Dangerous Lover (20 page)

Then last year, in the space of a week, Jenna’s husband left her for his secretary, and her father left her mother, who had just been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.

Jenna was left with two small children, a sick mother, no money and no job. She fell to pieces, leaning heavily on Caroline. For a while, Mark and Cindy had come to stay with Caroline while Jenna made arrangements for care for her mother and found herself a job as a bank teller. Mark and Cindy had been two shocked and scared kids when they’d arrived, their world having fallen apart. If there was one thing Caroline and Toby knew, it was your world falling down around you.

Jenna placed a big bag on Caroline’s desk and started pulling out cartons. It was her week to buy.

“God that smells good,” Caroline said eagerly, opening one and picking up the dim sum with her chopsticks, rolling her eyes in delight, “and tastes even better.”

“Here,” Jenna held her carton out. “Try the beef in black bean sauce, it’s great. And it’s definitely not going onto my hips because I used up at least ten thousand calories walking here in the cold.”

They dug in happily, the delicious warm food raising their spirits. “Ah, food, glorious food,” Jenna said, leaning back, excavating the last shred of chicken from the bottom of the carton, the chopsticks making a grating sound. “Better than sex.”

Caroline smiled secretively. No, it wasn’t. Good as the food was, she’d just discovered that sex could be a whole order of magnitude better.

“Speaking of which,” Jenna pointed the chopsticks at her. “Talk to me. I can’t believe you’ve got this gorgeous guy living with you and you
never told me
.”

Caroline’s eyes rounded.

Oh my God, what was this? Did Jenna have some kind of radar? Was Caroline somehow moving differently?
I want you to feel me inside you all day
, Jack had whispered in his deep dark voice while making love this morning, and she did. Every time she moved, she could almost feel his presence inside her, against her slightly swollen tissues. Her nipples rasped against her sweater, constantly reminding her how he’d suckled them hard.

In an instant, her body had a flashback to that morning, spread-eagled out on the bed, like a sacrificial virgin in an ancient religion, watching him thrusting in and out of her…

Caroline tried to control her breathing, her shaking hands. Oh God, she was in trouble if just the thought of him hurled her halfway to an orgasm. She had to calm herself down. She drew in a deep breath. “If you’re referring to my new boarder, um—”

“Jack Prescott,” Jenna interrupted, a smug smile on her face. “Age thirty-one, former Army officer, and most important of all, tall, dark and handsome.” She wrinkled her nose. “Well…not handsome so much as sexy.
And
”—she rapped the chopstick on the table—“currently residing at 12 Maple Lane
which just happens to be—
ta da!
—Greenbriars. So talk. Tell all. Where did you two meet? I mean it must have been since last Monday because surely you would have told me you’d started going out with someone? My God, that was quick! You haven’t even known him for a week, and you’re already living together. I mean, at warp speeds like that, can wedding bells be far behind? And let me tell you, couldn’t happen to a nicer girl.”

“Whoa!” Caroline laughed, shaking her head. “It’s not—it’s not what you think.” She tried to sound prim and disinterested, but she knew that she was blushing beet red.

And Jenna was no fool. Except for her husband, whose affair came as a total shock, she had excellent sexual radar. She’d been the first person to notice that the mayor and Amanda Riesenthal were having an affair.

“I mean we—” Caroline bit her lip. She had no idea if Jack wanted to make public their—what was it? An affair? A weekend tumble? She hoped it was more than that, but until she knew what he thought, better not to advertise that they’d become lovers. So she tried to put it on safe ground. “He’s my new boarder. He showed up on Christmas Eve, and was I ever grateful. The Kippings left, I never had a chance to tell you, and I was stuck without the extra rent money. So Jack—Mr. Prescott—showing up and needing a room was a very lucky chance for me.”

Jenna was listening, dark brown eyes wide open in surprise. She frowned. “He’s a
boarder
? Your boarder? That’s insane. What does he want with a room with you?”

Caroline bristled a little. “Well, I know Greenbriars is a little uncomfortable, but I don’t think he could find a much better room at the price. He’d just arrived and needed a place to stay.”

“Well, well why didn’t he go to the Carlton?” Jenna asked. “Or the Victoria?” The Carlton was Summerville’s oldest hotel, a turn-of-the-century building recently restored. The Victoria was a modern five-star hotel, with a Jacuzzi in every room.

That was rich, coming from Jenna, who barely made it to the end of the month on her salary. “The Carlton costs $190 a night and the Victoria costs $170. Why do
you
think he wanted a room?”

“I have no idea.” Jenna shook her head, puzzled. “Unless he wanted to move in with you.”

Caroline made an exasperated sound, picking up florets of stir-fried broccoli. “We’d never met before. How on earth could he want to move in with me if he didn’t know me?”

