Various States of Undress (19 page)

“Hell, no. I’m going to pick the lock.”

“Show off.”

He laughed, but just as he rattled the doorknob again, his phone rang.

Carolina’s heart plummeted at the sound—she’d grown to loathe that chirping ringtone, because every time the phone came to life, reality came crashing down. The smile on her face fell away, and she took a deep, calming breath, placing her hands on the cold tile wall. It didn’t matter. Her heart began to hammer, anyway.

This was it. The call. Courtney was on her way.

Carolina took another deep breath, and then another, looking at the ceiling as tears began to blur her vision.
No.
Crying wouldn’t do any good. She told herself that, but all the same, her chin trembled. As a desperate sob surfaced, she clapped her hand over her mouth and rocked back and forth.

A minute later, the door opened and Jake walked into the bathroom.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Hey.” He stepped into the shower and gathered her in his arms. “None of that.”

“I can’t help it,” she whispered. Hot tears flowed down her cheeks.

“I know.” He held her for a moment and then pulled back, a forced smile on his face. “I have good news and bad news.”

“Bad news first.” She lifted her chin.

“Courtney is still coming.”

She nodded. “No surprise there. Good news?”

“She’s not coming until Friday.”

Carolina blinked at him, letting the news sink in. “Friday, as in we have four more nights together?”

“Yeah. Visibility is still an issue. And since there’s no emergency, there’s no reason to take a risk with a helicopter.”

“I hope we get another blizzard on Thursday night.”

He smiled. This time it was genuine. “Despite my hatred of cold, I’ve hoped the weather would stay bad too, but a blizzard isn’t in the forecast. It’s supposed to be clear as a bell by the end of the week.”

“I know.”

Checking the weather had become an obsession of hers. Sighing, she ran her palm across his jaw and leaned up.

Before she could say anything else, he bent and kissed her quickly. He kissed her again.

Closing her eyes, she rested her cheek against his chest. “I can’t deal with this, Jake. I . . .” She groaned. The usual thrill she felt when he kissed her was there, but this time it was clouded by anxiety. Every part of her was on edge. How much more of this could she take? Could
he
take? Wouldn’t another four days just make it that much worse when they said good-bye?

“We’re still together right now, aren’t we? Let’s just—”

“No. I need to say something. Something important.”

“Carolina . . . don’t.”

She lifted her head and gazed at him—his tight jaw and his pain-filled eyes. He loved her. The truth was in those eyes, he’d silently acknowledged it, and yet he still refused to discuss it. Would he ever? Or was he willing to let time run out on them? She wasn’t willing to give up. That much she knew for sure.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I won’t press you right now. But you and I both know the truth, don’t we?”

Without speaking, he took her hand and raised it to his heart.

She nodded.

After a moment, a smile began to play around the corners of his mouth and he shifted, reaching into his coat pocket.

Glancing down, her eyes widened as he pulled a jar of peanut butter out and waved it in front of her face.

“It might only be four more days, but you’re still trapped with me, honey.”

A slow smile lifted her lips, and her heartache began to dull, as it usually did when he teased her.

“And the joke’s on you,” Jake continued smoothly. “I happen to like Justin Timberlake. He’s a multi-talented guy.”

Carolina watched in horror as Jake began to unscrew the lid from the jar. “You’re multi-talented too. So why waste your time chasing down a poor helpless girl just to smear peanut butter on her?” She began to edge away from him.

“You’re not going to distract me,” Jake answered.

“Bullshit.”

Reaching out boldly, she cupped the front of his jeans and began to rub her hand over the denim, crooking her fingers to unbutton the fly.

He sucked in a breath and stood there, lid in one hand, jar in the other. “You’re not playing fair.”

“I never said I would.” She wrinkled her nose, but still kept massaging. “That peanut butter stinks, by the way. Why don’t you put the lid back on and—”

He cut her off with a crushing kiss and as Carolina heard the dull thud of the plastic jar hitting the floor of the shower, his arms came around the back of her knees. He lifted her and mere seconds later, she was on the bed, Jake above her, his big shoulders blocking the light from the hall.

She closed her eyes in bliss.

