Sweet Caroline's Keeper

by Beverly Barton

  "Yes, my mother had very expensive taste. Monsieur Mahieu, her sixth husband, is a multimillionaire. My guess is that he kept the jewelry he'd given her and gave me the things she'd brought with her when they married." Caroline gazed up at David and squeezed his hand again. "See, now you can stop worrying. At least until after dinner. The deliv­ery really is nothing more than some of my mother's be­longings."

  "Speaking of dinner," Roz said. "We fixed plenty, so if you three guys—" she looked, at Jack and Matt and Dom "—are staying, I'll set a couple of extra plates."

  "Nothing for us now, Miss Roz," Jack said. "We've got a couple of errands to run and then Matt and I will be taking turns keeping watch outside tonight, while Dom heads back to the hospital to make sure the sheriffs deputy is keeping Seth Horton off limits to any unauthorized visitors." When he glanced at Wolfe, Jack inclined his head to one side in a come-with-me gesture.

  Wolfe released Caroline's hand. "I'll walk the guys out­side and be back in just a minute."

  She hated the secrecy, the cloak-and-dagger tension sur­rounding Wolfe and the Dundee agents as well as die ever-present danger that was so much a part of her life now. She had no doubt that Wolfe was, at this very minute, discussing with the Dundee agents not only a plan to get their hands on Seth Horton when he left the hospital and was turned over to the FBI, but also the escalation of protection for her. Wolfe insisted on keeping the extra agents on hand, and when she'd asked just how expensive that would be, he had told her that the extra cost had been taken care of. By whom? she had asked. Fletcher? No, not Fletcher. And when she had looked squarely into David Wolfe's eyes, she had seen the answer. Her benefactor had somehow learned about what was hap­pening to her and had once again come to her aid.

  Seth Horton wasn't sure exactly what his fate would be, but he felt certain he would fare better being turned over to the FBI than winding up in David Wolfe's hands. The two G-men who had escorted him from the hospital this afternoon told him very little, except that they were taking him to meet with their superior. He realized his only hope of avoiding prison was if the Loyalists Coalition rescued him and got him safely out of the country. He had always been told that the organization took care of its own. He believed whole­heartedly in the cause to which his father had dedicated his life and he would die before he would betray his brethren. The feds might be harsh in their treatment of him, but their methods would remain civilized. If he had been subjected to questioning by Mr. Wolfe, Seth doubted that he would have survived.

  The big black car in which he was a passenger pulled into a building that resembled an abandoned warehouse some­where in the D.C. area, but Seth wasn't sure exactly where. During the trip, he had been confined to the back seat and his view obscured by the dark windows and the screen that closed him and the agents off from the driver. The car doors swung open on either side and he was dragged to the right and escorted inside the warehouse, straight into an empty, unused office.

  "What the hell is this place?" Seth asked. "Why did you bring me here?"

  "Because I asked them to bring you here," a familiar voice said.

  Seth whipped around to face the man who had authorized the sniper mission to Garrett County to kill Caroline and her bodyguard.

  "You?" Seth glanced from one FBI agent to another, and the realization of just who these men were hit him. He chuck­led. "They aren't FBI, are they? They're a couple of our guys. How the hell did you manage that?"

  "You must know by now, Seth, that we can accomplish practically anything we set out to do," he said. "FBI agents were on their way to take you, but our guys, as you called them, intercepted the federal officers."

  "So what's the plan now?" Seth asked. "How soon can you get me out of the country?"

  "There won't be any need for that," he said.

  "Do you think the organization can successfully hide me out here in the U.S.?"

  "Actually, no, I don't."

  "Then—"

  The two phony FBI agents grabbed Seth, one on either side. Adrenaline pumped through his body at an alarming rate. He looked point-blank at the Peacekeepers agent and saw his own fate reflected in the double agent's eyes. These phony FBI agents were members of the Loyalists Coalition. Seth had failed in his mission. Failure was not acceptable to the Loyalists Coalition. They weren't going to give him a second chance.

  "But it wasn't my fault," Seth said. "I had no way of knowing that the trap we set for Caroline and Mr. Wolfe would actually be a trap for us."

