Sweet Caroline

by Micqui Miller

  "Guess what? It is morning."

  "Guess what? I didn't need to hear that."

  * * * *

  ONCE OUTSIDE, THEY agreed it was too chilly for the Jeep so Mick took Ian's keys from Caroline in exchange for written directions. "Traffic shouldn't be a problem, but hang on to this in case we get separated," he said.

  "Be careful," she cautioned while getting into her car.

  "There's not a scratch it."

  "Don't tempt me." Mick wondered how long it would take Ian to notice if he carved a happy face on the top of the hood. With traffic sparse at 3:30 a.m. on a Sunday morning, the two-car convoy sped south on Highway 101, past the rural hills of southern Sonoma County and into the congestion of one of the most beautiful and expensive areas of the country. Marin County, where a 600-square-foot "fixer upper" fetched five-hundred thousand, and anything habitable started at one million.

  A little less than an hour later, they were turning into Ian's subdivision, and winding up a cypress-lined lane to his hillside home. Mick pulled the BMW into the drive, tossed the keys under the floor mat and locked the car.

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  Mick saw the fatigue in Caroline's face. Still, he expected an argument about who would drive home. To his surprise, she slid out of the driver's seat and walked around to the passenger side without a word. She'd barely fastened her seatbelt before she drifted off to sleep and didn't move again, even when he pulled into her parking space and turned off the engine.

  In the east, the sky was beginning to brighten. Daybreak was only minutes away, but because it was Sunday, the town was awakening slowly and quietly, not to the bustle of a workday. Mick heard only the sound of Caroline's even breathing. She'd leaned her head against the window, one hand in her lap, the other lying against the gearshift. Pretty hands. Long slender fingers, perfectly manicured nails. No rings on her left hand, but two on her right, a thin carved band of sterling silver and turquoise on her middle finger, and another without stones on her little finger. He didn't remember seeing her wear rings before, and yet they looked so much a part of her, were so essentially Caroline, he couldn't imagine her hand without them.

  Or his life without her.

  Frowning, he quashed that thought as quickly as it came. He couldn't afford to think about any woman in lifetime terms. Especially one who skirted the truth no matter how much he asked for honesty.

  Caroline, Caroline, what am I going to do with you? He whispered, "Wake up, Caroline. We're home." We're home. Such a nice ring to words that held the comfort of sharing and belonging with someone. Sad words, 172

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  too, because Mick knew that particular luxury could never be his. Not unless he risked hurting the people he loved the most.

  "Hey, sleepyhead." He nudged her arm, and still she slept on. With his forefinger, Mick pushed aside an unruly tendril that had fallen forward onto her cheek. His fingertip skimmed along her smooth skin, sending a powerful rush of desire through him. Mick couldn't remember a time that he'd wanted to kiss someone more. Did he dare?

  He unsnapped his seatbelt then unfastened hers, ready to steady her if she'd been leaning onto the belt for support. She never moved, and her breathing never changed. She was sleeping the sleep of a child, deep, innocent, and untroubled. With two fingers under her chin, he gently turned her face toward him and bent forward. "Caroline," he whispered, his lips so close, he saw her hair rustle at his breath. "We're home."

  This time she heard him, and with an obvious struggle, opened her eyes. She turned, their faces touched, their lips almost grazing, but instead of enjoying the moment as much as he was, she seemed confused and disoriented. "Mick?" she asked, her voice still heavy with sleep. "Where are we?"

  "Home," he answered.

  * * * *

  At her door, she said, "Thank you so much for helping me. I really didn't want to deal with Ian today."

  "You're smart. He'll be nursing a hell of a hangover." 173

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  "Well ... thanks again." But she made no move to insert her key in the lock. "I know you're probably too tired, but I can make coffee."

  He shook his head. "Another time, Caroline. I have some things to take care of."

  "Like sleeping?"

  He smiled. "That, too." He took her key and opened the door. "I have some loose ends to tie up before I fly to D.C. on Monday. I want to get the locks changed, too. On all the doors."

