by Jade Powers
“Okay.” It might not have been much of an oath, but it was heart-felt. Wendy could feel Carson’s concern in the strength of his arms, in the way his voice sent prickles along her skin. He spoke the truth at a deep level.
Carson’s arms didn’t loosen. They provided the safe space Wendy needed. He said, “You know, every other word out of his mouth was about you. I miss him, too.”
Wendy leaned into his shoulder and said, “Everything went wrong. We had our whole lives planned out. We were supposed to have two kids, but we never got pregnant. Then John was going to quit and help me with a catering business, but he wanted us to be financially solid first. Next year. He told me next year.”
“I’m sorry.” Carson murmured.
Wendy seemed so fragile in his arms. He wanted her so bad. The smell of her hair, the warmth of her body against his. He wished he had magic words, something that would make Wendy happy again. He didn’t have anything that she needed. John would have known how to pull Wendy out of her sadness. But then, John had been all that she needed.
Wendy said, “He’s gone. It’s my anniversary and I don’t have a husband,” Wendy didn’t sound pathetic, although she could have. She sounded angry.
Carson didn’t know what else to say. There were plenty of platitudes, but nothing that would mean anything. He was a quiet man who could act a hero in the face of knives and bullets. Put him in front of a crowd and suddenly he’d fumble. Words eluded him.
Wendy snuggled closer to Carson. She tilted her face and kissed him before he even knew what was happening. It shocked him. Her kiss was gentle and hungry. He wanted it so bad, but he didn’t want it. He couldn’t take it, not like this, not when it would kill him to see Wendy turn away from him tomorrow when she realized what she’d done.
Carson pulled gently away, “Not like this Wendy. I care too much about you for it to happen when you’re hurting.”
“I don’t want to care anymore.”
“I know, Sweetheart.” God, Carson wished he didn’t care so much. His body needed to stand down. Soon. This was about the most uncomfortable night of his life.
Holding Wendy was a dream he had buried in the depths of his mind. To want his buddy’s wife was a travesty of friendship, so for two years, he had made certain he didn’t go near her. Not while John was alive. So here he was, unable to leave...unwilling to leave. He wanted this.
She was kissing him. Kissing him. It was sheer temptation. Pulling away gently, Carson said, “Come on. Let’s get you under the covers. It’s time to sleep.”
“Please don’t leave me. Please?” Wendy’s voice broke.
Carson held the covers back while she crawled in. “I’ll be right here.”
She needed him, but Carson needed to be smart about this. He stayed outside the blankets, letting his arm drape over Wendy. When she fell asleep, somehow...so did he. He enjoyed her warmth by his side, once he forced his hormones to dial back.
WHEN WENDY OPENED HER eyes, her mouth was so dry it felt like she’d licked a sand dune. She was tucked under the covers and there was a man in bed next to her, cuddled close. She was under the blankets; he was on the outside, which didn’t make the situation any less awkward. At first Wendy was completely confused.
It took her a moment to remember. When she did, Wendy was swept with a wave of relief. It was Carson. A dim memory of greeting him, begging him to stay made Wendy groan inside her head, because she also remembered his refusal, how he backed away from her kiss. What a fool she’d been. The man might have a girlfriend waiting somewhere.
She hesitated, feeling trapped under the covers. “Carson?”
His breathing was steady and deep. He’d taken off his jeans and was asleep in his boxers and t-shirt. Sliding out from under his arm, Wendy climbed out of bed, anxious to take a shower, brush her teeth and pretend that last night’s humiliation had never happened. Dang. She had thrown herself at him.
His deep voice rumbled behind her. “You okay?”
Crud. How was she supposed to answer that? Wendy felt her face flush. She mumbled, “Fine, just fine. I’m sorry about last night. I’m going to take a shower.”
She swiped her jeans off the floor. She had left her bra hanging off the chair by the shoulder strap. Totally embarrassing. She grabbed that, too, and ran for the bathroom. Looking over her shoulder, she was grateful that Carson had mostly stayed right where he had been. Had it been anyone else, Wendy would have felt ashamed. With Carson, she felt as if she’d fallen off a cliff only to find that he had been waiting below with a net. He’d caught her, and she felt safe.
