Sweet Caroline's Keeper (18 page)

Having made her decision, Caroline searched the shelves that held some of her photography equipment. She knew of one way—a way very personal to her—that she could seduce David Wolfe. Glancing over the variety of cameras at her disposal, she quickly chose her
Rollei
, one of her favorites, which was easy to operate, thus giving her flexibility and creative control. Even in candlelight, she could count on this camera to capture more than the eye could behold. Before Wolfe became aware of the fact that he was her subject, she aimed and shot, then aimed again, repeating the process several times.

He faced her. Boldly. Surprised by her actions. For several minutes, he stood before her. Unmoving. He was a magnificent man and the camera loved him. The high cheekbones. The slanted shape of his eyes. The hard, chiseled imperfection of his features. The wide shoulders encased in a loose white shirt. The sleek, fluid lines of a superbly honed physique.

Long after he was gone, she would have these photographs to remind her of this special man.

Suddenly she realized that he was coming toward her, an agitated expression on his face. Without hesitation she continued taking pictures. Hurriedly. Furiously. Moving around the studio, keeping just out of his reach. She knew he intended to stop her. When he finally captured her, he manacled her wrist and jerked the camera out of her hand. She gasped aloud the moment he grabbed her by the waist.

"Why did you do that?" she asked. "I took those shots for me. I promise that no one else will ever see them. Please. . ." She reached down to where he held the
Rollei
at his side.

He held the camera just out of her reach.
"
You were trying to make love to me with the camera, weren't you?" He circled her waist and pulled her close, then lowered his head. "As sensual as we both found the experience, it's a poor substitute for the real thing."

She looked up, thinking he was going to kiss her. Hoping he would. Afraid he would. But instead his tongue touched her throat. Light. Moist. A faint, tingling caress that moved down her throat and onto the flesh exposed by the V-neck of her billowing lavender blouse. When he released his hold around her waist, she didn't move, didn't pull away. He tugged on her blouse until he loosened it from beneath the waistband of her skirt, then he reached underneath, his big hand flattening across her midriff. She sucked in her breath. She quivered as her nipples tightened. He undid the front snap of her bra, pulled back the cups and freed her breasts, still covered by her blouse.

His mouth opened over one breast and his lips encompassed her nipple through the thin barrier of cloth. When he sucked, she leaned her head back as if it were too heavy for her neck to hold upright. He moved to the other breast, giving it equal attention. Caroline began unraveling, coils of pleasure spiraling, swirling inside her like wind-tossed streamers. While she was in the throes of passion, consumed by pure sexual hunger, Wolfe released her. She lifted her head, her gaze searching for him. He stood several feet away, the
Rollei
in his hand, the lens pointed at her.

"It's my turn," he said. "To make love to you."

She understood his meaning. She would be his subject. The object of his desire. She looked at him, knowing that all she was feeling in that moment showed plainly in her eyes. He snapped the first shot. She began moving, swaying this way and that, to the soft, jazzy beat of the music. He took picture after picture, his actions frenzied. She had never felt so alive. And for the first time in her life she knew she was sexy and seductive.

She lifted her hair in her hands and then let it cascade through her fingers. She turned her back to him and removed her blouse and bra, then glanced over her shoulder. He captured that seductive pose on film, exploring the fantasy and the pure sexuality of the moment. A clutching pressure built between her thighs, a prelude of longing so intense that it overwhelmed her. She licked her lips, moistening them, and looked at David, knowing he would recognize the invitation.

He came toward her, then stopped to lay the camera on the table where their uneaten food awaited them. She held her breath, anticipating what was to come. He eased up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. She leaned her head back to rest on his chest. He lowered his head and placed his cheek against hers. She curved her arms backward so that her hands rested on his hips.

All rational thought ceased to exist for Caroline. She gave herself over completely to the moment and to the man who held her captive. When his hands lifted to cup and then cover her breasts, she rubbed her hips seductively against his erection. Wanton, alive with a desire unequaled by any previous experience, she surrendered and yet simultaneously conquered.

