"Someone tried to kill you and will, more than likely, try again. I will do whatever is necessary to make sure any future attempts fail. From this moment until the day you are no longer in danger, my only purpose will be to protect you."
Caroline's mouth opened on a silent gasp, as if she were startled by his vehement declaration. Did she think he had overstepped his bounds? he wondered. Had what he'd said or the way he'd said it made her suspicious of his motives?
Wolfe cleared his throat. "As a professional body-guard, it's my duty to put your welfare above everything else."
"I understand." She glanced toward the closed front door. "Do you have a suitcase in your car?"
"I came from the airport in a taxi," he told her. "My bag is on your porch."
"If you'll get it, I'll show you upstairs to your room, then I'll give you a tour of the house. It will be easier to show you around Outside in the morning when it's daylight,"
"That will be fine."
"Mr. Wolfe. . .I'm going to be honest with you. I feel awkward having you living here in my house. I realize that you're a professional, but you're. . .you're—"
"A man?"
"Well, yes."
"I will do my utmost not to invade your privacy. I won't come into the bathroom with you or enter your bedroom without knocking, unless there's potential danger involved. However, I'm afraid that my being with you might cramp your love life a bit. I'll have to tag along on all your dates."
"Believe me, you won't be cramping my love life." Caroline sighed. "I'm not seeing anyone in particular right now."
"Is that right? Hmm-mmm. . . what about Gavin Robbins?" Caroline laughed. Wolfe loved the sound. He'd never heard her laugh before, never heard the sound of her voice. Never been close enough to reach out and touch her. And he realized that he was finding the sight and sound and scent of her intoxicating.
"I won't be dating Mr. Robbins again."
"Good."
She lifted her eyebrows and stared at Wolfe. "Your not dating anyone simplifies my job as your bodyguard."
"Oh. Yes, of course." She glanced toward the front door. "Please, get your bag and I'll show you upstairs."
Wolfe followed her instructions, retrieved his black vinyl bag, closed and locked the front door and followed his client up the stairs. He tried not to focus on her body as she moved with such easy grace, taking the steps slowly, her round hips swaying to her body's own particular rhythm. She wore gray cotton slacks and an oversize white blouse that hung to mid-thigh. Her only jewelry, other than a simple wristwatch, was a gold chain that disappeared inside her shirt and a pair of small pearl-and-diamond ear studs. He recognized the earrings immediately and his chest tightened. A gift for her twenty-first birthday from her illusive benefactor, David.
When they reached the landing, Caroline turned abruptly and almost collided with Wolfe. Gasping, she took a couple of hasty steps backward in an effort to keep their bodies from touching. Noting the pink flush that stained her cheeks, he came to the conclusion that Caroline blushed easily. Always? With everyone? Or just with him? he wondered. Did she sense the tension between them as acutely as he did? As much as he wanted to deny the attraction as anything physical, as remotely sexual, he knew better than to lie to himself. She was reacting to him as a woman does to a man, and her shy sweetness reinforced his suspicions that she was sexually inexperienced.
She stared at him, seemingly unable to speak. Her chest rose and fell steadily as her breathing accelerated just a fraction. She was a vision. Lovely beyond belief. Flawless, creamy skin. Shoulder-length black hair that glistened with healthy vibrance. Full pink lips, which she licked nervously. Wolfe's body tightened. He gazed into the depths of her blue-violet eyes and lost himself in their mesmerizing power. He broke eye contact suddenly and darted his gaze from one of her earlobes to the other.
"Nice earrings," he said, using any excuse to end the accelerating tension between them.
She took a deep breath. "Thank you. They were a twenty-first birthday gift and are favorites of mine. I wear them quite a lot."
I gave them to you, he wanted to say but knew he couldn't. He had no rights where she was concerned. None whatsoever. He could never be more to her than a bodyguard, an intruder into her private world.
"My room?" He looked right and then left.
