Wolfe glanced over his shoulder at the two men who stood nearby, as if waiting their turn, then focused his attention on the two women flanking Caroline. Someone had passed along information, whether maliciously or innocently, that had enabled a professional to prepare a booby trap for Caroline. Was one of these four dear friends capable of such treachery? He wanted desperately to rule out Lyle, and if not for his cynical nature, he would have. For the life of him, he couldn't see Reverend Jennings harming a hair on anyone's head, let alone willingly helping someone murder Caroline. The other three, each in his or her own way, were a possibility, even though his instincts told him their affection for Caroline was genuine.
"Caroline." Lyle held out his hands as Roz and Brooke led her up the walkway.
Caroline paused, pulled away from her girlfriends and grabbed Lyle's hands, then put her arms around him and hugged him fiercely. Tears streamed down Lyle's cheeks as he clung to her.
"I'm so thankful you're all right," Lyle said. "I've prayed almost nonstop since you called me, letting the Lord know how grateful I am that he spared your life."
"Did you thank the Lord for sending Mr. Wolfe to me?" Caroline asked, as she pulled back from her cousin and searched for Wolfe.
Fletcher came forward but didn't block the path or prevent Wolfe from being able to see Caroline. With a fragile, tentative tilt of her lips, she smiled at her stepbrother.
"If only I hadn't sent you down to Windhaven. . ." Fletcher's voice cracked with emotion.
Caroline caressed Fletcher's cheek, then kissed him with sisterly affection.' 'Stop blaming yourself for what happened. You had no way of knowing that someone would get there ahead of us and plant a bomb in Preston's Alfa Romeo."
Wolfe followed closely, just behind the foursome as they escorted Caroline to her front porch, then he moved around them to unlock the door. He went in first, turned on the lights, punched in the security code and scanned the foyer before motioning for the others to come inside. Once they were congregated in the foyer, Wolfe disengaged Caroline from her quartet of concerned friends. She gasped when he grabbed her arm. The others stood rigidly still, their gazes riveted to Caroline.
"I have a few questions for y'all," Wolfe said. "And after I get the answers, I want all of you to leave."
"What?"
"Now, see here. . ."
"I had planned to stay. . .."
"What sort of questions?"
Wolfe jerked Caroline to his side. She went without protest, although the look on her face warned him that she would confront him later.
"Come with me." Wolfe led the way, hauling Caroline with him. He gently shoved her down into an overstuffed easy chair and took his guard post behind her. The others made their way into the living room. The women sat side by side on the sofa. Lyle took the rocking chair to Caroline's left Remaining on his feet, Fletcher crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Wolfe.
"Only six people knew that Caroline and I were going to Windhaven to search through Preston Shaw's antique Alfa Romeo," Wolfe said. "Caroline and I. Fletcher, Brooke and Roz. And Teddy Richards. But I think we can rule out Mr. Richards as a suspect."
"A suspect?" Brooke gasped and looked point-blank at Caroline. "What is he talking about?"
Before Caroline could speak, Wolfe cut off her reply and asked, "Did any of you tell someone else where Caroline and I were going and why?"
"I didn't," Fletcher replied immediately, a smug look of satisfaction on his face.
"I did," Roz confessed. "I told Lyle, but that hardly counts. He phoned the studio and asked to speak to Caroline, so naturally I explained where she'd gone and why."
"Naturally." Wolfe focused on the reverend. "Did you tell anyone what Roz told you?"
Lyle's face paled. He shook his head. "No. Not a soul."
"Anyone else?" Wolfe asked.
Roz's
forehead wrinkled when she puckered her lips in an oh-dear-me pout. She bobbed her head up and down slowly, regretfully admitting that she had gone against Wolfe's instructions and told someone other than Lyle. "I told Gavin. He called to invite me out and just happened to ask if I'd mentioned to Caroline that he and I were seeing each other. I know I wasn't supposed to tell anybody where you two went and why, but it's not as if Gavin is the guy out to kill Caroline."
Wolfe growled, deep and low, the sound emitting roughly from his throat. Caroline tilted back her head and glanced up at him. He reached down and clamped his hand on her shoulder. She broke eye contact and looked away from Wolfe and at her friends, but she lifted her hand and laid it over Wolfe's for a brief moment.
Wolfe's gaze moved on to Brooke. "What about you, Ms. Harper?"
"I think I might have mentioned it to Mother and Dad," she said.
"Either you did or you didn't." Wolfe's voice held a deadly, accusatory tone.
"See here, Wolfe, I don't like your attitude," Fletcher said.
