Lyle turned and glared at her, his face flushed with anger. "You shouldn't have been rude to your boyfriend on my account. Heck, Roz, it's not as if you and I are friends. We don't even like each other, do we? The only reason we're ever civil to each other is for Caroline's sake."
She bit down on her bottom lip to keep from bursting into tears, then bobbed her head up and down to agree with him. "Drive carefully. Okay?"
He nodded. "Good night, Roz. Thanks for the coffee and the cookies."
"Sure. Anytime."
He hesitated, as if he wanted to say more, but instead he turned and walked away. Roz stood in the doorway for several minutes after the red taillights on Lyle's
rninivan
disappeared down the road. Then she slammed the door, leaned against it and sank to the floor. She keened softly as tears trickled down her cheeks, over her nose and across her lips.
Caroline had all but run from Wolfe, and he had allowed her to escape—from him and his brutally honest statement. Of course she knew why she should trust him and him alone. But she couldn't admit that to him. She barely had the courage to admit the reason to herself. She had locked herself in the bathroom, turned on the shower and stripped naked. While standing under the warm, pelting water, she relived every moment of her life since Wolfe had showed up at her front door. She had wondered how it was possible that on such short acquaintance a perfect stranger had come to mean so much to her.
Now, sitting at her dressing table, combing the tangles from her damp hair, she confronted herself about her true feelings for Wolfe. If she trusted him with her life, as she trusted no one else, wasn't it time to be totally honest with herself? A powerful sexual attraction existed between them. She felt it and so did he. It was unlike anything she'd ever known. But that wasn't the reason why she trusted him. There was more to her feelings than sexual attraction. From the first moment she saw him, she sensed a bond, as if she already knew him. Was reincarnation possible? she speculated. Lyle would say it wasn't. Roz would say it definitely was. Brooke and Fletch would say whatever was currently in vogue with their set of society friends.
No matter what she believed or didn't believe, one fact was clear. Wolfe was a man capable of protecting her, a man who had proved that he was dedicated to keeping her safe. In some odd sort of way, his interest in her seemed personal. Was it the sexual thing? she asked herself. Did he, like some primitive male, think of her as his possession, his woman? As a modem-thinking female, with politically correct views on many subjects, she supposed she should resent that type of macho thinking. After all, maybe Wolfe was the kind of man who thought it was his right to sleep with his female clients. Was his desire to have sex with her at the root of his willingness to go to any lengths to protect her?
Caroline laid the silver comb on the dressing table, eased back the satin-covered bench on which she sat and rose to her feet. It was time for her to have a talk with her bodyguard. She had to find out if she was simply one more woman in a long line of conquests.
What if you are? What will you do then?
She donned the matching satin robe that covered her bare arms and swept to the floor. The lace hem glided along behind her as she marched out of her bedroom. Naturally he had left his door wide open. She paused momentarily outside his bedroom, took a deep, fortifying breath and knocked softly on the door frame. She glanced into the room but didn't see him anywhere.
"Wolfe, I'd like to speak to you, please."
His bathroom door opened. She gasped. He emerged with a large towel draped around his hips, the rest of him completely nude. Taken aback by his lack of clothing, she froze to the spot and swallowed hard.
"I'll come back after you've put on something."
She turned and headed toward her room, but he caught up with her before she'd taken more than a few steps. His big hand clutched her upper arm. She whirled around to face him, her breathing harsh, her cheeks flushed with emotion.
"What are you so afraid of, Caroline?" he asked, his cold, jade-green eyes focused on her face. "You must know. . .you must feel it here—" he laid his open palm over her heart "—that I would never hurt you, that I will protect you, with my life if necessary."
"Because it's your job?" She held her breath, waiting for his reply. His big hand on her chest felt hot and heavy.
"Yes, partly because it's my job." His palm glided upward, over her collarbone, until he spread apart his fingers and gripped her throat with the utmost tenderness.
"And. . ." she prompted.
"And because I couldn't bear for anything to happen to you."
He lifted the hand at her throat and circled around to grasp the nape of her neck, while he released his hold on her arm to cup her hip. She gazed into his eyes, hypnotized by the intensity of emotion she saw revealed in their depths. He was going to kiss her, with or without her permission. Had he guessed that this was what she wanted? He covered her lips with his, a gentle possession but forceful enough to brook no denial on her part. When she succumbed to the kiss, he pulled her closer and deepened the contact.