  "These things happen," he said. "No one's fault. But you have become a liability to us, Seth. Your identity is known and there is no way we can guarantee that you won't reveal privileged information."

  "You know that I would die before I'd betray the orga­nization."

  He nodded. "I'm glad you understand."

  Yes, Seth understood. He understood only too well.

  As she headed into her kitchen, Roz lifted the edge of her T-shirt and wiped the sweat from her face. "We whipped their butts good, didn't we?" She jerked open the refrigerator door and searched inside for the beer she hoped would be ice cold.

  "You really need to work on cleaning up your language now that you're playing on the church softball team," Lyle said.

  "Oops, sorry." She retrieved two frosty bottles of beer, closed the refrigerator and tossed one of the bottles to Lyle. "Is it a sin for you to have a beer to cool off after the game?' *

  "One beer isn't a sin," Lyle said. "Getting drunk is the sin."

  "Then we won't get drunk." She popped the lid on her bottle and lifted it to her lips. She caught a glimpse of Lyle in her peripheral vision and noticed that he was staring at her breasts. She took a hefty swig of beer, then glanced down at her chest. Perspiration and dirt stained her T-shirt and her puckered nipples pushed against the tight cotton cloth.

  "Are you hungry?" she asked.

  "What?" Lyle's face flushed with embarrassment, like a kid who'd been caught looking through his father's stash of Playboy magazines.

  Roz laughed. "Are you hungry. . .for food? I can fix us some sandwiches."

  "Thanks, but a beer will be fine for now," he said. "Would you mind if I cleaned up a bit? Washed my face and hands. I feel pretty grimy."

  "Sure thing. The powder room is down the hall and to the right. While you're doing that, I think I'll catch a quick shower."

  "Well, it is late. . .." Lyle backed toward the door. "I should probably head on home and let you get to bed."

  "No, don't leave. The night's still young. Stick around and we'll fix some popcorn and watch TV. Do you like old horror movies?"

  "Yeah, I love them. To be honest, I'm addicted to them."

  Yes, she knew he was. One of the many things Caroline had told her about Lyle that she had stored away for future reference. "There's a movie marathon of classic horror flicks on right now."

  "Okay," Lyle said. "I'll wash up while you're shower­ing. . . ." He cleared his throat. "I can fix the popcorn if you'll just tell me where you keep it."

  "Top left cupboard over the sink," she replied, then headed toward him. As she passed him, she deliberately brushed up against him, then slowly moved around him to shove open the door.

  She hurried into her bedroom, took several deep swigs from her beer, then stripped off her shirt on the way into the bathroom. She set the beer bottle on the vanity, then tossed her shirt in the open hamper before reaching inside the tub to turn on the shower. When she opened the linen closet to get some towels, she suddenly remembered that she hadn't put out fresh towels in the powder room after she had thrown the soiled ones in the washer this morning. She grabbed a pink towel and matching washcloth, rushed through her bed­room and down the hall. She didn't hesitate when she reached the powder room and found the door closed. She knocked twice, then flung open the door, squinted her eyes shut and held out the towel and cloth.

  "You'll need these," she said.

  "You can open your eyes, Roz. I'm decent."

  She lifted one eyeli
d and then the other. Lyle was decent, despite the fact that he had removed his T-shirt and stood there with his bare chest exposed. Her gaze settled on that broad chest, taking in every inch. Thick swirls of reddish brown hair formed a T that spanned the area between his tiny male nipples and bisected his freckled belly. Her hand itched to reach out and touch him.

  God, if I shouldn't do this, then give me the strength to resist, she prayed silently.

  Of its own accord her hand snaked out and she laid her open palm over his chest, between those tight little nipples that peeked out from beneath all that glorious manly chest hair. Lyle sucked in a harsh, startled breath. Roz dropped the towel and cloth that she held in her other hand onto the edge of the sink, then zeroed in on Lyle. She brushed against him. Her breasts, covered by only a thin layer of lace, pressed against his naked chest She sighed, loving the feel of his body so close to hers.