Wendy hid in the shower. She stood under the water until her skin wrinkled and then she stayed some more. Maybe Carson left. Wendy knew she didn’t have that kind of luck. Either way, she’d have to get out of the bathroom eventually. Too bad the hotel hair dryer was in that space between the bathroom and the beds. She could have hidden another half-hour blow drying her hair.
When she stepped out, dressed in the same t-shirt and jeans she’d worn the day before, Carson was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting. He looked super-uncomfortable.
“Can we pretend that last night never happened?” Wendy asked. Sober, she found herself doubly attracted to Carson. The desire confused and irritated her more than anything.
Joking Carson said, “Last night? What happened anyway?”
He looked down at his hands and then lifted his eyes to meet hers. They were full of pain. Wendy felt guilty for putting him through that. She said, “I felt sorry for myself last night. I shouldn’t have put you in the middle of it.”
“It’s okay. I’m glad I could be here for you.” Carson said. When he gazed at Wendy, she thought she would spontaneously combust. There was something intense in his longing that she responded to. It gratified her, because now she knew that even though he turned her down, Carson was interested.
Wendy realized the gift that Carson had given her. She knew that he could have taken advantage of her, that many of the men she had known in her life would have, but this man was special. He let her come first when she needed it most. Wendy wanted to tell him, but the words stuck in her throat.
While her heart struggled to come to terms with what Carson had done for her, Wendy’s mind created a distraction. She said, “You came to tell me something. What was it?”
Carson, for his part, looked as uncomfortable as Wendy felt. He cleared his throat a few times and nodded, as if he didn’t trust himself to use actual words. Finally, he said, “We’ve been invited to dinner at General McFarland’s. He believes one of his employees is selling secrets under the radar. He was worried when you didn’t show last night.”
“His driver tried to kill me,” Wendy said. She probably told Carson that last night but her memory was a fuzzy haze. What a mess.
“We can catch the next flight back,” Carson offered..
Wendy would have been furious with herself and him if they’d had sex the night before. She wouldn’t call it making love, not on her wedding anniversary. This must be a tangle for Carson. Wendy felt bad for him.
“No. I’m going to see this through. So we go to dinner tonight.” Wendy said. She felt parched, her mouth so dry that she could down a gallon of water. But where her body was a desert, her soul had soaked up the love given her last night, a chaste love that brought a touch of spring to a day that had started in the dead of winter.
Unable to read Wendy’s mind, Carson took her words at face value, never guessing how deeply the night had affected her. “His bookkeeper is going to join us. Only a handful of his staff knew that you were flying in. This time, the operatives tipped their hand. He doesn’t believe the man you talked to was actually the bookkeeper, but he wants you to listen to the man’s voice and give your opinion.”
“I can do that. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you before. If you think we should fly back, I’ll follow your lead. I just really want to catch John’s killer.”
“We should be safe enough. We may actually have
a chance to make a difference here.” Carson grabbed his duffel bag, which he had dropped in the corner the night before. “Mind if I take a shower?”
Wendy waved her hand at the bathroom, “Go for it.”
Carson was the opposite of John. John had been funny and loud with a ready smile and quick wit. They were both handsome, but where John was light, Carson was dark. Not dark as in evil. Dark as in a quiet night full of the beauty of distant stars and a breeze rustling through trees, the kind of dark that soothed a person when they couldn’t sleep.
Carson was quiet, almost brooding. He was also Wendy’s first attraction since losing John. She felt guilty, like she was betraying her husband. Despite her vows which ended at death, to Wendy it felt wrong to move on, even all these months later.
So when was enough enough? As hard as history had been on women, at least in the past there was a clear time of mourning. A standard number of months and off with the black dress. Wendy realized that she would chafe under a restriction of months. If she wanted to grieve for the rest of her life, she would.
