"Sorry."
Their gazes connected and for one timeless moment they stared at each other. Breaths stilled. Heartbeats stopped. The world beyond their two entwined bodies ceased to exist. He couldn't prevent what was happening. Heaven help him! She had to be able to feel his arousal.
Almost immediately she shoved herself up and off of him. "We wouldn't want anybody to catch you rolling around in the dirt with the likes of me, would we?" Forcing a laugh, she shrugged. "What would they think?"
Lyle rose to a sitting position, then looked up at her. "They'd probably wonder why a pretty, sexy girl like you would have jumped my bones."
Roz stared at him, apparently as surprised by his statement as he was. A soft little giggle erupted from her throat, followed by genuine laughter. "Hey, Rev, you actually have a sense of humor, don't you?"
Her good humor ignited his own and he started laughing, too. She had thought he was joking, when he'd actually been dead serious. Why would a girl like Roz be interested in a quiet, self-contained minister, who wasn't anything special? After all, he was a slightly overweight
carrottop
who most definitely resembled Howdy
Doody
much more than Tom Cruise. Thank God Roz had diffused the tension between them by injecting the situation with a healthy dose of humor. Lord only knew what he would have done if she'd taken his comment seriously.
When they heard Roz scream, Wolfe grabbed Caroline's wrist and pulled her along with him as he rushed out into the hall and toward the backstairs. "Stay behind me." He undid his holster and removed his Sig Sauer P228.
Together they crept up the stairs, Wolfe cautious and prepared for whatever he might find. He could sense the tension in Caroline, could smell the fear and understood her concern for her friend. He felt an odd sensation of being connected not only to Caroline's thought processes, but to her emotions as well.
Following his instructions, she stayed at his back, close enough to him so that whenever he paused he could feel the warmth of her breath. Suddenly, as they neared the open door that revealed the bottom of the narrow steps that led to the attic, they heard laughter.
"Hey, up there," Wolfe called. "What's going on?"
"Roz, we heard you scream," Caroline said. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Roz yelled. "Come on up. We think we might have found something."
Wolfe stepped back and motioned for Caroline to go first She nodded and began to climb the tight passageway. Before her feet reached the top step, her head and shoulders cleared the opening. When she hesitated, Wolfe gave her a gentle shove to set her in motion again. A single light bulb, hanging from the ceiling by a frayed electrical cord, dispersed a dim fight. Sitting atop the only visible object in the attic—an old trunk of some sort—Roz waved them forward. Lyle stood at her side, a wide grin on his face. Then suddenly he sneezed.
"Excuse me. Dust is everywhere."
"One of you want to tell me what's going on?" Wolfe asked.
"Look what we found." Roz stood, moved to the side and waved her hand in a gesture of introduction. "Ta-
da
. It's an old trunk. And it's locked." Her big brown eyes rounded wide with delight, like those of a child who had discovered a treasure trove of toys.
"I think what Wolfe meant was why did you scream?" Caroline looked point-blank at Roz. "I suppose you know you scared me half to death."
"It wasn't anything," Lyle said. "Our wild, fearless Roz saw a mouse run across the floor and screamed like crazy."
"It wasn't just one mouse," Roz told them. "It was two mice."
"Whatever." Lyle shrugged. "She was so scared she tried to climb me like a tree and we wound up falling on the floor and—"
"I suppose that's when y'all started laughing?" Caroline asked.
Roz nodded. "Who would have thought the rev would actually have a sense of humor about the whole thing. Go figure." Roz grinned at Lyle, who smiled sheepishly, as if he were slightly embarrassed.
"Glad you two are getting along better," Wolfe said. "Now, how about we give the lock on that trunk a try. If the key doesn't fit it, then we might as well leave because we've searched this place thoroughly."
They gathered around the old trunk. Caroline dropped to her knees in front of it and eased the chain over her head, then she tried to insert the key into the lock. It didn't fit. She removed the key, turned it upside down and tried again. Still no fit.
"It won't even go in." Caroline draped the chain back around her neck. "So much for solving the riddle today."
