them and retreated. “Why do you keep doing that?”
Trip’s next several breaths came as deeply and erratically as hers. “Seriously? I didn’t think our second makeout session in your father’s home with everything else going on around us was the best time or place to go all the way.”
“All the way?” Her cheeks blanched a shocked shade of pale. “I meant, why do you keep kissing me?”
Ah, hell. Another encounter with Charlotte Mayweather had just taken a sharp turn into crazy land, and suddenly he was the bad guy again. “I don’t know. Why do you kiss me back?”
“Because you’re an overwhelming presence and apparently it’s hard to get rid of you when you put your mind to something.”
He scrubbed his hand over his mouth and jaw, and squared off against what sounded a lot like an accusation. “Like wanting to kiss you? Like feeling something and acting on it? I’m a healthy male and a human being, and you are gettin’ into my head in ways that make me want to …” Pull out my hair? Protect you? Bed you? Maybe he was the one riding on the crazy train. “What do you want me to say? How do I get you to believe in me?”
“Trip, you can probably guess that I don’t have a lot of experience with men. The truth is, I have no experience. At all. I don’t know how to kiss.”
“Then you’re a natural talent.”
That made her blush.
“I’ve never had sex. I don’t know how to make a relationship work. I don’t know if I even can.” She shook her head, scattering toffee curls around her face as she retreated another step. “I’m not used to feeling or kissing or needing or whatever it is you want from me.”
Frustration gave way to something infinitely more tender, and Trip found his patience again. “I want all those things from you. But only if you’re willing to give them.”
“I am feeling something for you, Trip. But do you have any idea how much that scares me?” She tucked a curl behind her ear, but it sprang back out to fall on her cheek. “I need to feel safe. In all things.”
“I said I’ve got your back.” He caught the independent curl with the tip of his finger and smoothed it back into place, then leaned down to press a kiss to her temple. “In this, too. Just give me a chance to show you I’m not the bad guy here. If I say or do anything you don’t like, you tell me.”
His body could scream away in protest if denying any physical or emotional need for this woman is what it took to see trust shining in her eyes.
Maybe it was time to go back to proving that. He pulled his hand away and turned into the sitting room. “You don’t have to worry about any us right now. Finish drying the dog and get his collar and leash. You said you wanted to go to the cemetery? Let me call the rest of my team. We’ll get you away from this house for a little while.
“You’re under KCPD’s watch now.”
Chapter Eight
Charlotte knelt down to lay the bouquet of roses on the turned-up mound of earth beside the flowers that had once been draped over Richard’s coffin. Max came over to sniff her handiwork and she scratched his head before shooing him on his way to follow the path of some squirrel or rabbit that’d come through earlier. She kissed her fingers and touched them to the plastic marker that held Richard’s name and dates until a permanent stone monument could be fixed into place, knowing it was as close to trading a hug with him as she could ever get again.
“Thank you, my friend. For everything. I’m sorry. So sorry.” Tears burned in her sinuses and squeezed out through the rapid blink of her lashes to warm her cheeks in the cooling air.
In the middle of the spring afternoon it felt like twilight. A storm was brewing overhead again, filling the sky with fast-moving clouds. Tall oaks and pine trees dotted each side of the road that twisted up through the hills of Mt. Washington Cemetery, their thick trunks and budding branches casting long shadows over her. But no shadow seemed as tall and foreboding as the sturdy bulk of Trip Jones standing beside her, with a handgun strapped to his thigh, a military-looking rifle draped in the crook of his elbow and a stone-cold expression of wary alertness stamped onto his rugged features.
“You okay?” Trip’s voice rumbled down on the breeze that was picking up.
Charlotte huddled inside her trench coat and the body armor Trip had insisted she wear, and slowly stood. “He should have been retired, enjoying his grandchildren. He shouldn’t have died because some freak wanted to get to me.”
She saw Trip’s black-gloved hand leave his rifle and reach for her. But just before he touched the small of her back, he curled his fingers into his palm and tapped at the headset hooked to his ear instead. “How are we doing?”
A chorus of “clears” and one “nothing here” answered loudly enough for Charlotte to hear.
Captain Cutler buzzed in as well. “Easy, people. Keep your eyes open. We’re not in any rush here.”
But Trip apparently was. He moved a couple of steps along the trail Max had taken, then circled around to stand beside her again. His hazel eyes stopping scanning their surroundings long enough to land on her. “Are you ready to head back?”
With his truck in the shop, Trip had driven her to Mt. Washington in one of the team’s SUVs, which was parked at the foot of the hill, while the others had followed behind them in an imposing armored SWAT van. It was parked around a bend, out of sight beyond a copse of trees, just like the other members of his team remained hidden in the trees and monuments around them.
“I think I’ve decided how I’m going to honor him.” Charlotte murmured the announcement to the flowers and the sign and anyone who might listen. “I’m going to set up a college fund for all his grandchildren. I’ll call the bank and our attorneys when I get home.”
“Sounds like a good plan to me.” He glanced toward the sky. “The storm’s about to break. I can feel the dampness in the breeze. We should get home so you can make those calls.”
But she wasn’t ready to disturb this solemn, secure moment. “Could we stay for a while? Richard was always so patient with me—I don’t want to rush my time here. I don’t mind a little rain.”
“A little?” That stern mouth eased into a grin. Trip’s easy capitulation to her request reminded her more of the man who’d kissed her and less of the warrior standing guard. “We’ve had so much this spring, creeks are flooding, roads are closing—they’re sandbagging the levees up by the river.”
Charlotte discovered she could smile, too, with the subtle glimpse of Trip’s humor. “Washing away is the least of my worries. I used to love playing out in the rain. I think when I was little, I thought I was combining bath time and playtime, meaning I could stay outside longer.”
“Why do I get the feeling you were a real handful growing up?”
“Me? An odd duck is more like it. I just spent a lot of time in my head. I was always curious, always reading, always thinking. I suppose I did give my dad a few headaches when I wandered off on one of my adventures and lost track of the time. I didn’t become any trouble until after high school.”
She