"I don't really care what you like or don't like," Wolfe replied. "Pleasing you is not part of my job description. Protecting Caroline is the only thing that matters. Someone in this room is responsible for giving information about Caroline's activities to the wrong person. That act, innocent though it might have been, could have cost Caroline her life.
I
cannot allow something like that to happen again."
"Yes, I mentioned to Mother and Dad that Caroline was going to Windhaven," Brooke said. "And it's possible that one or more of the servants overheard me. I didn't think you meant my family when you warned us not to tell anyone. My parents love Caroline."
"Thank you for your honesty, Ms. Harper," Wolfe said.
"You know, come to think of it, Kirsten and Sandy knew why Caroline had canceled her afternoon appointments." Roz shot up off the sofa. "I didn't think twice about telling them. Gosh, Caroline, I'm sorry."
"It's all right," Caroline assured her.
"I have to disagree," Wolfe said. "It's not all right. However, what's done is done. In future, something like this will not happen again. I don't want any of you pressing Caroline for specifics about the plans she has beyond her normal work schedule. Starting in the morning, she will be curtailing her activities until further notice."
"Is that what you want, Caroline?" Fletcher asked. "If not, say the word and I'll fire this overzealous commando."
"No," Caroline said. "If you fire Wolfe, I'll simply rehire him. He and I will work things out between us."
Roz exchanged a quick what's-up-with-those-two look with Lyle, then said, "Since you came by and picked me up tonight, you'll have to drive me home, Rev."
Caroline slipped her shoulder out from under Wolfe's possessive clasp and stood. Lyle nodded agreement to
Roz's
request, then got up out of the chair. After he and Roz kissed Caroline good-night, they showed themselves out the front door. Brooke stood, walked over to a scowling Fletcher and slipped her arm through his.
"We should be going, too," Brooke said, then dragged her reluctant and angry boyfriend toward Caroline. "If you need us for anything, don't hesitate to call." She glanced at Wolfe. "But I believe we're leaving you in good hands."
Caroline hugged her childhood friend and her stepbrother, then Wolfe shoved them out the door, locked it and punched in the code to secure the house for the night. The minute he turned to face Caroline, he realized she was fighting mad. Angry with him. For being rude to her friends?
"How dare you accuse one of them of being at fault for what happened at Windhaven!"
"I accused no one."
"No, you didn't out-and-out accuse one of them specifically, but you might as well have." She marched right up to him and pointed her finger in his face. "Those four people are the dearest friends I have on earth. Lyle and Fletch are like brothers to me. Not a one of them would ever do anything to harm me."
"Are you willing to bet your life on that?"
"What?"
He manacled her wrist. She glared at him. "From this moment on, until you are no longer in any danger, the only person you can trust one hundred percent is me."
"You? You're a stranger to me. A hired bodyguard. Why should I trust you more than four people I've known and trusted for years?"
With one quick jerk, he hauled her up against him and lowered his head enough so that their breaths mingled. "I think you already know the answer to that question."
Chapter 10
T
hanks for the ride home." Holding the passenger side door open on the
rninivan
, Roz peered inside at Lyle. "You wouldn't want to come inside for a cup of coffee, would you?"
Lyle didn't respond immediately so she figured he was trying to find a tactful way to decline her offer. It had been stupid of her to suggest that he come into her house, even for something as innocent as coffee. Wasn't he the man who had told her that he was afraid she'd contaminate him, that her wickedness would rub off on him?
"Sure. I'd love a cup of coffee. Have you got decaf?" He opened the driver's side door and hopped out.
Too stunned to speak, Roz stood there for a couple of seconds, her mouth hanging open and her eyes slightly glazed from shock. "Oh. . .yeah. . .I've got decaf. Got it in three flavors." She slammed the
rninivan
door. "Hazelnut. Macadamia chocolate and French vanilla"
Lyle rounded the van, then stopped hesitantly. "French vanilla sounds nice."
Reverend Lyle Jennings was actually going to come inside her house, at night—heck, at past midnight—for a cup of coffee. Was she dreaming or had some alien being possessed the rev's body?
Oh, God, her house was a mess. She couldn't remember the last time she'd dusted. There were dirty dishes in the sink. Unfolded clothes in the laundry basket on the kitchen table. And her bed was unmade. Forget about unmade beds, Roz, she told herself. Lyle certainly isn't going to be in your bedroom tonight.
As they walked toward the front door, side by side but not touching, Roz began feeling uncertain about having issued the invitation. "Look, I'm not much of a housekeeper. The place is untidy. Actually, it's an unholy mess. Oh, bad choice of words. Sorry."
"Roz?" Lyle halted at the door.
