Carnal Innocence

have a reason for walking into my house uninvited, Mr. Longstreet?”
    “You might as well make it Tucker. I’m going to call you Caroline. Or Caro.” His teeth flashed. “That’s what Miss Edith called you. I like it.”
    “That doesn’t answer my question.”
    He eased away from the jamb. “We tend to drop by on neighbors around here, but as it happens, I did have a purpose. You going to ask me to sit down?”
    She tilted her head. “No.”
    “Damn. The nastier you are, the more I like you. I’m perverse that way.” “And other ways?”
    He chuckled and sat on the arm of the sofa. “We’ll have to get to know each other better first. You might hear I’m easy, Caroline, but the thing is, I’ve got my standards.”
    “What a relief.” She tapped the bow against her open palm. “As to your purpose?”
    He cocked a foot on his knee, as thoroughly at home as a hound in a patch of green shade. “Lord, I like the way you talk. As fine and cool as a bowl of peach ice cream. I’m real partial to peach ice cream.”
    When her lips threatened to quirk, she turned them down in defense. “I’m not terribly interested in your partialities at the moment, nor am I in the mood to entertain company. I’ve had a difficult couple of days.”
    The easy humor vanished. “It was rough on you, finding Edda Lou that way.”
    “Rougher on her, I’d say.”
    He stood, reaching for a cigarette as he paced. “Being as you’ve been here a few days, you’ll know everything that’s been said.”
    Though she tried, she couldn’t prevent a twinge of sympathy. It was never easy to have your private life, your private mistakes the topic of hot speculation. She knew. “If you’re saying the gossip around here is as thick as the humidity, I won’t argue.”
    “I can’t stop you from thinking what you’re inclined to think, but I want my say.”
    She lifted a brow. “I can’t fathom why my thoughts would concern you.”
    “You jumped fast enough to give them to that shiny-shoed Yankee.”
    She waited. The way he was pacing up and down the room struck as more frustrated than violent. She relaxed enough to set down the bow. “If you’re speaking of Agent Burns, I told him what I’d seen. You were by the pond.”
    His head whipped around. “Sure I was there, goddammit. Did I look like I was planning to murder somebody?”
    “You looked angry,” she tossed back. “I have no idea what you were planning.”
    He stopped, turned, and took a step toward her. “If you think I did that to Edda Lou, why the hell are you standing here talking to me instead of running for your life?”
    She jerked up her chin. “I can take care of myself. Since I’ve already told the police everything I know—which is essentially nothing—you’d have no reason to hurt me.”
    He balled his hands at his sides. “Lady, you keep looking at me as if I were something you scraped off your shoe, and I might come up with a reason or two.”
    “Don’t threaten me.” Adrenaline began to pump through her, pushing her forward until she was nearly nose to nose with him. “I know your kind, Tucker. You just can’t stand it that I’m not tripping over myself to get you to blink my way. It galls your male pride when a woman isn’t interested. Then when one is, like this Edda Lou, you can’t wait to shake her off. One way or another.”
    It was close enough to the truth to sting. “Honey, women come and women go. Doesn’t mean a damn to me. I don’t pine away for them, and I sure as hell don’t kill them. And as far as tripping over yourself … Christ.”
    She managed one short scream as he grabbed her and tossed her to the floor. Then the breath was knocked out of her when he landed hard on top of her. She heard the explosion, and thought for a moment it was the crack of her head hitting the hardwood.
    “What the hell do you think—”
    “Stay down. Holy bleeding Jesus.” His face was only inches from hers, and she saw something move into his eyes that might have been fear, or cunning.
    “If you don’t get off me this minute—” Whatever she planned to do next was forgotten as she heard the next shot and watched a hole explode in the cushion of the couch just above their heads. “My God.” Her fingers dug into his arms. “Someone’s shooting at us.”
    “You caught on, sugar.”
    “What are we going to do?”
    “We could stay like this and hope he goes away. But he won’t.” On a sigh, he lowered his forehead to