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His hand stilled.
When he drew it away, Caroline thought he meant to pull her panties off, and she reached down to help him. Instead, he carefully disentangled himself from her limbs. Standing up, he scrubbed both hands over his face.
“Get dressed.” His voice was low and harsh.
Still throbbing and unfulfilled, Caroline was too bewildered to do more than lie there. He turned to look at her. Even in the darkness, she felt his eyes on her, as palpable as a physical touch. With his dark hair and glittering eyes, and the tattoos that snaked over his shoulders, he looked a little like a pirate. Caroline shivered.
“Jason...what’s wrong?”
“All of this. I’m not the right guy for you, Caroline, and you don’t want this. Not with me.”
She sat up. “I do! I want you to be my first.”
“You have no idea what you want, and if your father ever knew about this, he’d kill me. Or have me thrown in jail.”
“No!” Caroline rose to her feet, but when she would have touched him, he warded her off. “I won’t tell anyone,” she promised. “I’d never do that.”
“I. Can’t. Do. This.” He bit the words out between gritted teeth. “Don’t you get it? You’re sixteen! I’m twenty-one.”
“I don’t care,” she cried, reaching for him. “I’m old enough! This is what I want.”
He put out an arm to hold her off. “That’s the problem. You always get what you want, even if it’s not good for you. You’re spoiled and selfish, and you never think about anyone but yourself. But not this time. I’m not going to let you ruin my life.” He looked around the room, finally scooping up a bathrobe from the floor beside the bed. He thrust it toward her. “Get dressed. Go back to your room, and forget this ever happened. It was a mistake.”
Caroline hugged the robe against her breasts, and her breath hitched with a suppressed sob. She couldn’t believe he was being so cruel. Maybe her father did spoil her, but that wasn’t her fault. But selfish? Nobody had ever accused her of that before. “Please,” she begged. “If you’d just give us a chance... I love you.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, Caroline saw his resolve.
“Well, I don’t love you. Trust me—you’ll thank me one day,” he said. He strode to the window and braced his hands on the sill, not looking at her. “Now get out of here.”
She stood looking at his bowed shoulders, her tears blurring his image. He had wanted her. She hadn’t been mistaken about that. But his rejection felt as if he’d just ripped her beating heart out of her chest. She’d never known such agonizing pain. And as much as she loved him, she wanted to hurt him, too. To make him feel just a little bit of what she was feeling right now.
“I won’t be sixteen forever,” she finally managed, hating how her voice shook. “Someday I’ll be a woman. But it will be too late for you. By the time your conscience decides I’m old enough, I’ll have had a dozen other guys. You only get one chance to be someone’s first, Jason.”
He spun around, and whatever triumph she might have felt dissolved beneath the stark bleakness of his expression.
“I’m doing this for your own good. And because I have too much respect for your father to take advantage of you. I owe him more than that.”
Caroline pulled her robe on with jerky movements and yanked the belt tight around her waist with trembling fingers. If she stayed another second, she would begin to cry, and there was no way she wanted him to witness that. She raised her chin, taking refuge in lashing out at him. “Whatever. I guess the other guys were right about you, after all. Do you know what my father’s law students say about you?”
He remained silent.
“They say you’re gutter trash,” she continued in a rush, even though she didn’t believe that about him for a second. “They say a leopard can’t change its spots, and I guess it’s true. Is that why you hide your tattoos? Because you know, deep down, that if people see them, they’ll know the truth about you? About what you really are?”
When he didn’t answer, Caroline felt small and mean. Being cruel wasn’t in her nature. People always said she was like her mother—sweet and kind. But right now, a part of her wanted to wound Jason. Another part of her wanted to fling herself against his chest and tell him she didn’t mean any of what she’d just said. But she wouldn’t risk him rejecting her yet again.
“I won’t wait for you, just so you know.”
Caroline stood uncertainly for a moment, hoping against hope that he might say something to stop her from leaving.
“No,” he finally said, and his voice sounded weary. “I wouldn’t expect you to wait and I don’t want you to. Just leave.”
With a muffled sob, she fled.
2
Present Day
CAROLINE STUFFED HER files into her leather carry case, snapped it shut and glanced at her watch. It was nearly ten o’clock, and she’d told the social services caseworker, Patrick Dougherty, that she would stop by the child welfare office as soon as possible to discuss Devon Lawton’s case. The boy had run away from home—again. The police had caught him breaking into a convenience store early that morning and had arrested him. Devon had borne the evidence of a vicious beating, and although he’d refused to name the person responsible, Caroline suspected it was his father.