This was unlike any kiss she'd ever known. Powerful enough to propel her from pleasurable experience to raging sexual hunger in one minute flat. Every fiber of her being acknowledged this man as her mate. Primeval forces surged through her body, demanding satisfaction of the most primitive nature. Caroline pressed herself intimately against his erection and a sense of feminine power overwhelmed her. She lifted her arms to drape his shoulders and became an equal participant in the carnality of their kiss.
As quickly as he had instigated the kiss, Wolfe ended it. Caroline felt bereft and breathless, as if her oxygen supply had suddenly been cut off and she was smothering. When he stepped away from her, she reached out for him pleadingly.
' 'Unless you have no doubts about what you want, then I suggest you turn around and go back to your room," Wolfe said.
He wanted her as desperately as she wanted him, didn't he? So why was he rejecting her?
No, he's not rejecting you,
an inner voice told her.
He is giving you a chance to think twice about what you're doing.
"
If you are sure that you will have no regrets in the morning, then come to me." He held out his hand. "I'll make love to you."
Passion tried to overrule common sense. The temptation to succumb to the most basic human desires fought a battle with her self-preservation instincts. Would she regret it in the morning if she gave herself to Wolfe? She honestly didn't know.
Undoubtedly she hesitated a moment too long to suit him. He dropped his proffered hand. "When it's right. . . if it's ever right between us, you won't have to think about it. You'll know."
"Wolfe, please. . ."
"You've had a rough day," he said. "You've been through a traumatic experience. You aren't in any sort of emotional shape to make a decision as important to you as this one. You haven't saved yourself all these years to give yourself to the wrong man now."
"How did you know—"
"That you're a virgin?"
Her face burned with embarrassment. "Was it that obvious to you? Am I that inept? Is that why you stopped things when you did—because you prefer your women more experienced?"
"You could never be just another woman to me. If I were to ever take you to my bed, you would become my woman forever. I put a stop to things not because of your innocence, but because I'm the wrong man. I'm not worthy of you, my sweet Caroline."
He left her standing in the hallway, feeling totally dazed by his statement. Heaven help her, she was more aroused and more confused than she'd ever been in her entire life. And in the morning, she would have to confront him again, this powerful, commanding man. How would she be able to control her attraction to him now that he knew she found him irresistible? But hadn't Wolfe proved himself to be an honorable man? He could have taken advantage of her, but he hadn't. It wasn't Wolfe she had to fear, but her own desire.
Chapter 11
Having dealt with stubborn clients before, Wolfe had learned the art of compromise. But being forced to accommodate Caroline's determination not to drastically change her lifestyle had proved difficult for him. He understood that she didn't want someone else dictating what she could do, where she could go and with whom she could associate. But
dammit
all, couldn't she understand that he had her best interests at heart? If she would let him have his way, yes, he would lock her away from the world until she was no longer in danger. And yes, he would keep her apart from everyone, even those she loved. Caroline trusted too easily, believed the best of everyone, and thus opened herself up to people who might not deserve either her love or her trust.
And God help him, he was one of those people. But the difference between him and all the others in her life was that he knew what motivated him. He might prove a threat to Caroline's heart, but never to her life. There was absolutely nothing he would not do for her. And on some instinctive level, he believed she knew that.
Since the morning after their kiss in the hallway, Caroline had been more reserved with him, as if she thought putting up a barrier between them would prevent any repeat performances. And that same morning, she had made it perfectly clear to him that although she knew her life was in danger, she could not live in a glass bubble and would not alter the basic pattern of her life. He had presented every feasible explanation of why she would be wise to follow his suggestions, and in the end, they had compromised. She would temporarily give up her volunteer work and all social activities— after the dinner party hosted by the Harpers—but she would continue her normal work schedule. And they would continue their search, wherever it might lead them, to find the lock Preston Shaw's key opened.
Wolfe had been totally opposed to this evening's outing, but Caroline had insisted on attending the dinner for Fletcher Shaw. Her unwavering loyalty to her stepbrother was commendable, but exposing herself this way was foolhardy and he'd told her as much.
"It is important to me to be there for Fletch, to lend my support," Caroline had said. "Humor me about this one night and I promise that I'll spend every night from now on under lock and key."
Reluctantly, he had agreed. "I'll need backup for this evening. There's no way I can guarantee your protection without extra agents to help."
