Her Mistaken Dream Page 2

  "It's on the house." Micky grinned. "Caitlin got a promotion and the boss said to tell you he is proud of you."

  "Tell Tyrone thanks a million," Hazel popped in before Caitlin could protest about the free food.

  "Bon appétit." Micky grinned and moved away.

  Caitlin realized that Hazel was only picking at her food. She realized that the other girls saw it too.

  "Spill it!" Caitlin said when she saw that Hazel was toying with a succulent piece of jerked chicken wing.

  "Huh?" Hazel looked up at her.

  "What's eating you?" Caitlin asked.

  "Really?" Hazel asked, looking at the three of them. "You need to ask?"

  "Something to do with Sebastian?" Casey prompted her.

  "Something?" Hazel put down her fork and wiped her lips. "My son resembles Nick Benedict. And since we found out this past weekend, not one of you has mentioned it again."

  "Well, Nick is not the father," Brigid said. "Apart from the fact that he only met you recently, he was not in Jamaica when you got pregnant. His father, Judge Eric, is not the father either. You heard him; he had a vasectomy years ago."

  "But who is his father?" Hazel asked, exasperation heavy in her voice. "Obviously, I slept with a Benedict."

  "All the men are married," Caitlin said. "I am hoping you wouldn't even think of sleeping with one of them."

  "Would you?" Casey asked, looking at Hazel and quirking her brow comically.

  Hazel groaned. "How would I know? I got knocked out at that party I attended with Kenzy. I keep on telling you guys that I am not making up this amnesia. I really can't recall what happened in the six months between leaving Magnolia House and coming back."

  "Okay," Caitlin said to soothe her increasingly agitated sister. "Nick is the youngest Benedict male, anyway. All the others are pretty ancient. I doubt you'd mess around with any of them."

  "She has no problem with old men," Brigid chimed in. "Age is not an issue for Mrs. Hazel Baron."

  Caitlin chuckled. "Well, that's true. Maybe it is just a strange coincidence that Nick and Sebastian resemble each other, though. Have you thought of that?"

  "A strange coincidence, like your dream about Todd Taylor," Brigid said to Caitlin helpfully.

  "It wasn't one dream," Caitlin said, sitting back in her chair. "I had quite a few of them when I was fifteen, remember?"

  "What did you dream again?" Casey asked. "You used to guard those dreams like it was some huge secret."

  Caitlin closed her eyes. "All the dreams are the same. He smiles at me; he is sitting beside a fountain—you know, those three-tier ones—with a statue at the very top with a jug in hand. The fountain has a high enough lip that you can sit at the edge, and the two of us are sitting there at the edge of this fountain with our backs turned to the water and he turns to me. I stare into his eyes—they looked so genuine and compelling--and he says to me, ‘I love you Caitlin and want you for myself and even if it takes forever I know that you are the person for me, because I don't think I can live without you.’"

  "Aw, how romantic," Brigid said dreamily. "Too bad he is a wife-killer."

  Caitlin cut her eyes at Brigid. "And that is when I got the feeling that this guy was the one. I felt sure. I felt forever. I just knew without a doubt..."

  "You had the feeling... that he was the one that murdered his wife or he was the one for you?" Brigid asked skeptically.

  Caitlin frowned. "He was the one for me obviously, duh. Shut up, Brigid, and stop rubbing it in."

  She then considered all the stuff she had read about Todd Taylor so far: about his rows with his wife; about how he had blood on his clothes; and how he got away with murder. She sighed.

  "You could be right, Brigid," she said out loud. "Maybe I did twist up that dream horribly. Now that I think about it…I was young and foolish and too confident in the power of a dream. I now declare myself officially on the market again."

  "Good." Brigid nodded. "That makes me feel better."

  Hazel patted her hand but Casey was looking at her skeptically. "I don't know if you can just give up your dream like that. You invested quite a few years thinking about Todd Taylor."