Now the police wanted to put Devon into juvenile detention, while Caroline knew what he really needed was a safe, stable home environment. But at fourteen, he already had a growing rap sheet, and she seriously doubted that they’d be able to find a suitable foster family willing to take him in. He was a smart kid, and she believed with the right support, he could turn his life around. Both of his parents were alcoholics, and she suspected they did drugs, as well. Each time he got into trouble, the courts returned him to his family. There had never been any evidence of physical abuse...until now. Caroline hadn’t seen Devon yet, but Patrick had told her the boy was a mess.
She stopped by her boss’s office on her way out of the impressive marble building in downtown Richmond, Virginia, that housed the law firm of MacInness, Shively and Crane. Arthur MacInness, one of the senior partners, was standing behind his gleaming desk, studying a document he held in his hands. Through the towering bank of windows behind him, Caroline had a perfect vantage point of the entire city. Storm clouds had gathered overhead, and the skies looked sullen and dark. Arthur glanced up as she knocked softly on his open door. He lowered his glasses in a way that reminded Caroline of her father.
“I’m heading over to the child welfare office,” she said. “One of my kids pulled a B and E overnight, but it sounds like he was beaten black-and-blue beforehand, probably by his father. I’ll be back in the morning.”
He nodded. “Very well. Just don’t let your pro bono work interfere with your other cases here.”
After she’d passed the bar exam, and been hired at MacInness, Shively and Crane as a junior attorney, Caroline had found the work exciting and challenging. But after nearly two years of working on behalf of wealthy couples battling for child custody, she had started to feel unfulfilled. It wasn’t until she’d begun volunteering her legal services in support of the city’s underprivileged citizens that she’d felt infinitely more satisfied. And when she’d begun to focus those efforts on the youngest citizens—the children—she knew she’d finally found her calling.
She would have preferred that work exclusively, but she had bills to pay. So she’d hammered out a deal with her firm to devote a portion of her time to pro bono work through the child welfare office. The work indirectly benefited the firm, as the effort made them look at least somewhat philanthropic.
Last week, the district attorney’s office had offered her a full-time position on its staff, based on the pro bono work she’d done. She’d be a child advocate, representing children who otherwise would have nobody to speak up for them. She was considering the offer, although it would mean a cut in pay from what she was currently making. It would also mean she’d be able to work full-time on behalf of the city’s needy children. The work appealed to her. In fact, it was exactly the kind of work she’d hoped to do full-time. So what was holding her back from accepting the job? She wanted to make a difference in the lives of troubled kids, but she just wasn’t sure whether she wanted to do it here in Richmond.
Lately she’d found her thoughts turning more and more frequently toward San Francisco. She’d told herself a million times that it had nothing to do with Jason Cooper, or the notion that he’d once been a kid just like Devon. She was just missing her father. On some level, the work she did made her feel closer to him...and she’d been thinking that maybe it was time she went home, this time for good.
After she’d graduated from law school, she’d moved permanently to the East Coast, determined to get a job on her own terms, without her father’s influence. At the time, he’d still been a superior court judge, and he had connections with most of the bigger law firms in the area. It wouldn’t matter if Caroline was hired strictly on her own merit; she knew there’d be people who would always say her father had helped her out. So she’d gone to the opposite side of the country, where few people had ever heard of William Banks.
She liked Richmond, but it wasn’t home. Besides, her father wasn’t getting any younger. He’d also been appointed to the Supreme Court of California several years ago, and Caroline worried about the toll his job was having on his health. But maybe they could escape to the beach house in Santa Cruz for a weekend. It would be just like old times.
Well, almost, she amended silently.
He wouldn’t be there.
She knew that Jason still kept in touch with her father and frequently made the seven-hour trip from San Diego to San Francisco to spend time with Judge Banks. Somehow, even with the demands of being a U.S. marshal, Jason managed to spend more time with her father than she did. No question about it—she was a terrible daughter.
But Jason was precisely the reason Caroline avoided going home. She’d seen him just once since that disastrous night when she’d practically begged him to have sex with her. She had just graduated college and had been accepted into law school on the East Coast. Her father had made a big deal out of the event, throwing her a party at the beach house. Jason had been there, and although she’d been acutely aware of him watching her, he hadn’t spoken to her and had left before she could gather enough courage to approach him. As a deputy marshal, he’d been even sexier than she remembered, and her heart had leaped at the sight of him.
She’d wanted him to see her as a grown woman, and there’d been no shortage of cute guys at the party to flirt with. She’d done her best to make sure that Jason knew she could have any one of them. But he’d apparently been less than impressed. When he’d taken off without uttering a single word to her, she’d felt sixteen years old all over again. After he was gone, the party had been over for her.
That had been seven years ago. While she was definitely over Jason Cooper, she had no desire to have him drop in unexpectedly while she was visiting her father. As a result, she rarely visited, preferring to have her dad come out and stay with her in Virginia. Because he had friends in Washington, he usually conceded to her requests, but she knew she couldn’t continue to expect him to travel across the country every time he wanted to see her.
