Carnal Innocence

popped off the couch as though Tucker’s voice had flicked a lever. “And breakfast. I owe you breakfast.”
    He studied her, the way she gnawed on her bottom lip, the way her eyes, shadowed with strain, kept slipping over his shoulder. “If that’s the way you want it. Mind if I grab a shower?”
    “No, go ahead.” She wasn’t sure if her sigh was one of relief or disappointment, and covered it over with a flow of words. “Upstairs, second door on the right.There are fresh towels on the shelf. The water takes a while to heat up.”
    “I’m not in a hurry,” he told her, and strolled out of the room.
    Washing with her soap put him in a better frame of mind. Using her toothbrush—he couldn’t find a spare— left a lingering taste of her in his mouth.
    Physical things. It was much more comfortable to concentrate on physical things. He’d had no business brooding over the deeper meaning of a nice, no-strings session of morning sex.
    He’d shrugged his shirt over his shoulders by the time he reached the bottom landing. He caught the scents of coffee and bacon. Everyday aromas that shouldn’t have had him quivering for her. He was scowling down the hallway toward the kitchen when he heard the sound of a car in the lane.
    Shirt open, thumbs tucked in his pockets, he walked to the screen and watched Special Agent Matthew Burns park. They studied each other, one black-suited and silk-tied, the other unshaven and barely dressed. Animosity leapt up like a large rabid dog.
    Tucker shoved open the screen door and leaned on it. “Early for visiting, isn’t it?”
    Burns locked his car door, pocketed the keys. “Official business.” He scanned Tucker’s bare chest and damp hair. The homey breakfast scents drifting outside had him thinning his lips. “The interruption is quite necessary.”
    “You’re too later to interrupt,” Tucker said placidly. “What can we do for you?”
    “You take a lot of pride in this, don’t you, Long-street?”
    Tucker lifted a brow. “In what?”
    “In your southern-fried womanizing.”
    “Is that why you’re here? Looking for pointers?” His smile wasn’t charming this time, but wolfish. “If that’s the case, it’s going to take a while. You need a lot of work, Burns.”
    Burns’s jaw clenched. The simple fact that a woman like Caroline preferred Tucker over him burned in his gut like an ulcer. “I find your … style. I suppose we’ll call it, pathetic.”
    “If that was an insult, you’re off target. I’m not looking to impress you.”
    “No, helpless females are more your style.”
    “You know”—Tucker rubbed a hand over the stubble of his chin—“I’ve never once in my life met a female I’d consider helpless. Caroline’s not, that’s for damn sure. Right now she might be a little shaky. She might need somebody to lean on until she gets her feet back under her again. She’s got me as long as she wants. You’d better understand that.”
    “What I understand is that you have no compunction about using a woman’s vulnerabilities to your own end. You’re a user, Longstreet, and you’ve got the emotional maturity of a mushroom. Edda Lou Hatinger was just the last in a long line of your discards. As for Caroline—”
    “Caroline can speak for herself.” She stepped forward, laying a hand on Tucker’s arm. Whether it was in support or restraint, none of them could tell. “Do you need to talk to me, Matthew?”
    He struggled against a wave of black, unreasonable anger. She was wearing nothing but a robe, and the way she ranged herself beside Tucker spoke not only of preference, but of intimacy. It galled, destroying his elegant image of her. However brilliant her talent, however delicate her beauty, she had lowered herself to trollop by her choice.
    “I thought it would be more comfortable for you to give me your statement here, rather than coming into town.”
    “Yes, it would. I appreciate it.” She would have offered him coffee in the parlor, but she had no intention of leaving him and Tucker alone again. “If we could go back in the kitchen … I’ve just finished fixing breakfast.”
    “I’d intended to get Mr. Longstreet’s statement later,” Burns said stiffly.
    “Now you can save some time.” Caroline kept a wary watch on both of them as they walked down the hall. “Would you like some eggs, Matthew?”
    “Thank you, I’ve already eaten.” He took a seat at the table, as out of place in the country kitchen as a