Carnal Innocence

upstairs. He’d always preferred to take it slow and easy with the ladies, savoring the chase, holding on to control. Dancing with her as the air took on that hushed and pearly light before a storm had him jumpy.
    Tucker passed it off as due to his being more than half drunk.
    “It’s raining,” Caroline whispered. Her eyes were closed and her body swayed with his.
    “Um-hmm.” He could smell the rain on her hair, on her skin. And it was driving him crazy.
    She smiled, enjoying the way the slow, fat drops soaked through her clothes. There’d been no rifle fire in her life before, she mused. But there’d been no dancing in the rain either. “It’s cool. Wonderfully cool.”
    The way he was starting to feel, he was surprised the rain didn’t sizzle as it plopped against his skin. He found his teeth were at her ear, and her quick, surprised shudder when he closed them gently over the lobe sliced straight through him.
    Her eyes shot open, glazed for a moment as he nipped his way along her jawline. Something hot and delicious stirred in her gut before she managed to cut it off. An instant before his mouth took hers, she slapped a hand on his chest and leaned back.
    “What do you think you’re doing?”
    He blinked. “Kissing you?”
    “No.”
    He stared at her for a moment, at the rain streaming down her hair, at her eyes which betrayed as much passion as determination. There was an urge to ignore the protesting hand and take what he wanted. The fact that he couldn’t had him sighing out an oath.
    “Caroline, you’re a hard woman.”
    The alarm bells in her head slowed. Her lips curved a little. He wasn’t going to push. “So they say.”
    “I could hang around awhile, persuade you to change your mind.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    His eyes laughed. He made one slow pass down her back before releasing her. “Now, that’s a challenge, but I figure you had a difficult day, so I’ll save it.”
    “I appreciate that.”
    “You damn well should.” He took her hand, skimmed his thumb over her knuckles. And damn him, she felt the shiver clean down to her toes. “You’re going to think about me, Caroline, when you snuggle into your bed tonight.”
    “What I’m going to think about is getting those windows repaired.”
    His gaze moved beyond her to the jagged glass stabbing viciously from the worn wooden frame. “I owe you for that,” he said. And there was a grimness in his eyes that reminded her how they’d come to be holding hands in the rain.
    “I think it’s Austin Hatinger who owes me,” she said lightly, “but that won’t get my windows fixed.”
    “I’ll take care of it.” He looked back at her. “You sure are pretty when you’re wet. If I stay around much longer, I’m going to try to kiss you again.”
    “Then you’d better go.” She started to tug her handaway, then glanced at his car. Laughter bubbled out. “Tucker, did you know your top’s down?”
    “Shit.” He turned and stared. Rain was bouncing off his white leather upholstery. “That’s the trouble with women. They distract you.” Before she pulled her hand free, he brought it to his lips for a long kiss that ended with the barest scrape of teeth. “I’ll be back, Caroline.”
    She smiled, stepped back. “Then bring some window glass and a hammer.”
    He slid into his car without bothering to lift the top. Tucker gunned the engine, blew her a kiss, and started down the lane. In the rearview mirror he watched her, standing in the rain, her hair like wet wheat, her clothes clinging to her curves. Fats belted out “Ain’t That a Shame.” Tucker could only agree.
    Caroline waited until he’d driven out of sight before she walked back to the steps, sat, and downed the rain-diluted wine. Susie had been right, she thought. Tucker Longstreet was no more a killer than she was. And he did indeed have a way about him. She rubbed the hand he’d kissed over her cheek and let out a long, shaky breath.
    It was a good thing she wasn’t interested. Eyes closed, Caroline lifted her face to the rain. A very good thing.
    When she awakened the next morning, it was in a foul mood. She’d slept poorly. And dammit, she had thought of him. Between that and the sound of the rain pattering against the tin roof, she’d tossed and turned the better part of the night. She’d nearly given up and downed one of the sleeping pills left over from Dr. Palamo’s last prescription.
    But she’d resisted, wanting to prove something to