  "When do you get back?"

  "Thursday, in time for the wedding rehearsal and Brian's bash."

  She cocked her head to one side. "His bachelor party?"

  "Of course, someone who shall remain nameless trashed the gag gift I bought him. The one I was hiding from my sisters, who think their mission in life is organizing my closets once a week. So I'll have to do a little shopping, too." She refused to make eye contact. "Are you talking about what I think you're talking about?"

  "Large, flavored, colorful."

  Caroline gulped. "I'm so sorry. I should never have..."

  "I ought to be flattered that you thought they were mine."

  "Ha! I thought men were the first to say size didn't matter."

  Mick grinned wickedly. "Only if they're not sizeable."

  "Oh, pul-leeze," Caroline stepped inside her apartment. "I think lack of sleep is making you delusional."

  "Good night, sweet Caroline."

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  "Good night, Mick."

  At the door he turned. "Exactly how many men have you seen naked?"

  * * * *

  MICK TOSSED AND turned atop the bed, tired beyond words but unable to sleep. Caroline had been right not to answer the question he should never have asked. She was twenty-nine years old, for God's sake. Had spent several years in a long-term relationship. Of course, she'd seen a man naked before, but the idea still rankled. Worse, Mick Mahoney was not the jealous type. He was the one who loved them and left them, always the first to say goodbye. He hadn't even kissed Caroline—yet.

  "Bloody hell," he muttered and flicked on the lights. Even though the mirror on his dresser was at least six feet away, he swore his eyes, in the last fifteen minutes, had changed from violet to green.

  Damn it, there was only one cure, and he was going for a dose of it right now.

  The sun had fully risen when Mick strode out of his apartment and across the hall. "Caroline, open up," he shouted at the door, banging his fist to make certain she heard.

  Several seconds passed, but far fewer than if she'd been sleeping.

  * * * *

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  CAROLINE FLUNG OPEN the door. "What is it this time..." Her words trailed off at the look in Mick's eyes—a mix of hunger, passion, and curiosity, all rolled up into darkened pools of desire.

  Mick said nothing but cradled her face in his hands and lowered that sweet sensual mouth onto hers. Caroline closed her eyes, savoring the sensations of the moment that she'd been craving all day. She wasn't disappointed.

  His kiss was gentle at first, testing, teasing, exploring. Somehow, Caroline realized, her fingertips had traced a path along his bare chest, until her arms were wound tightly around his neck and she was pressing against him, joyfully discovering the effect she had on him while the denim of his jeans strained against the soft cotton of her nightshirt. He urged her lips to part, and she gladly complied, opening her heart to him, tasting and matching his desire, drawing in and back, mimicking the tension and rhythm of lovemaking. Caroline didn't know how long their kiss lasted, but it wasn't long enough for her. She reluctantly opened her eyes. He lightened the pressure of his lips and moved his head to one side, to trail a shower of kisses along her neck while his hand pulled her bottom ever closer.

  "Mick ... what..."

/>   "Shh," he said, his breath as ragged as hers. "I had to see, Caroline, I had to know."

  "Had to know ... what?"

  "If kissing you could possibly be sweeter than I'd imagined it."

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  "Was it?" she whispered into his hair, thrilling to every sensation coursing through her, even her wobbly knees and the delicious dizziness of a prolonged kiss. With the back of his hand, he grazed her cheek and chin, then dabbed the moisture of their kiss from her lips with his thumb. "Ten times better than anything I could have ever imagined." He dusted the inside of her palm with his lips. Caroline knew she'd whimpered or made some other equally useless sound. That was all she could do. Their gazes locked, he led her hand to the evidence of his desire. "If we don't say good night right now, Caroline Spring, we'll soon be addin' new meaning to breakfast in bed." Even if she dared, it was too soon. "Good night, Mick," she managed, and mimicking his bedtime wish from the night before, added, "Don't let the bed bugs bite." 177

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  Chapter Thirteen

  CAROLINE DIDN'T TRY to sleep after that. Mick's kiss—

  sweeter than any she'd ever known, so gentle and loving, it had touched a part of her that had never been touched before—convinced her she'd never want to kiss another man again.

