Kiss of an Angel (33 page)

Oh, God, Amanda. But how could that be? He shook his head, wondering if he was going slowly insane.
No!
he raged inwardly. Amanda was dead, gone from this lifetime.

A spike of anger renewed his fortitude, and he moved away from Caitlan. Rolling off the bed to his feet, he snatched his jeans from the floor and yanked them on, one leg at a time.

“Dammit, Caitlan, what are you trying to pull?” He glared at her, grasping his ire with both hands, welcoming the heated fury in favor of the softening emotions threatening to engulf him. “If this is some kind of sick joke ...”

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head wildly. “No.” Sitting up, she reached for the bunched-up quilt and covered her naked body. Her eyes filled with hurt and confusion. “Johnny, I swear—”

“Don’t call me that!” His jaw clenched so hard, his teeth hurt.

She shrank back at his harsh tone. The pain and vulnerability etched on her face nearly disarmed him, but he refused to fall for the act. What else could this whole farce be? Christ, he’d fallen in love with ... an imposter. A fraud.

Cursing himself for a fool, he grabbed his shirt at the end of the bed and shrugged into it. His fingers worked the buttons quickly as he paced the floor in agitation. He zipped up his pants, sparing Caitlan a sharp glance. “Who put you up to this? Huh?” He was going to kill the bastard responsible for this sadistic prank.

Pushing the tangle of damp hair from her face, she drew a steady breath that did nothing to clear the uncertainty from her gaze. “My ... my Superiors.”

He came to an abrupt stop, staring at her incredulously. “Your what?”

She pressed shaky fingers to her temples and closed her eyes, a low groan of despair echoing in the room. “This is all so confusing,” she whispered.

“Well, sort it out and fast,” he snapped, jamming his hands on his hips. “I’m losing my patience real quick, Caitlan.”

“Amanda,” she corrected in a whisper.

Dropping his hands back to his sides, he curled his fingers into tight fists. “Explain yourself before I toss you out on your pretty little ass,” he said in a slow, precise tone of voice.

She looked up at him, indecision in her gaze. Swirling deeper, he glimpsed a hopelessness that brushed the edge of his heart and made him want to give into the plea for understanding shining in her eyes.

Turning away, he walked to the window and glanced outside, seeing nothing but the murky darkness of night. Propping his shoulder against the wall, he faced her again. “I’m waiting.”

Her fingers pleated the sheet in her lap. “I’m a ... guardian angel.”

He gave a short bark of laughter. “Oh, that’s a good one. I suppose you’re going to tell me the next time I hear a bell ring, a friend of yours is getting his wings.”

Her spine straightened in indignation, her eyes flashing violet fire. “Are you going to listen to me or not?”

“Go ahead.” A humorless smile curved his mouth, “This tale should be as entertaining as the one you told me of how you got lost on Rafferty property.” He was suddenly struck with the timely manner of her arrival on the Circle R. She’d claimed to save his life—just in the nick of time, from what she’d told him. There had been many inconsistencies in her story, but he’d had no proof other than to believe her. Could she truly be a guardian angel? His Amanda?

He studied her warily from across the room as she worried on her lower lip. He searched for something otherworldly to substantiate her claim, a soft heavenly glow about her, a shimmering halo—albeit crooked after her erotic interlude with him. Something. Anything. But all he saw were her huge violet eyes drenched with a vulnerable weariness.

He shook his head, hard.
Oh, you’re losing it, Rafferty. You’re finally sailing over the edge. An angel, for chrissakes!

“Well?” he prompted.

“Can I get dressed before we discuss this?”

He wasn’t letting her out of his sight. Considering her clothes were in the guest room, he grabbed a long-sleeved flannel shirt from his closet and tossed it next to her on the bed. She stared at the garment dumbly.

“Put it on,” he said in a crisp tone. “It’s as generous as I feel at the moment.”

