Carnal Innocence

relaxed her body, but when she tried reading, her mind kept drifting away from the words on paper. There was a television cleverly concealed in a cherrywood armoire, but none of the late night shows caught her interest or bored her enough to trick her brain into sleep.
    She couldn’t complain about the heat, not here in the lovely cool of her room at Sweetwater. And she was used to strange rooms and strange beds. The one she’d been given was as gracious as any she’d found in the fine hotels of Europe. The bed was delicately feminine with its draping canopy and lacy pillows piled high. If that didn’t seduce sleep, there was a plump daybed in mistyblue satin that angled toward the french doors and offered a view of moonlight.
    Vases of flowers fresh from the garden sweetened the air. Charming watercolors were scattered over the warm rose-tinted walls. A lady’s dressing table held elegant antique bottles that glistened in the lamplight. There was a small fireplace of blue stone that would provide warmth and comfort on chill winter nights. She could picture herself cuddled under thick handworked quilts on some windy February midnight, watching the flames crackle and shoot shadows up the walls.
    With Tucker.
    It seemed wrong to think of being nestled up against him, in absolute peace, when there was so much grief and heatbreak around them. Another woman was dead, and she lay alone in some cold, dark room while her family was left to weep and wonder.
    It had to be wrong to feel this soft glow of happiness, this insistent spring of hope when death hovered so close.
    But she was in love.
    Sighing, she curled on the window seat, where she could see the moonlight stream into the garden. The flowers were silver-edged and still, a touch of magic waiting to be plucked. Beyond, far beyond, was the glint of the pond that was Sweetwater. She couldn’t see the willows, and was glad. If that was hiding from pain, then for one night she would hide. For now it was only a beautiful spot laced by moonlight.
    And she was in love.
    It wasn’t possible to choose the time and the place to lose your heart. Caroline had come to believe it wasn’t possible to choose the person who would take it. Surely if she could have chosen, it wouldn’t have been here and now. It wouldn’t have been Tucker.
    It was a mistake to fall in love now, when she was just beginning to understand her own needs and capabilities. Now, when she had only begun to learn she could stand on her own, in charge of her life. It was foolish to fall in love here, in a place torn apart bytragedy and senseless violence, a place she would have to leave in a matter of weeks.
    It was ridiculous to fall in love with a man who had made a study of romance and seduction. A charmingly lazy womanizer. A murder suspect. A poetry-spouting wastrel.
    Hadn’t she told herself he was just another Luis with a southern twist? And that by falling for him, she was proving herself to be the kind of woman who always chooses poorly and lives to regret the results?
    But she couldn’t make herself believe it, as much as she’d once wanted to. There was more to him than that, more than he admitted to himself. She’d seen it in the way he cared for Cy, in his loyalty to family, in the way he quietly held the reins of Sweetwater and a dozen businesses without strutting his power or demanding gratitude.
    With Tucker it wasn’t self-deprecation, it was simply his way. Here was a man who did what needed to be done, and did what was right without thinking about it. And who did it without stirring up the air with demands and worries and desperation about tomorrow.
    No, the air around Tucker Longstreet was as calm and placid as the naps he was so fond of taking in the summer shade. As peaceful as a long, lazy tale spoken in a drawl to the music of a porch rocker. And as smooth as a cold beer savored on a hot night.
    That was what she needed, Caroline thought as she rested her head against the window glass. That basic acceptance that life was usually a joke, and a person should be able to smile her way through it.
    She needed to smile right now, Caroline thought. She needed that island of serenity he so effortlessly carried with him.
    She needed him.
    So why was she sitting here, searching for sleep, when what she wanted was within reach?
    On impulse she uncurled from the window seat. On her way to the terrace doors she plucked a sprig of freesia from a vase. She stopped by the gilt-framed mirror