Don't Tell by Karen Rose Page A

forward and then, as if in slow motion, his free hand opened from its fist and rose to her face.
    She flinched, wrenching away so hard she stumbled backward, stifling an alarmed cry as the sharp edge of the box dug into her calf and her feet lost purchase with the carpeted floor. And just that fast his hands were on her, hard around her upper arms, lifting her back to her feet, letting go when she was steady again.
    She opened her eyes, only vaguely surprised she’d clenched them shut. He was too close, the shiny tips of his shoes less than an inch from hers. His cane lay on the carpet at an angle where he’d dropped it to keep her from falling. For a brief moment she saw herself grabbing it, using it to protect herself.
    But then he spoke, his voice sharp with concern. „Caroline, are you all right?“
    She lifted her eyes, slowly, praying the anger would be gone. Her breath caught in her throat. The anger was indeed gone, replaced by a gentleness that was unexpected.
    „I’m sorry.“ His voice was softer now. His hands were poised at her shoulders, a fraction of an inch from touching her. But he didn’t touch. He didn’t grab. Didn’t bruise. „I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you all right?“
    She nodded, unable to force the words past the residual lump of fear in her throat.
    His brows snapped together, giving him a look of instant authority. „Then say something. You’re scaring me.“
    Caroline cleared her throat. It hurt, her throat. Her body hurt, especially her back, from tensing her muscles. Becoming too tense always gave her backaches, courtesy of her injury so many years before. Nine years, to be exact.
    Nine years. She lifted her chin, willing the fear to recede, willing her muscles to relax. Nine years had passed since he’d pushed her down the stairs. Seven years since she’d made her escape. Seven years of being afraid, of looking over her shoulder. Of taking a step back every time someone reached to touch.
    How long would she allow him to affect her life? Him. She made herself think his name. Rob Winters. An evil sonofabitch that got his kicks from terrorizing those weaker than himself. Years of Dana’s coaching came flooding into her mind and something, some nugget of wisdom finally clicked. He – No, Caroline ordered herself, say his name. Rob Winters. Rob Winters can’t hurt you anymore. Rob was gone. Mary Grace was gone. Caroline was here. I’m here to stay, she thought.
    So stay, Caroline. Stop running away.
    She was still running away. Not from places anymore, but from people. How long would she allow Rob Winters to keep her isolated from other human beings?
    It had to stop. Today.
    Now.
    She could make it stop. Herself. Today. There was power in that knowledge. Power and a sudden surge of elation, dizzying in its intensity. It was thrilling, electrifying. It was –
    Reality invaded her thoughts, jerking her back when Max snapped his fingers in front of her face. „Caroline, say something now or I’m calling the school nurse. You’re as white as a sheet.“
    Caroline inwardly cringed, embarrassment rushing in to push aside the thrill of being the master of her own destiny. Reality loomed before her, six-and-a-half feet of gorgeous male sex appeal who was currently looking at her as if she’d lost every crayon in the box.
    „I’m all right,“ she managed, then drew a deep breath. „I’m fine.“ And she would be. Later. Taking a mental stand didn’t mean she instantly became Wonder Woman or Dr. Laura, she realized. She needed to be alone, someplace where she could process the events of the last ten minutes and let the after-shock trembles come in private. „I’m sorry. I don’t usually do things like that.“ She sidestepped the supply box on the floor. „I’ll just get out of your way.“
    „Caroline, wait. Sit down.“
    She opened her mouth to protest as he pushed her into one of the chairs in front of his desk.
    „Just be still for a minute.“ He slowly went