She turned to face him. "Huh?" she replied nervously. She loved that adorable freckled face of his, those sleepy hazel eyes and that shock of wavy red hair. Put him in a cowboy outfit and he'd look like Howdy
Doody
all grown up. Yet she could picture a couple of adorable kids who looked just like him. One of these days some really lucky woman would give him those kids. Why the heck did she have to wish she could be the mother of Lyle's babies, the woman he loved and wanted to spend the rest of his life with? Of all the women on earth, she'd be his last choice.
"My place isn't very neat, either," he admitted. "When some of the ladies at the church dropped by, they suggested that I needed a wife. I suspect they took one look at my lack of housekeeping skills and figured—"
"I'll bet they've been bombarding you with likely candidates, haven't they?" Roz could just picture the uptight plain
Janes
the church ladies had paraded before him. Prim. Proper. Pious. Boring. And completely suited to life as a minister's wife.
As Roz unlocked the door, Lyle sighed. "I've tried every courteous way I know how to tell the ladies that I'm perfectly capable of finding a wife without any assistance. But they do seem determined for me to choose one of the young women they deem suitable."
She glanced over her shoulder and saw that he was blushing. "Come on in." After turning on the light in the living room, she spread out her arm in a gesture of welcome.
"
Be it ever so humble." Immediately she flitted about, picking up magazines strewn on the floor, stuffing scattered clothing beneath sofa and chair cushions and jerking up a couple of beer bottles from an end table. Holding the bottles behind her hips, she backed toward the door to the kitchen. "Make yourself at home. I'll put on that coffee—French vanilla— and be right back."
"Thanks." Lyle chose the sofa, sat and glanced around the room.
She plastered a fake smile on her face and shoved the door open with her butt, then escaped into the small, cluttered kitchen. Breathing a quick sigh of relief, she tried to remember where she'd stored that unopened bag of French vanilla decaf coffee Caroline had given her, along with the other flavors, in a Valentine's Day gift basket. It's got to be here somewhere, she thought. Ah-ha! In the freezer! Caroline had told her to store the small bags of gourmet coffee in the freezer so they'd stay fresh.
Hurrying, she retrieved the coffee, opened the sack and prepared her four-cup coffeemaker. With that done, she rummaged around in the refrigerator and in the cabinets for something to serve with the coffee. Cake? Pie? Danish? She didn't have any of that stuff. Cookies. She had cookies. Oversize peanut butter cookies she'd picked up at the bakery a few days ago. While the coffee brewed, she cracked open the door and called out to Lyle, "Cream and sugar or just black?"
"Sugar, please. One teaspoon."
"Coming right up."
Damn, she didn't have a silver coffeepot or any good china. She didn't even own a set of matching thrift-store dishes. The best she could offer Lyle was a pink Bitch's Brew mug. When she had seen the mugs in a specialty shop several years ago, she'd thought they were cute, so she'd bought half a dozen. Most of the guys she dated either didn't even notice the feminist logo or got a good laugh when they read it. Lyle was likely to take offense. What the hell! She couldn't serve hot coffee in her Wal-Mart Looney Tunes glasses, could she? Another purchase that she had, at the time, thought was cute.
Five minutes later, she shoved open the door with her hip and emerged from the kitchen carrying a floral metal tray. The moment she entered the room, Lyle stood. What a gentleman, she thought. She wasn't used to guys with good manners. Lyle's Southern charm had a way of disarming her and making her feel inferior. She knew he didn't come from money or anything like that, but he'd had a mama who was a real lady. Caroline's aunt Dixie had instilled old-fashioned rules of decorum in her son and niece.
Roz placed the cheap metal tray on the cocktail table, wishing with all her heart that it was the finest silver. She sat on the sofa, then Lyle joined her, sitting on the opposite end.
"I thought you might like some cookies." She indicated the plate of cookies by pointing at them, then remembered that pointing wasn't polite. "Peanut butter. I hope you like them."
"Did you bake them?" he asked as he lifted the bright pink coffee mug and reached for a cookie.
Roz chuckled. "Me?" She shook her head. "Honey, I've never baked anything in my life." She gasped. "Sorry, Rev, I didn't mean to call you honey. Just a slip of the tongue."
Lyle blushed again, then picked up a cookie and took a bite. After chewing, sipping the coffee and swallowing, he smiled. "The cookie's quite tasty and the coffee's really good. Thank you."
Roz tried to think of something to do or say to make this less awkward for him. She tried to think of a subject to discuss. Surely they had at least one thing in common.
"
What do you think of Mr. Wolfe?'' she finally asked, then picked up her coffee mug.
Lyle stared at the mug she held, seemingly mesmerized by it. Suddenly Roz realized he hadn't paid any attention to his own matching mug and was reading the logo on hers. His mouth curved into a smile. She giggled.