Hefting her carry bag over her shoulder, she took the elevator to the first floor of the building and made her way across the spacious lobby, the heels of her shoes echoing on the polished marble. The first floor was only moderately busy at this time of day, with a few stragglers returning from lunch, laughing and shaking moisture from their hair and shoulders as they entered the building. Through the glass doors that led to the street, Caroline saw it had begun to rain. Pausing, she slid her bag around to where she could unzip the outer compartment and pulled out her umbrella.
When she looked up again, two men were pushing through the rotating doors. Caroline’s breath caught, and her feet remained glued to the floor.
The first man wore khaki fatigues, a dark blue polo shirt and a matching baseball cap. He had the distinctive bearing of a law enforcement officer. If the weapon in his hip holster didn’t grab your attention, the U.S. Marshals logo emblazoned on the breast of his shirt did.
But it was the second man who caused Caroline’s heart to skip a beat and almost stutter to a stop before exploding into frenzied overdrive.
Jason Cooper.
He wore a black sports jacket and shirt, paired with well-worn blue jeans and boots. He had an easy, loose-limbed stride that Caroline would have recognized anywhere. As he made his way across the lobby toward her, she caught a glimpse of the badge he wore on his belt—the silver star of a U.S. marshal.
The years had done nothing to diminish his good looks or the vague aura of danger that clung to him. He was bigger than she remembered, having lost the lean gauntness of his youth. Beneath the jacket, she could see his shoulders and chest were thick with muscle. He looked as if he kicked ass for a living.
His dark hair was cut short, and his skin was burnished from the sun. But it was his eyes that held her riveted. They still reminded her of tempered glass, and right now they were fixed on her with unsettling intensity. His square jaw was set in grim lines. As he met her gaze, frissons of dread fingered their way along her spine.
Raising her chin, she looked directly at Jason and forced herself to speak with a calm that she was far from feeling. Her fingers closed convulsively around the umbrella in her hands. “Marshal Cooper. You’re a long way from home.”
Caroline tried to quell the erratic rhythm of her heart. Fear caused her stomach to roll, and for a moment she was afraid she might actually be sick. She knew there could be only one reason he had flown all the way to Virginia to seek her out at work.
“Caroline.” He indicated the officer beside him. “This is Deputy Marshal Colton Black.”
His voice hadn’t changed at all, and the sound of it, low and a little rough around the edges, brought a tidal wave of memories flooding back. It seemed some things never changed, because the quality of his voice still had the ability to make her shiver. But all those years ago, his voice had been husky with arousal and then harsh with rejection; now he was all business. He regarded her as if she were a stranger.
Two women walked past them toward the elevators, giving both Jason and his deputy appreciative smiles. Caroline recognized them from the real estate division of the law firm, and she fervently hoped they wouldn’t decide to stop and strike up a conversation to get a better look at the marshals.
“Is there somewhere private we can talk?” Jason asked, eyeing the women.
She gave a jerky nod and indicated a semiprivate sitting area on the far side of the lobby. Jason took her elbow to guide her. The touch of his fingers seemed to burn through her suit jacket to the sensitive skin of her inner arm, and she had to suppress the instinctive urge to pull away. As if sensing her discomfort, he let his hand drop, indicating she should precede him toward the cozy arrangement of upholstered chairs and sofas. His deputy moved to the far side of the lobby and directed his gaze through the windows to where the rain sleeted against the glass. For the first time in years, Caroline found herself alone with Jason.
Setting her bag down, she perched on the edge of the sofa. She was surprised when he sat down beside her. Drawing a fortifying breath, she turned to him, dread and anxiety twisting her stomach into tight ribbons. “Just tell me. He’s dead, isn’t he? Why else would you be here?”
He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, she saw something in his light green eyes that might have been pain. Then his expression grew shuttered, and he shook his head. “No, your father’s alive, but just barely.”
Relief swamped Caroline, so strong that for a moment, she went weak and covered her face with her hands. Immediately, Jason put an arm around her shoulders and gathered her close, lending her his strength. She allowed herself to lean into him, if only briefly. He smelled exactly as she remembered, like something woodsy and dark, and she had to resist the urge to burrow her face into his chest. Instead, she pulled away and dragged air into her lungs.
“What happened?”
Jason considered her, as if assessing whether or not she was strong enough to hear what he was about to say. His eyes were so bleak that for an instant, Caroline wasn’t sure she wanted to hear.
“He was shot while answering his front door last night. I’m sorry.”
