Sweet Caroline's Keeper (14 page)

"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.

"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.

So why had she ever entertained the notion that she could love a man like Wolfe, a man who made his living protecting people from violence and thereby living
violendy
himself? He carried a weapon and knew how to use it. She suspected that in his line of work he had shot someone, perhaps even killed someone. Wolfe had chosen his profession as she had chosen hers—and he was as good a bodyguard as she was a photographer. Despite his often gentle manner and the tenderness with which he touched her, he was a man capable of physical violence.

"Caroline?" Wolfe said her name softy, against her ear.

She shuddered. In her peripheral vision she caught a glimpse of him, alarmingly attractive in his black tuxedo. Standing at her side, his hand cupping her elbow, Wolfe suddenly seemed as threatening as an unknown assailant lying in wait.

"Caroline, are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine." She breathed deeply, willing herself not to respond to him in a physical way. Don't look at him, she told herself. If she allowed herself to care about this man, then he
would
be as dangerous to her as a killer. Loving a man like Wolfe would destroy her. "Let's find Oliver and Eileen. I want to thank them for hosting this party to help Fletch raise money for his campaign next year. After doing that, we can leave."

"You don't want to go through the buffet line?" Wolfe asked.

"No. I'm afraid I don't have much appetite." When she moved, he moved with her, staying in step as she led him through a throng of chatting people.

"You're upset about what happened with that idiot drunk, aren't you? He didn't hurt you. I prevented him from—"

"Yes, I know what you did."

He slid his hand from her elbow to her waist before she realized what he was doing, his action immediately halting her search for their hosts. "I did my job,
dammit
." He kept his voice low so that only she could hear him, but he might as well have shouted at her, so powerful was his statement.

"Let's not argue," she said. "Not here. Not now."

She could sense the frustration, the barely controlled anger within him. The evidence showed on his face, in the tightening of his muscles and in the agitation in his cold green eyes. She held her breath and waited, then began to breathe again when he released his tenacious hold on her.

Across the room, standing by an older, rather attractive man she thought she recognized but couldn't quite place, was Eileen Harper. Eileen Wendell Harper, the wealthy heiress whose family had been New England bankers for the past two centuries. Eileen was tall, elegantly slender and youthfully vibrant for a woman of sixty who had survived breast cancer this past year. Caroline had always envied Brooke because she and her mother shared such a loving relationship.

As Caroline led Wolfe closer to her objective, she felt an odd reluctance in him, a strange tension that made her wonder what was going on inside that mysterious mind of his. Eileen saw Caroline and smiled. The white-haired man standing next to her paused in their conversation to seek out the person who had captured his hostess's attention. When she approached, Eileen reached out, grasped Caroline's hand and pulled her closer.

After planting a light kiss on Caroline's cheek, Eileen said, "Dear girl, how simply delightful to see you." Eileen then glanced at Wolfe. "This must be your. . .
er
. . .Mr. Wolfe of whom Brooke has spoken."

Wolfe nodded but didn't reply verbally. Caroline noticed that Wolfe glanced from Eileen to the man at her side.

"Yes, this is Wolfe," Caroline finally said when it became apparent that Wolfe had no intention of saying anything.

Eileen slipped her arm through the arm of the tall, well-built man beside her. "Caroline, do you remember Ellison Penn? He's the president of Peacekeepers International, and knew your stepfather quite well. El was at Harvard when Oliver was there and we've known him for years."

The man whom Eileen referred to quite intimately as El greeted Caroline with a placid smile and a firm handshake. "Hello, Caroline. I don't think you and I have seen each other since Preston's funeral. You've grown up to be a lovely young lady, and from what I understand quite a successful photographer."

When she shook Ellison Penn's hand, she smiled warmly and wondered why her stepfather's former superior at Peacekeepers would even remember her, let alone know any details about her life. She certainly didn't remember him from the funeral. Of course, she had been sedated that day.

"Hello, Mr. Penn," Caroline said. "It's nice to see you again after all these years." She turned to Wolfe. "May I introduce my friend, Mr. Wolfe."

The two men stared at each other for only a couple of seconds, but in that brief glance, Caroline noticed an odd expression on Wolfe's face. The two men shook hands and mumbled hellos.

