Some Kind of Wonderful Page 3

  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."

  Sarah 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 with 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 fiancé 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 Antoine’s 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.

  "Is this your daughter?" Tiffany asked Matt.

  "My niece. Her name is Emily."

  "She's beautiful."

  "Would you like to hold her?"

  "I would love to, if it's all right with you."

  "Sure thing."

  All right with him, Caitlyn fumed, as she finished stitching the seam. Matt Winters had a way of enticing every woman he met into taking care of the baby.

  "I'm expecting myself," Tiffany said. "I can't wait to have a baby."

  Caitlyn forced herself to concentrate on the dress and not on their conversation. Fifteen minutes later, she was done. The dress was fussier than one she would have designed, but it seemed to suit Tiffany and was consistent with her big hair, big diamond ring, and big need to stand out. Still, Caitlyn thought something off the shoulder would have shown off Tiffany's figure. Not that she'd been given the opportunity to offer her suggestions. Like many of the women who visited Devereaux's, Tiffany had wanted a big-name designer gown over anything more personal, and it had been left to Caitlyn to make only basic alterations.

  It was probably just as well, Caitlyn thought with a sigh, since she hadn't been able to complete one design in the last eighteen months. Initial response to her first collection three years earlier had begun to fade without any follow-up collections. She had the terrible feeling that if she wasn't a flash in the pan already, she might be soon.

  She simply had to get back to her sketch pad, find her creative muse, and rekindle her dreams of her own line, but first she had to get Tiffany on her way.

  "It's done." Caitlyn got to her feet and held up the dress for Tiffany to see.

  Tiffany put a hand to her mouth in awe. "It's spectacular, isn't it?" she murmured, her voice choked with emotion.

  "Not yet, but it will be when you put it on," Caitlyn said softly.

  "Do you really think so?" Tiffany asked with a hint of insecurity.

  "I know so." This was the part Caitlyn liked best, watching a bride see herself in a dress that captured every last one of her daydreams.

  "Do you want to try it on one last time?" Caitlyn asked.

  "No, I better not. I don't have the time, and I weighed myself this morning and I've actually lost a pound, so I'm sure it will be fine."

  "All right." Caitlyn carefully placed the dress on a hanger and wrapped it in a plastic sheath so it would transport easily.

  Tiffany handed Emily back to Matt and took the dress. "Thank you, Caitlyn. I'm sorry that I got crazy before. I'm just nervous about everything being perfect."

  Caitlyn simply nodded and smiled and shut the door behind Tiffany with a sigh of relief
.

  "Do all your customers give you that kind of shit?" Matt asked.

  She whirled around, her momentary pleasure fading as she was reminded of why she'd gotten that "shit" in the first place. "All brides are nervous, especially when their gowns aren't done by the morning of the wedding. Now, I'll just pack up Emily's bag and you two can go home."

  "Not so fast. I saved your butt just now."

  "You want a thank-you? Thank you."

  "I don't want a thank you. I want a babysitter."

  "No way."

  "A couple of hours. I need to start some people looking for Sarah, and it would be a lot easier if I didn't have to take Emily with me. Just think, the sooner I do that, the sooner this will be a child-free floor once again."

  She had a feeling that arguing would only delay the inevitable. "How long? I have to go into the shop by eleven."

  "No problem. I'll be back before you know it."

  "That's what you said last night," she reminded him as he handed her the baby.

  "And I came back, but..." He sent her a slow, lazy smile that completely unsettled her. "Did anyone ever tell you that you look beautiful when you're asleep?"

  "I already said I'd baby-sit; don't push it. You better be back by eleven, Matt. No excuses."

  He hesitated, a serious expression on his face. "I can trust you, can't I? You won't call the cops on Sarah? You won't start thinking that some social worker would be better for the baby than me?"

  Caitlyn could tell from the expression on Matt's face that having to ask such a question pained him, and she wondered what had happened to separate him from his sister.

  "Can I count on you, Caitlyn?" he persisted.

  She suspected that trust did not come easily to this man, and she found herself wanting to reassure him. "You can count on me. I won't do anything without talking to you first."

  His eyes searched hers for a long minute, then apparently reassured by what he'd seen, he said, "Thank you."

  When he was gone, Caitlyn let out a breath, suddenly realizing how tense her body had become under Matt's piercing gaze. It occurred to her that no one had studied her with such thoughtfulness in a very long time. She'd have to be careful around this man. He was probably better at uncovering secrets than she was at keeping them. And that could be disastrous.