Perhaps the problem was that she wasn't accustomed to his type of man. One who sits at the breakfast table wearing a hip holster. An aura of strength and danger surrounded her bodyguard, a man trained to protect others, with both defensive and offensive tactics. Has he ever killed in the line of duty? she wondered, and a shiver of apprehension shimmied along her nerve endings.
"You can go to work," Wolfe told her. "You can go anywhere that I feel isn't dangerous, anyplace where I can protect you. And if you're insistent on not changing your lifestyle, I can call in another Dundee agent as backup."
"I'm sure you're costing Fletch a small fortune. I can hardly expect him to pick up the tab for a second bodyguard." Caroline shook her head. "Let's give it a try, doing things your way, and if I find that to be too confining, I'll pay for the second bodyguard myself."
Wolfe nodded. "Before I drive you to your studio, do we have time this morning to discuss the reason you believe someone tried to kill you?"
"I thought you already knew." She spread strawberry jam on her toast, then offered the jar and knife to him. He declined the offer. "From some of the things you said last night, I assumed you knew everything there was to know about me."
"No one knows everything there is to know about another human being."
"You're right." Caroline sighed, realizing that no one would win an argument against this man, especially not her. He was far too logical in his thinking, whereas she usually acted on pure emotion. "What do you want to discuss?"
"I want to see the letter you found in your stepfather's safe and I'd like a better look at that key." He eyed the chain hanging around her neck. "Fletcher Shaw has given us permission to go through any personal files that he has in his possession that once belonged to his father. I'd like your permission to have a copy of the key made and sent to our lab in Atlanta."
Caroline lifted the chain and grasped the key in her hand. "No." She shook her head. "I don't mean to be uncooperative, but I'm not willing to allow copies of this key to be made. The copies could fall into the wrong hands."
"And just who do you suspect would wind up with the copies, Ms. McGuire?"
"I don't know." Caroline scooted back her rustic wooden chair and stood. She tossed her napkin on top of the table and walked away, down the steps leading out into the backyard, which faced the shoreline.
He immediately followed her, catching up with her quickly, before she had a chance to go more than a few feet. He grabbed her arm to halt her. She turned on him, a protest on her lips. A tingling sensation radiated up the entire length of her arm from where his big hand held her.
"Do you have any idea how much I hate all of this?" she asked him. "For nearly fifteen years I've believed that an intruder, a burglar, killed my stepfather. Now I know better. Now I have the proof, in his own handwriting, that someone assassinated him because he was in possession of some damaging information. Someone ordered Preston Shaw's execution and someone carried out that command." She fingered the chain around her neck. "This key is the only weapon I have against those people. I won't let it out of my possession."
"Then we have no choice but to use trial and error to try to find out just what your key opens." Wolfe tugged on her arm. "Don't run away from me again, Ms. McGuire. Your life could well depend upon my being at your side."
And my sanity might well depend upon putting some distance between us, she wanted to say, but didn't. "Are all the Dundee agents like you?" she asked as he led her back to the porch.
"All the Dundee agents are highly trained professionals," he said. "Their former professions vary somewhat—military, law enforcement and government agents, mostly. Ages vary, too, as do personal histories."
"What description would fit you?" What did it matter? she thought, the moment she asked the question. This man is a temporary fixture in your life. Here today, gone tomorrow. You shouldn't get personal with him. He isn't here to be your friend.
"If you've finished breakfast, let's clear away the dishes and get you back inside," he said.
"Oh, I see. You get to know all about me and my life, but I'm not supposed to ask you any personal questions. Is that how this works?"
"Something like that." He stacked their dishes, laid the silverware crossways atop the plates, then handed them to Caroline. He removed the butter and jam from the table with one hand, then picked up the blue linen napkins and stuffed them into his pants pocket.
"You really think someone is going to appear out of nowhere and try to kill me on my own back porch?"
"It's been known to happen." He nudged her into action, keeping step with her as she walked into the kitchen.