Caroline closed her eyes briefly as her chest constricted painfully. Whatever she’d expected him to say, it hadn’t been that. She’d imagined him having a heart attack, either at home or at his office. But to be shot on his own front steps... The image that sprang to mind was so graphic she had to push it away.
Her father had spent his life giving to others and striving to make the world a better place. Jason Cooper was living proof of William Banks’s goodness and generosity. But Caroline also knew that as a Supreme Court judge, his rulings on controversial issues had likely gained him enemies. Still, when she thought of his bright blue eyes, full of shrewdness and humor, she couldn’t imagine that anyone would hate him enough to attack him in his own home. She recalled him always being so full of life and so active. When she was growing up, there’d hardly ever been a day when they didn’t have visitors or when her father wasn’t meeting someone for lunch or dinner. The knowledge that he was now fighting for his life left her feeling dazed. He was all she had left, and she didn’t know what she would do if she lost him. He’d been both mother and father to her, had been there for every important event in her life. He’d gone prom dress shopping with her, had hosted more slumber parties than she could recall and had sat up late with her on countless Saturday nights, watching romantic comedies and eating ice cream. He was everything to her, and the thought that she might lose him made her feel sick with both guilt and grief.
“Who would do such a thing?” She swiped a hand across her eyes. “And why?”
“We’ll find the person who did this,” Jason assured her. “We already have a team working it.”
“We have to go. Now.” She rose quickly, feeling a little panicky. “I need to book a flight. He’ll need me there with him.”
“Already done,” Jason said, standing also. “We depart from Richmond airport in two hours. Do you need to go home and pack anything?”
“Yes.” Her mind whirled with all the things she should do before she left, but there was no time. She needed to get to her father’s side. She could make some calls on the way to the airport. She’d talk to Patrick Dougherty and recommend another attorney for Devon Lawton. Then she’d call Arthur MacInness, and explain what had happened and let him know she’d likely be gone for several weeks. The rest would have to wait until she reached San Francisco.
“I’ll drive you to your house, and then we’ll head to the airport.”
“Thank you.” She swallowed. “Did you— Have you seen him?”
Jason shook his head. “No. I got the news just before midnight. An hour later, Deputy Marshal Black and I were on the red-eye from San Diego.”
Caroline could hardly believe her ears. “Why?” she asked. “Why would you come straight here, when you could have gone to San Francisco to be at my father’s bedside?” A small part of her—the part that still held on to girlish fantasies—wondered if he might have come directly to her because, on some level, he did care for her. But in the next instant, those childish thoughts were banished.
“Caroline,” he said patiently, as if she really were no more than a child, “the U.S. Marshals Service is charged with providing protection for federal judges.”
“Yes, I understand. But my father is a judge in San Francisco, and your district is San Diego. Are you saying that you’ve been assigned to protect him?”
He gave her a humorless smile. “No. I’m here to protect you.”
She stared at him, uncomprehending. “Me? But why?”
“Until the assailant is captured, we have to assume the judge’s life is still in danger. It’s standard protocol to assign a protection detail to immediate family members, as well.”
She shook her head, unwilling to accept what he was telling her. She didn’t want Jason to protect her. The news of her father had left her feeling vulnerable and emotionally ragged. She didn’t want Jason to see her like this. Having him witness her fear and grief was far too intimate.
“But why you? This is out of your jurisdiction. Why wouldn’t you assign a marshal from the San Francisco district to protect me?” She couldn’t keep the strain out of her voice. “Why does it have to be you?”
Jason’s expression darkened. “Because despite the fact you clearly don’t give a shit about your old man, you’re the single most important person in his life,” he said, his voice hard. “Call it a professional courtesy. I’m doing this for him, not for you. I owe him that, at least.”
* * *
JASON GLANCED AT the woman who sat beside him in the car, tense and unhappy. She’d hardly spoken during the long flight from Virginia to San Francisco. Not that he blamed her. He hadn’t been overly sympathetic to her.
Even his deputy had given him a look that would have withered most other men. But he and Colton had worked together for more than five years, and the other man was as close to a friend as he’d probably ever have. He glanced into his rearview mirror, noting the unmarked car that carried Colton and another deputy. Between the three of them, they would provide around-the-clock security to ensure Caroline’s safety.
The Caroline Banks he’d once known had changed. Gone was the sweetly passionate teenager who’d worn her heart on her sleeve. In her place was a coolly assured woman whose brittle demeanor and aloofness he hardly recognized. If his own manner toward her had been on the cool side, it was because she’d made so little effort to come home to visit her father. She’d been home once in the past five years. Judge Banks never complained, but Jason knew it hurt him. Caroline was his only child. While Jason loved the judge like a father, they weren’t family. His own frequent trips to San Francisco couldn’t make up for the fact that his daughter never came to visit.
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.
