Sweet Caroline's Keeper

by Beverly Barton

  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 o
r 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.

  "Hi, there, boo-te-ful," the guy said, slurring his words as he spoke. "How's about a little kiss."

  With a sharply indrawn breath, Wolfe tensed at her side.

  The moment the man's damp lips puckered, Wolfe twisted the man's arm behind his back, then shoved him against the nearest wall.

  Jack Parker appeared out of nowhere, taking a guard post at Caroline's side. People stopped their conversations to gasp and stare and mumble. Caroline's palms dampened with per­spiration. Her pulse raced maddeningly. Everything had hap­pened so fast, she'd barely had time to realize what was go­ing on before Wolfe sprang into action.

  "What the hell's wrong with you?" the man Wolfe had just subdued grumbled, his speech slurred.

  Wolfe frisked the drunken man, then shoved him toward Jack. "He's just drunk. How about escorting this gentleman to the door? I think our host and hostess would appreciate it."

  "Be glad to accommodate you." Jack grabbed the guy by the shoulder. "You're going to cooperate, aren't you?"

  The man nodded and made no protest when Jack led him away. Wolfe clasped Caroline by the forearms and inspected her from head to toe.

  "Are you all right?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

&nb
sp; "Yes, I'm fine. Really. Don't you think you over-reacted just a bit? He tried to kiss me, not kill me, and you practically broke his arm."

  "I've told you before, everyone is suspect. Even an in­ebriated Lothario."

  Caroline didn't know how much longer she could bear living this way. Guarded night and day. Increasingly afraid of every noise in the dark. Wary of strangers. Her normal activities drastically curtailed. And Wolfe watching her closely when he thought she wasn't looking. He was like a predatory animal, waiting to strike, constantly in search of danger. And anyone who dared come too close to her might find his life in jeopardy.

  How many times had she gone over in her mind what had happened between them the night Wolfe had kissed her in the hallway? Those incredible moments when passion ruled her completely had changed her relationship with Wolfe, making them each careful of what they said and did with regard to each other. Wolfe seemed less patient, more critical and demanding with his orders, while she couldn't help being less cooperative and more argumentative. They were both using discord to keep their sexual urges in check. If they could remain on edge, just a little angry and slightly hostile, then perhaps they wouldn't make another mistake. And kiss­ing each other had been a monumental mistake. At least it had been for her.

  Thank goodness Wolfe had called a halt when he did; oth­erwise she would have given herself to him, willingly, gladly allowing him to take her virginity. And she would have re­gretted it later. In the cold, hard light of day, when the heat of the moment had passed. As much as she was attracted to Wolfe—and merciful heavens, she was—he'd been right when he had told her that he was wrong for her.

  She abhorred violence in all its forms. Since the night of Preston's murder, she had kept herself as far removed from anything and anyone even remotely connected to violence as humanly possible. She supposed other than the fact he was like a brother to her, one of the reasons she involved herself in Lyle's life and church work was because he and the life he lived represented gentleness and kindness and brotherly love. And she had dated Gavin because he was associated with Peacekeepers International, the nongovernment organi­zation devoted to world peace through diplomacy. Perhaps she had hoped Gavin would be the kind of man Preston had been. Unfortunately, he hadn't lived up to her expectations.