Various States of Undress (23 page)

Carolina shrugged. “The White House can be surprisingly boring, actually. Right, Jake?”

He shifted his feet. “That depends on what’s happening.”

“Yes, but isn’t guarding a member of the First Family generally boring?” Carolina folded her hands on the kitchen counter and gave him a brilliant smile.

Jake stared at her and was saved from answering by Charlie Carpenter, who walked in the cabin, shut the door and immediately keyed in the alarm code. After stomping his snow boots on the rug, he nodded around.

“Hello, Baxter. Hello, Miss Fulton.”

“Call me Carolina.”

Carpenter nodded again. “It would be my pleasure, Miss Fulton.”

Jake nearly groaned. The guy could be his twin, from the giant ski coat to the tone of voice. What an idiot. Well, not really. Charlie wasn’t an idiot, he was just . . . dedicated. Jake was the true idiot here. He knew it, and Carolina damn sure knew it. And the worst part—there was no time to fix it because the chopper was waiting. Not that anything could be fixed, anyway.

Evans coughed to hide a laugh. “So what are you going to do with two weeks off, Baxter?”

“Two weeks off?” Jake frowned at her and then he remembered. He
did
have two weeks off, since he had just spent two weeks on twenty-four hour duty. Like it mattered now. He had no clue what to do except drown himself in work. But it wouldn’t be allowed—time off was mandatory, and after that he’d either be in New York City with Virginia, or on a college campus with Georgia. He didn’t care which, because his heart would be with Carolina. “Uh . . . I’ll figure something out.”

He glanced at Carolina again, forcing his eyes away quickly. If he lingered at all, there would be no way to hide what he was feeling. There would be no way to hide the heartbreaking anguish—and the words that were running like a mantra through his head.

I love you. Please forgive me. I love you.

What she’d done, sending him into a tailspin of rage, she’d done out of love . . . and he hadn’t been able to swallow his petty anger to see that. Time had been almost out, and he’d thrown the rest of that precious time away by sulking alone. He’d thrown her love for him right back in her face. Because she
did
love him—he knew that just like he knew every inch of her body, all the moods that played across her beautiful face, and he knew all of that—all that he’d immersed himself in, was gone.

He had to leave her. He couldn’t protect her anymore.

A surge of panic rooted his feet to the floor and he glanced at her again. She was looking at her hands.

“Pilot’s waiting, Jake.” Evans unzipped her parka and smiled at him. “You have your gear?”

Jake nodded, and forcing his feet forward, he walked over to the sofa and picked up his duffel. With a lightning-fast glance around the cabin, he walked back to the front door. As he went, the panicked feeling overtook him and before he could stop himself, he turned around again.

“Carolina?”

“Yes, Jake?”

“Thank you for . . . opening your home to me.”

She smiled, and her hands fell away from the counter to rest stiffly by her sides. “Thank you for your service.”

Jake allowed himself another second to look at her and then jerked his head toward Evans and Carpenter. “Take care of her.”

“Affirmative,” Carpenter answered.

Hoisting his duffel, Jake keyed in the alarm code, put on his gloves, and opened the door.

He walked outside into the bitter cold once more.

Chapter Fourteen

L
ATE THE FOLLOWING
morning with Courtney by her side, Carolina trudged through the snow. She shivered, feeling the cold bone-deep for the first time since she’d been back in Wyoming. It couldn’t be any colder than it had been yesterday. The sun was brilliant—so bright that her swollen eyelids were slits and she kept her gaze trained down at her own shadow, which bobbed in front of her as she walked.

“How long are you planning on staying at Regina’s this morning?” Courtney asked.

Carolina summoned up her pleasant voice. “Oh, a couple of hours, I guess. And then we can have some lunch there if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Courtney let out a cloud of breath. “I like her house. Comfy couches.”

“When were you in her house?” Carolina glanced up and the sun burned her eyes like a laser. She groaned, looking back down.

“I did a check of it earlier this morning.”

“Oh.” Carolina paused, as tears threatened to close her throat. She coughed, trying to keep the thickness from her voice. “How were you able to leave me to do a check?”

“You have two agents again, remember? One of us is free to do go-ahead security checks, so things are back to normal.”

