever actually give the guy a chance. Remember how you called off that date at the last minute?”

  Caitie buried her face in her hands. “Oh, God, don't remind me. I felt terrible about letting him down. But I had a last minute job I couldn’t get out of.”

  “Wait… What… You guys almost got together?” Kristi tipped her head to the side, scrutinizing Caitie. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

  “You didn’t?” Harper frowned. “Why didn’t you tell her, Caitie?”

  “I thought I did. Anyway, it was months ago, and it was nothing.”

  “Which is exactly why you need to try again. No strings, just fun, am I right?” Harper said. Kristi nodded in support.

  Caitie shook her head and took a sip of wine. “I’m not cut out for casual. I'm not a natural player.”

  Harper burst out laughing. She was swaying her shoulders to the beat of the music, the wine in her glass moving right along with her. “Nobody expects you to be a player, you loser. Just relax and have a bit of fun. Not every date you have has to lead to something long term. I swear you read too many romance books.”

  But Caitie liked romance books. Or at least she would if she had time to read them. “I'm a serial monogamist.” Caitie shrugged. “So sue me.”

  “You're not a serial monogamist, you're a fantasist. You're looking for a guy who doesn't exist. Mr. Darcy was the figment of some old spinster’s fevered imagination. No real guy can measure up to that. You have to be realistic.”

  Caitie drained the dregs of her wine glass. “I am realistic.”

  Kristi burst out laughing. “Yeah, right.”

  “Come on,” Harper said, grinning. “You still have a thing for some guy you kissed when you were fifteen. And the poor kid wasn't even awake for it.”

  “What?” Kristi leaned forward. “I’ve never heard about this. Who
did you kiss when you were fifteen?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Caitie took another mouthful of wine. She really didn’t want to get into this right now.

  “Oh come on. It’s kind of romantic,” Harper said, grinning. “Caitie told me all about it the first week we met. I tried to get her interested in a couple of the guys in our math class, and she refused to date any of them, and I quote ‘because they aren’t Brent.’” Harper looked at Caitie. “Or was it Brant? Whatever. It took me almost a whole bottle of wine to get the truth out of her. Apparently, she had a thing for this guy ever since she was a kid. And when she was fifteen, he was sleeping at her house over Christmas and she snuck into his bedroom and kissed him, and that kiss was the best she’d ever had from anybody – awake or asleep.” Harper laughed. “She said he’d spoiled her for every other guy.”

  Thank god it was dark in the bar. Caitie could feel her cheeks heat up. Why did she ever tell Harper about that Christmas night? It was stupid and embarrassing and something she wanted to forget about.

  “So why didn’t you get together with this Brant guy?” Kristi asked her.

  Before she could answer, Harper jumped in. “I asked exactly the same thing, and Caitie said she hadn’t seen him since that night. He’d broken her heart and left her ruined for any other man.”

  “That’s kind of sweet,” Kristi said, smiling at Caitie. “And also really weird. You need to get over this guy. Or Google him.”

  “Oh god, you should totally Google him,” Harper said. “Why didn’t I think of that. What’s his last name?”

  “I’m not Googling him.” Caitie’s voice was firm. She also wasn’t planning on telling any of them she’d seen ‘Brant’ less than a month ago. “You’re both right, it’s weird and stupid and I’m over it, okay?”

  “You are?” Harper sounded sceptical.

  “Yep. It was just a childish thing.” Caitie shook her head. “Let’s not ever mention it again.”

  “So if you’re not obsessed with Brant, that means you’re open to other relationships?” Kristi asked.