He had hoped to talk her out of going but soon realized she would not change her mind. That's why, at this precise moment, they were pulling up outside Oliver and Eileen Harper's mansion in Alexandria, Virginia. He and Caroline sat in the back seat of the Mercedes he had rented for the night and had personally gone over it with a fine-tooth comb. Caroline's damaged Lincoln would be in the repair shop for another few days. Two Dundee agents, who had flown in from Atlanta that morning and would return on a flight the next day, were in the front seat. Matt O'Brien, acting as their chauffeur, would be on hand outside the Harper mansion and alert him to anything that was even vaguely suspicious. Jack Parker, wearing a black tux, black snakeskin boots and a black Stetson, would play the good-old-boy Texas millionaire friend, someone Caroline had supposedly met when she'd taken a family photo for him. Jack would be Wolfe's backup during the buffet dinner, a second set of eyes and ears inside the house. The main players at tonight's little social event would know that Wolfe's relationship to Caroline was professional; however, they would present themselves to the other guests as a couple.
"Mighty fancy digs," Jack said when Matt stopped the Mercedes in the drive directly in front of the white-columned portico. "Almost as nice as my place back home."
"Don't overdo it," Wolfe said. "Play the part when-ever necessary, but don't enjoy yourself too much."
"Ah, shucks. And here I was all ready to lasso me a filly or two and tell '
em
about my oil wells."
A white-jacketed servant opened the car's back door. Wolfe emerged first, scanning the area as subtly as possible, then he offered his hand to Caroline and assisted her out of the vehicle. He could barely take his eyes off her. She was so beautiful in her simple black silk dress that clung to her curves and accentuated her hour-glass figure. Shirred around a band collar, the bodice covered her completely in front, but her back was bare almost to her waist. She had swept her hair atop her head in a fluffy, loose topknot. Fine tendrils curled between her ears and face. Her only jewelry was her favorite diamond-and-pearl earrings. . .and, although it was well hidden beneath her dress, the gold chain on which the key was kept.
"How about moseying along," Jack said, "and let a fellow get out of the car."
Realizing that he had stared at her just a little too long, Wolfe took Caroline's arm, draped it over his and moved forward, enough to allow Jack room to step out of the Mercedes. Once the threesome headed up the steps to the veranda, Matt drove off to park the car and join the other chauffeurs.
Inside the house, Jack and Wolfe remained on either side of Caroline. The place was an example of wealth and good taste, and the party itself, which was already in full swing, seemed to be a great success. No doubt Mrs. Oliver Harper had planned and executed countless of these little private dinners—for a hundred guests—on more than one occasion. As Aidan Colbert, a member of Peacekeepers International, Wolfe had attended his share of social functions and had then, as now, felt a bit out of place in a tuxedo. At heart he had always been and always would be just a country boy.
Wolfe surveyed the crowd, then removed his tinted glasses, replacements for the broken ones he had left in the debris at Windhaven. These people were the rich and powerful. The famous and the infamous. Each invitee handpicked because he or she had either enough money or enough influence to help Fletcher Shaw get elected to Congress. Wolfe slipped his glasses into the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket.
"Caroline, sweetheart." Fletcher zeroed in on them, all smiles and warm greetings. Brooke Harper, in a strapless royal-blue number, a diamond-and-sapphire choker around her slender neck, looked every inch the debutante heiress. She clung to Fletcher's arm as if she'd been born attached to him.
Try as he might to like Fletch, Wolfe found the man a little too smooth, a little too charming. But then country boys were usually suspicious of their refined city-boy counterparts. And Wolfe knew Brooke's type. He'd dated a few just like her and had found rich girls could be amusing, but incapable of surviving in the real world without Daddy's money.
"
Fletch thinks you're very brave to come out tonight, considering how dangerous it could be for you," Brooke said to Caroline, but her gaze was fixed on Wolfe. "But I told Fletch that your Mr. Wolfe wouldn't let anything happen to you." Brooke glanced at Jack Parker and smiled. "Caroline, it's terribly unfair that a good little girl like you winds up with two dates. . .and both absolute hunks."
"Howdy, ma'am. I'm Jack Parker, from Texas. And you'd be?"
"She would be—" Fletch cleared his throat. "She
is
Brooke Harper, your hosts' daughter and my future wife."
"Fletch, dear. . ." Brooke all but cooed. "If this is a proposal, I must say it's a strange one."
Fletcher Shaw turned beet red. Wolfe would bet his last dime that the man hadn't been embarrassed since he was in short pants.
"Stop teasing him, Brooke," Caroline said.
Ignoring Fletcher completely, Brooke slid between Caroline and Jack and slipped her arm through his. "Why don't I show you to the buffet and we can get better acquainted, Mr. Parker? That is, if you're allowed to leave Caroline's side."