She set their dirty plates and silverware in the sink, then turned to face him and held out her hands to accept the butter and jam. Their hands touched in the transfer, a momentary brush of flesh against flesh. An electrical current sizzled through her. Frozen to the spot by her reaction, she glared at him and found him looking right at her, as if he had been shocked by the same surge of energy.
"Is it against the rules for me to see your eyes?" she asked, her voice uncharacteristically breathy.
He hesitated, then with a slow, precise movement reached up and removed his glasses. But he didn't allow their eyes to meet. Not immediately. She waited, heart thumping in an erratic rat-a-tat beat, as he lifted his gaze from where he had focused on the floor and stared straight at her. The cold, hard glimmer in his daring green eyes paralyzed her momentarily. There was no warmth, no sympathy, no understanding in his gaze. Not one shred of human emotion, almost as if he were a robot. She could not control the involuntary quivering that shook her body from head to toe.
Without saying a word, Wolfe put his glasses back on, then stepped away from Caroline. This time he was extra careful not to touch her. That was when she knew he wasn't as immune to her as he wanted her to believe.
Gavin Robbins was not one of his favorite people, so listening to him brag about his recent sexual conquest didn't go well with Ellison's morning tea. The man was every bit the cocky bastard he'd been fifteen years ago as a young recruit, but he possessed something the Peacekeepers prided themselves on—loyalty to the organization. Robbins had proved himself to be a top-notch agent time and again, and despite Ellison's personal dislike of him, the man didn't have one black mark against his record. When the second-in-command position came open at the unexpected death of the former VP from a heart attack, the other agents had immediately recommended Robbins. When the vote was counted, Robbins had been elected to the position by a landslide. If there was one thing Robbins did almost as well as he did his job, it was kiss ass.
"So, even if things are over with Caroline, I can still keep close enough to her to be apprised of everything going on in her life. Now that I'm bonking Roz Turner, she'll keep me updated on what's happening."
"And using Ms. Turner as an unknowing informant was your sole reason for instigating an affair with her?" Ellison lifted the china cup to his lips and sipped the imported tea that was blended in a small London shop specifically for him.
Gavin chuckled. "Hey, a man does what a man has to do. Right? Besides, it's not exactly a hardship. Roz is one talented lady, if you know what I mean."
Ellison heaved a deep sigh, signifying his displeasure, but the subtle gesture escaped Gavin's attention. Robbins was like many men of Ellison's acquaintance. Self-absorbed. Overly confident. And a bit of a braggart. He dreaded the day when he would be forced by old age to relinquish the reins of Peacekeepers International to a man more suited to the military than diplomacy. His personal choice would have been Aidan Colbert. But the man known as Aidan Colbert was dead.
"So, have you found out everything we need to know about Caroline's bodyguard?" Gavin asked as he plopped down in the chair directly across from Ellison's desk. "Is he somebody we can trust?"
"My sources tell me that Mr. Wolfe is as trustworthy as they come." Ellison took another sip of the delicious tea, then placed his cup on the saucer a
top his desk. "Caroline McGuire is in good hands."
"Yeah, well, I'll bet Aidan Colbert is taming over in his grave at the thought of some young stud sharing a house with Caroline. If you ask me, Colbert had a sick obsession with our Ms. McGuire."
"There was nothing sick about Aidan's concern for Caroline. He was a man of principle, a man with a conscience. He deeply regretted that she'd practically been a witness to her stepfather's execution."
"Colbert let his conscience get in the way sometimes," Gavin said. "In my opinion, he'd be alive now if he hadn't tried to get that group of grade-school kids out of the way before that bomb went off. The guy's own actions screwed him."
"I didn't ask you."
"Yeah, yeah. Okay. I know the guy was a favorite of yours and you were priming him to take over your job one day, but face it, Ellison, Colbert never really had what it took for our line of work."
"Until I tell you otherwise, you will now and in the future refer to me as Mr. Penn." Ellison eased back his chair and stood. "Only my family and friends call me Ellison and you, Gavin, are neither."
"You've made your point, Mr. Penn. So, how about a look at whatever information you have on Mr. Wolfe?"
