Carson looked from one to the other. “Thank you for the generous invitation.” His smile was automatic and completely genuine, despite the persistent questions niggling him.
Elizabeth hooked her arm in his as they made their way to the entry hall. “I’ve missed times like this.”
At the door he turned to her. “Me, too.”
A troubled frown marred her smooth brow. “I worry that Father pushes you too hard.”
Carson was surprised by her comment. “He has high expectations. But I see that as a good thing.”
Elizabeth searched his eyes, hers filled with the same reservations she’d voiced. “Is this really what you want, Carson? To step into Wainwright’s shoes?”
Suddenly it was as if they had gone back fifteen years, and Elizabeth was troubled over the insistence of Carson’s father that he go away to an Ivy League preparatory school. Or his mother’s concern that he and Elizabeth were spending far too much alone time together.
I hate you! Do you hear me, Mother? I hate you!Carson pushed the anguished memory away. “This is what I want,” he assured Elizabeth. “The senator extended the invitation, but the decision to accept was entirely mine.” Oddly, he liked that she worried about him. No one had done that in a really long time.
“I know how demanding he can be.” She sighed. “I just don’t want him controlling everything ...” She looked away a moment. “The way he used to.” When her eyes met Carson’s once more, there was something else there beyond the worry ... something hard ... bitter. “He has a habit of that, you know. Things are different now. We’re all grown up. This is your life and my life.” Anger flared briefly in her green eyes. “He needs to come to terms with that and back off.”
“Everything’s fine. Don’t worry.” Carson gifted her with the most reassuring smile he could manage in view of just how far out of character she’d abruptly stepped. Not once in all the years he’d known her had he witnessed anything other than sheer devotion to her father. Elizabeth was and always had been the epitome of the loving and obedient daughter. “Your father has my best interests at heart. I’m honored that he has such confidence in me.”
Another troubled sigh whispered past her lips. “Okay. As long as you’re happy.” She tiptoed and hugged him. His heart reacted. “That’s what matters.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.” He squeezed her hand. “Good night.”
“Don’t forget about the ball on Sunday evening.” Her fingers slipped slowly from his as she drew away.
“I couldn’t possibly. Good night.” Carson looked back one last time as he closed the door behind him. The urge to do a little victory dance at finally having some aspect of his personal life back to the way it once was made him giddy.
But that other, more cynical side of him wanted to dissect the night. Take it apart from every angle and analyze the motives again and again. Especially those final moments with Elizabeth.
The past couldn’t be rewritten. There was no option for a do-over. He wished he could have simply enjoyed the familiarity and comfort tonight had offered. But he couldn’t. Not without wondering why it hadn’t happened before. Why now, all these years later? And what the hell did it all mean? Why would Elizabeth be concerned that her father was pushing Carson into something he didn’t want? Did she harbor resentment over the fact that her parents had sent her away when Carson needed her most?
Maybe.
Why not relax and see where this went? He’d waited so long to have that part of his life back.
The feel of Annette Baxter’s body hungrily cradling his overwhelmed the fleeting bliss. Every muscle tensed in reaction to the fierce sensation.
And that was precisely why he couldn’t let his guard down, couldn’t presume anything.
He had to be absolutely certain of everything and everyone.
Including himself.
18
11:40 p.m.
Carson ran long and hard.
He’d tried to work but concentrating had proven impossible. So he’d hit the pavement.
Five miles, six. Then he’d walked another. Every step had been distracted by his need to ensure he wasn’t being followed or watched. Whenever a car had idled past on the street, he’d tensed. But he hadn’t allowed the fear loitering in the back of his mind to keep him from his usual routine.
No damned way.
Sweat rolled down his face. His T-shirt was plastered to his torso.
Schaffer would get back to him tomorrow with the results of her search into the possibility of Baxter having a sister. The agent thought it was a waste of time, but she had agreed to put aside her doubt and pursue the possibility. Carson had reached out to his contact in adoptive services who would in turn touch base with her contact in Tennessee.