Chapter Twelve

C
AROLINA SAT UP
and stared at the knots in the pine ceiling the following afternoon, trying to find the patterns she and Jake had picked out when they’d been lying here on the bed an hour ago laughing, their bodies twined together. Her eyes were scratchy now, though, because the moment he’d sensed her sadness and left the room to give her space, she’d given in to silent tears. It was an awful feeling—to swing from contentment to despair in the space of moments—but she’d given in to the despair, wallowed in self-pity, and now she was pretty much pissed off. Both at herself and at Jake.

He’d slowly been closing himself off from her, unwilling to discuss much more than the weather or . . . well, anything that even remotely led to talk about the future. Instead, he’d talked about the past. He’d mentioned his childhood a few times over dinner last night, and while he’d revealed that his dad had left the family, he’d also talked about how his mom had made it difficult for the man to stay.

Carolina didn’t know all the shades of gray, of course, but it was obvious that Jake still looked up to his dad, even idolized him—especially for his career as an agent. But could it be that the man had
wanted
Jake to pursue his baseball dream? Could it be that his dad loved him unconditionally and wouldn’t give two shits as long as Jake was happy? Or was she just hoping that was the case?

No matter what, the more she thought about things, the more she was sure that Jake’s dad was the key. Jake needed the man’s support and encouragement and when he was assured of it, the future would open up with hope and promise. And love—most of all love.

She was going to call Jake’s father. Time was almost up, and she couldn’t think of any other options. She was in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, with a man she loved, but was about to lose. When Friday came, he would be gone. He’d told her that he was going to be asked to be reassigned, and Jake was a follow-through type of guy. She had to make that call.

Immediately, the voice in her head pushed back.

Don’t do it. You’ll regret it.

“Leave me alone,” Carolina muttered and flopped onto her back, letting her head sink into the pillows. She already felt guilty about it—and she hadn’t even done anything yet.

But she was going to, just as soon as Jake took a nap. The last time she’d surprised him, she’d waited until he fell asleep. It had worked beautifully. This time, though, what she was planning wasn’t a harmless April Fools’ prank just to mess with him.

This time, because she loved him, she was going to
help
him.

You’re just trying to help yourself.

Carolina closed her eyes. She was trying to help herself—that was true. But more than that, she was trying to help
both
of them find happiness. Because if they didn’t discuss the future, there wasn’t a chance in the world that they would be able to stay together.

Since last night, she’d done everything but scream out “I love you” to the man, and he just didn’t get it. Or maybe he did. He loved her. He hadn’t said the words, but she knew. She hadn’t said the words, either, though . . . so maybe he thought that she wouldn’t fight for him, either. Little did he know.

What a mess.

“Oh, God,” she sighed.

Love sucked.

Opening her eyes, she sat up, grabbed her phone from the nightstand and walked into the living room, where Jake sat on the sofa folding his laundry and watching a game show on TV. When he noticed her standing behind him, he gave her a wide smile.

She smiled back. “Wheel of Fortune?”

“It’s the only thing tolerable on any of the three channels.” He shrugged and tossed a pair of balled socks into a basket.

“We have plenty of movies.”

“You mean that collection of chick flicks on VHS? Thanks, but I’ll pass.” He stood up and winked at her. “I think I’ll take that nap now. Are you . . . okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

He walked around the sofa and pulled her close, his fingers resting on the sides of her hips. “You joining me?”

“Tempting. But I’m going to . . . edit photos.” She pushed lightly against his chest.

“Carolina . . . I know you want to talk and I’m sorry I upset you,” he murmured, and then kissed the top of her head. “But your life depends on me doing my job. I can’t be distracted by discussions about quitting that job.”

“And that’s different from you being distracted from your job by sleeping with me?”

He hesitated for a moment. “Yeah.”

“How?”

He sighed. “Because I’m physically with you when we’re . . . together and even though I’m naked, I could still protect you. At least that’s what I tell myself so I don’t feel so guilty.”

She gazed up at him. “I’m trying to wrap my mind around you, naked, with a gun drawn.”

He grinned.

“Jake. I thought we decided not to feel guilty about something so perfect.”

