Carnal Innocence

chair facing the stone fireplace. Frowning, Caroline turned a circle, taking a curious scan of the walls of books, an excellent Georgia O’Keeffe, and a dainty Louis XV side table.
    And saw him behind a sturdy oak desk, bent over a pile of papers and books, with his fingers skimming casually—no, she realized—
skillfully
over the keyboard of a sleek little office computer.
    “Tucker?” There was a world of surprise in the single word. He answered with a grunt, typed in some more data, then glanced up. The distraction on his face cleared instantly.
    “Well, hey, Caroline. You’re the most welcome thing I’ve seen all day.”
    “What are you doing?”
    “Just running some figures.” He pushed back from the desk to stand, looking lean and lazy in a T-shirt and chinos. “Nothing that can’t wait. Why don’t we go on out on the back porch, sit, and watch the sun set?”
    “It won’t set for two hours or more.”
    He smiled. “I’ve got time.”
    She shook her head, evading him when he came around the desk to reach for her. Holding him off with one hand, she moved closer to the desk to see what he’d been up to.
    There were ledgers, printouts with columns of figures, invoices, receipts. Eyes narrowed, Caroline ran her finger over files.
    LAUNDROMAT, CHAT ’N CHEW, HARDWARE, GOOSENECK UNIT 1, ROOMING HOUSE, TRAILER PARK .
    There was a pile of paperwork about cotton—seed, pesticide, fertilizer, market prices, trucking companies. Another pile consisted of various prospectus folders and stock reports.
    Dragging a hand through her hair, Caroline stepped back. “You’re working.”
    “In a manner of speaking. Are you going to let me kiss you or not?”
    She only waved him off, trying to think it through. “Bookkeeping. You’re keeping books.”
    He grinned. “Honey, it’s against the law only if you keep two sets. Which my granddaddy did, successfully, for twenty-five years. So I guess it’s more accurate to say it’s against the law only if you get caught keeping two sets, which he never did and lived to his dying day as apillar of this community.” He sat on the-edge of the desk. “If you don’t want to sit on the porch and neck awhile, what can I do for you?”
    “You use a computer.”
    “Well now, I admit I was prejudiced about it at first. But these damn little things save buckets of time once you get the hang of them. I’m all for that.”
    “Do you do all of this?”
    “All of what?”
    “This!” Frustrated, she grabbed up a pile of papers and shook them at him. “Do you keep all these records, these books? Do you run all of these businesses?”
    He stroked a hand over his chin thoughtfully. Then he punched a few buttons, and the monitor winked off. “Mostly they run themselves. I just add the figures.”
    “You’re a fraud.” She slapped the papers down again. “All that lazy-southern-wastrel routine—I’d rather sleep than sit. It’s just a front!”
    “What you see is what there is,” he corrected her, amused by the way she was pacing around the room. “It just seems to me that you have a different definition of lazy up north than we do down here. Down here we call it relaxed.” He gave her a pained look. “Honey, I sure wish you’d learn to relax. The way you stir up the air in here is tiring me out.”
    “Every time I think I’ve got a handle on you, you shift. Like a virus.” She turned back. “You’re a
businessman”
    “I don’t think that description suits me, Caro. Now, when I think of a businessman, I think of somebody like that Donald Trump or Lee Iacocca. All those fancy suits, messy divorces, and bleeding ulcers. Of course, there’s Jed Larsson, and he wears a suit only on Sunday as a rule, been married to his Jolette as long as I can remember. But he does suffer from some bad heartburn.”
    “You’re changing the subject.”
    “No, I was getting around to it. You could say I oversee some ventures now and again. And since I have a gift for figures, it doesn’t take much effort.”
    She dropped down on the love seat and scowled at him. “You’re not wasting your life.”
    “I always figured I was enjoying it.” He walked over to join her. “But if it’ll make you happy, I could give wasting it a try.”
    “Oh, just shut up a minute. I’m trying to think.” She folded her arms across her chest. Hapless? she thought. Wasn’t that what Lulu had called him? What a joke. The man knew exactly what he was doing, and he’d obviously been