"Oh, yes." She moved hurriedly, leading the way into the bedroom on the right side of the narrow corridor. "There are only two bedrooms finished up here. There are two more that I intend to eventually redo, but since I live here alone, I really don't need the extra. . . Forgive me. I'm rattling. A sign of nervousness."
"I'm sorry if I make you nervous, Ms. McGuire. Perhaps once you become accustomed to my being here, you'll feel more comfortable." He followed her into the spacious guest bedroom.
"You have your own bathroom and I cleared out closet space—" she indicated the closet by pointing "—and the top two drawers of that dresser—" she inclined her head toward the box-shaped, cherry dresser "—are empty."
"Nice room." He scanned the area hurriedly, taking note of very little except the color scheme of neutral shades and the uncluttered simplicity. He hoisted his bag up and onto the foot of the cherry sleigh bed.
"If you'd like to settle in first, we—"
"I'd prefer to check things out now."
"Yes, of course. Where would you like to start?"
"With your bedroom," he said.
She blushed again, and it was all he could do not to slide the back of his hand over her cheek and caress it the way he had her photograph on more than one occasion.
Roz had noticed the car following her about five minutes ago. At first she'd felt uneasy, since there weren't many cars on this lonely stretch of road at this time of night, but when she recognized the vehicle as a Ferrari, she relaxed. Caroline must have given Gavin Robbins his walking papers tonight. And who could blame her? Why would anyone want Gavin, hunk that he was, when a hottie like Mr. Wolfe was sleeping just across the hall? Of course, Caroline wasn't the type to make the most of propinquity. If the luscious Mr. Wolfe was guarding her body, Roz knew exactly what she would do. She'd invite him into her bed ASAP. Roz chuckled softly as she reached out to turn up the volume on the cassette player. She sang along with Faith Hill's latest hit and pressed her foot down on the accelerator.
She liked her music loud, her cars fast and her men hard. She'd bet her life that Gavin was pretty hard right about now. He might want Caroline, but he'd be willing to settle for what he could get. Roz figured that was the reason the VP of Peacekeepers International was chasing her along the back roads, like a hound after a fox. There had been a time when she wouldn't have cared, that it wouldn't have mattered to her that she was second choice. Hell, there had been a time when she'd screwed around indiscriminately and hadn't given a damn whether mutual respect or affection was involved. Odd how she'd changed gradually over the past few years, but especially during the last eight months since her breakup with Jason Stanley. She supposed she could blame Caroline's goody-two-shoes influence, but she'd be lying to herself if she attributed her changed-woman ways to her employer and dear friend.
"Lay the guilt where it belongs," she mumbled under her breath. "You've done something really stupid, Rozalin Marguerite Turner. You've let some man get under your skin. And not just any man."
She whipped her older-model Corvette into the drive at the side of her little house in a quiet neighborhood of other older homes, some well-kept and others a bit shabby. Her own place fell somewhere in between. It wasn't as if she owned the place and could fix it up herself. She'd signed a one-year lease eight months ago when she'd moved out of Jason's place in Easton.
By the time she got out of her car and made it to her front door, the sleek black Ferrari turned into her drive. She hesitated for a moment, then unlocked her door, reached inside and flipped the switch that turned on lights inside her living room. But she didn't go into the house. Instead she waited for Gavin.
He called out to her the minute he emerged from his car. "Roz, wait up."
She turned around leisurely, letting him know that she wasn't surprised to see him. When he approached her, she smiled. "Not driving back to D.C. tonight?"
"That depends." The dimples in his cheeks appeared when he grinned. "If a friend offered me a place to sleep. . ."
"I have only one bed."
"I don't mind sharing." Gavin moved closer, stopping when only inches separated their bodies.
And I wouldn't mind sharing more than a bed, Roz thought. Being celibate wasn't her thing and she'd gone without for eight months now. Besides, she could sure do a lot worse than Gavin Robbins. She'd bet the guy was a tiger in the sack.
"Come on in," Roz said, giving him a come-hither gesture with the crook of her index finger.