"Sorry. They're all I've got. I bought them a few years back because I simply couldn't resist them."
"Stop apologizing to me for every little thing." Lyle scooted a little closer to her, his gaze never leaving her face. "I may be a minister, but I'm not a saint, not some perfect human being whose job it is to judge you. I think the mugs are cute. They're—" he paused, as if trying to come up with the right thing to say "—they're so you, Roz."
"Oh?" Was that an insult? A compliment? Neither? "Is that good or bad?"
"Definitely good," he said.
"You mean there's something about me that you think is good?"
His smile widened into a sheepish grin. "I suppose I deserve that." He shook his head and laughed. "There's a lot about you that's good. Buying these mugs is an example of your great sense of humor, and a sense of humor is a good thing."
"Does that mean you don't think the mugs' logo suits my personality? Do you think I'm a bitch, Lyle?" Oh, that's it, Roz, ask a leading question. Brace yourself for the answer, she cautioned herself. The rev doesn't he, you know.
"No more or no less than any other female of my acquaintance," he replied—and with a straight face.
She stared at him for a moment, then realized he was joking. She punched his arm playfully, laughing as she leaned toward him. Their gazes connected. Warmth suffused her body. Sexual heat.
Don't go there, Roz,
an inner voice warned. Just because he's being nice to you for a change doesn't mean he's interested in you in
that way.
"I. . .
er
. . .I think Mr. Wolfe takes his job very seriously." Lyle cleared his throat. "And that's good for Caroline. I believe Fletch was wrong to take offense at the things Mr. Wolfe said."
"I agree. I think Wolfe would die to protect Caroline."
"That's his job, isn't it? To be prepared to kill or to die to protect her." Lyle finished off the cookie and washed it down with his coffee.
"Yeah, I suppose it is, but I think there's more to it. Didn't you pick up any vibes between them? If I didn't know better, I'd swear he and Caroline have something going on."
"Caroline just met the man," Lyle said. "She is not the type of woman who would—"
"Honey, any woman is the type who
would
with—"
"With a man like Mr. Wolfe, you mean."
Roz shook her head. "No, I wasn't going to say with a man like Mr. Wolfe. I was going to say, with the right man. A woman would do just about anything for a guy who is her soul mate."
"I hardly think Caroline and Mr. Wolfe are soul mates. They have nothing in common."
Roz gazed into Lyle's eyes. "You might be surprised. Besides, I don't think you have to come from similar backgrounds or be just alike to be soul mates. Do you?"
"I don't know," Lyle admitted. "I've never given the subject much thought." He added in a whisper, "Until recently."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. The idea of having a soul mate is sort of sappy and sentimental, isn't it?"
"And romantic," Lyle said. "Yeah. Very romantic."
Moment by moment, inch by inch, Lyle and Roz drew closer and closer until they were sitting right beside each other on the sofa. Their arms and legs touching, their gazes locked, their breathing labored.
"You're very pretty," Lyle said.
"Thank you. You're pretty cute yourself."
Lyle blushed, yet again. "I've never thought of myself as cute."
"You are." She reached out and ruffled his thick red hair. "You're awfully cute. And as you know, I just love cute things."
They came together, their Lips almost touching.
Roz's
stomach fluttered. Was he really going to kiss her? Please, let it happen, she prayed. I promise I'll be good for him. So good. Just let him want me the way I want him.
The telephone rang. Lyle jumped away from Roz as if an invisible hand had shoved him. Roz groaned. Who the hell would be calling at this time of night? She grumbled to herself, cursing the Fates for interrupting at such an auspicious moment. Another ten seconds and all her dreams might have come true. She stomped across the room, lifted the receiver and growled.
"Whoever this is, it had better be a damn emergency!"
"Roz, sweet thing, did I wake you?"
"Gavin?"
She sensed Lyle's movement and when she glanced his way, she almost cried. The look on his face said it all. Disappointment. Anger. Hurt. He rose to his feet quickly and accidentally hit his knee on the edge of the coffee table. Grimacing, he groaned and rubbed his knee. She looked at him pleadingly.
Don't go! I'll get rid of Gavin. The man means absolutely nothing to me. You're the man I want. . .the man I love.
"Gavin, this isn't a good time for me," she said.
"Should I be jealous? Are you in the sack with another guy?"
"Don't be ridiculous." Lyle was heading for the front door. Damn! "Call me back when it's daylight outside, okay?" Lyle opened the front door.
"Better yet, Gavin, don't bother calling me again. Ever!" Roz slammed down the telephone and ran toward the door, catching up with Lyle just as he stepped over the threshold. "Wait!"