"The information I have on him is right up here." Ellison tapped his right temple. "All you need to know is that if Caroline finds this so-called evidence Preston Shaw supposedly hid away somewhere, we can count on Mr. Wolfe to see that only the proper authorities will have access to the information."
"I'd like to know how you can be so sure of Mr. Wolfe."
"Suffice it to say that I am sure." Ellison skewered Gavin with a deadly glare that issued a silent warning for his subordinate to back off immediately. He realized that he risked piquing Robbins's curiosity with his evasiveness, but he wanted to postpone sharing any vital information about Wolfe with a man he didn't completely trust.
Photography by Caroline was located in a renovated building in downtown St. Michaels. The waiting area resembled an old-fashioned parlor, with turn-of-the-century reproduction furniture. Two college-aged gofers acted as receptionists and hostesses, booking appointments, welcoming clients and serving coffee and tea as well as pacifying crying babies and entertaining restless children. The pale cream walls in the parlor boasted a lineup of brilliantly photographed babies, children, brides and families. Wolfe knew that Caroline had become a renowned portrait photographer, but until seeing her work today he hadn't fully comprehended how truly talented she was. In each picture she had captured the very essence of her subject.
"She's very good," Wolfe said without realizing he had spoken aloud.
"The best," Roz agreed. "She has clients who come here from all over the country. Every young girl dreams of having her bridal portrait taken by Caroline, and we have expectant mothers making appointments with us for their unborn child's first-year pictures the minute they discover they're pregnant."
Wolfe glanced over his shoulder, checking on Caroline's whereabouts as she padded barefoot across the wooden floor and introduced herself to her first two clients of the day—a mother with a toddler in tow and an elderly gentleman barely restraining the friendliness of his springer spaniel. Caroline bent on one knee in front of the little boy who, judging by his size, was probably no more than three.
"Hello, Justin, I'm Caroline. My, you're a big boy. Your mother told me that you like bugs. . .spiders and flies and scorpions. Did you know that I have a whole box filled with bugs in my studio?"
The curly-headed child grinned and said, "You've got bugs?"
"Dozens of them."
"You got a scorpion?"
"At least three of them." Caroline held out her hand to the toddler. ''Would you like to go with my friend Roz.. .you and your mommy. . .and see my scorpions?"
The child jumped up and down, then tugged on his mother's hand. "Let's go now, Mommy. Go see the bugs."
While Roz led mother and child into the studio area used primarily for shots of babies and children, Caroline made her way to her next customer. She sat down on the sofa beside the old man, then leaned over and let his dog sniff the back of her hand. Immediately the spaniel wagged his tail and lifted his front paws onto Caroline's knees.
"Hello, old boy," Caroline said as she rubbed the dog's ears. "What's his name?" she asked the owner.
"Freddy."
"Well, Freddy, you're a sweetie, aren't you?" She glanced at the pet's master. "Mr. Dalton, do you mind if I give Freddy a doggie treat?"
"I don't mind at all. Freddy's like me, he's getting up there in years and one of the few pleasures left to him is eating." Mr. Dalton laughed good-naturedly and patted his potbelly.
"Sandy—" Caroline motioned for the plump redheaded gofer "—will take you and Freddy outside in the garden, and when I finish with little Justin Payne, I'll join y'all. If you'd like coffee or tea or if Freddy needs a bowl of water, then you just tell Sandy." Caroline dipped into the deep pocket of her baggy blue slacks and pulled out a bone-shaped dog treat. She waved it under the dog's nose. He caught a sniff and snapped it up immediately.
As soon as Mr. Dalton and Freddy disappeared down the corridor that led to the garden at the back of the studio, Caroline motioned to Wolfe. "There's only one door in and out of the children's studio, so if you guard that door, no one can get to me."
"Is that your subtle way of telling me to stay out of your way while you're working?" Wolfe asked.
"You catch on fast," she replied.