How long was long enough? A person had to live, they had to keep waking up day after infernal day.
CARSON AND WENDY WERE dressed to kill for McFarland’s dinner party. Carson fidgeted in his tux. He wasn’t McFarland’s typical dinner guest. He hated dinner parties. He hated dressing up and forcing a smile at people who would probably just as soon push him in front of a bus as look at him. He felt awkward and out of place. Worse, Wendy was in danger, so every single one of these people was not only an awkward conversation, but a potentially deadly enemy.
He quietly accompanied Wendy through appetizers and drinks. Wendy was more at ease in this crowd, graciously moving from group to group as if she knew everyone. She wasn’t at all shy, so Carson stayed at her shoulder and let her do the talking.
She and Carson had an uneasy truce. She couldn’t look him in the eye anymore, not since coming onto him last night. Maybe that would change with time. Right now, he wouldn’t think of it. He had a mission. Tonight, he was Wendy’s bodyguard and a second pair of eyes and ears.
Carson faded into the background and watched.
No one acted with suspicion or out of place. Carson spent the whole evening waiting for something to happen, for someone to say something out of turn, to tip their hand. When they sat to eat, Wendy and the bookkeeper spent an hour discussing beagles. When the evening finally came to a close and most of the guests had gone home, McFarland and his wife withdrew with Carson and Wendy into a comfortable sitting room.
McFarland was a powerful man. Having him in the same building, let alone the same room, made Carson twitchy. He didn’t trust people with that much authority. He never had. Now he was trying to balance Wendy’s life against this man’s truth. He didn’t trust McFarland, but that didn’t mean McFarland was the one who pulled the strings that killed John.
“The bookkeeper didn’t set up my flight, at least he wasn’t the man I spoke with on the phone. I know that without a doubt.” Wendy said, before anyone could prompt her. She looked stunning in her sparkling red dress. It still bothered Carson that Wendy hadn’t wanted him with her when she went dress shopping. She’d made him stay at the hotel. Maybe it was for the best.
“Everything was set up in Rodgers’ name,” McFarland said. His mouth was turned down in a perpetual grimace. Carson had no doubt that if McFarland knew where to aim his anger, there would be dire consequences for betraying the general.
“He was set up. I think we should use me as bait,” Wendy said. The red straps of her dress contrasted against her smooth and silky skin. Carson wanted to run his fingers down her arm. He was not going to look at her breasts. No, he would not. He focused on her eyes. Those gorgeous brown eyes, full of life. She had lost her humor and now Wendy always seemed a little lost to Carson, like the sadness had become a part of her expression.
Bait?
Carson needed to start thinking with his brain and not with his penis. He shook his head vehemently, “No way. McFarland knows he’s got a leak. We should get you home safe and sound. Let the professionals deal with this.”
“There are at least four people on my staff who could have pulled this off. We could narrow it down and bring John’s killer to justice. Wendy has a great idea. I have a safe house two hours north. We could plant information around the office, tell different members of my staff different things and see who bites and where. You’ll be safe. I’ll have you call into each staffer and tell them that I was asking for various bits of different information. I will have each place under surveillance. We’ll be able to trace back the problem.”
Wendy leaned in eagerly, almost feverishly. “We could catch them.”
Carson could see McFarland playing her, toying with her pain, using her for his own ends. It made him sick. He said to McFarland, “Why can’t you root them out yourself? You don’t need Wendy.”
McFarland’s hawk-like visage became only more pronounced as he planned the mission. He said, “It’s more realistic if she’s there. You do want to catch your husband’s killer?” McFarland’s question was rhetorical. He was a politician. He knew the answer. He just wanted to lure Wendy.
“This is ridiculous,” Carson didn’t have the fancy words to talk Wendy out of what was clearly a bad idea. Unfortunately, the more he said, the worse it turned out.
Wendy glared at him, as if it were his fault that someone was out to kill her. The curls of her hair fell gracefully onto her shoulder in contrast to the warrior in her soul. She said, “Carson, this is my choice.”
