Carnal Innocence

me, honey.” He waited until she turned her head. Her pupils were so dilated, the irises were hardly more than a green aura around them. “I’m going to take you upstairs. Come on now, I’ll carry you up and call the doctor.”
    “No.” She let out a long breath as Useless licked her chin. “I’m not going to be hysterical. I’m not going to fall apart. I fell apart in Toronto. All kinds of pieces. Not again.” She swallowed, pressing her cheek against the dog’s fur. “I was making corn bread. I’d never made corn bread before. Happy gave me her recipe, and I was going to take it over to Susie’s. It feels so good being a part of this place.” Useless licked away a tear that trickled down her cheek. “You see, I thought I was coming here just to be alone, but I didn’t know how much I needed to be a part of something.”
    “It’s going to be all right,” he said helplessly. “I promise it’s going to be all right.”
    “I was making corn bread in my grandmother’s oven. And I shot Austin Hatinger with my grandfather’s gun. Do you think that’s strange?”
    “Caroline.” He cupped her face. She could see the streaks of violence and fury in his eyes that he so carefully filtered out of his voice. “I’m just going to hold you for a while, is that all right?”
    “All right.”
    She let her head rest on his shoulder when he picked her up. Saying nothing, he carried both her and the pup to the couch and cradled them there. They both ignored the phone when it rang.
    “I’m going to stay here tonight,” he told her. “Down here on the couch.”
    “I’m not falling apart, Tucker.”
    “I know, darlin’.”
    She let out a sigh. “The oven timer’s still buzzing.” She bit her lip to try to steady her voice. “I guess I burned the corn bread.”
    She turned her face into his shoulder and wept.

c·h·a·p·t·e·r 19
    C aroline came downstairs feeling hollowed-out by the aftereffects of shock and sleeping pills. She had no idea what time it was, only that the sun was strong and her house was quiet as a tomb.
    It was already sultry. Even the thin cotton robe seemed too heavy and hot against her skin. She thought she’d take her coffee iced—in her car. With the air-conditioning running. She’d killed a man.
    That single raw fact had her stopping at the base of the stairs, her fist pressed against her heart like a runner catching her wind after a punishing sprint. And like a runner’s, her legs went rubbery so that she sat on the landing, propping her head in her hands.
    She had pumped two bullets into flesh, exchanging her life for another’s. Oh, she knew it was a matter of self-defense. Even without Burke’s gentle questions and quiet support, she knew that. Some circuit in Austin Hatinger’s brain had snapped and caused him to turn on her.
    But circumstances didn’t change the result. She’d taken a life. She, whose most violent act had beenthrowing a champagne flute against the wall in the Hilton Hotel in Baltimore, had ripped two .45 slugs into a man she’d never even had a conversation with.
    It was a big leap, she thought, rubbing her hands over her face. And maybe her legs were a little shaky after landing, but she’d discovered something else about herself.
    She could live with it.
    She would not search for a way to put the blame on herself. She would not agonize over how she could have avoided, prevented, or changed the outcome. That was the old Caroline’s weakness, that delusion of self-importance that had made her believe she had the right, the responsibility, the
power
to bear all burdens— whether it was a performance, her mother’s needs, a lover’s deceit. Or a madman’s violent death.
    No, Caroline Waverly was not going to listen to that sneaky little voice that crept inside her brain to whisper about blame and fault and mistakes.
    She rose, turning toward the kitchen before the scratching at the front door had her heart doing a cartwheel. Even as the scream tickled the back of her throat, she recognized Useless’s whimpering. The scream died to a puff of air as she stepped forward to open the door.
    Fevered with gratitude, the dog rushed in to make desperate jumps around her, his tail slicing the air in his delight and relief.
    “What were you doing out there?” She bent to scratch his ears and accept his loyal licks of affection. “How’d you get outside?”
    He yipped, scrambling around her legs, feet skidding in a search for traction on the