  "Yes but obviously I was mistaken," Caitlin said stubbornly. "Let's just forget this whole dreaming nonsense and talk about something else."

  Chapter Three

  "Todd, there is a gentleman on the phone, a Howard Greaves, says he wants to talk to you." Marlene waved the phone at him and smiled. "I have it on mute."

  "How did he get the number?" Todd asked laconically, taking the phone from Marlene, who was still hovering around him and doing her best mother hen impersonation.

  He glanced at her blue pantsuit. It fit her so snugly it bordered on indecent.

  Lately, she had been dressing in tighter, more well-fitting clothes and she had done something to her hair. It was straight and thick, almost hitting her at her waist. She never usually wore it out at work, but these days…She had also lost a ton of weight.

  She was looking pretty sleek these days and she had gotten a little bit too familiar.

  He was pondering if he should have a talk with her. In the fourteen years she had been his secretary she had never been anything other than efficient and businesslike, but she had changed. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

  Marlene smiled at him and leaned on the desk. Her lashes were heavy with mascara.

  "Howard Greaves is the editor-in-chief of Lux Magazine, one of the companies you recently acquired."

  "Oh." Todd nodded. "Thanks, Marlene."

  She hesitated at the end of his desk. "Do you want me to do anything else for you while I am here?"

  "No thanks," Todd said, frowning. "Deb has everything under control here. Besides, Deb does not like anybody intruding on her territory, you know that." He smiled to take the sting out of his words.

  Deb took her housekeeping duties seriously and he was well aware that his secretary and his housekeeper were at loggerheads over who ran what aspect of his life.

  They were the only people he could trust at this point in his life. They were around before Rita, his now-deceased wife, and they had stuck by him even when the rest of the world hadn't. He respected that kind of loyalty.

  He watched as Marlene closed the door, leaving him to talk on the phone privately. He had wanted her to do some things at the home office for him today because he was recovering from a particularly nasty bout of the flu.

  He answered the phone, hoping that his voice did not betray his leftover cold.

  "Howard Greaves, how may I help you?"

  "I am fine, Mr. Taylor. I hope you don't mind my intrusion on you at home."

  "Not at all," Todd said. "I have been meaning to visit Lux and meet the staff. I have to arrange it with Leon Masters, the manager of that arm of my business."

  It was a subtle rebuke to Howard for contacting him directly and Howard accepted it with a hasty murmur of apology. He hurriedly said, "I called you, sir, because I think it is fitting to do a feature on you since you own the magazine and all. I needed your permission for this. I can send out one of my reporters to do an interview with you and..."

  "No," Todd said before Howard could finish. He did not want any press. He had had enough speculation about his life to last him for several lifetimes. He hated when people dug around in his past and commented on things that they knew nothing about. This year was going to be the seventh anniversary of Rita's death and still some media houses just couldn't let it go.

  He had seen the recent feature that they did on him on Notorious Jamaicans a couple weeks ago. The announcer had ended her segment by saying, "There is no statute of limitation on murder. Mr. Todd Taylor will remain notorious until he comes clean."

  That was never going to happen.

  His life with Rita was packaged and taped off; nobody would be visiting that ever again. At least not with him. It would stay dead and buried forever.

  Though for the past year he had been seriously yearning for a r
elationship and he knew that he might have to make an exception for a new person in his life. He was ready to marry again, but he was sure his new wife would be curious about her predecessor.

  He missed the companionship but good women were scarcer than hen's teeth in his sphere and anyone he was even remotely interested in him always seemed to back off after a couple of dates or met some unfortunate mishap. It was becoming alarming. Maybe he was jinxed. There really was no other explanation for his barren dating life to date.

  "Mr. Taylor?" Howard prompted.

  Todd realized that he had left the conversation hanging for far too long after his abrupt no.

  "Listen Howard," he cleared his throat. "Maybe I was too hasty with that no. I guess I shouldn't turn down any offer which will make me seem more approachable in the eyes of the public, huh? Especially the female public."