"Here comes Oliver," Eileen said. "He will be so pleased that you've come to our little party. He was afraid you'd hide away there in St. Michaels, after those two perfectly horrible incidents." Eileen clasped Caroline's hand again. "My dear, I do wish you'd give up this quest to find whatever it is that key of Preston's unlocks. It seems to me that all that nasty
business should be left in the past. Dead and buried with poor Preston. If I were you, I'd throw that key in the trash."

Oliver Harper slid his arm around his wife's waist and bestowed a wide, gregarious smile on Caroline and her companion. She had always liked Oliver, even as a child. He had, in many ways, reminded her of Preston. Soft-spoken, gentlemanly and devoted to his family. She recalled several times when Brooke's father had treated them with an afternoon trip to the zoo or to a museum or even to a matinee at the theater. Besides being quite wealthy and extremely powerful, he was a handsome man, with graying brown hair and warm chestnut eyes.

"What's this about Preston's key?" Oliver asked. "Any new developments?"

Caroline glanced meaningfully at Ellison Penn, wondering just how much the Harpers had told him about the key she had found in Preston's hidden safe. Was it possible that Preston had discovered damaging information about his former boss or about the Peacekeepers organization and Mr. Penn was the person behind the attempts on her life? He certainly didn't look like a criminal. But maybe Wolfe was right. Maybe she did trust too easily.

"Oh, Caroline, you look simply mortified, my dear," Eileen said. "You mustn't be concerned because El knows about the key. He's totally trustworthy. And because of his former association with Preston, he's quite concerned about your welfare."

"Ms. McGuire, I want to assure you that Peacekeepers International is as interested as you are in finding out just what sort of information Preston might have kept hidden," Ellison said.
"
And if there is anything that our organization can do to help you—"

"As a matter of fact, there is," Wolfe said. A collective silence followed his unexpected statement. "I'd like to take a look at Preston Shaw's files. Would that be possible?" Wolfe didn't give a damn about Preston Shaw's files. He and
Ellison had gone over those files with a fine-tooth comb fifteen years ago. What he wanted—what he badly needed— was some sort of cover so that he could meet with Ellison now and perhaps again in the future without anyone being overly suspicious. The unimportant files were the best excuse he could think of.

"Well. . .
er
. . . Yes, I'm sure that could be arranged." Ellison looked straight at Caroline when he replied. "I can assure you, however, that there isn't anything in those files that might prove useful to you."

"What about tomorrow morning?" Wolfe asked. He needed this meeting with Ellison as soon as possible. His gut instinct was telling him that there was something Ellison hadn't told him about Preston Shaw, something that he needed to know. "I can be at your office by nine."

"The young man seems quite anxious." Oliver Harper's gaze rested directly on Wolfe.

"The sooner we discover what Ms. McGuire's key unlocks and reveal that information, the sooner she will be out of danger," Wolfe said.

"I agree." Ellison Penn nodded. "Although I doubt Preston's files will help you, I will make them available to you tomorrow." He lifted Eileen's hand and kissed it, then nodded to Oliver before turning his attention briefly back to Wolfe. "My personal assistant is here tonight. I
'll
find him now and arrange for him to bring Preston's files out of storage first thing in the morning and have anything that's been transferred to our computer system put on a disk for you."

"My goodness, Ellison, you're being very trusting, aren't you?" Eileen asked. "After all, what do you know about Mr. Wolfe, other than he's a reliable bodyguard?''

"I know a great deal about Mr. Wolfe," Ellison said, making quick yet consequential eye contact with Wolfe. "After all, I did have a thorough check done on him as a favor to your husband."

"You did?" Eileen tilted her regal head and stared at Oliver.

Oliver cleared his throat, then smiled at his wife. "I thought it best to find out all we could about the man guarding Caroline. And I must say
I
was quite impressed with his resume. Let me see if I can summarize in just a few succinct sentences. David Wolfe, thirty-six years old. No living relatives. Never married. No children. Dundee agent for less than two years. Before that a CIA agent who lived and worked in Europe, Asia and the Middle East for most of his career." Oliver looked boldly at Wolfe. "You have an exemplary record, Mr. Wolfe. You're almost too good to be true. But Ellison assured me that he dug quite deep and came up with nothing but the most impressive facts about you."