Taming the Lone Wolff(22)

                The temptation was too great. Larkin stripped out of his khakis and work shirt and dived in, wearing nothing but a pair of circumspect navy boxers. No one was around to see him, so what did it matter? He ran through a set of punishing laps, glad for the exercise, relishing the cold water and determined to clear his head.

                When he finally climbed out, he realized that he hadn’t thought to bring a towel. The sun was still warm, so he dragged a lounge chair until it faced west, stretched out and closed his eyes. An alien feeling of contentment washed over him as the sun’s rays dried him.

                Birds twittering in the trees lulled him into sleep.

                * * *

                Winnie was aggravated with herself. Not only had she wasted an entire afternoon roaming around Nashville wearing an uncomfortable wig and dark glasses, now she was afraid to go home. The morning’s agenda had included legitimate business. A meeting with her Social Services contact. A stop at a furniture store to see about more bunk beds for the little ones. A much-needed foray into the women’s-wear department at her favorite store.

                Buying clothes for herself was not something she thought of very often. She didn’t go anywhere to need much more than jeans and tops. But at Wolff Mountain, she’d be expected to dress in a certain fashion. She didn’t want to embarrass either Larkin or herself.

                Fortunately, she knew what she liked and what suited her. The saleslady recognized her, probably from her signature, and asked about the article. She was pleasant, though, and Winnie didn’t get the impression that she was going to run to the phone and summon the press. Maybe Larkin was right and this whole “richest women in America” thing would blow over soon. But in the meantime, Winnie still had her guests to think about. Their safety and well-being.

                With a platinum credit card smoking, she loaded her car with boxes and bags. After lunch at a trendy tearoom, she should have headed home. But the thought of facing Larkin was so distressing, she literally couldn’t point the car where it needed to go.

                As she drove at random, appreciating the display of azaleas, daffodils and lilacs in the suburbs, she pondered what to do. One option was to pretend nothing had ever happened. Let last night seem like a crazy dream. Surely Larkin would play along.

                Avoidance was another tack. Today being a case in point. But she had things to do at her house, and even though the property was substantial, hiding out wasn’t an effective choice.

                Then again, she could walk right up to Larkin, kiss him square on the mouth and invite him to her bedroom. That brash action might have more appeal if he was leaving anytime soon. Instead, the plan called for her to accompany him to Wolff Mountain. Which meant a certain amount of togetherness.

                And if she propositioned him beforehand and was politely rejected, she didn’t think she’d have the composure to carry out an extended visit on his home turf. She glanced at her watch and groaned. Time to face the music.

                When she parked the car in the garage and tiptoed stealthily into the house, she was greeted by nothing but silence. Fabulous smells wafted from the kitchen, indicating that Mrs. Cross had left dinner in the oven. No sign of Larkin and no evidence that he had already eaten.

                She climbed the back stairs and made her way toward his bedroom. One quick peek showed a neatly made bed and no sign of human habitation. Where was he?

                For one brief, stomach-curling moment she wondered if he had left. Quit the job. Moved on. But no. Whatever his personal inclinations, he would not have left her high and dry. Though it was possible he had passed off the responsibility to someone else after that kiss. The wave of disappointment brought on by that thought told her she was in big trouble.