“I have no idea. It just sounds weird to me, wanting to rent a room when he could go to a comfortable hotel. No offense, Caroline, but beautiful as Greenbriars is, it’s no match for the service and comfort at the Carlton. Or the luxuries at the Victoria.”

Was Jenna being deliberately obtuse? “How could he afford to stay at the Carlton? Do you know what it would cost? Almost six thousand dollars a month. And he’s a former soldier. How could he afford that?”

“Jesus,” Jenna whispered, wide-eyed. “You don’t know. You really don’t know.”

“Know what?” Jenna didn’t answer. “Jenna, you’re scaring me. Know what? What should I know?”

“I—I can’t talk.”

Caroline was getting scared. Jenna was looking stricken, as if she had knowledge that Jack Prescott was really Jack the Ripper but had taken an oath not to reveal it. “Jenna—you’ve got to talk. What’s wrong with him? What’s wrong with Jack? He’s living in my home, Jenna. I have to know if there’s something wrong.”

Jenna stared for a moment, face somber. Finally, she gave a little nod, as if coming to a secret decision. “Okay.” She swallowed and lay a hand over Caroline’s. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but you have to keep it a secret.” Her hand tightened. “You have to promise me.”

Wide-eyed, throat tight, Caroline nodded.

Jenna was leaning forward, watching Caroline’s eyes, looking so troubled that Caroline felt her heart clench.

“I’d lose my job if you let slip to anyone that I told you. Particularly him, Jack Prescott. It’s against every rule in the book, talking to you about a client. Are we clear on that?” Caroline nodded. “Okay—here it is. I have no idea why Jack Prescott wants to rent a room from you if he’s never met you before. And if you think he’s just a simple soldier, think again. He doesn’t need to rent a room with you. He could buy the Carlton, the Victoria
and
Greenbriars and never feel the pinch.” She put her hand over Caroline’s. “He came in this morning, opened an account and rented a safe-deposit box.” She stopped.

“And?” Caroline prodded. “That’s not a crime. He wants to
settle down here, he’s going to be needing a bank account.”

“Yes, he sure will. Honey…” Jenna said softly, a small frown between her black eyebrows, “he deposited over eight million dollars in my bank today.”

Deaver parked about a mile away and walked to Caroline Lake’s home. He’d studied the satellite photos and maps carefully, and made his way mainly through back streets and service alleys.

He needn’t have bothered, really. The weather was so bad there wasn’t anyone around. Those who worked had already left, and the others were at home, sheltered from the icy sleet. It was a residential neighborhood and under normal circumstances at any given moment you could count on someone walking the dog or going for a jog, but not in this weather.

It made his job easy. So easy, he was even able to go in through the front door.

The front door lock was a joke, and once he got through it, he could understand why. Though the house was big, there was very little furniture, no artwork on the walls, no fancy home-entertainment systems or stereos, very little silver and
no expensive knickknacks. Basically, there wasn’t anything to steal.

Except, of course, for $20 million in diamonds.

Deaver went through the house carefully, room by room, making sure he put everything back the way it was. It went fast because the rooms were fairly empty. He saw no sign that anyone other than a woman lived there until he hit the upstairs master bedroom.

There was a big black duffel bag and a suitcase on the bedroom floor with men’s clothes, size huge. Bingo. So Jack had made it to the pretty lady and into her pants pronto.

Good going
,
ace
, he thought. You’ve just made my job easier. Get the woman, get a gun to her head and Jack was going to sing. Oh, yes.

Deaver went through Jack’s bag very thoroughly. No weapons and no diamonds. That meant that Prescott was carrying, and he’d hidden the diamonds somewhere.

Deaver stood, blood pounding in his ears, fists clenched. He was so close, so goddamned
close
! He banged his fist on the dresser, then ran his hand over his short-cropped hair.

He had ten thousand dollars left, and if he didn’t get his diamonds back, how the fuck was he supposed to live?

It was entirely possible that Jack had hidden the diamonds somewhere in the house, but Jack was a thorough man. If he’d hidden them somewhere here, Deaver would have to tear the house apart. It would take time, and Prescott might come in while he was searching. And in any case, Prescott would know someone was after him.

Deaver thought it through. Would Prescott leave a fucking
fortune in diamonds in this woman’s house? Yeah, so sure, he was banging her, but he hadn’t seen her in years. How could he know she wouldn’t make off with them? And how could he know the house well enough to find a good place to stash them?

No, it wouldn’t make sense for him to keep them here. So he’d stashed them somewhere else, somewhere only he could have access to, like a safe-deposit box in a bank or a warehouse rental unit.

Smart boy
, Deaver thought.
But not smart enough
.

He let himself out quietly and got back into his rental Tahoe.

Time to check out Caroline Lake.

The bad thing about not having any customers is that it gives one way too much time to think.

Caroline walked around in a daze after Jenna left, absently straightening books and dusting shelves.

