Honeysuckle Summer (The Sweet Magnolias #7)(92)

“Good night, Carter.”

“Night, Raylene.”

She disconnected the call and put the phone back on the nightstand, then curled up with her pillow. It was a very poor substitute for the man outside, but it would have to do for now.



The pattern established the first night after Paul’s release went on for more than a week, with only the personnel changing. Walter, Rory Sue and Carter were the only constants. Raylene was increasingly dismayed by the lack of a resolution.

As for Carter, how much longer could he go on getting little to no sleep beyond the occasional nap in the afternoons between his shift at the sheriff’s department and his arrival at her house for the night? She was worried by the lines of tension on his face, the exhaustion in his eyes, to say nothing of the fact that he seemed to be neglecting Carrie and Mandy. He flatly refused, though, to turn the night watch over to anyone else. Finally Raylene reached her limit. She started making phone calls.

Her first one to Ronnie got a promise that he’d take over surveillance outside the house that night. Her next four, to friends of Paul’s, were designed to try to rattle his cage and provoke him into taking action, if that was what he had in mind.

When Carter showed up that night and found Ronnie parked in his truck right in front of the house, he stormed inside.

“Ronnie says you called him and asked him to take over,” he said, pacing up and down the living room as he dragged his hand through his already mussed hair. “Why would you do that? Don’t you trust me to do the job?”

“You know it’s not that,” she said patiently. “Your sisters need some attention. Plus, you’re wiped out. You need a decent night’s sleep.”

“Well, I certainly won’t get it at home worrying myself sick about you and what’s happening over here.”

She’d anticipated that response. “Which is why you’re staying here tonight. I’ve arranged for Carrie and Mandy to stay with friends from school for a couple of days so you won’t have to worry about them.” Before he could argue, she added, “I’ve spoken to the parents who’ll be looking out for Carrie. They understand the situation. They’ll make sure she eats and will report back if there’s a problem.”

“Well, you’ve just thought of every damn thing, haven’t you?”

With the words ground out like that, it didn’t sound like a compliment, but she forced a smile, anyway. “I certainly tried to. I knew it was the only way you’d agree to stay here.”

He stopped pacing to stare at her as if the significance of that part had previously escaped him. “Here?”

“In my bed, in fact.”

His eyes lit up, but she held up her hand. “I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“Like hell you will. You’ll be right in Paul’s path if he breaks in.”

“I thought the idea of having Ronnie outside was to keep Paul from getting inside.”

“It is, but you never know what could happen to change the best theory. I won’t have you right smack inside the front door. If this is going to work, you’ll have to sleep with me.”

Raylene finally grasped the flaw in her plan. She should have foreseen it. “That’s not going to work for me, Carter. You know that.” Even to her ears, her tone sounded wistful.

“It’ll work,” he said grimly. “Even if we have to put pillows down the middle of the bed or hang a blanket between the two sides. I want you where I can reach out and touch you.”

An image from an old movie came to her. “You’d do that?”

“If that’s what it takes. Though I have to admit, I’d sleep a whole lot better if we could at least snuggle.”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, as drawn by the idea as he was.

“We could try it and see how it goes,” he suggested, longing in his eyes.

That’s what did it, finally. If he’d been pushing for more, she might have been able to deny him, but to see the yearning just to be close, how could she turn her back on that? A very big part of her had been longing for the same thing, but not daring to believe it was possible.

“We’ll give it a try,” she said, making up her mind.

His gaze met hers then, and held. Then, a faint smile on his lips, he nodded.

Raylene felt as if she’d granted him a birthday wish and a miracle all rolled into one. Now she could only pray she wouldn’t let him down.



Raylene owned one pair of flannel pajamas for the rare winter nights when she couldn’t seem to get warm. She found them in her dresser drawer, put them on, then took a deep breath and emerged in her bedroom.

Carter was lying on top of the covers, still wearing his jeans and a formfitting white T-shirt but no shoes or socks.

“Are you planning to sleep like that?” she asked just as his lips curved into a smile as he surveyed the loose-fitting flannel pj’s.

“I should ask you the same thing,” he commented. “I hate to tell you, sweet pea, but those are more provocative than any nightie I’ve ever seen.”

She frowned as she looked down. “These? Why? I’m practically covered from neck to toe.”

“I know. It sparks my imagination.” He grinned wickedly. “I have a very vivid imagination. Come on over here and climb into bed.”