  "Roz, we really shouldn't—"

  She placed her index finger over his lips. "You know I'm crazy about you, don't you? I mean crazy in love. I've never felt about anybody else the way I feel about you. You've got to believe me."

  He kissed her finger and smiled, then lifted her hand and held it securely in his. "I believe you."

  "I won't lie to you. There have been a lot of guys. I've made some bad mistakes."

  "I don't care about the other guys or the mistakes you've made," Lyle told her. He reached out and ran the back of his hand across her cheek. "I preach about forgiveness and God's love that washes us clean from past sins. I believe what I preach. I live my religion."

  "I've never known anybody like you. You're the most wonderful, kind, honorable, decent—"

  "Enough. You make me sound like some sort of saint, and believe me, Roz, I'm just a man. . .a very ordinary man who lives one day at a time doing the very best he can."

  "Oh, honey, you're not ordinary. Not by a long shot. You're the most extraordinary man in the world." She draped her arms around his neck. "I'd give anything if you'd kiss me again the way you did that day at Caroline's studio."

  "Considering the fact that we're alone in your powder room and we're both half undressed, I'm not sure—"

  She kissed him. After huffing loudly, grimacing and shak­ing his head as if he'd just admitted to himself that he'd lost an inner battle, he pulled her into his arms and deepened the kiss. Their hands went wild, touching, exploring, fondling. And their lips mated passionately, imitating the basic sexual act. When they came up for air, Lyle pushed Roz away and then clasped her shoulders.

  "We've got to stop," Lyle said.

  "Oh, Lyle, honey, I want you so much." Roz knew she was begging him, but she didn't care.

  "And I want you." He gazed at her with hungry eyes.

  "Then what's the problem? Sex between two people who care about each other can't possibly be a sin. Didn't God invent sex? With Adam and Eve."

  Lyle chuckled, then clasped her face between his hands. "I'm a minister who preaches abstinence for unmarried peo­ple. That's the reason I'm still a. . .a virgin. I do practice what I preach. Sex isn't a sin, but for me to give in to temptation would be wrong. Can you understand?"

  "Yeah, I understand." Roz frowned. "I'm not going to get laid tonight, am I?"

  "No."

  "But you'd like to have sex with me, wouldn't you?" she asked, hopeful that she could bring him around to her way of thinking.

  "No, I wouldn't like to have sex with you. Not tonight or any other night."

  She glared at him, unable to believe what he'd said. He was lying. He had to be lying. "I thought you—"

  "I do want you," he said. "I want to make love to you, not just have sex with you. But for me sex and love must be one. And that act must take place within the sanctity of mar­riage. That's the only way it can be right for me."

  Roz reached out, flopped the lid down on the commode and sat. "Well, I guess that leaves me out." She looked up at him and smiled weakly. "Don't suppose you can fool around just a little. I know all kinds of things to do without going all the way."

  "If I started fooling around with you, I wouldn't be able to stop," Lyle confessed. "So while we're dating, we'd bet­ter keep our relationship under control and stop at kissing. But once we're married, I'm going to keep you in bed for at least two weeks without letting you ever leave the bedroom."

  "Just kissing while we're—what did you say?" Roz shot up off the commode lid fast as a rocket blast, almost toppling over Lyle's empty beer bottle. "Did you say when we're married?"

  "Yeah." Lyle blushed a shade almost as dark as his hair. "I'd kind of planned on proposing in a more romantic place, after I'd bought you a ring and—"

  "You—" she pointed to him "—want to marry me?" She pointed to herself.

  "More than anything."

  "Have you lost your mind? What will people say? Those little old blue-haired ladies at your church will never accept someone like me. They'll excommunicate you!"

  "The worst the church will do to me is ask me to resign and I don't think they will do that. Not once they see what a wonderful woman you are and how happy you make me. Besides, with your enthusiasm and energy, you'll be an asset to my ministry."

  "One of us has lost his mind."

  Lyle pulled Roz into his arms and kissed her forehead. "We've both lost our minds because we're crazy in love."