Jack grinned, exchanged a casual glance with Wolfe and accepted the lady's offer. "It would be my pleasure, ma'am."
As they strolled into the adjoining room, Brooke glanced over her shoulder and called out, "Caroline, do find Mother and Dad. They're eager to see you and to meet Mr. Wolfe."
"And by all means mix and mingle and enjoy yourselves," Fletcher said. "I must meet and greet. This isn't an official fund-raiser, you know, but Oliver has assured me that we'll get at least five million in pledges tonight, maybe more. That's a good start, don't you think?"
"Wonderful start," Caroline said. "Good luck. We'll find you later to say goodbye."
As soon as Fletcher saw new arrivals, he gave Caroline a hurried peck on the cheek and moved on. Wolfe cupped Caroline's elbow. He intended to remain stock to her like glue throughout the evening. Jack could scope out the partygoers while Ms. Harper entertained him. The man had a knack for keeping a lady's attention while surveying a crowd and picking out suspicious characters. In the year he'd known Jack Parker, Wolfe had learned the man's easygoing cowboy charm was deceptive. In any battle, Wolfe could trunk of no one he'd rather have at his side.
"What next, Ms. McGuire?" Wolfe asked. "Since you were damned and determined to attend this affair to show your support of Fletcher and he's already acknowledged your presence, who else do you need to impress with your sisterly loyalty?"
Glowering at Wolfe, Caroline jerked away from him, but didn't protest when he grabbed her arm and draped it through his.
"I realize you're upset with me because I insisted on attending this dinner party," she said.
"I'm not upset," he replied. "Furious, maybe, but not upset."
"Do you honestly think that someone will be bold enough to try to kill me at a party with so much press in attendance?''
"It's been known to happen," he told her. "I just don't want it to happen to you."
"Let's go say hello to Oliver and Eileen, get a bite to eat and then we can leave early. Will that make you happy?"
"Not coming here would have made me happy."
"You're impossible to please, aren't you?"
You could please me, my sweet Caroline, he thought. You could heal my wounded soul and teach me how to be happy for the first time in my life. But my dream is as impossible as your fantasy. Neither is destined to be fulfilled.
"Caroline!" Roz Turner called from halfway across the crowded room.
"Roz?" Caroline searched the direction from which the voice had come and said to Wolfe, "I had no idea Roz had been invited."
The exuberant blonde came barreling toward them, Gavin Robbins in tow.
Roz's
attire seemed out of place in this crowd of designer dresses. She wore a silver lame" miniskirt and matching bustier covered by a sheer gray
overblouse
. A pair of half-dollar-size silver hoops dangled from her ear-lobes.
"Isn't this party
fab
or what? I've already met an oil sheikh, an English earl, two senators, three congress-men and a TV soap opera star."
"I didn't know you were coming here tonight," Caroline said.
"Neither did I, but then Gavin called me at the last minute and said his date had canceled on him. So I'm doing him a big favor, aren't I, Gavin?"
"Yes, a big favor," he agreed. "I had already accepted for myself and a date. Then the lady had a family emergency. A man hardly likes to admit that he's been stood up."
"Hey, when this shindig's over, what do you say the four of us go dancing or out somewhere for a sunrise breakfast or something," Roz suggested.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible," Wolfe said.
"Sorry, Roz." Caroline patted her friend's arm. "I had to twist Wolfe's arm to get him to bring me here tonight. We're not staying long. But I had to put in an appearance, for
Fletch's
sake."
"Oh, sure thing. I understand." Roz shook her head sadly. "I wasn't thinking or I'd have known it was a bad idea. I'll sure be glad when all this cloak-and-dagger stuff is over and you can get back to leading a normal life."
"Me, too," Caroline said.
Wolfe cupped her elbow again. The sooner she made the rounds and he got her out of this place the better. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what was wrong—maybe nothing except in his overactive imagination—but his gut instincts told him that something wasn't right. He couldn't leave Caroline's side to do any investigating on his own, so he had to count on Jack and Matt to do what they could to spot any potential trouble before it got too close to Caroline. Anything that came at her, point-blank, he'd deal with himself.
Caroline had decided it was about time to leave the party. With each passing minute Wolfe was becoming more and more agitated. There was no point in prolonging his agony. Just as she started to tell him they could go, she noticed a short, stocky middle-aged man staggering toward her. When he approached, she tried to recall if he was someone she might know. But by the time he came up to her, his face only inches away, she realized two things—he was horribly drunk and he was a stranger.