She was fierce, John’s widow. Had she belonged to Carson, he would have been proud of her. But she didn’t belong to him. The problem was that at a word, she could send Carson away, and he had a feeling she would need him. McFarland had a habit of putting his people into danger.
And Wendy wasn’t trained in the military...not like McFarland’s employees.
Chapter 7
THE SINGLE-STORY RANCH house in horse country soothed Wendy’s battered soul. She and Carson were on their third day at McFarland’s country house. It was a strange but pleasant feeling, like a vacation from life. Once they got past the awkwardness of that night in New York, Carson was great company.
It was Wednesday morning, and Wendy had just finished washing the table and counters when Carson asked, “Would you like to walk to the pond?”
Yesterday, Wendy had spent most of the day inside reading. Sometimes it was nice to distract her mind with stories. Feeling that her ponytail had loosened, Wendy tightened it briskly and smiled, “That would be nice.”
There was a slight breeze so Wendy grabbed her jacket on the way out. She said, “Nothing has happened so far. How long do you suppose we’re going to have the run of the place before McFarland kicks us out?”
The path to the pond was barely wide enough for two people, but it was a pleasant walk among shade trees and a meadow. Carson seemed ill at ease in the new place. He said, “It won’t be long. I wish he’d shared his plans with us in more detail.”
“As long as we catch John’s murderer, I don’t care how many plans or how much detail we have,” Wendy breathed in the fresh air and wished she hadn’t mentioned John. Before coming to New York, if she had tried long enough, she could pretend John was still next to her. Now every day, Wendy reminded herself that he wasn’t and that it was okay to like Carson.
“I don’t like being used,” Carson said coldly.
Wendy flushed, taking the comment personally. She didn’t know how to handle Carson. First he would act attracted to her, then he would back off. It was seriously confusing. Wendy drew herself up, “You didn’t have to come. I’m not using you. Go where you will.”
Before Wendy could storm off, Carson took her hand, “I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about McFarland. He’s using us both. I dread the days ahead. Something tells me his mole will figure out the set up and come after us. Too many of McFarland’s ventures have gone wrong lately.”
&nbs
p; “We’re in the country. He said he’d give us plenty of warning if anyone moved against us. You heard him. Only a few people know about this house. Everything will be fine. Let’s just enjoy today.” Wendy didn’t want to argue once more about the plan. They’d talked it to death with Carson clearly against every detail. Right now they had sunshine and trees.
Carson gave Wendy a pained look, but nodded and walked beside her. She wished for a different outcome. She wanted to hold Carson’s hand and talk about apple orchards and horses. Carson just wanted to talk business. And now he was silent. She didn’t know if he was sulking or angry. He just muttered agreement and then didn’t talk.
They were almost to the pond when Wendy said, “What do you want?”
She stopped at the small gazebo at the edge of the pond. Before Carson could answer, Wendy sank onto the bench, glancing up and scooting over to give Carson room. It was an invitation. She had no idea what she would do if he kept walking. Carson was a confusion. She was used to John’s sunny nature and his tendency to be blunt if they were having an argument, not this brooding silence.
Carson lowered himself beside her. They were so close Wendy could feel the warmth of his thigh. She stared out over the pond. A pair of ducks crossed the pond, wiggling their tails and diving. They were close enough that she could hear the plopping sound in the water.
Wendy wanted to know what he wanted. Carson wanted a good many things, most of which he couldn’t have. But that’s not what Wendy was asking. She wanted to know why he was upset. So Carson answered. He said, “To be away from here. As beautiful as it seems, you are in danger, and I can’t stand it.”
“You believed McFarland when he said he didn’t know who killed John,” Wendy reminded him. They had discussed it at length after leaving the McFarlands.
“Yes, I did. But I also think someone on his staff arranged for John’s death and yours as well. How is here safer than your house or any random hotel across the country? He invited us here because he knows that if we’re discovered his traitor will come after us with all of his resources. It’s another chance to find out who betrayed him.”