A slight blush rose on her cheeks, and she reached for the shirt. The quilt dropped to her waist, and he sucked in a breath at the creamy perfection of her breasts. His body leapt eagerly, responding swiftly to her beauty. The only thought in his mind was to tumble her back on the bed and forget this crazy conversation. Cursing his lack of willpower, he looked away while she dressed.

“My Superiors aren’t going to be happy about this,” she said so quietly he almost didn’t hear her.

Perplexed by her comment, he glanced back, relieved to see her clothed from neck to thigh. “What are you talking about?”

She bent down and retrieved her medallion from the floor. The shiny gold glittered with life and energy in her hand. She closed her fingers over the pendant and looked at him. “My angel Superiors. Chris and Mary. They’re the ones who assigned me to this mission.”

Drained from the events of the past couple of hours, J.T. sat down on the far corner of the bed, sighing heavily. He didn’t know what to believe anymore, but one thing he did know for certain—Caitlan, or Amanda, or whoever the hell she was,
did
feel like a part of him, heart and soul. Still, Amanda as his guardian angel ...?

He clasped his hands between his widespread legs, doing his best to keep an open mind for the explanation to come. “From the beginning, Caitlan.”

Placing the medallion on the nightstand, she sat an arm’s length away from him and began her tale. Her Superiors, he learned, were high-ranking angels who assigned missions and kept tabs on the activities down on earth. He listened to Caitlan as she explained how she’d seen him get hit in the head, how her Superiors didn’t have anyone to send to earth to save him on such a last-minute crisis, and reluctantly agreed to send her to protect him. They’d suppressed her memory of her past with him and given her a new background and identity.

“I was never supposed to remember my past as Amanda,” she concluded softly.

“Then, how ...” He followed her gaze to the glimmering gold on the nightstand, recalling all  the strange, unexplainable things he’d experienced in connection with that pendant, and with her.

“The medallion,” she said, confirming his thoughts. “It links me to my Superiors. Without it on, the medallion could no longer protect my memory.” She glanced back at him, her gaze overflowing with love. “My feelings for you are too strong to be suppressed without the medallion.”

His anger ebbed away, replaced by a reluctant curiosity. “Changing your name and identity is understandable under the circumstances, but why would your ... Superiors suppress your memory of your past with me?”

“Conflict of interest. We’re eternal soulmates. They felt if they sent me on the mission without suppressing my memory, my feelings for you would cloud my judgment.” She gave him a small, bittersweet smile. “I’m afraid they were right. My love for you is so powerful, it’s distracted me from the very beginning of the mission. I’ve been acting more like a mortal than a guardian angel.”

J.T. scrubbed a hand over his jaw, absorbing everything she’d told him. He, too, had experienced that powerful link to her, the awesome need to make her his in every elemental way possible. He could no longer chalk it up to lust. The connection had gone beyond sex, to the very core of him.

“So,” he said on an exhalation of breath. “You really aren’t a guest at Parson’s, are you?”

“Yes ... I mean no,” she amended, shaking her head.

“Which is it?” he asked, irritation creeping back in.

“It’s all part of the mission.”

“How convenient.” His dry tone held a heavy dose of sarcasm.

Caitlan twisted toward him, anger flaring in her eyes. “You were going to die out in the middle of nowhere? You should be grateful that I was able to reach you in time.”

He could have died. Someone had
meant
for him to die. And Caitlan had undoubtedly saved him. Springing from the bed, he paced to the other end of the room, a deluge of questions overwhelming him, “How did you
really
get me to the line shack?”

As if remembering the outrageous tale she’d told him of dragging him to the shack, she lowered her eyes to her lap. “My Superiors helped.”

A derisive smile quirked his mouth. “Heavenly intervention?”

“Yes.” She shrugged, her hand absently smoothing over the quilt, tracing the intricate pattern his mother had created over three decades before. “Once we got you to the shack, Chris mended your head wound and I worked to get your fever under control.” She looked back up, her gaze intense on his face. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it.”

J.T. rubbed at the tense muscles across his shoulders. “I don’t understand. Why all the trouble to save me?”