  If that kiss had been only a sample of Mick's expertise, she didn't dare think what making love to him would be like, except that she'd be powerless to stop herself. She'd touched him and felt his erection. She knew he wanted to make love to her but he'd backed off in good humor.

  Knowing she'd never be able to sleep after that, Caroline pulled her suitcase off the top shelf of the closet and laid it on the bed. She'd hidden the postcard and the birth certificates in an old tampon box. She was glad now she'd chosen something no one would be interested in opening if they searched her things.

  She looked down at the box. Had it not been for these, she'd have gladly given Mick what they both wanted so badly. With his kiss, their relationship had changed. Caroline knew it was time to tell him the real reason she'd come to Sebastopol, why she'd taken the ZyQyx assignment. She'd finish her assignment and fulfill the terms of her contract, but at this minute, she didn't give a flying fig if someone was trying to embezzle from Ian, or if he ever caught him. She 178

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  was falling in love, really in love for the first time in her life, and that was the only thing that mattered to her. She pushed the suitcase to the floor, sat down on the edge of her bed and spilled the contents of the tampon box on the spread. With the chance she'd had to study the photos on Mick's wall, she was now able to identify more than half of the people who had posed for the group shot.

  The Mahoney family children formed the first row, sitting cross-legged in front of their grandmother and stepgrandfather. She had no way of knowing who belonged to whom, but there was a flock of them.

  She knew Brian and Ramona, recognized Gabe and his wife as easily as the twin sisters and their husbands, although with Gabby and Michaela being identical, she didn't know who was who.

  Mick stood in the back row, towering over the others, except for the woman who stood beside him. She was tall enough to reach his chin, with the same red hair and light eyes—Annie.

  The rest were most likely cousins or friends. Caroline didn't care about them. They were family, but not the immediate family that interested her.

  Once again, she was drawn to Annie. There was an undeniable attraction here that she could not understand, and wondered what it would be like to meet this woman in person.

  Annie would attend the wedding, but Mick hadn't mentioned it to Caroline again. Had he forgotten he'd asked her to go with him? Did he regret the invitation?

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  She didn't want to think about that possibility so she lay back on the bed, flicked off the lights and, holding the photo close to her heart, prayed for the first time in more weeks than she could remember. "Please, dear heaven," she whispered, "don't let my search end in forbidden love.

  * * * *

  STILL CLUTCHING THE postcard, Caroline awakened to a sun high and shining into her bedroom window. She groaned and looked at the clock. One. One!!! She'd slept until the afternoon.

  She gathered the postcard and birth certificates, stuffed them in the tampon box, jumped into the shower, and twenty-five minutes later, headed out the door. She'd planned to be at work no later than ten or eleven o'clock, and now she'd squandered three hours of valuable time on a day she wouldn't have to deal with the hassle of staff trooping in and out of her office.

  In the hall outside her apartment, she found a locksmith, and a note from Mick.

  Caroline,

  I'm picking up Annie at San Francisco International at 2. The family's having a reunion dinner this evening, so I'll stay over at the ranch and fly out first thing in the morning. The locksmith is here as I write this. I asked him to make sure you get a new set of keys before he leaves but I also asked him not to wake you.

  I don't fancy your staying here alone. I'd much rather you went to the ranch with me, but I have a pretty good idea 180

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  you'd stubbornly refuse. So I've done second best— asked Brian and Ramona to come by while I'm away. I'll call you when I can. My cell and pager numbers are below. Call me if anything comes up, anything at all. Be safe. I'll see you on Friday.

  Mick

  "Here's your new set of keys, miss," the locksmith said, interrupting her concentration. "Mick wanted to make sure you had them."

