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The ringing of her cell phone woke Cath. Slowly she looked around. It was dark. She remembered coming home and closing her eyes for just a moment. She was still on the sofa, but had kicked off her shoes and covered her legs with an afghan.
The phone stopped. She fished it out of her purse and looked at the missed call report. Trace.
She had nothing to say to him. She pressed the number on the cell to retrieve messages. There were three. All were from Trace. The first two were mild, the last one started with, “Where the hell are you?”
Well, wouldn’t he like to know!
She went into the bedroom and changed into warm slacks and a sweater. Preparing a light dinner, she went through the motions of eating, not really tasting anything.
Everything was spinning out of control. She’d had her future charted out and now it was all falling apart. She could have a baby and head up the European Division. What if she couldn’t make Trace believe that? Was it time to look for another company?
Trace tried Cath’s number again. He had called Ellie to get Peggy’s phone number, then called Cath’s secretary to see if she knew anything about Cath’s plans for the evening. He’d called two friends he’d met last summer, but neither had seen her recently, much less this evening.
He had called her cell several times, growing more worried by the moment. Where was she?
He tossed the phone on the table when she didn’t answer. He’d already left several messages. She was undoubtedly ignoring him. Maybe he’d drive over there and make sure she was all right.
Grabbing a jacket, he headed out. Why wouldn’t she be all right? If something was wrong, he’d be the first person she contacted. She knew he was as worried about her pregnancy as she was.
Couldn’t she see he was trying to make things easier for her—not to worry about the job in Brussels or escalating work demands at a time when she should be slowing down.
He reached her apartment in less than fifteen minutes.
Guilt played around the edges of his emotions. He should have told her what he planned. But he hadn’t wanted to end the accord they’d begun to build. He knew she’d be angry. Once she thought about it, he hoped she’d calm down and see it was the only move he could make.
He was in the right and one day she’d acknowledge it. She might not carry the baby to term. Where did that leave him? Worried about her when she wasn’t with him. Delighted in the thought of another child, he had the means to make a difference this time.
If Cath proved difficult, he’d bring all his resources to bear to make sure he had an active role in his baby’s life. Cath would make a wonderful mother. But the truth was, she’d have been content to have the baby, move to Brussels and exclude Trace.
If he hadn’t stopped seeing her abruptly last summer, would that have made a difference? Maybe he could have handled the McIntyre situation differently.
What could he do for damage control?
In only moments he stood outside her door. He rang the bell. He heard movement, but the door didn’t open. He didn’t need this.
“Open up, Cath. I know you’re in there. I just want to make sure you are all right.”
A moment later she opened the door and stood to block his way.
“I was worried about you,” he said.
He would not go on the defensive. He would state his side rationally and listen to hers.
“I don’t know why,” she said. “You are not my keeper.”
“I called Peggy—she said you’d left at five. I didn’t know where you were, what you were doing.”
“You called Peggy?”
“What did you expect me to do? I thought you were home but you weren’t answering your phone. I thought maybe you had an appointment I didn’t know about or something. Secretaries know what their bosses are up to. Only Peggy thought you’d gone straight home. I got worried when you didn’t answer. What if you’d fallen or something.”
“I’m fine. Am I supposed to keep my boss apprised of my whereabouts 24/7?”
“Cut it out, Cath. You know I’m not your boss.”
“Not anymore. You pulled McIntyre in and never even gave me a hint.”
“It was business.”