Wolfe turned her to him and took her mouth in a kiss of unleashed passion, as if a dam of control had burst free inside him. She flung her arms around his neck and participated in the kiss with equal abandon. He unzipped her skirt and pulled it down her hips. It fell to her feet, draping over the nearby balloons like a voluminous tent atop quivering white sand dunes. She clung to him, totally nude except for her lavender satin panties.

He touched her. Everywhere. Her face. Her hair. Her throat. His hands skimmed her arms, her waist, her hips and down her legs. He knelt before her and buried his face against her belly. She threaded her fingers through his thick golden hair and held him to her, glorying in his adoration. He made her feel as if she were the most precious thing on earth to him.

When he hooked his forefingers under the elastic of her panties, she waited, breathlessly, for him to remove the last barrier, the last fragment of cloth that covered her. The panties slid over her hips and down her legs. She lifted one foot and then the other. He grabbed the panties and tossed them aside. His mouth touched her intimately, kissing her, arousing her unbearably. As he spread her legs farther apart, she gripped his shoulders to balance herself and within moments succumbed to the passion of his marauding lips and tongue. He held her in place, his palms on her buttocks, as he brought her to the edge of release.

Caroline wanted the fulfillment desperately. Her body yearned for him to take her that final step into completion. "Please, David, please," she whispered, calling him by his given name in her passion.

And he did please her. The intensity of her climax bolted her knees and shook her from head to toe. While the rippling aftershocks trembled through her, Wolfe swept her up into his arms and carried her across the room, sending balloons flying in every direction as he strode through their midst. He shoved open the door to the nearest dressing room and eased her down on a white damask sofa, then stripped off his shirt and tossed it to the floor.

Caroline reached up, her hands trembling as she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his slacks. He removed his clothes and stood there, hovering over her, gloriously, magnificently naked. Only the candlelight from the studio illuminated the dark dressing room, so her view of him was shadowed, but she could see the scars that marred his big body. A crisscross of scar tissue bisected his brown chest hair in several places and zigzagged atop his thighs.

"Be very sure this is what you want," he said, his voice a hoarse, heavy growl. "We have no future together. This will change nothing between us."

Caroline lifted her right arm and reached up with her left hand to undo the closure on her new diamond-and-pearl bracelet. When she removed the valuable piece of jewelry, she dropped it to the floor atop the small
lambswool
rug beside the sofa. Not without some regrets, she set aside the past, disengaging herself from a dream that she had outgrown.

She held open her arms to Wolfe, beckoning him to come to her. She would accept him on his terms, take whatever he offered. But he was wrong if he thought this would change nothing between them.

Wolfe knelt, dove his hand into the pocket of his discarded slacks and removed his billfold. She watched, sighing when she saw him remove the wrapped condom. Even in this, in a moment of supreme passion, he was protecting her. She gazed at him. He was big and savage-looking and overwhelmingly male. She knew a moment of panic, of uncertainty that she could accommodate him fully, but when his body covered hers, she surrendered to her own needs.

"I don't want to hurt you," he whispered against her ear, his breathing ragged, perspiration dotting his brow.

"I want you so. Make love to me. . ."
David. My David.

She felt his fingers touching her between her legs, dipping inside and spreading the moisture he found. Then he slid his hands beneath her and lifted her to meet him. His first thrust was shallow, entering her with only the tip of his sex. Clinging to his shoulders, she lifted her legs, urging him to delve deeper. He took her by slow degrees, careful to allow her time to accommodate the length and width of him. When he encountered her virginal barrier, he paused, but she would have none of it. She lifted her hips higher, taking him deeper into her body as she wrapped her legs around his hips. The moment he broke through, she gasped, then held on to him, whimpering his name. As if he could hold back no longer, he took her completely, plunging himself fully into her.

Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes. He kissed them away. "I've wanted you so much. . .for so long. . .."

Their bodies moved together in perfect unison. Unparalleled passion. Indescribable pleasure. An earth-shattering loving. Caroline could not believe that her body was capable of a second climax so quickly following the first or that the second would surpass the first. She fell apart, crying, moaning, her body trembling only moments before his body tensed and his face contorted into an expression of pain. And then an animalistic moan erupted from deep in his chest when he came. Spasms rocketed through him as her body drained the last ounce of strength from his. He kissed her, devouring her with a passion that a thousand climaxes could never appease. "Mine," he murmured. "My sweet Caroline."

Chapter 15

Laying
beside Caroline, Wolfe watched her while she slept. He intended to savor every minute with her and store up enough memories to last a lifetime. He had disregarded doing the decent, honorable thing and done the unforgivable. But what man, under the same circumstances, could have denied himself the thing he wanted most in this world? She would never know his deep, dark secret. He promised her that—a solemn, heartfelt vow. Even Caroline, as loving and understanding as she was, would not be able to forgive Aidan Colbert's sins. And if it turned out that Preston Shaw had been executed because of falsified evidence. . .! But now was not the time for soul-searching, for dredging up guilt and adding more to his already overburdened conscience. He would not waste these precious days he'd been given with Caroline. They were a gift from the gods, one he didn't deserve, but clung to tenaciously and with gratitude.

Just being near her aroused him. Her sweet, feminine smell. Her soft, vulnerable beauty. The steady rise and fall of her full, round breasts only half-covered by the sheet. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered. He kissed each cheek and brushed his lips over hers. She wriggled against him and sighed.

He couldn't justify what he'd done with her, what he intended doing again, as often as possible. But at this point, he was beyond caring. It wasn't as if he planned to stay in her life, become a permanent fixture. One week. One damn week—that's all he was asking for. After that, he would free her and free himself. He had no choice. To ask for more would mean taking a huge risk—a risk that she would discover the truth about him. Not only that he was her benefactor, but that he was Aidan Colbert, the Peacekeepers agent who had killed her stepfather.

Wolfe lifted the sheet, then slipped his hand between her thighs, palming her mound as his fingers curled over her tender flesh. Gasping, Caroline opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"How sore are you?" he asked, his voice heavy with desire.

Smiling, she lifted her hand to clamp the back of his neck, then dragged his mouth down to hers. "Not terribly sore," she said against his lips.
"
I think my body can survive making love one more time. But after this, you might have to let me recuperate for the rest of the day." She kissed him, not like a lady, but like a woman. Wet and hot. Tongue thrusting, body arching.

"Don't you know that for more of your sweet loving, I'd promise you any thing. . . give you anything?" His heartbeat picked up speed as he fondled her, dipping a couple of fingers into the moisture that told him how ready she was for what he wanted.

"I understand." She closed her thighs, trapping his hand between them, and rubbed her body sensuously against his. "Nothing should be this good. . .this wonderful. . .."

Wolfe leaned over and lifted a condom off the nightstand. This was his last one. He always kept one in his wallet, which he had used when they'd made love at the studio. When he was on an assignment there was no need for a supply of condoms, so he hadn't packed any. By the time he and Caroline had left the studio, he realized there wouldn't be a store open where he could purchase more, so he'd been forced to do something he hadn't done since he was a green kid. He'd borrowed condoms from another guy. He'd figured that a ladies' man like Jack Parker would be prepared at all times, on an assignment or not. And he had to give Jack credit, the man hadn't made one rude comment. He had simply handed over three condoms without saying a word.

After preparing himself, David swooped Caroline up and over him, knocking the sheet to their feet as he positioned her on top of him. She straddled his hips. He bucked upward, seeking entrance. Because of her lack of experience, the three previous times he had been the aggressor, but this time he wanted her to set the pace, to take charge.

"Think you can handle me?" he asked.

