Chapter 14 #2
He had his own set of lock picks in his duffel bag, though he thought it best not to mention that.
She was spooked enough as it was. “We’re trained to pick locks in the Army, so I know what a picked lock looks like.
And the first thing a soldier does is establish a secure perimeter and be aware of what’s inside that perimeter.
I notice these things because I was trained to.
Just about the first thing I noticed when I got here was that you have the flimsiest locks I’ve ever seen.
A child could get through them, let alone a half-competent burglar. ”
Her eyes widened and a little color came into her cheeks. “Well, I’m sorry if my locks aren’t up to par, but it’s what I have, so deal with it.”
She was angry. Great. He loved seeing that lost, pale expression chased from her face. “Tomorrow, first thing, I’m getting a decent security system in place. Maybe a Pressley or a—”
“Whoa, Jack.” There were red flags now on her cheeks.
She held up her hands in a time-out sign.
“I’m sorry, I realize that you’re security conscious, but I simply can’t afford a security system, not the kind with electronic codes and alarmed windows and doors.
I’m not entirely certain I could afford new locks for all the doors.
So that is something that is simply going to have to wait. ”
Something clenched in his chest. “I’m not expecting you to pay for it, Caroline. I’m perfectly willing to buy the system. And I could probably get a good professional discount if I use my father’s former company’s name.”
“I can’t accept that.” She shook her head, her beautiful mouth set in a stubborn line.
“I can’t afford to knock it off the rent and I certainly can’t accept an expensive security system from you.
So, I’m sorry but the new security system won’t be coming any time soon.
We’ll just have to hope that the burglars don’t come back.
Maybe there’s this burglar underworld and the word has spread that there is nothing at all to steal at Greenbriar except for some mismatched silver, odd porcelain plates and my mother’s watercolors. ”
Jack wished he could fast forward to the next few weeks, or however long it took for them to become engaged, so that this nonsense about not accepting money from him could stop.
Instead, he ran the back of his forefinger along her neck, down to the delicate collarbones.
She’d taken her coat off when she went upstairs to check on the safe—which was in her bedroom, he’d bet his left nut on it.
Under the coat, she had a pretty turquoise V-neck sweater that turned her eyes a brilliant blue.
He watched her for a moment, running his finger under the collar of the sweater, loving the feel of her skin, like warm satin. “Do you know what I’d love to do?”
She shook her head.
He lowered his voice to a whisper as he lowered his eyes to her neck. “I would love to buy you a pearl necklace. The perfect pearl necklace. Your skin is made for pearls. I’d buy the slightly rosy colored kind, I’m sure there’s a name for that—”
“Overtone.” She was smiling slightly.
“Pink overtone, then. I’d buy you strands of them, you’d look so beautiful, and it would give me so much pleasure. But you know what?”
Caroline shook her head again, watching his eyes.
“I’m betting that you already have a pearl necklace. Am I right?”
“Several. And very beautiful ones. They belonged to my mother.”
“Uh huh. My point exactly. I’ll bet your father just loved buying them for your mother. You said he liked spoiling her. I can just imagine how much enjoyment he got out of his wife looking so beautiful in pearls he’d chosen for her.”
The memory of something made Caroline smile.
This was working. Jack wasn’t used to convincing anyone to do something by coaxing.
In the army you gave orders and they were obeyed.
This was an entirely new field for him. He was going to have to get good at this skill, fast. Caroline had her own ideas about things and she was no pushover.
“Well, the thing is this. Much as I’d love to buy you a pearl necklace, I know fu—damn all about the things.
I’d get the wrong kind or the wrong size or the wrong number or something.
Botch it up somehow. Just thinking about walking into a jewelry store makes me break out in a sweat.
Pearl necklaces have not figured much in my life up to this point and in all my training, they never came up once, so I’d be treading in very unfamiliar waters.
But if there’s one thing I do know, it’s security.
And you would be doing me an enormous favor in letting me set up your security system for you because it would save me going out of my freaking mind with worry that a burglar can just waltz in here, only next time he might have a knife or a gun and catch you alone and hurt you if I’m not here.
