Page 89 of Romance and Peppermint Lattes
“I... wish you hadn’t done that,” Cait whispered, slowly opening her eyes in an effort to pull herself back to reality.
As far as kisses went, Joe’s were good. Very good. He kissed better than just about anyone she’d ever kissed before—but that didn’t alter the fact that she was in love with Paul.
“You’re right,” he muttered, opening the door and climbing out of the cab. “I shouldn’t have done that.” He walked around to her side and yanked the door open with more force than necessary.
Cait frowned, wondering at his strange mood. One minute he was holding her in his arms, kissing her tenderly; the next he was short-tempered and irritable.
“I’m hungry,” he barked, lifting her abruptly down to the pavement. “I sometimes do irrational things when I haven’t eaten.”
“I see.” The next time she went anywhere with Joseph Rockwell, she’d have to make sure he ate a good meal first.
The restaurant was crowded and Joe gave the hostess their names to add to the growing waiting list. Sitting on the lastempty chair in the foyer, Cait set her large black leather purse on her lap and started rooting through it.
“What are you searching for? Uranium?” Joe teased, watching her.
“Crackers,” she answered, shifting the bulky bag and handing him several items to hold while she continued digging.
“You’re searching for crackers? Whatever for?”
She glanced up long enough to give him a look that questioned his intelligence. “For obvious reasons. If you’re irrational when you’re hungry, you might do something stupid while we’re here. Frankly, I don’t want you to embarrass me.” She returned to the task with renewed vigor. “I can just see you standing on top of the table dancing.”
“That’s one way to get the waiter’s attention. Thanks for suggesting it.”
“Aha!” Triumphantly Cait pulled two miniature bread sticks wrapped in cellophane from the bottom of her purse. “Eat,” she instructed. “Before you’re overcome by some other craziness.”
“You mean before I kiss you again,” he said in a low voice, bending his head toward hers.
She leaned back quickly, not giving him any chance of following through on that. “Exactly. Or waltz with the waitress or any of the other loony things you do.”
“You have to admit I’ve been good all morning.”
“With one minor slip,” she reminded him, pressing the bread sticks into his hand. “Now eat.”
Before Joe had a chance to open the package, the hostess approached them with two menus tucked under her arm. “Mr. and Mrs. Rockwell. Your table is ready.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Rockwell,” Cait muttered under her breath, glaring at Joe. She should’ve known she couldn’t trust him.
“Excuse me,” Cait said, standing abruptly and raising her index finger. “His name is Rockwell, mine is Marshall,” she explainedpatiently. She was not about to let Joe continue his silly games. “We’re just friends here for lunch.” Her narrowed eyes caught Joe’s, which looked as innocent as freshly fallen snow. He shrugged as though to say any misunderstanding hadn’t beenhisfault.
“I see,” the hostess replied. “I’m sorry for the confusion.”
“No problem.” Cait hadn’t wanted to make a big issue of this, but on the other hand she didn’t want Joe to think he was going to get away with it, either.
The woman led them to a linen-covered table in the middle of the room. Joe held out Cait’s chair for her, then whispered something to the hostess who immediately cast Cait a sympathetic glance. Joe’s own gaze rested momentarily on Cait before he pulled out his chair and sat across from her.
“All right, what did you say to her?” she hissed.
The menu seemed to command his complete interest for a couple of minutes. “What makes you think I said anything?”
“I heard you whispering and then she gave me this pathetic look like she wanted to hug me and tell me everything was going to be all right.”
“Then you know.”
“Joe, don’t play games with me,” Cait warned.
“All right, if you must know, I explained that you’d suffered a head injury and developed amnesia.”
“Amnesia,” she repeated loudly enough to attract the attention of the diners at the next table. Gritting her teeth, Cait snatched up her menu, gripping it so tightly the edges curled. It didn’t do any good to argue with Joe. The man was impossible. Every time she tried to reason with him, he did something to make her regret it.