He walked behind her down the hallway, past the curtained alcoves young clients used to change clothes and into the large, colorfully decorated room she used as the children's studio. After scanning the area and noting only one window, which overlooked the enclosed garden courtyard where Sandy entertained Mr. Dalton and Freddy, Wolfe closed the single entry door and leaned back against it.
He watched as she maneuvered the lighting, first setting up what he later learned from Roz was a 350-watt diffuser fill light to the front right of the squirming Justin Payne.
"Roz, place that quartz key light behind him while I get the metal deflector in place." Caroline made a funny face at Justin, who had his hands filled with an assortment of plastic bugs.
Caroline and Roz worked tirelessly as a team, each in perfect timing with the other. Roz maneuvered the child with expert ease, returning him to a posed position time and again while Caroline checked lighting and angles as she snapped picture after picture of her energetic subject.
Wolfe couldn't take his eyes off Caroline as she worked. Her face glowed with enthusiastic zeal, and any fool could see how much she loved what she was doing. She and the camera became one, joined into a single entity capable of producing photographic masterpieces. If Aidan Colbert had done nothing else of any consequence in his life, he could take some credit for having helped this incredible young woman achieve her goals.
Bubbly, blond Kirsten, the other studio gofer, brought in lunch for two on a tray and placed the tray on Caroline's cluttered desk. "Crab cakes," she said. "Enjoy." Her smile flirted with Wolfe, but he purposefully ignored the girl.
When he pulled a chair up to the other side of the desk, Wolfe glanced at Caroline, who gave him a condemning glare.
"What?" he asked.
"Did you have to be so rude to Kirsten?"
"I wasn't rude," he said. "If I'd been rude, I would have told her that she was wasting her time with me. I have no interest in eighteen-year-old girls."
"Oh, I see. No point in encouraging her." Caroline opened the lid on the food container. "Tell me, just what age bracket does interest you?"
Wolfe lifted the coffee mug off the tray. "Definitely over twenty-five."
"How old are you?" she asked.
"Thirty-six."
"Hrnm-mmm."
"Too old?" he inquired.
"For what?"
"For someone twenty-seven?"
Caroline blushed. "I'm twenty-seven, or at least I will be on Thursday."
"Yes, I know."
"You'
re not too old." She immediately averted her gaze, concentrating on the food before her.
He'd never been particularly adept at playing games with women, certainly not a lighthearted flirting match like the one he'd just exchanged with Caroline. But with her, he felt different. With her, he was different.
While sipping his coffee, he glanced around her office, taking note of the photos on the walls, personally significant portraits confined to her private space. There were three shots of Brooke Harper and the same number of Fletcher Shaw. Two pictures of Roz, each capturing a vulnerability that surprised Wolfe. And dispersed among the other framed photographs were half a dozen shots of Lyle Jennings at various ages, from a chunky teenager in a baseball uniform to a majestic shot of him in his minister's garb. Glass-enclosed shelving lined the wall space on either side of the unused fireplace. Wolfe surveyed the contents. Clocks of various kinds and sizes. A couple of sculptures. And on a shelf by itself, a small 35 mm camera.
Wolfe set the mug on the tray, shoved back his chair and stood. As if drawn to the object by some magnetic force, he walked across the room for a better look at the little black camera. He peered through the glass, then lifted his hand as if to touch the object. Was this what he thought it was? Could it actually be the camera Aidan Colbert had bought Caroline for her thirteenth birthday?
He sensed rather than heard her when she came up behind him. She was so close he could smell the sweet scent of her delicate perfume.
"That was my first camera," she said, a trace of nostalgia in her voice. "It's my most prized possession."
"An inexpensive 35 mm camera is your most prized possession?" Inclining his head slightly, he glanced back at her.
"Yes. You see, it was a gift."
He nodded, afraid to speak, uncertain he wouldn't blurt out some sentimental hogwash that she couldn't possibly understand.
"Someone very special gave it to me for my thirteenth birthday." She opened the glass door, reached inside and removed the small camera. "My love for photography began with this camera. Taking pictures with it opened up a whole new world for me."
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