  "Right. That's right," Howard said quickly. "I was thinking of doing a piece highlighting your charitable activities and your love for animals. Something that will make you seem ah...er..."

  "Less like a murderer?" Todd helped him.

  "Well, yes," Howard said. "I was thinking of asking our newest features editor, Caitlin Denvers, to do an interview and maybe send a photographer and take some pictures at your convenience."

  Todd squeezed the phone tighter when he heard Caitlin's name. He had kept tabs on her for years, even going as far as to pay for her education behind the scenes. He had her grand-aunt, Mercy Denvers, to thank for facilitating his generosity through the years while he remained anonymous.

  Caitlin thought that Mercy was a wealthy widow who was able to finance her every need and Mercy had played along with the subterfuge, never once letting on that she had been living in poverty in Bronx, New York. She couldn't even have helped Caitlin with a dollar if she had wanted to.

  When he had tracked her down, Mercy had been sick for a while and was making promises to her niece that she would rescue her from Magnolia House and take her to the States, a promise she had no means or strength to fulfill. He had given Mercy the means to live better in the States but when she was on her feet and able to take care of her niece he had stopped her from proceeding with the immigration process because selfishly, he had felt better with Caitlin living at Magnolia House in Jamaica, where he could easily keep tabs on her.

  It had worked out perfectly. He had bought Lux Magazine last month when he saw that Caitlin was serious about working there.

  He had no idea she had gotten a promotion already. He had been searching for a way to work that into his plan for her…make all her dreams come true as best as he could.

  "Okay, that is fine but there is one condition."

  "What?" Howard asked, excitement lacing his voice.

  "It can't be a simple fluff piece; your features editor—what was her name again?"

  "Caitlin," Howard inserted.

  "Caitlin will really have to get to know me as a person, not as an object to satisfy some deadline. That way she can write an honest piece. When is the deadline, by the way?"

  "I was thinking end of November," Howard said, "but if you want it sooner..."

  "End of November is fine." Todd swiveled in his chair and looked through his office window. His floor length glass windows offered him a view of the city of Kingston; it was nice in the daytime but even better at night with the twinkling lights.

  "Tell Caitlin that if she wants that feature she had better start working now. Give her my personal cell phone number."

  Todd gave the number to Howard and then hung up the phone. A smile slashed his lips from ear to ear, enhancing his dimples.

  Caitlin Denvers was going to seek him out. After all these years of him being in the shadows of her life she was coming to him, completely unaware of who he was--or who he was to her.

  He wondered how she looked now. He had deliberately avoided looking at any pictures of her through the years. He hadn't seen a picture of Caitlin since Rita caught him inspecting a picture of her in the papers when she was fifteen.

  She was featured in one of the national newspapers after winning a debate competition; the journalist had visited her at Magnolia House and had given her a nice write-up, but it was her picture that had taken him aback. It had hit him suddenly that she was growing into a stunning young woman. Caitlin Denvers wasn't a little girl with pigtails and braces anymore.

  She had the body of a model, whipcord and lean. She also had high cheekbones and dense eyelashes. In her fifteen-year-old picture, her skin was completely devoid of spots or teenage blemishes.

  She had pure, smooth, cocoa butter skin and full bow-shaped lips. She had stared into the camera and smiled at him knowingly. He was sure that that smile was enough to drive any man crazy. That smile had made him uncomfortable and she had been just fifteen. It had sparked an unease in him that he had not dared to examine any closer.

  He hadn't thought about her as becoming a woman through all the years of making sure she was okay. Initially she had just been Peter and Dahlia's little orphan girl and he had been awestruck with how quickly the time had flown by.

  Rita had walked over to him looked at the article and asked. "Is she a model?"

  "No," he had answered abruptly.

  She had frowned and sat across from him and then snapped her fingers. "You know who she looks like?"

  "Who?" Todd had pretended that he had moved on from the article but Rita was not having it.