"Ooh. . .ooh." The taunting sound came through her puckered lips as she lifted herself up on her knees, ran her hand between their bodies and circled his erection. "I'm willing to try really hard. Later, you can let me know how I did." A tantalizing, bewitching smile curved her lips.

She brought him to her, then positioned herself and took him into her body. Gradually. Inch by excruciating inch. Why the hell didn't she end this torment and take all of him? Now! Before he died from the tension building inside him? But he had taught her well, the art of slow torture. It took every ounce of his willpower not to thrust up and into her.

As her sheath enveloped him, she slid her legs along the side of his body until they were joined completely from their hips down, then she pressed her breasts against his chest and lay there. Still. Perfectly still. Their heartbeats synchronized. Their breathing set to the same rhythm. His sex instinctively quivered inside her, begging for relief.

"I'm warning you, sweetheart," he said. "Don't make me wait too long."

"Is teasing the beast dangerous?" She lifted herself up, gliding over him, withdrawing until her body clutched only the head of his sex. "Will he devour me?"

David grabbed her by the hips and plunged her down so that she was forced to accept all of him. She cried out when he filled her completely, stretching her to the limit. Her body could not resist the urgent pressure, the throbbing need that prompted her to move. Up and down. Appeasing the beast within him. . .and discovering her own untamed animal nature. Once unleashed, the primitive woman within her took control. While she rode him, hard and fast, he mouthed her breasts. Sucking, nipping, licking. Her sheath tightened around him and she keened, softly at first, then louder and louder until she was all but screaming when she came. The force of her release triggered his and within seconds of her climax, he shuddered with completion. Needing nothing more. Totally fulfilled.

"Yeah, thanks, Art," Gavin Robbins said. "Let me know if you find out anything else."

He hung up the telephone, then slammed his fist down on his desk and cursed. Art Singleton was a friend who worked at CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia. He and Art had done favors for each other more than once over the years, and neither hesitated when it came to bending the rules when necessary. Gavin had given Art a name—David Wolfe—and asked his old buddy to run a check on the man. That task hadn't taken long, but had yielded nothing of any significance. Wolfe had been recruited straight out of the army and had been assigned overseas for most of his thirteen-year career. Art assured Gavin that the records didn't show anything out of the ordinary, nothing that red-flagged Wolfe as anything other than what Ellison Penn had said he was—a former agent who had retired and gone into the personal security business.

"The guy's record is as clean as a whistle," Art had said. "What about his personal life?"

"Hell, man, as far as I can find out, he didn't have one."

"No friends? No women?"

"I'm telling you that the guy might as well have not existed. Nobody seems to remember him. And I checked with people who've been around for years."

"What about men who worked overseas the years Wolfe was there? Surely somebody remembers him."

"Some of those guys are dead and others are still out of the country, but I can keep checking, if that's what you want. But so far, nothing."

"That's what I want. Keep digging," Gavin had said.

There was something all wrong about David Wolfe. Gavin would bet his last dime on it. And he intended to find out just what it was. His instincts warned him that Ellison Penn was trying to pull a fast one. But why? For what purpose? He figured that the whole thing had something to do with Preston Shaw. What,
dammit
, what? Gavin had racked his brain until he couldn't think straight. But he wouldn't let anything get by him. He was too close to achieving his goals to allow anyone or anything to interfere at this late date.

Wolfe remained by the door of studio two, quiet and out of the way, keeping watch while Caroline worked. He found her totally fascinating. Every inclination of her head. Every twist of an arm or leg. Each smile. Each frown. The way her ponytail bobbed up and down as she bent and swerved, leaned and switched directions, all the while snapping away. Pose after pose. Picture after picture. And during the entire process, Caroline captured the playful mischievousness of a five-year-old little hellion named Abigail Faith
Lasley
. He had to give Roz a great deal of credit for managing not to beat the precocious child within an inch of her spoiled-rotten life as she worked with Abigail to return her to the poses needed for the photographs. Perhaps no one else noticed the maternal potential in
Rozalin
Turner. But Wolfe saw it. Roz was a natural, the type of woman who would be able to handle half a dozen screaming kids and make the job look easy.