“I think pushing away guilt comes easier for you than it does for me, honey.”

“You may be right on that, at least.” She leaned up to give him a soft kiss. “Get some sleep. There’s better light upstairs, so I’ll take my laptop to my old bedroom.”

Jake nodded and disappeared into the bedroom.

For a moment, Carolina stood in the living room, staring at the sunny sky outside the windows. It was beautiful—crisp and unbelievably blue as only mountain skies could be—but that meant only one thing to her. The storms were over, and Jake would be leaving Wyoming and taking her heart with him.

“No,” she whispered. “No.”

Turning with a jerk, she took her laptop from the kitchen counter, walked up the steps, went into her old bedroom and shut the door. Before she could talk herself out of it, she sat down on the edge of Virginia’s bed for moral support—Virginia never lacked courage—and pulled her phone and a scrap of paper from her pants pocket.

Written on the paper was Joe Baxter’s number, which she’d shamelessly—or shamefully, really—found stored in Jake’s phone. She dialed.

It rang. And rang.

And it was only then that she realized she had no idea what’d she would do if she got voicemail. Oh, shit! Should she hang up? But then her number would be on caller ID, and he was no dummy. He was ex-Secret Service and would know that an unfamiliar, unidentifiable number probably wasn’t a mistake. What should she—

“This is Joe.” His voice was deep, like Jake’s, but a lot more ragged.

“Uh, hello. Mister Baxter?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Carolina Fulton.”

She paused, waiting for the name to sink in.

“What can I do for you, Miss Fulton?” he asked smoothly. In a Secret Service tone, so like Jake.

She squeezed her eyes shut quickly, but then forced them open, sitting up straight. “I’m calling about your son. Jake.”

“Is something wrong? Are you in danger?”

“No, nothing like that. Sorry to alarm you.” She paused. “And I’ll also apologize in advance for asking you what I want to ask. It’s . . . intrusive.”

“Intrusive?” He sounded perplexed, but quickly recovered. “Go ahead.”

She forced herself to speak with composure, even as her heart began to speed up. “You see, Jake has been guarding me for the better part of two weeks. We’re in Wyoming at my family’s cabin, and we got snowed in. Because of that, he and I have had occasion to chat, and I’m just wondering what you think about the fact that he gave up a career in professional baseball to become a Secret Service agent.”

There was silence.

Carolina pressed a palm to her chest and winced, waiting.

“He told you about that?” Joe asked.

“Well . . . yes.”

“He never talks about that. I have to say, I’m surprised.”

“Uh, he didn’t say a lot.” She took a breath. “Mr. Baxter, he’s an amazing agent. He wouldn’t be guarding my family if he weren’t. But I get the feeling that he’d be a lot happier if he wasn’t.”

“Wasn’t what?”

“Wasn’t an agent.”

Joe didn’t say anything for a long time, and she sat there, ankles crossed, heart thumping, not allowing herself to think. Not
able
to think would be more accurate.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “This is all interesting, Miss Fulton, and I appreciate you telling me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“He doesn’t know you called, does he?”

“No.”

“I thought not. Is there anything else I can do for you?” His tone was polite. Pleasant, but formal.

She hesitated, her heart in her throat.

How the hell was she supposed to ask the man to talk to his son? Convince Jake to examine his heart and choose a brighter future? Convince Jake to choose love? If Joe called Jake and convinced him that happiness mattered,
family
mattered, at the very least the door would crack open. Then once it had, she and Jake could slip through it together. They could plan the rest of their future together. What to do next. Where to live.

“Miss Fulton?”

“I . . . I just wanted to let you know my opinion, in case it’s helpful. You know Jake better than I do, obviously.”

“I know he’s stubborn. But I think it’s a safe bet you know that too, or you wouldn’t have contacted me.”

She let go of a small laugh. “Yes.”

“Well then, thank you for calling, Miss Fulton.”

“Thank you for speaking with me.”

There was a click as he hung up, and slowly, she pulled the phone from her ear. It was hot, and the screen was fogged up. So was her brain, and there was no way of telling whether or not that phone call had worked, but if it hadn’t—she’d just sabotaged the happiness she so desperately wanted—for both of them.