Make Me Melt(19)

Jason exchanged a look with Colton. “Thanks again for coming by. I appreciate you making the drive, and I’ll make sure you get the files back once we’re done.”

He was glad when the other man took the hint and left. Wasting no time, he opened the first box and began methodically removing the case files, laying them all out on the table. He looked up brusquely when Colton returned.

“I want everything you can find on Steven Anderson. How long he’s worked for the judge, and what his relationship is to the family. And to Caroline.”

Colton nodded. “Yes, sir. Probably nothing more than a youthful crush. She’s the boss’s daughter, after all, and she’s very attractive. I’ll bet all the judge’s interns were panting after her back when she lived here. Anderson seems pretty benign.”

Privately, Jason agreed. “Not taking any chances,” he said evenly.

“Got it.”

When Colton departed, Jason glanced toward the stairs. Caroline had claimed a headache and had gone straight to her room when they’d arrived at the beach house. He didn’t doubt that she was exhausted; they had spent the entire day at the hospital with her father, and the ride to Santa Cruz had seemed endless, especially since she had refused to speak with him. Jason had never considered himself much of a conversationalist, and there were few things he hated more than meaningless chitchat. So aside from a few questions related to whether the air-conditioning was sufficient or if she needed to stop and take a break, they hadn’t spoken at all. But he’d been acutely aware of her during the long drive. He’d heard every soft sigh, noticed every shift of position in the seat next to him, and had to keep his hands firmly on the steering wheel to prevent himself from reaching over to cover her fingers with his own. In short, the drive had been sheer torture.

Outside, the sun had disappeared over the horizon, and he walked deliberately through the house, checking the windows and doors. Upstairs, he paused outside Caroline’s room to listen, but there was no sound from inside. He moved down the hall to the guest room and opened the door. This was his room when he stayed at the beach house, and seeing it now brought the events of that long-ago summer night rushing back.

He could still see Caroline, so sweet and tempting, wearing nothing but a pair of lacy panties. If he closed his eyes, he could even feel her skin...taste her lips...smell the fragrance of coconut and honeysuckle. The room hadn’t changed at all in the past twelve years, and for just a moment, he thought he could smell the exotic-scented skin lotion that Caroline wore. With a stifled groan, he closed the door and went back downstairs.

It was almost ten o’clock, but Jason knew he’d never get to sleep. He rarely went to bed before 1:00 a.m., a habit that Caroline would no doubt say he’d gotten from her father. He pulled the folders out of the first box and sorted quickly through them until he found the case files he was looking for. He spent the next several hours poring through the documents, trying to decipher any clues that might hint at who had shot Judge Banks.

He was so absorbed in his work that he didn’t hear the soft pad of footsteps behind him until it was too late. He caught a faint whiff of coconut and whirled in his chair. Except for the small table lamp near his elbow, the house was steeped in darkness, but he could see Caroline clearly. She stood just outside the circle of lamplight, wearing a short white bathrobe that left her slender legs bare. Her blond hair fell loosely around her face and shoulders, and she hugged her arms around her middle.

“Caroline?” He pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. “What is it?”

She stared him, her eyes haunted in her pale face. “I couldn’t sleep. I had a dream...”

Jason didn’t move toward her. He didn’t trust himself to touch her, not when she looked so vulnerable and everything in him wanted to haul her into his arms and assure her that he’d take care of her.

“Here,” he said, indicating the nearby sofa. “Come sit down. I’ll get you a drink.”

“Where are Deputy Black and Deputy Mitchell?” she asked, looking around the silent house.


“Deputy Mitchell has the night shift. He’ll keep watch in the patrol car tonight.” He gestured toward the end of the hallway, where her father’s bedroom and a second guest room were located. “Deputy Black is asleep in the guest room. He’ll relieve Mitchell at dawn. You’re safe, Caroline. Come sit down.”

Obediently, she sat down on the sofa and curled her legs beneath her. He’d closed the doors that led to the deck but had opened the nearest window so that he could enjoy the cool ocean breezes. Realizing she was shivering, he pulled a cotton throw from the opposite end of the sofa and draped it around her shoulders before walking over to the wet bar.

He poured them each a glass of bourbon. After handing one to Caroline, he sat down beside her, carefully putting some space between them. She turned toward him on the cushions, and the blanket slipped enough to one side so that he caught a glimpse of one slim thigh. He took a hefty swig of his drink.

Caroline cradled her own glass in her hands. “I had a dream about my father.” Her voice was low and troubled. “In the dream, I’m standing on the sidewalk when he opens the door. I can see that the person standing on the porch has a gun. I try to scream a warning, but nothing comes out.”

“Caroline—”

“So I run toward the house, but my feet are so heavy, as if they’re encased in concrete. All I can do is watch while he’s shot. And there’s so much blood...it spills down the steps in a gush, until it surrounds my feet.”