Carnal Innocence

mention it.” He had an amusing little fantasy about licking Strawberry Surprise off some interesting parts of her anatomy. “You going to bring it up here?”
    “That was my plan.” After indulging in another kiss, she slid out of bed to root in the closet for her robe. “One scoop or two?”
    His teeth flashed as she crossed the robe over her breasts. “I’m a two-scoop man myself. Want some help?”
    “I think I can manage.”
    “Good.” He tucked his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. Caroline walked out, certain he’d take advantage of the lull with a nap.
    In the kitchen she scooped up ice cream by lamplight. It occurred to her that this was a moment that would cling in her memory. The sultry kitchen, the smell of rain and lamp oil, the strong, healthy afterglow of loving. Spooning up ice cream to be eaten in bed.
    She was humming to herself as she carried the bowls back down the hall. Even the shrill interruption of the phone couldn’t dampen her mood. She set down one bowl and, cocking the receiver between her shoulder and ear, dug into the other with her spoon.
    “Hello.”
    “Caroline. Thank goodness.”
    The spoon stopped on its way to her lips. Caroline dropped it back in the bowl and put the bowl on the table. Apparently there was one thing that could dampen her mood. Her mother’s voice.
    “Hello, Mother.”
    “I’ve been trying to reach you for over an hour. They had trouble with the lines. Which is no surprise, considering the kind of service down there.”
    “We had a storm. How are you? And Dad?”
    “We’re both fine. Your father’s on a quick trip to New York, but I had several engagements and couldn’t accompany him.”
    Georgia Waverly spoke quickly, without a trace ofthe delta she’d worked so hard to rid from her voice and her heart.
    “It’s you I’m worried about.” she continued, and Caroline could imagine her at her rosewood desk in the immaculate and tasteful sitting room, checking off her daughter’s name on one of her innumerable lists.
    Order flowers. Attend charity luncheon. Worry about Caroline.
    The image brought a nasty tug of guilt.
    “There’s nothing to worry about.”
    “Nothing! I was attending a dinner party at the Fulbrights this evening, and I had to hear from Carter that my daughter was attacked!”
    “I wasn’t hurt,” Caroline said quickly.
    “I know that,” Georgia snapped back, testy at the interruption. “Carter explained everything, which is more than you bothered to do. I told you all along you had no business going down there, but you refused to listen. Now I’m told—and by the way, I don’t appreciate hearing about all of this over my soup!—that you’re embroiled in some kind of murder investigation.”
    “I’m sorry.” Caroline closed her eyes. Apologies became the bill of fare when she dealt with her mother. “It all happened so fast. And it’s over.”
    A movement on the stairs had her glancing up. She saw Tucker and wearily turned away.
    “Carter made it quite clear that’s simply not true. You know he owns the local NBC affliliate here in Philadelphia. He said the story was already running, and that several news crews were flying down to cover it at the scene. Naturally, when your name was leaked, it became hot news.”
    “Oh, Christ.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “Nothing.” She passed a hand through her hair. Be reasonable, she warned herself. Somehow she had to be reasonable. “I am sorry you heard about this from someone else. And I know the publicity will annoy you. I can’t help the press, Mother, any more than I can help the reason for it. I’m sorry if this upsets you.”
    “Of course it upsets me. Wasn’t it bad enough thatwe had to play down the scandal of you being hospitalized, dropping your summer schedule, your public estrangement from Luis?”
    “Yes,” Caroline said dryly. “That must have been very difficult for you. It was inconsiderate of me to collapse that way.”
    “Don’t use that tone with me. If you hadn’t let yourself become overwrought about a minor disagreement with Luis, none of it would have happened. And now this business of going down there, burying yourself in that place—”
    “I’m not buried.”
    “Wasting your talent.” Georgia plowed over Caroline’s protests like a blade through soft dirt. “Humiliating yourself and your family. Do you think I’ve had a single restful night knowing you’re there, alone, unprotected?”
    Caroline began to