  “She looks like that lady…what's her name again? Dahlia Denvers, Peter Denvers' wife; that guy whose company you bailed out. The wife was always touchy-feely with you. She was oh-so-grateful that you helped out her loser husband. God, I hated her."

  "Don't speak ill of the dead," Todd had reminded Rita. "And you hate everyone. How do you live with yourself?"

  "Dahlia was such a diva," Rita snarled. "She loved when people complimented her and told her she was beautiful."

  "She was beautiful," Todd said, "extremely beautiful, and she didn't court compliments like you do. Peter was kind, a good man, who hit some serious hard times. Dahlia and Peter were a great couple together."

  "But you were banging her," Rita said crudely. "Weren't you? Why else would you bail them out of their business rut? I can bet Dahlia Denvers came to you and asked you to do it in exchange for sleeping with her."

  "Your irrational jealousy and accusations have got to stop." Todd had gotten up and left the article open on the desk.

  "Bet you would like to bang that girl too," Rita had snarled and pointed at Caitlin's picture. "You have a type. You want the child, admit it, perv."

  Todd had walked away from the conversation and the picture at the same time. Maybe he felt a frisson of guilt then because somehow in the back of his mind he had felt a tiny speck of...he didn't know how to describe the feeling. It wasn't attraction really but when he had seen Caitlin in that paper he had not felt detached.

  The thought had run through his head that she would have boyfriends; she would probably get hurt; she would find love; one day she would get married and have a family–and she would do all of this without knowing about him.

  That had not sat well with him, not one bit.

  He swung around in his chair again and looked at his reflection in the glass. It was the same face he was used to seeing in the mirror in the mornings for the past thirty-eight years: the same chiseled lips, broad forehead, and thickly lashed brown eyes that had caused him some embarrassment when he was younger.

  This time when he looked at his reflection he saw something akin to joy. He hadn't seen that emotion on his face for a while.

  A long time.

  He was almost sure that he could not sit still and wait for her to contact him. Maybe now was the right time to get in touch with Caitlin Denvers.

  Chapter Four

  Caitlin walked into her new office at quarter past seven. There was no one around. The main Lux offices were eerily quiet, except for the fax machine, which beeped and spat out a paper every now and again.

&nbs
p; She still couldn't believe that she had her own office. She ran her hand over the wide desk and looked around the space. It was fairly huge. There was also a small table in the corner with six chairs around it. That would come in handy during deadline time with her staff. It was set up just like her former supervisor Gwen's office; she used to sit at a similar table and marvel at the privilege of doing so.

  But now she was talking about her own staff in her head. She couldn't repress the smile that had found permanent residency on her lips—she was a features editor for Lux Women Magazine.

  She walked around her desk, which was also on a grand scale. She could imagine it being filled with paperwork in a short while. She also had a new chocolate-colored chair to match the desk; the plastic was still on it.

  She took off the plastic and stood back, admiring the office. It was neat for now; eventually she would add her own personal touches to the space and then there would be the paperwork and the research documents.

  She placed her first batch of research on the empty desk. She hadn't slept last night because of the excitement of thinking about what she had to do next. She had also taken the opportunity to schedule and organize herself. She would definitely need to meet her staff today and they were going to have to hit the ground running. That was Howard's favorite expression. She grinned. She was even thinking like an editor.

  Hit the ground running.

  "You are here early."

  Caitlin spun around. Howard was at the door. He nodded to her. "Your computer will be set up today. Your nameplate will arrive around midday. Welcome to the job."

  "Thank you sir," Caitlin said. "I mean I really can't believe how..."

  "Wait a sec." Howard cut her off mid-gush. "This is the personal number for Todd Taylor. He wants you to call him. He said he is not doing an interview piece without the interviewer getting to know him and doing an honest story."

  Caitlin took the number from him, her happiness deflating a notch. Todd Taylor. Somehow she had hoped that he would not have granted them the interview. Last night in her planning she had even come up with an alternate idea for the November issue. She was almost sure that he was not interested in giving interviews to the press.