Kiss of an Angel (5 page)

“Nope. Have a snack and relax.” Turning, she tossed him a sealed package of dried apricots, and he caught the bag.

Using his teeth, he tore open a corner of the plastic bag. Pinching a dried apricot between his fingers, he examined the shriveled piece of fruit for a second before deeming it edible. “Relaxing isn’t one of my strong suits.”

Caitlan picked up the damp pair of jeans draped on the far side of the table and shook them out before folding the denim into a tidy square. “You might want to get used to it, at least for a few days. You really should give your head, and your body, time to recuperate from your accident.” She added a folded shirt to his pile of soggy clothes.

He looked up, intending to tell her he wasn’t about to sit around for a couple of days. Even the nastiest of flus couldn’t keep him down, and he wouldn’t let this mishap keep him from overseeing the ranch and cattle, either. Especially if someone was bent on sabotaging his livelihood.

Ultimately, he popped another apricot into his mouth and kept his protest to himself. He didn’t owe this woman an explanation, and he didn’t need her permission to do anything. As protective and concerned as she seemed to be, he considered himself lucky she’d be gone once they reached the ranch house.

“I’m surprised no one has found us by now,” he commented, reaching for his cowboy boots, sitting under the table. “My horse should have wandered back to the ranch without a rider. Unless whoever hit me over the head killed Quinn, he should have gotten there last night, which should’ve alerted someone that I’m out in the pasture alone.” He glanced out the window, trying to gauge the hour. “How long ago did it stop raining?”

“Sometime last night”

He watched her with his briefs, her fingers tucking and creasing the cotton easily, as if she’d been folding his underwear for years. The intimacy of the simple task started a slow burn in his veins and made him too aware of how her hands might have felt against his flesh as she’d stripped those same briefs off him last night.

Jamming his right foot into his boot, he scowled in disgust as a cold dampness seeped into his thick sock. Since he lacked an extra pair of boots in the shack, and he didn’t relish walking the three miles back to the ranch house in bare feet, he put the other boot on and arranged his jeans over the tops.

“What time is it anyway?” he asked, realizing his watch was no longer strapped to his wrist. “And what did you do with my watch?”

“It’s right here.” She glanced at the timepiece before handing it to him. “Ten
A.M.
Your watch, at least, is waterproof,” she said, an unrestrained grin canting the corners of her mouth.

“I don’t think—” J.T.’s hand froze as he reached for his watch, and his heart stopped midbeat. Every thought flew from his head and the room seemed to shrink as he stared at the dimple creasing Caitlan’s right cheek, a single dimple identical to the one Amanda had when she grinned. The same violet-blue eyes, the same dimple ...

Sweet, haunting memories crowded in on him, suffocating him with their poignancy. Then, like a cloud of smoke, the recollections dispersed, and it was Caitlan he wanted to touch, Caitlan’s feminine scent that wrapped around him, seducing him, tempting him, making him long for something that was just beyond his grasp and always would be.

He squeezed his eyes shut, hating the vulnerable way he felt, despising even more that this woman made him remember and feel things he thought he’d permanently locked away. Dammit,
why her?

“J.T., are you okay?”

She placed a caring hand on his arm, and he flinched as her fingers seared him through the thin material of his shirt. Swearing at his reaction, he put distance between them the only way he knew how, shoving up a wall in front of his emotions before he made a fool of himself. “I need to take care of some personal matters, if you know what I mean. Outside.
Alone
.”

She nodded and backed away. “I understand.”

The hurt look in her eyes grabbed at him, but he kept his tone deliberately brusque. “As soon as the shack is cleaned up, we’ll start toward the ranch.”

“Are you sure you’re up to it?”

He wasn’t about to spend the afternoon in the shack with her, in a too small a room with too many possibilities. He strode to the door and opened it, welcoming the slap of brisk morning air.

