Kiss of an Angel (16 page)

Caitlan swirled the cocoa in her mug, deciding to take a gamble with her next question. “What about Laura’s mom?”

Glancing at her sharply, he swallowed the last of his tart, chasing it down with a drink of his cocoa. “What about her?”

His tone and expression didn’t encourage further questions, but Caitlan was too curious about this mystery woman. “Will you tell me about her?”

“What are you more interested in hearing?” he began, bitterness deepening the timbre of his voice. “That Stacey was a gold digger? That she deliberately got pregnant so I would marry her? Or maybe you’d like to hear about how she got bored with ranch life right after Laura was born and started sleeping with the hands before she divorced me to marry some rich guy from Texas?” His mouth stretched into a grim line, and there was a challenge in his gaze. “Not a pretty story, is it?”

Caitlan didn’t allow his bluntness to dissuade her from wanting to know more. “Did you love her?” For some reason his answer was important to her.

He stared at her for a long moment, the air charged with turbulent emotions. Dragging his palm down the side of his face, he released a long breath burdened with regrets. “I tried, Caitlan. I really did. I wanted so badly to forget Aman—” He stopped abruptly, as if catching himself revealing too much. Then his jaw hardened. “It’s difficult to love a woman who traps you into marriage for her own selfish means. I cared for Stacey. She gave me Laura, and for that I’ll always be grateful.”

“But you never loved her,” she stated softly.

He shook his head. “No. I’ve already told you, I’ve only loved one woman and she’s dead.”

Caitlan understood his loneliness and pain so much better. What she didn’t understand, however, was why her own heart felt exposed as a result of his lost love. Crazy. Unexplainable. Staring at the dregs of cocoa in the bottom of her mug, she channeled her thoughts down a different avenue. “Does Stacey ever see Laura?”

“Not since the day she left the ranch ten years ago. She had visitation rights, but she never exercised them. She didn’t want the complications of a kid messing up her life with her rich Texan.” He shrugged. “Actually, I’m grateful, because Laura doesn’t need to be in the middle of a tug-of-war between Stacey and me. I know it has to be difficult for Laura without a mother around, but I try and do the best I can.”

Caitlan heard the doubt threading through his voice, and without really considering her actions, she reached across and placed her hand on his arm and gave him a light squeeze. The contact of his warm flesh against her palm radiated up her arm like a ray of sunshine. “She’s a wonderful girl. You should be proud.”

He smiled, a genuinely proud grin that reached his eyes. “Yes, she is, and yes, I am.”

Caitlan grinned back and reluctantly withdrew her hand from the solid strength of his arm. He stared at her, his smile slowly fading into something more curious. His gaze gradually lowered to her mouth, making her suddenly conscious of her lips, and the way his had felt moving over hers. Like heated silk and, deeper, the taste of man and earthy desire. A light, fluttery sensation settled within her.

“What about you, Caitlan?” he asked, turning the tables on her. “Ever been married?”

“No.”

He studied her closer, a scrutiny that made her uneasy. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-four.”

“An old maid.” He grinned, humor creasing the skin around his eyes. “That clock of yours is ticking.”

“Yeah,” she agreed for his benefit. She pressed her hand to her stomach, an unexpected, vast emptiness consuming her. For the first time since passing on, she resented not having had the chance to have children, the love of a good man, and a full life. Why did that bother her so much now?

“Ever been close to getting married?”

She glanced at J.T., his question evoking all kinds of feelings in her. Elusive sensations, and even more distant, wispy emotions. “Yes,” she automatically answered. “Once. A very long time ago. Things didn’t work out.” She frowned, wondering how she knew she’d been close to getting married at one time, but unable to fully grasp the answers she sought. Vague images danced in her mind, and she closed her eyes to bring them into focus, ignoring the sudden beat of the medallion against her skin.

J.T. as a young man knelt in front of the blond-haired girl. His eyes openly displayed his love for her as he slipped a ring on her finger. “Will you marry me, Amanda Hamilton?”