Gavin followed her inside and didn't waste any time putting the moves on her. She had no sooner locked the door when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her backside up against his arousal. He was hard, all right. Hard as a rock. And ready to rumble.
"You know that whatever was between Caroline and me is over," he whispered against her ear. "You can sleep with me and still have a clear conscience."
"If I hadn't already known that Caroline didn't want you, I wouldn't have invited you in," Roz told him as she turned around to face him. "There's one thing I don't do and that's betray a friend."
Gavin nuzzled her neck as he delved his hands low and cupped her buttocks, lifting her up and into his erection. "I don't want you to think you're my second choice or anything."
Roz kissed him with a passion she forced, with a hunger she felt not for him, but for another man. But her wicked body didn't know the difference, didn't care who was kissing and fondling her. Their tongues dueled as Gavin removed her blouse. She broke free from the demanding kiss to help him take off her bra. When his mouth touched her nipple, she shivered.
"I don't mind being your second choice," she told him. "As long as you don't mind being mine."
He halted momentarily and glanced up at her. "Pretend I'm the freaking Prince of Wales if it'll help you get in the mood."
Just what she wanted to hear—that he was in this for an easy lay. No emotions involved. No commitment beyond tonight. As she led Gavin to her bedroom, an unwanted and totally unbidden thought passed through her mind. If she were with him right now, how would she feel? What would he say and do at a moment like this?
Roz finished undressing hurriedly and hopped into bed, then opened her arms and invited Gavin to come to her, to take her so completely that all thoughts of any other man would vanish from her mind. When he shucked off his clothes and came down over her, she lifted her hips. He delved deeply with one powerful thrust. As physical pleasure spiraled through her body, tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.
There would never be a moment like this with him, the one she really wanted. He would never want her. She knew she wasn't good enough for him, that he thought she was a tramp and probably always would.
Holding her shoes in one hand, Brooke tiptoed down the hall, hoping not to disturb her parents. Of course, this wasn't the first time she'd come home in the wee hours of the morning, and being well over twenty-one she hardly owed either her mother or her father an explanation of her whereabouts. The antique grandfather clock in the foyer downstairs chimed the hour. Three o'clock. She supposed she should have stayed the rest of the night with Fletch, but her mother enjoyed seeing her each morning at breakfast. And it had been for her mother's sake that she had sublet her apartment and moved back home. Like most children she supposed she had thought of her mother as invincible, but Eileen Harper's recent bout with breast cancer had proved that theory wrong. Although the doctors assured them that they'd gotten it all and her mother's chemotherapy and radiation treatments officially ended a few weeks ago, Brooke intended to live with her parents until she and Fletch married.
She hummed softly to herself as she reached out to open her bedroom door. Fletch hadn't proposed, at least not officially, but she knew it was only a matter of time until he did. After all, they'd been sweethearts since childhood, and even though each had experimented with other romances, they always came back together. They were two of a kind, whether Fletch realized it or not. Both born into old moneyed families, blue bloods by heritage. Former debutante mothers and wealthy, powerful fathers. And since Fletch intended to run for Congress next year, he would need the right wife at his side, someone who was part of the Washington crowd. What more could he ask for? After all, her father was his staunchest supporter, and with her dad's connections, Fletch would be a shoo-in for the party's nomination. "Brooke?"
She stopped when she heard her father's voice and turned to face him. With a smile curving her lips she greeted him. "What are you doing up at such an ungodly hour?" she asked. "I hope I didn't waken you."
"You didn't." He slipped his arm around her shoulders. "Sometimes old men don't sleep well."
"Dad, you aren't old. You're the youngest sixty-nine-year-old man I've ever known."
"Did you have a nice time tonight?" Oliver Harper asked.
"Yes." She nodded as she slid her arm around her father's waist. "We all stayed with Caroline until her bodyguard showed up. Roz and Lyle stayed and Gavin Robbins dropped by, too."
"What's this bodyguard Fletcher hired like? Did he seem capable?"