"I thought you were going to
Fletch's
house after we left here to go through the things of his father's that he's kept stored all these years," Lyle said, then sneezed again. "You might find something there."
"Fletch is in D.C. today, so we're going over tomorrow at lunch," Caroline said. "Fletch wants to be there with us when we check through Preston's things. Besides, tonight is my volunteer evening at the church. Remember?"
Lyle nodded. "People at the church are going to wonder who Mr. Wolfe is and why he's sticking to you like glue. You probably don't want to tell them that he's your bodyguard."
"We'll just tell them that he's a friend," Caroline said.
"If it were me, I'd tell them that he's my new boyfriend." Roz sighed dreamily as she batted her eyelashes at Wolfe.
Caroline's and Wolfe's gazes collided. Tension wound inside Wolfe's gut. Caroline's cheeks flushed a soft pink.
Don't let your mind wander into forbidden territory, he cautioned himself. You are Caroline McGuire's bodyguard, hired by and paid for by her stepbrother. David Wolfe has no past with her and most certainly no future. You are a temporary necessity in her life and that's all. You are here to protect her, to keep her safe. And once she is no longer in danger, you will disappear from her life—forever.
Chapter 8
Wolfe
stood in the doorway and watched her while she slept. Moonlight covered her bed like a creamy, transparent blanket. He knew he had no right to invade her privacy this way, no legitimate reason to hover outside her bedroom. But God help him, he could not resist the temptation to observe her without her being aware of his presence. Whenever he stared at her for a moment too long, she gazed at him questioningly and he could give her no explanation for being so fascinated with her. He could hardly say, "I'm David. Your David. The man who has kept watch over you all these years. I gave you the camera that is your most prized possession and the pearl-and-diamond earrings that are your favorites. You have been the most important person in my life for the past fifteen years. Through all the dark and lonely nights, the unemotional and controlled days, you have been my heart. . .my soul. . .my secret treasure."
Since coming into her life two nights ago, he had already discovered that Caroline was all that he had believed her to be. He had observed her with her friends, employees and clients and marveled at the way people were drawn to her. At Lyle's church, where they had gone after leaving the Sheffield Street house earlier in the evening, Caroline had spent an hour tutoring an underprivileged child in reading and then worked in the church's cafeteria for two hours serving meals to the homeless. Lyle had told him that she devoted at least one evening a week, occasionally two or three evenings, to her volunteer activities, but her generosity didn't end there. Caroline paid for clothes for needy children and provided financial assistance to deserving students who desperately needed help with college tuition.
"She knows from firsthand experience what having a caring benefactor can mean in a young person's life," Lyle had said. "No doubt she has told you about David. Everyone who knows Caroline knows the story of her David."
Wolfe closed his eyes to shut out the sight of her lying peacefully, innocently in her bed. The sheet and blanket draped her hips, leaving her upper body unveiled. She rested on her side, the curve of one bare arm fitted beneath the swell of her breasts. He felt ashamed that his body betrayed him, reacting to her beauty in a purely physical way. He was here to protect her, not to ravage her. But every instinct he had was urging him to take possession of this woman. The primitive male within him told him that she was his. His alone. In a way she had not—nor ever could—belong to another man.
He envisioned her awakening, looking at him and smiling. She rose from the bed, her gown diaphanous and flowing, her hair hanging in disarray around her shoulders. With her arms outstretched, she came to him and enveloped him in her sweetness. He swept her up into his arms and carried her back to the bed. She whispered his name. "David. My David." And then with her lips a hairbreadth from his, she gazed adoringly into his eyes and said, "I want you. Please, make love to me."
Wolfe's sex hardened painfully, need riding him hard. He opened his eyes, took one final look at the woman he longed for, then turned and walked across the hall to his room. To his lonely bed. Back to the reality that Caroline was as out of his reach as the stars in the night sky.