“Are you sure?” the girl whispered in a voice mingled with happiness and insecurity.

“Absolutely. You’ve always been mine, Amanda....”

Caitlan sucked in a sharp breath as a brutal pain seized her head and the images dispersed. Pressing her fingers to her temples, a distressed moan rolled from her throat. Heaven help her, what was her connection to these strange visions?

J.T. watched Caitlan squeeze her eyes shut, her face pale. She drew in a deep, steady breath as she rubbed her temples, as if warding off a sudden headache. “Caitlan, you okay?”

“No,” she said on a low moan, blinking her lashes open. Confusion and pain glazed her eyes, then they cleared. “I mean yes, yes, I’m fine,” she quickly amended, avoiding his gaze. “Just tired, I think.”

Nodding his agreement, he gathered up their plates and stood. “Considering it’s nearly five in the morning, you should be.” He rinsed their dishes, wondering at how easily she’d pried personal confessions from him, how easily he’d whiled away over an hour with her. What surprised him the most, though, was that he’d enjoyed every minute of being in her company.

He turned back toward her, noting that the color in her cheeks had returned, and she looked more in control of her senses. “Come on. I’ll walk with you upstairs.”

Grabbing her sketch pad and pencil, she slid from the bench. She passed him on the way to the door, giving him a facsimile of her normal bright smile. He shut off the light, throwing them into shadowed darkness. Quietly, side by side, they ascended the stairs. At the landing he grabbed her elbow and stopped her when she would have veered off toward her room.

She glanced at him, and he saw the questions in her eyes. Her tongue slid along her bottom lip, a nervous gesture he found endearing, and arousing. His gut tightened and heat flared like wildfire inside him.

For a reason he couldn’t explain he didn’t want to let her go, even though he knew he should. What he wanted was to lead her into his bedroom, lay her down on the bed, ease deep inside her, and stay in that paradise forever. He wanted to fill her up the same way she filled him when he was near her. Completely. Unequivocally. Looking into her eyes, he wanted to drown in their endless depths that promised everything he’d lost faith in so long ago. Things he had no right expecting or taking from her.

He slid his fingers from her elbow and down her arm. Picking up her hand, he rubbed his callused thumb across the soft skin of her knuckles. “Thanks for listening to the sordid details of my life,” he said, his voice low, a wry grin curving his mouth.

Caitlan got the distinct impression that J.T. didn’t discuss his private life freely, yet he’d been so open with her. “They say confession is good for the soul.” She resisted the urge to pull back the hand he caressed so softly. The way he stroked the sensitive skin in between each of her fingers made her knees weak and heat shimmer up her arm. Clutching her sketch pad to her breasts in an effort to stop the tingling in the sensitive tips, she forced a smile. “At least I’m good for something, huh?”

“You’re good for a lot of things, I’m sure,” he said, his suggestive tone adding to Caitlan’s already overloaded senses. Leaning close, he grinned. “Don’t tell Paula, but those cherry tarts were better than hers.”

He looked so much like the young boy she’d drawn, so carefree and full of mischief, that she allowed an unrestrained grin to grace her lips. “I’m glad you liked them.”

“Oh, I did,” he murmured. “Very much.” Suddenly growing serious, he let go of her hand and caressed the dimple creasing her right cheek with his finger, his touch feather-soft and reverent.

A shiver swept down Caitlan’s spine. His gaze darkened hungrily, and deeper, she saw the desire and need that matched the building tension in her. Her breath caught, and a delicious anticipation sped up her pulse.
Leave before it’s too late
, she told herself, but she ignored the warning, too caught up in the essence of J.T. A powerful force kept her rooted to the spot.

J.T. moved closer, his bare toes touching the tips of hers. Sliding his hands along her jaw, he cupped her face in his warm palms and lifted her mouth to his. Slowly lowering his head, his lips whispered over her cheek. Then his tongue darted out to stroke her dimple, a warm, damp caress that electrified her.

His assault was so gentle, so sensual, her lips parted on a soft moan.