Brooke chuckled. No way could she tell her father just how very capable Mr. Wolfe actually looked. She suspected the man was lethal, even in small doses. Pity that all that machismo was wasted on Saint Caroline. Oh, she loved Caroline dearly, but after a while it became rather tedious having a friend who was so incredibly good. Just once she'd like to see Caroline screw up. Maybe then all the men in her life would finally take her down off that damn pedestal they had her on. Fletch included!
"Mr. Wolfe came from the Dundee agency, headquartered in Atlanta," Brooke said. "I'm sure you can ask around and find out all you need to know about this man."
"I may do that," Oliver said. "After all, we don't want just anyone looking out for Caroline. She's practically family. . .or will be once you and Fletcher are married. And I owe it to Preston to be concerned about the girl. He was quite fond of her, you know."
"Odd, isn't it, about that letter Caroline found in the safe hidden in the basement of that old house where they lived when Mr. Shaw was killed."
"I had hoped Caroline would disregard the message," Oliver said. "It's apparent Preston was delusional when he wrote it. The poor man actually thought that someone intended to murder him because he had important secret information. I can't believe an intelligent girl like Caroline has bought into such a ludicrous fabrication."
"Then you don't think there's any chance that Mr. Shaw was involved in some sort of espionage?"
"Preston Shaw was no more a spy than I am." Oliver hugged Brooke to his side. "How about a brandy with your old man before you head off to bed."
"I can't think of anything I'd like better. But only one. I want to get some sleep before I have breakfast with Mama."
"You can't imagine how much it's meant to Eileen having you back home these past few months. You're a good daughter, my love."
"And you're the best father in the world."
Brooke considered herself fortunate, far more so than most of the women her age. Few of her friends and acquaintances had not only both parents living, but parents who were still married to each other. And being an only child, she had been the center of her parents' universe. When she and Fletcher had children, she hoped that they could be the kind of parents her own had been. But why shouldn't they be? They were the same type of people, weren't they? And as her mother had told her countless times—blood will tell.
Chapter 6
An overcast sky veiled the morning sun, diffusing the light and cloaking the springtime warmth. Caroline loved it when the weather cooperated enough for her to have breakfast on the back porch as they were doi
ng today. When she had followed Lyle to Maryland's eastern shore after the local Congregational Church hired him as their minister, she'd felt a sense of coming home. She found a serenity and beauty by the bay unlike any she'd ever known. And an unparalleled freedom. After college graduation, she had worked for another photographer in Richmond and then a couple of years later opened her own small studio. She always tried to stay within driving distance of wherever Lyle settled. He was the only family she had left and both he and she were determined to stay together and not allow too many miles to separate them. It was what Aunt Dixie would have wanted. She could almost hear her aunt's voice. Blood is thicker than water.
"It's inadvisable for you to be out here," Wolfe said. "You're too accessible. Someone could come out of the woods or in from the bay and get to you. After this morning, all meals will be eaten inside."
"I realize that you know better than I what's safe and what isn't," Caroline said. "But I'm not sure I can live like a prisoner in my own house."
"I'm sorry." He stared at her over the rim of his tinted glasses, which had slipped down his nose. The moment he caught her looking directly at him, he shoved up the glasses and averted his gaze. "Let's hope we find what your key opens soon and put an end to the danger in your life. That way you'll be rid of me and can resume your normal activities."
"Mr. Wolfe, I have a career. . .a job, with clients depending on me. And I have responsibilities that can't be put on hold."
"Just Wolfe," he said.
"What?"
"Call me Wolfe, not Mr. Wolfe."
"Oh. All right. . .Wolfe." What was it about this man that repeatedly frustrated her? Was it the way he looked at her through those damn tinted glasses, as if while he remained bidden from her, he could see straight through into her mind and her heart? Or was it the way she felt in his presence— small and vulnerable and totally feminine? Or was it having a stranger know so much about her personal life? She realized that in order to protect her, his agency had to know a great deal about her, but she got the feeling that Wolfe knew a little too much.
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