  "Thanks." Joy swelled in her heart. I'll see you on Friday, he'd written. He hadn't forgotten or changed his mind. She was halfway to the offices of ZyQyx when her cell phone rang. "Hello, this is Caroline," she said, hoping to hear Mick's voice to start her day.

  "And this is Ian," the voice answered. "A very embarrassed Ian. I hope you're not disappointed to hear from me."

  "Of course, I'm not," she lied. "How are you feeling?" She almost felt sorry for him, listening to him struggle to find the right words.

  "My headache will eventually go away, and some day I may have an appetite again, but nothing I can say or do will ever excuse my boorish behavior last night. I am profoundly sorry, Caroline. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?"

  "Oh, Ian, we've all been there. I've forgotten it already."

  "What a glorious woman you are and what a lucky man am I."

  What? Her mind spun at the arcane-sounding phrase. "Are you going to the office today?" She changed the subject. "I'm on my way there now."

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  He hesitated. "Not unless things improve at my end."

  "You convinced me last night that I hadn't looked deeply enough. I'm going in to see what I can do. You take care now, y'hear. Even bosses don't have to work seven days a week."

  "This is a first for me, Caroline. I hope you understand that. I don't want you think..."

  "Ian, I told you, it's forgotten. Take some aspirin and lie down. I'll see you in the morning."

  * * * *

  FOR THE NEXT two hours, Caroline stared at the code rolling down her screen, page after page of characters and symbols that might seem unintelligible to non-geeks, but made perfect sense to her. She'd written special programs to monitor the activity generated by all the processors in the entire I.S. department. So far, she'd seen nothing amiss. All ports were opening and closing with monotonous regularity, following paths to all the right addresses and closing again. With one eye on the screen watching the code run, Caroline dialed Travis. After several rings, his answering machine picked up.

  "Sorry, I missed you again, bro," she said. "It's a little after four here. Thought you might be home cooking dinner. I'll try back lat
er."

  She hung up, pulled out a drawer, and propped up her feet. She'd stay 'til 5 p.m., then call it ... Whoa! what's this?

  Suddenly, a line of code jumped to the far right. A port that shouldn't be opening at this time had just done so. 182

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  Instantly alert, Caroline watched the columns grow, letters and numerals leading her along a path she'd been trying to find for almost a week. Simultaneously printing what was building in front of her, Caroline grabbed print-outs she'd made earlier in the day. With a fingertip, she traced series after series until the found the matching port.

  "Gotcha!"

  Just as suddenly, her excitement vanished. The address of the port she'd identified was assigned to Brian Mahoney.

  "Oh, Brian, why?" She rested her chin in her hand and watched transaction after transaction electronically deferred to a port outside of ZyQyx. Just as suddenly, the port closed, the transactions stopped, but not before almost $100,000 in product revenue had been channeled outside of the company.

  "No, no, no." Why would he do this, why?

  She unlocked her desk and took out his file. Even with this new development, she saw nothing in his background or financial records to hint at embezzlement. Discouraged and disheartened, Caroline put the file back and continued to monitor the activity on her screen. There wasn't another incident, and at six she set her computer to record automatically throughout the night. She ought to call Ian, to let him know she'd found something. He'd want to know whose processor was involved, but she didn't have the heart to tell him he'd been right.

  Caroline gathered what had printed so far. Ian was convinced that the thief had to be one of the Mahoneys, yet how many times in the past had she seen employees at companies she'd investigated look guilty in ten different ways 183

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  only to discover they'd been sabotaged by an angry or jealous colleague? From what she saw and knew of Brian, he appeared like a fairly lucky guy; great job, great gal, great family. The kinds of things others might envy. Was it enough to drive them to conspire against him?

  The papers she'd stuffed into her briefcase held the answer. This evening she'd begin the task of analyzing what she'd found so far and then create an algorithm to prove or disprove her analysis and conclusions. That's what Ian had hired her to do. To find the truth, not to support his suppositions, and that's exactly what she planned to do. Ian had waited this long, he could wait a few days more.