J.T. glided his thumb across Caitlan’s bottom lip, his mouth hovering inches above hers. “I’m gonna kiss you, Caitlan,” he said, his voice husky with barely leashed restraint. “If you want me to stop, tell me now.”

Even if she had wanted him to stop, she couldn’t have found her voice to say so. The only sound she could manage was a whimper when his mouth skimmed over hers, then pressed more intimately. His fingers slid into her hair, and he cupped the back of her head in his hand, angling her mouth just so for his heated invasion.

Before Caitlan could catch her breath his tongue surged into her mouth, taking possession and stealing what little sanity she had left. His other hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her so close, the only thing separating them was their scant clothes and the tenacious hold she had on her sketch pad. Automatically, she splayed her free hand on his chest. The moment she touched his warm, firm flesh, her body swelled with awareness and an intense heat flooded her. Her connection to J.T. was stronger, more powerful than ever.

A groan of surrender rumbled up from his chest, and his kiss gentled. He made love to her mouth like a man who had all the time in the world. Like he couldn’t get enough of her. Like she was water and he was dying of thirst.

She yearned to give him any sustenance he craved.

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, both of them struggling to regain a normal breathing pattern. Caitlan ran her tongue over her swollen lips, tasting the unique flavor of J.T., cherries, and chocolate.

Eyes closed, smiling, she whispered, “I like the way you taste.”

He brushed his mouth over her lips again, his tongue following suit. Fingers still tangled in the hair at the back of her head, he gently pulled her away, waiting until she blinked her eyes open to look at him. “And I want to taste more of you. Everywhere, Caitlan. In every way possible. That kiss wasn’t nearly enough.”

She shivered at the wicked promises glittering in his eyes, wanting everything as much as he. Somehow, a semblance of reason stole through the desire making her lethargic, and she stepped from his embrace. She hated the chill that replaced the heat of moments before. “We can’t. We shouldn’t.”

“Yeah, I know.” His voice was rough, like sandpaper. “But it doesn’t stop me from wanting you.” Shoving his fingers through his hair, he glanced away, as if he’d revealed too much.

Finally he released a heavy sigh. “Go to bed, Caitlan.”

* * *

The following day at noon, restless and unable to concentrate on the columns of figures in front of him, J.T. left his office. Strolling into the kitchen, hoping to catch a glimpse of Caitlan, he instead found Paula and Laura making sandwiches for lunch. His guest was nowhere to be seen.

“Hi, Dad.” Laura greeted him with a huge smile, eyes sparkling. Abandoning her chore of shredding chicken, she gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Nice to see you’ve come out of hibernation. Are you going to stay in the office all day today?”

J.T. couldn’t suppress a grin at his daughter’s impudence. He was feeling pretty good, despite his lack of sleep last night. Refusing to admit Caitlan was responsible for his pleasant mood, he replied, “I thought I’d check the creek for blockages.”

Laura shot him a disproving glance. “What about your head?”

“My head is fine, Smidget. I only want to check and make sure the creek is clear.” Leaning his hip against the counter, he nabbed a piece of chicken and tossed it into his mouth.

Frowning, she spread mayonnaise on a slice of bread, then heaped it with chicken and a slice of cheese. “Why can’t the other guys do that?”

“They can, but I want to get out for a bit. I won’t do anything strenuous, I promise.” To prove his point, he added, “Want to go with me?”

She looked at him, and he caught a flicker of pleasure in her eyes before it was quickly replaced by something much more mischievous. “No, but I’d bet Caitlan would like to go with you. She’s been cooped up for two whole days. You can show her how beautiful it is here.”

J.T. glanced at Paula, who gave him a light shrug and a I-had-nothing-to-do-with-Laura’s-scheme kind of look before she continued slicing the loaf of fresh bread she’d made that morning. Paula might not have anything directly to do with Laura’s ploy, J.T. thought, but she definitely wasn’t against the idea.

Neither was he, which should have been enough to warn him he was getting too damned close to her. After their hot kiss last night, and the truce they’d established, taking things a couple of steps farther would be so easy....