He glanced toward Lyle Jennings, who had arrived ten minutes ago, early for the lunch date he'd made with Caroline. A sort of day-late birthday celebration. Wolfe had asked Kirsten to order something for their lunch and then run out and pick it up from a local restaurant. It was simply easier to guard Caroline within the confines of her studio than it was to keep her safe in public areas. Wolfe noticed that Lyle seemed as captivated as he was—but by another woman. Roz. Wolfe barely suppressed a chuckle. If any man could recognize
that look
in another man's eyes, Wolfe could. . .today. . .considering the fact that Caroline had him mesmerized. So, the good reverend had a thing for the wild and free Roz. And from the occasional sidelong glances that she was giving Lyle, Wolfe suspected the feeling was mutual. The bad girl and the preacher. A classic case of opposites.

The photo shoot ran over fifteen minutes, due mainly not to the subject of the session, but because of her demanding mother. Mrs. Bradford
Lasley
simply couldn't be satisfied, requesting "just one more shot" half a dozen times. Finally Caroline politely called a halt and with her Southern charm assured Mrs.
Lasley
that the pictures of Abigail would be sheer perfection.

The minute mother and daughter had been escorted out to their waiting limo, Kirsten told Wolfe that lunch was set up in the enclosed courtyard, per his instructions. Caroline led Lyle and Roz outside, while Wolfe followed behind. He remained constantly on alert, always mindful of even a hint of danger. The June sunshine was half-hidden behind gray rain clouds and a whisper of wind breezed through the boxed shrubbery and springtime flower beds. The fancy wrought-iron table was spread with sandwiches, chips and colas.

"We'll have to rush," Roz said. "Forty-five minutes won't give us time to do more than gulp down lunch and then get things set up for the afternoon session with Mrs. Welch and her two daughters."

Wolfe pulled out a chair for Caroline. She graced him with a warm smile, then sat and kept her gaze connected to his while he took the chair beside her. Roz tapped her foot, apparently waiting for Lyle to prove he, too, knew how to be a gentleman. Much to Lyle's credit, he picked up on
Roz's
cue. When he held out a chair for her, she all but cooed.

The, foursome sat quietly, unwrapping their sandwiches, spreading apart napkins and inserting straws through the plastic lids on their drinks. Wolfe would have preferred lunch alone with Caroline. Actually, he would have preferred skipping lunch and having Caroline. Ever since his first sexual encounter when he'd been a teenager, he had been a man with a healthy sexual appetite, but as he'd grown older he had learned to control his baser instincts and curtail his encounters. But he was finding out that his hunger for Caroline wasn't easily sated. After having become her lover, he discovered that he wanted her more than ever.

"So, was the birthday surprise Mr. Wolfe planned for you yesterday evening a success?" Lyle asked.

Caroline almost choked on the bite of Reuben sandwich in her mouth. Roz lifted Caroline's arm and slapped her on the back. Caroline coughed until she dislodged the morsel from her throat, then grabbed her cola and slurped down several huge swallows.

"Are you all right?" Lyle inspected his cousin's flushed face.

"I
'm fine," Caroline assured him. "And the surprise Wolfe planned for me was wonderful." She glanced at Wolfe, everything that had transpired between them evident in that heated look.

Wolfe had to break eye contact with her. If she kept looking at him that way, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing her. Damn!

Roz giggled nervously. Caroline took a deep breath.

"Is there something going on that I don't know about?" Lyle glanced from Wolfe to Caroline and then to Roz.

"Let's give Caroline her presents now," Roz said, reaching in her pocket and pulling out a small, gift-wrapped box. "No sense in waiting until after we've eaten."