  Chapter 19

  Caroline's whimpering cries instantly jolted David from his uneasy sleep. She tossed and turned beside him in bed, ob­viously having a bad dream. And why shouldn't she? Within a few weeks time, someone had tried to drown her, blow her sky high and gun her down. What he found amazing was that she was able to sleep at all. But he credited himself with her feeling safe and secure enough to rest, even if that rest was plagued by nightmares. She knew he would protect her with his life, and not only he, but the Dundee agents he had charged with guarding the house. He reached out and took her by the shoulders as he whispered to her.

  "Caroline, sweetheart, it's all right. You're safe. You're here with me and I won't let anyone hurt you."

  She stopped wriggling, but she tossed her head back and forth on her pillow as she continued whimpering. "Please, don't leave me. Don't ever leave me."

  He flipped on the bedside lamp. "Caroline, wake up." He shook her gently.

  She gasped, then opened her eyes and stared at him. Terror turned to surprise and surprise to relief. "Wolfe?"

  "Mmm-mmm." He swept the flyaway tendrils of her lustrous black hair away from her face. "You were having a nightmare."

  She nodded, then snuggled against him as he enveloped her in his embrace, being careful not to press too tightly and irritate her healing gunshot wound. "You were leaving me," she murmured against his bare chest. "I needed you, but you wouldn't stay."

  "You know that I'll stay with you as long as you need me, as long as your life is in danger."

  "But then you'll leave. Once I'm safe." She tilted back her head and gazed at him. " What if I'm pregnant, will you still leave me?"

  He closed his eyes and called himself all kinds of a fool, as he'd done again and again over the past few days. He hadn't meant to take her without protection; he had made sure he was always prepared But the night at the cabin, when he had made love to her quickly, standing up, both of them still dressed, reason had taken a back seat to passion. He had tried not to think about what he'd done or the possible con­sequences. Surely God wouldn't punish Caroline for his mis­take.

  "I'm sorry that I didn't take the proper precautions that night." Wolfe kissed her temple. "But I think it's highly unlikely that you're pregnant, don't you?"

  "The timing was all wrong," she admitted. "I'm sure I'm not pregnant. I had my period while I was in the hospital. I just wanted to know that if you had gotten me pregnant, would you stay when this is all over?"

  He lifted himself up and braced his head with his elbow as he looked down at her. She lay halfway beneath him, gazing up at him as if he were the beginning and end of her world. The last thi
ng he wanted was to leave her. But he would have no choice. Because of who he was, because of the part he had played in her tragic past, they couldn't have a future together. No matter how much he wished for a mir­acle, there would be no happily ever after for Caroline and him.

  If only he could tell her the truth—that he was her bene­factor, the man who had safeguarded her from afar, the David who had loved her and provided for her and longed to be near her. But that would be only half the truth. He could not confess to one without confessing to the other. She would want to know why he had taken on the role of her keeper all those years ago. He could never tell her that he was Aidan Colbert, the Peacekeeper executioner assigned the task of eliminating a rogue agent who had just happened to be her stepfather. He could never look her in the eye and say, "I'm the man you came face-to-face with in Preston Shaw's study. I'm the man you thought was going to kill you."

  "Wolfe, what's wrong?" Caroline asked. "You have the most peculiar look on your face. Was my question that dif­ficult for you to answer?"

  He covered her with soft, light kisses. Adoring her. Wor­shiping her. Wanting her more than he had ever wanted any­thing. "If you were pregnant, I'd take care of you and the baby, but—"

  She kissed him to silence him, then pulled back, her face only inches from his, and whispered against his lips, "I love you."

  Her confession took him aback. Heat swelled up inside him, pervading every inch of his body as the meaning of her words became a part of him. He knew that she cared deeply for him, that she was infatuated with him due to their sexual compatibility. But he figured that was only because sex was new and exciting for her. He had not expected her to fall in love with him. Wasn't she in love with her David? Wasn't her phantom benefactor the man she truly wanted? Wasn't he just a substitute for the man she couldn't have?

  But you are that David, he reminded himself. And even if Caroline doesn't realize that fact on a conscious level, isn't it possible that subconsciously she knows that you and he are one and the same?