“Normal,” Carolina repeated. She didn’t feel a bit normal. She felt like roadkill—roadkill that had been left on the road to get run over and over and over. And despite that feeling of being deader than dead, she felt the lack of Jake’s presence so acutely that her whole body ached.

“You okay, Carolina?” Courtney asked softly.

Oh, God. Why did Courtney have to ask? Anyone who asked that question in that tone of voice already knew the answer.

Carolina sighed, the sound dry and wheezy. “No. I’m not okay, but we all have our bad days, don’t we?”

“If you don’t mind me saying so, I thought what Roger did to you was awful. He’s a real snake.” Courtney sniffed. “Now, I won’t say another word about it . . . but I wanted you to know.”

“Thanks.” Carolina held back a harsh laugh. She hadn’t even thought about Roger in days. In hindsight, her relationship with him hadn’t even
been
a relationship. It had been a joke. She hadn’t felt anything compared to the way she felt with Jake.

Jake.

Her throat closed up again and she increased her pace, walked the last few yards to Regina’s cabin and began stomping her boots on the mat. She stomped so hard that her teeth rattled, and then she pulled a glove off to knock, but the door swung open and she was eyeball to eyeball with Regina, who peered at her closely. All of a sudden, the tears that Carolina had held in check for the past hour flooded her eyes.

“Good Lord,” Regina muttered. She grabbed Carolina’s arm and pulled her inside. “Go up to the greenhouse. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Carolina darted up the stairs, pulling her coat off as she went. She made it as far as Regina’s sleeping loft before her shoulders began to shake, and giving up, she slid down onto the floor on the opposite side of the bed and gave in to silent sobs. Her heart was shredded. Her head was pounding and all she wanted to do was sleep. But sleep wouldn’t come.

Downstairs, Regina kept up a constant stream of chatter, and Courtney—who was usually talkative herself—replied in monosyllables. Carolina just cried.

“Agent Evans, you said you were from Jackson.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Are you related to the Evans who owns the dental practice on West Broadway?”

“That’s my dad.”

“I thought so. His office is two blocks from my gallery.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Agent Evans, are you scared of me?”

There was silence for a moment and Carolina raised her head, listening.

“Well . . .” Courtney said carefully, “My mom told me about you.”

“She did, did she?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Regina let out a barking laugh. “Well, let’s hear it then. This ought to be good.”

Courtney might have groaned, and despite her tears, Carolina allowed her lips to curve into a smile. It
ought
to be good? Yeah. Any story about Regina was definitely good.

“Um . . . so a couple of years ago, my mom was monitoring this blood drive at the high school gym.”

Regina snickered. “Oh, yes. I remember that.”

“And . . . um, after you gave blood, apparently you whipped out a camera and started taking photos of people getting their arms stuck.”

Gross.
Carolina winced. Then she chuckled softly.

Courtney went on. “She asked you to stop repeatedly, but you said—”

“I told her that I was just capturing the faces of giving. It was the theme of my gallery showing that month. I still don’t see what’s wrong with that.”

“Well . . . my mom said it was creepy to take photos like that. Especially of that one guy who fainted.”

“Ooh, that was the best series of photos out of the whole lot,” Regina crowed.

“My mom asked you to leave, but you refused. And then she had to chase you around the juice table and you said—”

“I told her to stuff the stale cookies where the sun don’t shine. She was inhibiting my freedom to create art. She had no right to kick me out of the gym.”

Carolina shook her head.

“But . . .” Courtney said hesitantly, “She’s the principal. And she said that you were acting kind of erratic. She was really close to calling the cops.”

“Give me a break. I’d just given blood and I think I had reason to be loopy. That’s when I take my best photos.”

“When you’ve had blood loss?” Courtney didn’t sound as if she believed a word.

“On the rare occasion, I guess so. But you have to be relaxed . . .
loose
. . . to take great photos. You have to be in the moment, and grab opportunity when it presents itself. Don’t let it slip away.” She raised her voice. “Carolina knows that.”

Carolina closed her eyes.

“I prefer to plan things,” Courtney said.

