He clasped his glove-clad hands together and beamed when he saw her smile. “Caroline, my dear, how good to see you!” He clasped her shoulders and bent down to kiss her. She averted her face at the last minute, and he bussed her cheek instead of her mouth.
Oh my God, it was Sanders—in the flesh!
The last time she’d seen him had been for a disastrous nightcap at Greenbriars after a very nice dinner in October. The dinner had been so nice, and she’d been so grateful for the respite, that she’d asked him in for a whiskey only to have him behave badly toward Toby.
“What are you doing here?” she asked bluntly.
He took off his jacket and gloves leisurely, looking around the bookshop. Caroline had no idea what he thought of First Page. Sanders liked sleek and modern, which First Page certainly was not. He turned and focused his gaze on her. “I thought I’d stop by and see you. I haven’t had a chance to offer my condolences for the death of your brother yet.”
Uh-huh. He’d obviously been amazingly busy the past two months not to be able to drop in or pick up the phone or pen a note.
But Caroline had been brought up by her parents to be polite. She often thought of it as a handicap.
“Thanks, Sanders.” She drummed up another smile for him. “That’s very thoughtful of you. I appreciate it.”
He nodded, clearly unable to process her ironic tone. He looked around again, then back at her, waiting.
Caroline suppressed a sigh. She couldn’t even plead that she was busy. The shop was deserted, as was the street outside. It was entirely possible that the whole city was deserted, everyone in it just staying home.
“Do please sit down, Sanders. Can I make you a cup of tea?” Maybe he’d been passing by and wanted something warm. Maybe if she offered him tea, he’d leave. Caroline didn’t think he’d stopped by for a book. In all the years she’d known him, she’d never known him to read a book. He read reviews, so he could sound knowledgeable, but he’d never read the actual book, that she could tell.
He gave her an alarmingly warm smile and placed his hand over hers. “I’d love a cup of tea, thanks.”
Thank God for her little secondhand microwave oven in the office. In three minutes, she was back with two mugs of vanilla tea, berating herself for her unkindness.
It wasn’t Sanders’s fault he was an ass. And his visit did break the monotony of an endless afternoon in her empty shop, waiting for Jack to come pick her up. And it did distract her from endless speculation about Jack’s money and where it came from.
So she leaned forward with genuine warmth to hand him the cup and was startled when he grabbed her other hand and kissed it. He held it for a long moment between his hands.
“Uh, Sanders?”
“Yes, darling?” He smiled at her.
“I need my hand back, so I can drink my tea. Please.”
“Of course.” He released her hand and sat back, sipping, completely at ease. “So…how was your Christmas?”
Don’t blush, Caroline told herself furiously and managed by dint of sheer willpower to keep her color down. Oh God, she couldn’t possibly tell Sanders what her Christmas had been like. Even if she wanted to confide in him—which she most certainly did not—she had no idea if Jack wanted to trumpet their affair, or whatever it was they were having, from the rooftops. Telling Sanders was the equivalent of taking out an ad in the local newspaper.
What could she say? If she said she’d been with someone, he’d immediately want to know who. And she was an atrocious liar. What could she say that wasn’t a lie but didn’t convey the truth?
“It was…quiet,” she said finally.
He nodded, as if that was the answer he expected. “I didn’t call because I thought you might want to be alone over the holidays. I know that Christmases have always been hard for you. But you know, Caroline, the grieving process must come to an end. You’re still a young woman, and now Toby—well, Toby has gone on to a better place, and you can start thinking of yourself. There are stages to grieving, you know…”
Caroline zoned out. It was a speech she’d heard thousands of times before from Sanders.
He was sitting directly under the overhead lamp, turning his perfectly styled hair a pure gold. He was definitely a handsome man, and he definitely knew it. Caroline watched him as he gave his little sermon, listening to one word out of ten.
The light also reflected off the top of his head. She peered a little, carefully disguising her interest. Was that his scalp she was seeing through the blond strands? Yes, that was definitely skin, not hair at his temples. His receding temples. Was Sanders going bald?
He wouldn’t like that. Caroline imagined that he was using every expensive hair-care product on earth and that eventually, if he trod the tragic path of male-pattern baldness, he’d have a transplant. Jenna was absolutely certain that he’d already had a little nip and tuck around the eyes, but however carefully Caroline looked, she couldn’t see any signs. But then, what would she know? She wasn’t exactly an expert.
“—what do you say? I think it would be fantastic, and I think it would cheer you up. I just know you’d have a wonderful time.”
He’d come to the end of his little spiel, and she hadn’t even listened. Oh hell, he’d said something that required an answer. Yes was definitely out, if she didn’t know what she was agreeing to. And no—well Sanders wasn’t too big on no’s.
She patted his hand and lied. “I’m so sorry, Sanders. I was listening for a deliveryman who is supposed to bring me the new weekly arrivals. He’s new, so he doesn’t know how to park out back. I thought I heard his van outside, but it wasn’t him after all. However, I’m afraid I missed what you were saying. Would you mind repeating?”
His blond eyebrows drew together in annoyance and he gave a little sigh. “I said, I have tickets to La Traviata next Saturday in Seattle. Box seats. So I thought we might just make a weekend of it. I’ll clear my calendar Friday afternoon and you can close up early. I’ve booked us a room at the Fairmont Olympic. I know you love that hotel, and it’s been years since you’ve been there, right? We’ll just relax and have a good time. Be together. Then on Sunday, there are some people I’d like you to meet.” He put his hand over hers. “Be just like old times, eh?”
Caroline just stared at him. This was beyond alarming. He’d gone ahead and started up another round of their relationship without her! Except she had no intention of following along. She had bigger and better things to do.
“Sanders—you’ve already booked the room? That’s crazy! I can’t go to Seattle with you next weekend.”
His head reared back in surprise at her reaction. “But I’ve got the tickets! They were almost impossible to find. Caroline, read my lips. La Traviata. And the Fairmont. How can you say no?”
This was going way too far, even for him. “Sanders, do you mean to tell me that you bought expensive tickets to the opera and booked a room at the Fairmont and you didn’t think to ask me if I wanted to go?”
Sanders looked absolutely blank. “Well, why wouldn’t you want to go? I mean it’s not as if—” It’s not as if you have anything better to do.
The words hung there in the room. Sanders’s mouth had snapped shut, which was a good thing because if he said one more word, she was going to smack him.
Well, enough was enough. Caroline stood and, startled, Sanders stood, too. “I’m sorry I can’t accept your invitation, Sanders.” Not that it had been an invitation. It had been more like a summons. “But I’m afraid I’m busy next weekend.” And the weekend after that, and the weekend after that. “And next time you want to invite a woman out, you might want to ask her first before making all the arrangements. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”