Finding out a man you were dating—or whatever it was they were doing—was rich wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Especially when he was filthy rich, as Jack apparently was. Eight million dollars. She could hardly get her mind around the thought. And she found it impossible to square it with Jack Prescott.

Rich men were vain, they liked the good life, they somehow felt they were blessed and better than others. Like Sanders, for example. Caroline tried to imagine Sanders dressed in tattered jeans, ancient boots, a denim jacket in the dead of winter.

Impossible.

Rich men hired other people to do their scut work for them. Caroline could hardly imagine a rich man wrestling with her boiler, making all the repairs that Jack had made, shoveling her drive. A rich man would have automatically picked up the phone and hired someone to shovel snow instead of taking a couple of hours to do a dirty, exhausting job.

She tried to imagine Sanders shoveling snow and snorted. Caroline entertained herself with an image of Sanders, in his Calvin Klein winterwear and cashmere-lined gloves, shoveling snow, ruining his manicure. The image was so enticing she actually smiled at Sanders as he walked into the bookshop, thinking him a figment of her imagination.

He clasped his glove-clad hands together and beamed when he saw her smile. “Caroline, my dear, how good to see you!” He clasped her shoulders and bent down to kiss her. She averted her face at the last minute, and he bussed her cheek instead of her mouth.

Oh my God, it
was
Sanders—in the flesh!

The last time she’d seen him had been for a disastrous nightcap at Greenbriars after a very nice dinner in October. The dinner had been so nice, and she’d been so grateful for the respite, that she’d asked him in for a whiskey only to have him behave badly toward Toby.

“What are you doing here?” she asked bluntly.

He took off his jacket and gloves leisurely, looking around the bookshop. Caroline had no idea what he thought of First Page. Sanders liked sleek and modern, which First Page certainly was not. He turned and focused his gaze on her. “I
thought I’d stop by and see you. I haven’t had a chance to offer my condolences for the death of your brother yet.”

Uh-huh. He’d obviously been
amazingly
busy the past two months not to be able to drop in or pick up the phone or pen a note.

But Caroline had been brought up by her parents to be polite. She often thought of it as a handicap.

“Thanks, Sanders.” She drummed up another smile for him. “That’s very thoughtful of you. I appreciate it.”

He nodded, clearly unable to process her ironic tone. He looked around again, then back at her, waiting.

Caroline suppressed a sigh. She couldn’t even plead that she was busy. The shop was deserted, as was the street outside. It was entirely possible that the whole city was deserted, everyone in it just staying home.

“Do please sit down, Sanders. Can I make you a cup of tea?” Maybe he’d been passing by and wanted something warm. Maybe if she offered him tea, he’d leave. Caroline didn’t think he’d stopped by for a book. In all the years she’d known him, she’d never known him to read a book. He read reviews, so he could sound knowledgeable, but he’d never read the actual book, that she could tell.

He gave her an alarmingly warm smile and placed his hand over hers. “I’d love a cup of tea, thanks.”

Thank God for her little secondhand microwave oven in the office. In three minutes, she was back with two mugs of vanilla tea, berating herself for her unkindness.

It wasn’t Sanders’s fault he was an ass. And his visit did break the monotony of an endless afternoon in her empty
shop, waiting for Jack to come pick her up. And it did distract her from endless speculation about Jack’s money and where it came from.

So she leaned forward with genuine warmth to hand him the cup and was startled when he grabbed her other hand and kissed it. He held it for a long moment between his hands.

“Uh, Sanders?”

“Yes, darling?” He smiled at her.

“I need my hand back, so I can drink my tea. Please.”

“Of course.” He released her hand and sat back, sipping, completely at ease. “So…how was your Christmas?”

Don’t blush
, Caroline told herself furiously and managed by dint of sheer willpower to keep her color down. Oh God, she couldn’t possibly tell Sanders what her Christmas had been like. Even if she wanted to confide in him—which she most certainly did not—she had no idea if Jack wanted to trumpet their affair, or whatever it was they were having, from the rooftops. Telling Sanders was the equivalent of taking out an ad in the local newspaper.

What could she say? If she said she’d been with someone, he’d immediately want to know who. And she was an atrocious liar. What could she say that wasn’t a lie but didn’t convey the truth?

“It was…quiet,” she said finally.

He nodded, as if that was the answer he expected. “I didn’t call because I thought you might want to be alone over the holidays. I know that Christmases have always been hard for you. But you know, Caroline, the grieving process must come to an end. You’re still a young woman, and now Toby—well,
Toby has gone on to a better place, and you can start thinking of yourself. There are stages to grieving, you know…”

Caroline zoned out. It was a speech she’d heard thousands of times before from Sanders.

He was sitting directly under the overhead lamp, turning his perfectly styled hair a pure gold. He was definitely a handsome man, and he definitely knew it. Caroline watched him as he gave his little sermon, listening to one word out of ten.