“It wasn’t your time to pass on to the next plateau.” Standing, she padded soundlessly across the floor to him, her brow creased in concern.

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

He stared down at Caitlan, drowning in those incredible violet eyes. He breathed deeply, dragging the warm, feminine scent of her into his lungs. God, he wanted her. Again. Regardless of the turmoil between them. That familiar tug pulled on his soul. He stubbornly blocked the feeling. “Come on, Caitlan. You have to admit, this whole scenario is a little bizarre. Even if I
did
believe in guardian angels, I think you’re stretching the story a bit by claiming to be Amanda.”

Her lips pursed. “I
am
Amanda.”

“Okay,” he relented, crossing his arms over his chest. “Tell me about Amanda.”

Holding his gaze steadily, she proceeded to tell him about the pictures she’d sketched on her mission, and how they matched exactly the drawings he kept in the cigar box in the office, the ones Amanda had drawn of him when she was alive.

A shiver snaked down J.T.’s spine when he realized how close he’d been to discovering that particular truth when Kirk had interrupted him with his call for help. Then again, he rationalized, Caitlan could have reproduced the drawings as she’d originally claimed when he’d confronted her out in the meadow with the pictures she’d created in her sketch pad.

He couldn’t shake his doubts, maybe because it was the only anchor he had left to reality. “Not good enough. Tell me something no one else but Amanda and I would know.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment, as if sifting through memories. Then she smiled widely, a dimple appearing in her cheek. “The pie,” she said.

“The pie?” he echoed, frowning.

She grasped his hand, her eyes sparkling brightly. “Johnny, don’t you remember? We were just kids. Your mother made three apple pies and set them on the kitchen counter to cool. We stole one of them, along with a half gallon of ice cream. and—”

“Ate all of it down by the creek,” he finished, stunned by the recollection of the ancient memory.

She laughed, the sound sweet and pure to his ears. “We got so sick! We were both afraid of getting in trouble, so we buried the pie tin and the empty ice cream carton ...” Suddenly she grew serious, the humor fading from her eyes. “I remember everything. I remember the day you rescued me from drowning in the creek, the first time you kissed me, the night of my eighteenth birthday.” She reached up and placed her palm on his cheek, her voice softening perceptively. “We made love for the first time and you asked me to marry you. It’s all I ever wanted in this lifetime, to be your wife and have your babies.”

As if he’d just been delivered a punch to the solar plexus, J.T. lost his breath. He stared at Caitlan, seeing her in a different light. He saw Amanda in her soft smile, her violet eyes, and knew without further interrogation that Caitlan was telling the truth.

A maelstrom of emotions welled in him. Afraid to believe in something he’d fantasized about numerous times, he backed away from her. He had to get away, to think and sort everything out.

Spinning around, he strode to the end of the bed and jammed on his boots.

“Where are you going?” Her voice wavered with concern.

“Out.” He didn’t look at her, knowing if he did he’d never make it out the bedroom door. “I need time to think.”

Caitlan watched J.T. leave, her heart sinking to the floor. She understood his need to be alone—he’d been dealt quite a shock—but she hated the loneliness that enveloped her on his departure. That same emptiness echoed in her heart.

“Oh, Johnny,” she sighed dismally. The nickname came so naturally to her, she couldn’t imagine having called him anything else. “What are we going to do?” But she knew the answer to her question. Regardless of who she was, and despite her love for J.T., she had a mission to complete. She ached with the knowledge that she would have to leave him. Again.

She slipped her medallion back on. Now that her memory had been restored, the pendant no longer shimmered with that strange energy. The vibrant life it had possessed had transferred itself to her, leaving the medallion as a device solely for use in contacting her Superiors.

Running a shaking hand through her disheveled hair, she left J.T.’s room, needing the comfort she knew King could offer her. She changed into warm clothes and a jacket and left the house heading for the corral, praying her Superiors would have a cure for her lovesick heart once she arrived back in heaven.