Make Me Melt(8)

Physically, she’d changed, too.

Her blond hair was darker than he remembered, layered with wheaten and caramel strands, and her normally tanned skin was pale, as if she hadn’t seen the sun in years. Yeah, she’d really put the California girl behind her when she’d cut out for the East Coast. Whenever he thought about Caroline—which was far too often, considering how much time had passed since he’d last seen her—she was always wearing a bikini or some skimpy outfit that showed way too much skin. The woman sitting next to him wore a pantsuit that had probably cost more than his monthly rent. She was so buttoned-up and conservative that he had a difficult time reconciling her with the exuberant girl of his memories.

But one thing hadn’t changed. His reaction to her had been immediate and so powerful that he’d had to draw on all his professional training to keep his emotions concealed. For just an instant, when she’d looked up at him in the lobby and their gazes had collided, he’d seen shock, then something that looked like hunger, in her eyes before she’d swiftly schooled her expression.

He’d been unprepared for how time and maturity had refined her beauty, sculpting her features and softening her curves. Caroline Banks had been an exceptionally pretty teenager. Now she was a drop-dead gorgeous woman, and the first thought that had steamrolled through his mind was that he’d completely blown it all those years ago when she’d asked him to be her first.

Realistically, he knew he’d done the right thing turning her away, but the knowledge that she’d likely had numerous lovers in the ensuing years bugged the hell out of him. Clenching his jaw, he told himself again—as he’d done a hundred times since—that he’d had no other choice.

Now he glanced at her as they parked near a rear entrance of the hospital, where several California state troopers stood near the doors. Her eyes widened, and she turned to look at him.

“Are they here for my father?”

“Until we catch the perpetrator, they’ll provide twenty-four-hour protection.”

“Why? Do you think whoever shot him will want to finish the job?”

Jason heard the underlying anxiety in her voice.

“That isn’t going to happen. We have our best men standing guard outside his room.”

He’d give his own life before he let anything happen to Judge Banks.

Or to Caroline.

“Thanks,” she said, nodding stiffly.

“Are you ready?”

She drew in a deep breath. “Yes. I think so.”

But moments later, standing by her father’s bedside, Jason knew she hadn’t been prepared for the sight of William Banks lying still and unresponsive, attached to a dozen monitors and tubes. Even Jason, who had seen numerous victims, found it unsettling.

Without the sparkle of his blue eyes or the energy of his personality in evidence, the judge looked old and frail. His mouth was slack, and his silver hair was in disarray. Above the thick bandage on his chest, his skin was stained orange from the surgical antiseptic. Jason noted traces of blood remained on his neck and jaw from the splatter of where he had been shot. Anger swirled through him, building and gathering like a dark storm. They’d find the person responsible, and he’d make sure they paid for what they had done to William. For what they had done to Caroline. For what they had done to him.

* * *

CAROLINE SAT BY her father’s bedside for the next several hours. At first, she’d just wept silently, but then she’d composed herself and covered his hand with her own, talking to him in soothing tones, despite the fact he was in a deep coma. She’d removed her jacket, revealing a white blouse that was so sheer, Jason could see the lacy outline of her bra beneath it. Her blond hair had begun to come loose from the clip she used to hold it back, and he liked how the tumbling locks made her look less aloof. If he’d had any doubts that she loved her father, it was dispelled by the expression he saw on her face as she held his hand.

Finally, she leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss against his forehead before rising to her feet. She glanced at Jason, then turned away and swiftly swiped her fingers across her cheeks. She picked up her jacket from where she had draped it across the arm of her chair and pivoted to face him. Jason was relieved to see she’d dried her tears. When she cried, he had an almost irresistible urge to drag her into his arms and comfort her.

“So what now?” she asked quietly. “The doctor said the next forty-eight hours are critical.”

She wanted him to reassure her that the judge would pull through, that he’d make a full recovery. But Jason couldn’t do that. He’d read the medical report. William had lost a tremendous amount of blood and had been in full cardiac arrest when they’d brought him into the emergency room. His injuries were so grave that the doctors had put him into a medically induced coma. He’d suffered brain damage, but they wouldn’t know the full extent of impairment until he regained consciousness.

If he regained consciousness.

Jason didn’t want to think about that. Everything he had—his education, his career and even his outlook on life—he owed to the judge. Losing him would be worse than losing his own father. And if he felt that way, he could only imagine what Caroline was going through. Seeing how hard she tried to camouflage her emotions and put on a good face made him feel a surge of sympathy for her.

“You know, it’s okay to cry,” he said. “You don’t need to hide your feelings from me.”