Caroline woke with a start, the feeling of having been touched, of a large, strong hand caressing her body overpoweringly real. After tossing back the covers, she sat up and scooted to the edge of her bed. A shiver of longing shuddered through her, a sexual tingling she had never experienced before that moment. She had dated her share of men, had always immensely enjoyed kissing and had even experimented with some heavy petting a few times, but in the end she had always drawn back, always put a stop to things before they got out of control. Whenever that had happened, she had convinced herself she simply didn't want sex without a lifetime commitment, but in retrospect she admitted to herself the real reason. Caroline felt, in her heart, that she could not give herself to a man without loving him.
She flipped on the bedside lamp, slid her feet into her plush cloth slippers and stood. A tender quiet permeated the house, disturbed only by the soft, comforting sounds of night whispers. The distant lull of water lapping against the shore. The hum of springtime insects. The sigh of a nighttime breeze. The gentle creaking of old timbers. She picked up her cotton robe from the nearby chair, put it on, walked across the room and out into the hall. Was Wolfe asleep? she wondered.
Caroline tiptoed across the hall, halting in the open doorway of his bedroom. Moonlight illuminated the area enough for her to make out his shape where he rested flat on his back atop the covers. With his arms lifted to his head and his entwined fingers resting at the nape of his neck, his position accentuated the breadth of his wide shoulders and the muscles in his big arms. Her heartbeat accelerated instantly when she realized he wore nothing but a pair of dark pajama bottoms. An aura of breathtaking power and masculine strength surrounded him and a subtle sensuality exuded from every pore in his magnificently proportioned body.
As if drawn to him by some magnetic force she was powerless to resist, Caroline stepped over the threshold and into his room. Wolfe shot straight up in bed and reached for his weapon hidden under his pillow. Before Caroline realized what was happening, he was beside her, every muscle in his body tense, a look of predatory energy on his face.
"Caroline?"
She released her indrawn breath on a long, relieved sigh. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. I shouldn't have come in here. I'll go—"
When she turned to leave, he moved quickly to snap on the bedside lamp and lay his gun on the nightstand. Then he caught up with her and clamped his hand down on her shoulder with gentle strength. "Are you all right?"
Without glancing back at him, she nodded. His hand on her shoulder was hard and hot. His rough fingertips absently massaged her muscles. A man's touch had never taken her breath away. Not like this. Powerless to stop herself, she pivoted slowly until she faced him. He maintained his hold on her shoulder and increased the pressure just a little as he moved his hand down to cuff her bare upper arm. Unable to bring herself to look him in the eye, she cast her gaze toward his chest and what she saw startled her. She gasped, then lifted her hand and laid it on his brutally scarred upper torso. He grabbed her hand and she thought he was going to snatch it away. But instead he held it there where she'd placed it over his heart.
"What happened to you?" she asked, hypnotized by the viciousness of his scars.
"An accident," he told her, his voice low and husky.
"Oh, Wolfe. How awful for you. You must have suffered terribly. You poor darling."
He lifted her hand away from his chest, turned it palm up and brought it to his lips. When his warm, moist mouth grazed her sensitive flesh, she trembled. There was such gentleness in the way he stroked her, the way he eased his hand up and down her arm, caressing her with a lover's touch. Her gaze lifted to his and a tremor of pure undiluted sexual longing spiraled up from the core of her femininity when he looked at her as if he intended to take her, here and now.
She swayed toward him, unable to resist, swept away by the moment and the heady sensual experience. His gaze narrowed, shrinking his eyes to mere slits. His nostrils flared. His breath became labored. She sensed that he was an aroused beast and she was his appeasement. Excitement dulled her fear as pure animal instinct took control of her mind and body, telling her that he was her mate, the man she had been waiting for all these years.
Abruptly Wolfe shoved her away. Startled by the unexpected action, she caught her breath and glared at him, not understanding Ms sudden rejection of her.
"You should go back to bed," he said, a hint of regret in his commanding voice.
She nodded, then swallowed hard and said, "Yes. Yes, I should." Embarrassment claimed her with a vengeance and she all but ran from Ms bedroom, across the hall and into her own room. She started to slam the door shut, but remembered his orders to always leave the door open. With her pulse pounding at breakneck speed, her face hot with shame, Caroline hurried into her bathroom, closed the door and dropped to her knees. Tears streamed down her face.