“We’ll get to the house even if I have to crawl,” he said, then glanced back at her with purpose, his harshness fading. “
Or
you could always drag me.” Before she could offer a retort, he stepped outside and closed the door.

Caitlan looked out the window and watched as J.T. strode toward a copse of trees, wondering at the light flutters in her belly as she admired the leashed power and strength of his body. An altogether strange sensation, she thought, like none other she’d experienced as a guardian angel. Something about J.T. Rafferty elevated her nerves to a level of consciousness and made her feel things that were dark and surely forbidden to her. Yet she couldn’t seem to stem the desire and longing sweeping through her. She was even more ashamed because the feeling wasn’t at all unpleasant to her.

Once J.T. disappeared from view and she knew she’d have a few moments to herself, she cleared her mind of those disconcerting thoughts and closed her fingers around her medallion.

“Yes?”

“You guys gave me a real doozy of an excuse to convince J.T. how I found him unconscious,” she said, remembering his doubts. “He probably thinks I’m a real ditz.”

“It was the best we could do at such short notice. He believes you, which is all that matters. Your expressions and emotions flowed naturally. Now, please, you mustn’t summon us unless it’s an absolute emergency. We’ve been swamped since you left.”

Sighing, Caitlan let the medallion drop back between her breasts. Time to get back to work, she told herself. She had a very obstinate man to protect.

* * *

J.T. took care of nature’s call and, instead of returning to the shack, he walked along the edge of the creek, heading toward the spot where he’d been ambushed the day before so he could investigate the area. The sun warmed his back and a clean, chilly breeze blew. Up above, a blue sky greeted him, stretching on for as far as the eye could see. Except for the damp soil beneath his boots there wasn’t any evidence of the tempestuous sleet storm that had hit yesterday.

The water in the creek was higher than normal, a good indication that the storm had dropped a couple of inches of rain, which he always welcomed. The water flowed from the mountains down to the pasture for his cattle. From the looks of the rapidly cascading water, he surmised there were no more blockages upriver.

Finding the severed tree resting by the side of the creek, he squatted at the base of the trunk and examined the cuts in the bark indicating an ax had been used to fell the tree.

Someone had intentionally sabotaged the creek so the water supply to the cattle would be cut off. Had that same someone intended for him to find the blockage? He had proof the whole scene had been a setup of some kind—an aching head and a woman who’d saved him from a sure departure from earth.

He shivered at how close he’d come to meeting his death, and the thought of never seeing his daughter again. Laura was his life, a twelve-year-old pixie whom he adored and would do anything for. Knowing too well the devastation of losing someone you loved, J.T. was grateful God had seen fit to spare Laura from losing him. Especially at such a tender age.

“The shack is cleaned—”

Startled, J.T. stood, spun around, and crouched, ready to face his adversary. His heart pounded wildly in his chest and a shaft of pain detonated in his head. He hadn’t heard Caitlan approach—no crunch of boots over the soil and brush, no rustle of clothing, nothing.

“Damn! Don’t sneak up on me like that.” Straightening, he speared his fingers through his hair and took a breath to calm the pitching in his stomach. “After what happened yesterday I’m strung as tight as a bow.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I only wanted to tell you the fire in the wood stove is out and the shack is straightened. We can start back to the ranch.” She held up a bulky knapsack for him to see. “I packed some beef jerky and filled a canteen with bottled water.” She thrust her other hand toward him. “And I found a jacket in the cupboard for you.”

The vise of pain in his head eased and his pulse returned to normal. He took the jacket, staring down at Caitlan’s upturned face. “Thanks,” he murmured, shrugging into the jacket and zipping it. He noticed she’d put on her own jacket. “I’m beginning to think you’re a regular girl scout.”

“I just like to make the best of a situation.”

“So do I,” he agreed, wondering if taking advantage of her damp, parted lips would be considered making the best of a situation. Her hair looked soft and inviting with the sun dancing upon it. The strands ruffled about her head like a curtain of silk, enhancing those bluer-than-blue eyes of hers.