“You would, wouldn’t you?” Regina sighed. “Well, we all have to use our talents the most natural way we can.” She paused. “You all set down here? There’s a stack of magazines over by the sofa. TV remote is on the coffee table.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Carolina heard the squeak of the steps as Regina began to climb them. Quickly dashing tears from her cheeks, she got up from the floor and smoothed the front of her top. She took a couple of deep breaths and turned, smiling, just as Regina hauled herself up the last step.

“Uh, uh,” Regina said. She walked past Carolina and opened the door to the greenhouse. “I don’t believe that face for a second. Come on, then.”

Carolina followed her inside. “It’s so nice and warm here.”

“Drop the First Daughter act,” Regina commanded. She shut the door and took Carolina’s arm, leading her to a bench in the middle of the room. “Now tell me what happened.”

Carolina didn’t speak.

“You can cry if you want to,” Regina prompted.

“Actually . . . I think I’m finished crying.”

“Does that mean you’ve given up?”

“I . . .”

Had she given up? She hadn’t even had time to think about it, since she hadn’t been able to get past the giant ball of pain that had overtaken her awareness. Give up on Jake? She didn’t want to, but how could she not?

“There are all kinds of reasons why I should,” Carolina said finally.

Regina picked up a plant sprayer and went to work. “Yeah? Like what?”

“Like, how would it look for a daughter of the president to go chasing after her Secret Service agent? Right after she broke off her engagement to a
different
man?”

“There is that,” Regina agreed.

“And why should I chase Jake?” Carolina stood up. “He’s the one who’s supposed to be looking out for
me
. He’s the one who rescues
me
.”

“You need rescuing? From what?”

“I . . .”

Carolina didn’t know.

All she knew were those layers of anguish, each one more horrible than the one on top of it. Jake’s unbending stubbornness. Jake’s indifference to her attempts to help him. Jake’s anger when she took matters into her own hands. And finally, Jake’s complete and utter rejection. Of her.

There was nothing he could—or would—do to rescue her from that. She would have to do it herself.

“I don’t need him to rescue me,” she said finally.

“And he doesn’t need you to rescue
him
,” Regina said.

“I guess not.”

Jake could take care of himself, which he’d proved over and over again. So why had she spent so much time trying to rescue him? Was it some kind of a reaction to having just rescued herself from a bleak future with Roger? Some kind of righteous affirmation? A self-fulfilling prophecy of a happy life? In part. Plus, she’d fallen in love with Jake, and she knew he’d fallen in love with her, which wasn’t easy for either of them. But she refused to feel guilty about it.

“I want him.”

Regina set the plant sprayer on the ground and sat, pulling Carolina back onto the bench. “Then there’s only one thing left.”

“Broken hearts?”

“No, dummy. Love. And you don’t need anything else but that.”

Carolina glanced at her. “You do realize how simplistic that sounds.”

“True love
is
simple.” Regina winked. “I’m beginning to think you are too.”

“Oh shut up, old woman.” Carolina shoved lightly at Regina’s shoulder.

Regina clucked her tongue. “If your mother could hear you talk.”

“She’d agree with me.”

“Probably, yes.” Regina slapped her hands on her thin thighs. “Now, show me your photos. I have an idea.”

“Oh . . . I forgot my laptop.” Carolina groaned. Then she gave Regina a wary look. “What idea?”

“Depends on your photos. I’ll tell you what. Just close your eyes and describe some of them to me.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” Regina shut her eyes. “Go ahead.”

Carolina did the same, and the first image that popped into her mind was the photo of Jake she’d taken at dawn one morning. He’d been taken off-guard, looking over his shoulder. A small smile curved his lips up and the rising sun formed a glow behind his closely cropped hair.

“What do you see?” Regina asked quietly.

Carolina told her.

And then, as if she was looking through a viewfinder, she found herself describing a dozen other photos of Jake she’d taken outside the cabin. She switched to inside photos, and described some of those, her throat thickening. When she began to cry, she didn’t try to stop herself. Tears leaked out of her closed eyelids and her voice was strained and clogged. She kept talking.

When there were no more cabin photos in her memory, she called up the photos she’d taken inside the White House: Jake standing guard in the East Room in his sharp suit; Jake walking across the South Lawn, devastatingly handsome in his sunglasses; Jake sitting next to her in the SUV, his head tilted slightly, listening to his earpiece; Jake walking down the long hallway in her apartment building, his back straight as an arrow.