What had she almost done? Wolfe must think her a hussy to have come into his room and all but attack him. He would have no way of knowing that she had never reacted that way to another man. Only to him.
Ellison stood and rounded his desk when Oliver Harper entered his office. He hadn't seen Oliver in nearly a year and then it had been a brief hello at some political function they'd both been obligated to attend. Although they'd known each other since their days at Harvard, they had never actually been friends. More friendly acquaintances than anything else. Ellison had always liked Oliver, despite the differences in their political leanings and the fact that Oliver had all but stolen Eileen from him when they'd been a couple of young bucks vying for her affections.
"What brings you to Peacekeepers International?" Ellison asked as he extended his hand.
Oliver exchanged a cordial handshake with Ellison, all the while bestowing his most charming smile on his old rival. "Nothing to do with international affairs. I can assure you that I leave all that diplomatic stuff to you do-gooders. You know me, Ellison, I'm of the persuasion to bomb '
em
and ask questions later."
Ellison chuckled. Oliver never changed and never apologized for his beliefs. He was the same old right-wing, militant conservative he'd always been. "Then to what do I owe the honor of your visit this morning? I'm afraid if there's trouble on Wall Street, you've come to the wrong organization for help." Ellison indicated a chair to Oliver, then stepped back and leaned his hip against the front edge of his desk.
"No financial complaints." Oliver nodded and sat in the proffered leather chair. "What I've come to you about is something of a personal nature."
Ellison's brows lifted as his eyes rounded with curiosity. "Would you care for some coffee? Or perhaps a cup of tea?"
"No, thank you." Oliver relaxed his tall, lean frame in the chair and crossed his legs. "I suppose you know all about the attempt on Caroline McGuire's life recently."
Ellison nodded. "Hmm-
mmm
."
"I figured Gavin Robbins was keeping you informed. Brooke told me that Caroline dated Gavin for a while and he was actually her date that terrible night aboard
Fletch's
yacht. He was rather lax in his duty, wasn't he? If he'd been with her—"
"Get to the point," Ellison said, his voice a bit more testy than he'd intended. "What personal interest do you have in Caroline McGuire, other than the fact she and your daughter are friends?"
"Isn't that enough? If not, then surely you recall that Preston Shaw was a friend of mine. Our families have been socially connected for generations. And Preston adored Caroline. You know the poor child had a nervous breakdown after Preston's murder, so naturally Brooke and I are concerned about her mental health now. Caroline seems convinced that there's some credence to that ridiculous letter Preston left."
"What makes you think the letter is ridiculous?"
Oliver laughed. "I knew Preston. He was a bon vivant, a man who loved the good things in life and got a great deal of pleasure out of his role as a diplomat. He wasn't the type to be involved in espionage."
"Perhaps you didn't know Preston as well as you thought you did. Perhaps none of us really knew him."
"Of course it's possible you're right." Oliver sighed. "At this late date, that's neither here nor there, is it? There isn't anything we can do to help poor old Preston, but Caroline is a different matter. Considering the fact that Preston was one of your own, I'm sure you're as interested as my family is in safeguarding his step-daughter."
"I understand from Gavin Robbins that Fletcher Shaw hired a professional bodyguard for Caroline. I don't see that there's anything else to be done."
"Now you've hit upon my concern." Oliver leaned forward, his gaze connecting boldly with Ellison's. "I'd like for you to use your connections and have an in-depth security check done on this Mr. Wolfe. I've already made some phone calls and found out that the Dundee agency has an exemplary reputation. It's one of the best, if not
the
best security and investigation agency in the country. But I wasn't able to get any real information on Mr. Wolfe. His background seems to be a mystery and that fact bothers me. If there's the remotest possibility that there is any truth to what Preston wrote in that letter, then we can't afford to trust anyone."
"Not even each other," Ellison said in a deadpan manner.
Oliver guffawed loudly. "I trust you, Ellison. You're probably the most trustworthy man I know. That's why I've come to you with my concerns. Find out what you can about this man Fletcher hired to protect Caroline. Let's make sure that she's safe in his hands."