Looking away, he absently kicked a small rock with the toe of his boot. “I wanted to check out the area before we left. I was hoping to find something to give me a clue as to who might have done this. All I know is that the tree was purposely cut and situated across the creek to stop the flow of water to the main pasture.”

Frowning, she glanced at the crystal-clear water rippling downstream. “Why would someone do that?”

“Hell if I know.” Frustration gnawed at him. “The only thing I can figure, if this was a deliberate sabotage attempt, is that the water would back up and flood the pasture, making it too marshy for grazing. But that doesn’t explain why I got clubbed.”

She transferred her gaze back to him. “Why would someone want to harm you?”

“I don’t know.”

Her brows creased, and J.T. found he wanted to reach out and smooth the wrinkle with his thumb. Thrusting his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans, he stared out across his land. “Maybe a transient hit me over the head.” Even to his own ears, the explanation sounded like a last-ditch effort to convince himself he wasn’t on someone’s hit list. “Maybe he wanted my horse, and that’s why no one has come looking for me yet. If Quinn never made it back to the Circle R, Frank, my foreman, probably thinks I spent the night in the line shack and am out assessing any damage done by the storm.”

“Maybe, but you said the tree was cut deliberately. Why would a drifter go to that much trouble—?”

“Yeah, I know,” he interrupted, anger coiling inside him. “Maybe I’m just making excuses because I don’t want to believe I have an enemy nearby, or that I’ll have to watch my back twenty-four hours a day.” He glanced at her. “At any rate, when we do get back I’m going to tell everyone I had an accident, that I slipped and fell and knocked myself out and you found me.”

“Why not tell the truth? That someone tried to kill you?”

“I don’t want whoever is behind this stunt to panic because everyone is searching for him. I want this person to feel confident so he’ll try something else. I plan to get this son of a bitch, Caitlan.”

She worried her bottom lip, her eyes clouding with concern. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

J.T. resented being disputed by a woman, especially one he didn’t really know. He leaned close, making sure she saw how dead serious he was. “It doesn’t matter much what you think, Caitlan. This is my ranch. While you’re at the Circle R you’ll follow my rules. Got that?”

Her chin thrust out and she met his gaze steadily. “Yes, sir.”

Why did he get the feeling she was mocking him? “I owe you a great deal,” he conceded softly. “You did save my life.”

One of those secret smiles curved her mouth and she shrugged off his gratitude, as if saving lives was a regular habit of hers. “I just happened to be at the right place at the right time.”

“Lucky me, huh?”

“I’d like to think so.”

Something inside J.T. shifted at her softly spoken words. A sharp pang of emotion he vaguely recognized as longing pierced him. Rolling his shoulders to shrug off the sensation, he grasped her elbow and guided her around the tree. “Come on—let’s get moving. Once the sun goes down it gets damn cold. No offense to the stew and peaches you made, but I have to admit I’m looking forward to Paula’s chili and cornbread.”

“No offense taken.” Caitlan fell into step beside him as he started away from the creek through an open pasture. He let go of her arm and she lost that delicious warmth he seemed to generate within her. Curious to know more about him, and wanting to fill the silence between them, she asked, “Who’s Paula?”

His stride was steady yet reserved, to save his energy for the long trek ahead. “My foreman’s wife. She keeps an eye on my daughter, Laura, while I’m working. She cooks for us and takes care of the main house.”

Caitlan slung the knapsack over her shoulder.

“You have a daughter, but you’re not married?”

“No.”

The word was spoken with such finality, Caitlan automatically thought the worst. “Did your wife die?”

His gaze cut to hers, a sardonic smile on his lips. “No, she left me for something better and more exciting.”

Caitlan’s cheeks grew warm. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he replied, bitterness seeping into his deep voice. “It was for the best. She’s been gone almost ten years.”