The light also reflected off the top of his head. She peered a little, carefully disguising her interest. Was that his scalp she was seeing through the blond strands? Yes, that was definitely skin, not hair at his temples. His
receding
temples. Was Sanders going
bald
?

He wouldn’t like that. Caroline imagined that he was using every expensive hair-care product on earth and that eventually, if he trod the tragic path of male-pattern baldness, he’d have a transplant. Jenna was absolutely certain that he’d already had a little nip and tuck around the eyes, but however carefully Caroline looked, she couldn’t see any signs. But then, what would she know? She wasn’t exactly an expert.

“—what do you say? I think it would be fantastic, and I think it would cheer you up. I just know you’d have a wonderful time.”

He’d come to the end of his little spiel, and she hadn’t even listened. Oh hell, he’d said something that required an answer.
Yes
was definitely out, if she didn’t know what she was agreeing to. And
no
—well Sanders wasn’t too big on no’s.

She patted his hand and lied. “I’m so sorry, Sanders. I was listening for a deliveryman who is supposed to bring me the
new weekly arrivals. He’s new, so he doesn’t know how to park out back. I thought I heard his van outside, but it wasn’t him after all. However, I’m afraid I missed what you were saying. Would you mind repeating?”

His blond eyebrows drew together in annoyance and he gave a little sigh. “I
said
, I have tickets to
La Traviata
next Saturday in Seattle. Box seats. So I thought we might just make a weekend of it. I’ll clear my calendar Friday afternoon and you can close up early. I’ve booked us a room at the Fairmont Olympic. I know you love that hotel, and it’s been years since you’ve been there, right? We’ll just relax and have a good time. Be together. Then on Sunday, there are some people I’d like you to meet.” He put his hand over hers. “Be just like old times, eh?”

Caroline just stared at him. This was beyond alarming. He’d gone ahead and started up another round of their relationship without her! Except she had no intention of following along. She had bigger and better things to do.

“Sanders—you’ve already
booked
the room? That’s crazy! I can’t go to Seattle with you next weekend.”

His head reared back in surprise at her reaction. “But I’ve got the tickets! They were almost impossible to find. Caroline, read my lips.
La Traviata
. And the Fairmont. How can you say no?”

This was going way too far, even for him. “Sanders, do you mean to tell me that you bought expensive tickets to the opera and booked a room at the Fairmont and you didn’t think to ask me if I wanted to go?”

Sanders looked absolutely blank. “Well, why wouldn’t you want to go? I mean it’s not as if—”
It’s not as if you have anything better to do.

The words hung there in the room. Sanders’s mouth had snapped shut, which was a good thing because if he said one more word, she was going to smack him.

Well, enough was enough. Caroline stood and, startled, Sanders stood, too. “I’m sorry I can’t accept your invitation, Sanders.” Not that it had been an invitation. It had been more like a summons. “But I’m afraid I’m busy next weekend.” And the weekend after that, and the weekend after that. “And next time you want to invite a woman out, you might want to ask her first before making all the arrangements. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Wait! Caroline, wait.” He grabbed her by her upper arms. She looked at her arms and then up at him. “I’m sorry if that came out all wrong. Listen, I think we need to get our relationship back on an even footing. And I thought that a romantic getaway for a weekend would be a fabulous way to do that. Don’t you think so?” He smiled down at her, his usual charming smile that wasn’t working at all. “Come on, you know you’ve been having a hard time. I want to treat you to some luxury living. You know we’re meant to be together.”

Caroline tried to wrench herself away, but his grip was strong. He worked out a lot at the gym. “Sanders, I hate to break this to you, but we have no relationship. If anything, you’ve got a relationship with that brunette I saw you with last week.” Considering he’d had his hand up her skirt and his
tongue down her throat. Caroline had seen them outside a trendy Italian eatery, Patrizio’s, as she was driving home after a late night in the shop shelving new books.

“Oh-ho.” His face cleared. “You’re jealous. That’s it. Oh, sweetheart, I promise you, you have nothing to be jealous about. That woman doesn’t mean anything to me. You’re the one I care for. Always have. Always will. Now’s our time, Caroline. Finally.”

To her horror, he pulled her close and kissed her. It wasn’t a first-date kiss either. They’d been to bed together so he presumed he had the right to go for full-frontal, tongue-in-mouth kissing.

Caroline tried to pull away, but he was holding the back of her head, hard, his fingers twisted in her hair. He was hurting her. Clutching her so tightly to him, it felt like her ribs were cracking. And—horribly—he was grinding against her and she could feel the beginnings of an erection against her mound.

That galvanized her. She did
not
want to feel his penis against her. Ack. She started pushing against him in earnest, trying to tell him to cut it out, but his mouth absorbed her words. She ended up making mewling sounds of protest, beating her fists against his chest.