Carrie's Protector by Rebecca York

Author:Rebecca York
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: ROMANCE - - SUSPENSE, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-06-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Jerking away from Wyatt and back into the passenger seat, Carrie looked wildly around for the source of the intrusion into the private world they’d wrapped around themselves and saw a Cadillac in the street behind them. As she turned to stare, the woman driver honked again.

Wyatt swore under his breath, turned the key in the ignition and backed out of the driveway, easing around the luxury car.

An older woman with dyed blond hair was staring daggers at them. Rolling down her window, she stuck her head out and called, “How dare you use my driveway for a dalliance with the maid!”

“The maid?”

Oh, right. She was still wearing the borrowed uniform.

Carrie felt her cheeks flame and ducked her head, trying to hide her face.

Wyatt slammed the gearshift into Drive and pulled around the circular driveway, his mouth set in a grim line.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Not your fault,” he answered as he sped away. “That wasn’t going much further anyway. The first time I make love with you, it’s not going to be in the front seat of a car in someone’s driveway.”

She digested that comment. “Did I hear you right?”

He gave her a sheepish look. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“But it’s what you were thinking.”

“Forget it.”

“I don’t think so.”

She wasn’t going to forget something like that, because it was too good a window into his state of mind.

Wyatt wanted to make love to her. And he would. It was just a question of when.

She could continue the very interesting conversation, but she didn’t think that would get her anywhere. Instead, she filed it away for future reference. Very near future.

Changing the subject, she asked, “What did I miss upstairs after I left?”

“Just my daring escape.”

She felt a shiver go through her. He might joke about it, but it had been a very risky way to get out of the apartment.

“I made it,” he said, as if reading her thoughts.

“Thank God. But now what are we going to do?” she asked.

“Try another approach.” He turned his head toward her for a moment. “Would you have called Patrick Harrison if I hadn’t gotten back to the car?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you were thinking about it.”

“What should I have done if you hadn’t come back?”

She saw him tighten his hands on the wheel, then deliberately relax them. “Withdraw a bunch of money from your bank account. Disappear.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“You’re smart. You’d learn,” he said, but she wondered if he really believed it.

“You can’t disappear forever.”

“Some people do. Like that woman who was in the Weather Underground who made a new life for herself. Or that mob boss who vanished for a decade.”

“Then you read years later that they were captured.”

“Or not. There are plenty you don’t read about.”

“Maybe you’d better give me some tips. You know, in case I actually need to do it.”

“Go to a rural graveyard, find a child born the same year you were and died when she was a few years old. Take her identity.

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