So could you consider it the equivalent of a pearl necklace from a suitor? And a huge personal favor to me?”
His hand was warming her skin up, releasing that faint scent of roses that always went straight to his dick.
Jack wanted nothing more than to carry her upstairs, lay her on her bed, get on top of her, get in her, just as soon as was humanly possible.
But she was upset. First that fucker McCullin and then her house being broken into—he needed to get her fed and relaxed before they could fuck.
No. Before they could make love.
Wow. It was the first time he’d ever called it that in his head. It was also the first time he’d wanted a willing woman and decided to put sex off because she might not be psychologically ready.
“I hate it that someone was in my house, going through my things,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said simply.
“And you’ll set up a system no one can get through?”
He’d set up a system not even he could get through. He nodded.
“Well, I guess you convinced me.” Caroline took in a deep breath and Jack heroically kept his eyes on her face, though he had excellent peripheral vision and could see her breasts swelling a little under the sweater.
“I’ll accept your gift with thanks and I guess I’ll give you a little gift in return. Dinner.”
She raised herself up on tiptoe to kiss him awkwardly on the side of his mouth. Jack was so surprised, he simply stood there like a dork. By the time he thought to kiss her back, she’d disappeared into the kitchen.
He stood there for a long time, listening to her rattle pans and run water in the kitchen, remembering the sharp burst of feeling in his chest when she’d kissed him.
He rubbed his hand over his chest, where it hurt.
Sanders sat behind his desk, teeth grinding.
He’d combed his hair and straightened his clothes in his car before coming back to his office, but there must have been something else visible enough to set off alarms—the rage coming off him like steam, maybe—because his secretary had given him a startled look as he strode by.
Caroline was lost. Doubly lost. It was true, maybe he shouldn’t have pushed her so hard.
But damn, walking into her shop, he’d been taken by a sudden surge of lust. He’d forgotten how beautiful she was, how perfect for him.
So when she stood there, in her dinky little one-room bookshop that probably barely paid the rent and told him—him!
—that no, she didn’t want to go to the most fabulous hotel in Washington State and no she didn’t want box tickets to the opera, he’d lost it.
Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed it, but goddammit, when she said no, something snapped.
Caroline had never been great in the sack, but when she fought him, he could feel her fire and it excited him. He shouldn’t have pushed it as hard as he did, but damn, he’d been turned on.
And then it turned out that Caroline wasn’t free after all. She was fucking someone else and that someone else was territorial and violent.
In all these years, Sanders had taken it for granted that when he finally decided to settle down, it would be with Caroline, and she would fall into his arms with gratitude. After all, he was offering to give her back the life she’d been born to and had lost with her parents’ death.
He’d always expected that she’d be free for him. But she’d hooked up with that son of a bitch who’d nearly broken his arm, and now she wasn’t free any more.
Something would have to be done and soon. Now that he’d made up his mind about Caroline, he wasn’t going to let some violent asshole dressed like a bum steal his woman.
The intercom buzzed. “Mr. McCullin you have a visitor.”
Sanders pushed the button. “I don’t want to see anyone, Lori. Hold off all calls this afternoon.”
“Ah…Mr. McCullin, you might want to see … this person. Wait!” her voice squawked through the speaker. “You can’t go in there without permission! Hey, mister—”
The door to Sanders’ office opened and a man walked in, holding out a badge at chest height. Not too tall, sandy hair, black horn rim glasses, cheap shiny black suit. “Mr. McCullin? Mr. Sanders McCullin?”
Sanders couldn’t make the badge out. “Yes. Yes, I am. As I told my secretary to tell you, however, I’m very busy this after—”
“Mr. McCullin, my name is Darrell Butler. Special Agent Darrell Butler, of the New York FBI office. I understand you know a certain Ms. Caroline Lake. We’re making inquiries about a man she’s seeing, who is currently going by the name of Jack Prescott.
He is a very dangerous criminal. We have reason to believe that this man has committed war crimes and that he has stolen a fortune in diamonds in Africa. ”
Sanders sat back down, staring at the man, feeling hope unfurl in his chest once again. “Please,” he said to the FBI agent. “Have a seat.”