Kiss of an Angel (9 page)

“Laura,” J.T. called, and his daughter stopped at the doorway connecting the foyer to the dining room to look back at him. “Would you show Caitlan my office so she can use the phone?”

“Sure, Dad.” Smiling, Laura nodded her head down the connecting hall. “Right this way, Caitlan.”

Caitlan followed Laura, recognizing J.T.’s strategy for the ploy it was—to avoid being alone with her any more than he had to. She felt his gaze on her back, and the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck tingled in acute awareness. With a soft curse, he turned and strode into the kitchen.

Laura glanced over her shoulder as J.T. disappeared from view, then leaned close to Caitlan. “So, tell me what
really
happened between you and my father.”

Caitlan eyed Laura, seeing the wistfulness in her gaze and a glimmer of hope. Not wanting to disillusion the young girl in any way, she strove to keep her answer simple and to the point. “Like your father said, I found him!”

“Oh, how romantic,” Laura said on a dreamy sigh.

A wry smile found its way to Caitlan’s lips. “Your father has been anything but romantic.”

Laura stopped before a closed door at the end of the hall. Grasping Caitlan’s hand, Laura met her gaze. “You’ll have to excuse my dad. It’s been a long time since he’s really dated someone—”

“Laura, this isn’t what you think,” Caitlan said gently, not wanting to hurt her feelings. “Your father and I aren’t romantically involved.”

“Not yet,” she replied, her tone holding more insight than Caitlan would have liked.

“How old are you?” Caitlan asked, knowing the wisdom reflected in Laura’s eyes didn’t come close to matching her young years.

“Twelve.” Laura’s chin lifted haughtily. “Old enough to know that my father is interested in you.”

Shaking her head at the absurdity of that statement, Caitlan smoothed a strand of silky hair from Laura’s cheek. “Honey, the only thing your father is interested in is getting me off this ranch as soon as possible.”

Laura’s lips pursed. Eyes identical to her dad’s flashed knowingly. “It’s the way he watches you when he thinks no one is watching him,” she said in a low voice, glancing covertly around them to make sure they were still alone. “I’ve never seen such a soft look in his eyes. It’s the kind of look Aunt Debbie gives Uncle Kirk sometimes, and then they’ll sneak off somewhere to kiss and do other things …” Her words trailed off when she realized her slip, her face turning crimson.

Caitlan understood Laura’s compulsion to find someone for her father, but matchmaking her and J.T. was strictly out of the question. Nothing good would come from it, and the interference would only make things more difficult and awkward while she protected J.T. “Laura, don’t get your hopes up for something that’s not there. The only reason I’m here is because of my own stupidity and the fact that the bridge is out.”

“Do you believe in fate?” Laura asked, looking deeply into Caitlan’s eyes.

Caitlan felt cornered and didn’t care for the knowledge in this young girl’s luminous gaze. “Well, yes,” she said slowly, cautiously. Fate was part of her occupation.

Laura pressed closer. “Do you believe fate can bring two people who belong with each other together?”

Goosebumps raised on the surface of Caitlan’s flesh.
Do you believe fate can bring two people who belong with each other together?
Yes, she believed in fate and destiny, but she would know if J.T. was her eternal soulmate. Caitlan frowned. Who was her soulmate? She knew she had one. She was employed as a guardian angel while she waited to be joined with him. But who was he? Fragments, formed in her mind, a shadowy face with rugged features she couldn’t quite identify. Struggling to grasp the recollection, she received a sharp piercing pain to her memory for her efforts. Mentally, she drew back. The gold medallion between her breasts grew warm, then startling hot.

“Caitlan?”

Caitlan’s gaze cleared and she stared at Laura, a little rattled by what she’d just experienced. “Can you excuse me for a moment while I make this phone call?”

“Sure.” Laura hooked her thumb back toward where they’d just come from. “We’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done. Down the hall, the third door on your right.”

Caitlan forced a smile. “Thanks.” Slipping inside J.T.’s office, Caitlan leaned against the heavy door and let out a deep breath to steady her out-of-control pulse. The heat in the medallion subsided, and the ache in her head slowly faded away.

Even though Caitlan wasn’t registered as a guest at Parson’s Dude Ranch, she went through the ritual of calling them, without actually dialing the number and connecting, just in case someone was at the door and overheard her. She felt foolish speaking to the dial tone but accomplished the task within a few minutes, then headed for the kitchen.

The family sat around a massive wooden table ladened with a smorgasbord of aromatic food: chili, cornbread, chicken fried steak, green beans, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn on the cob, and biscuits with honey and butter. Long bench seats flanked either side of the table, making dining in the kitchen an informal affair. She noticed Kirk had joined the group, and assumed this was a daily supper ritual.

“Sit down and help yourself, Caitlan,” Paula said cheerfully, obviously happiest in her element as cook. “Would you like lemonade or iced tea?”

“Iced tea, please.” Caitlan sat down in the only available spot at the far end of the table, which happened to put her directly across from J.T. He spared her a brief glance, his eyes shadowed and distant, then went back to finishing his bowl of chili. His remoteness didn’t invite casual conversation.

“What did Parson’s have to say about your escapade?” Frank asked, helping himself to a second serving of chicken fried steak and potatoes.

Startled for a moment, Caitlan stared at the older man. She felt all eyes on her as she groped for a feasible answer, then an explanation flowed easily into her mind, as if her Superior had anticipated the question.

She filled her bowl with chili and grabbed a warm biscuit. “They’re relieved I’m okay and that I have a place to stay until the bridge is repaired.” Slathering butter on her biscuit, she reached for the honey jar and drizzled some on top. “Sounds like things are real hectic around there with the bridge out.”

“I’ll bet” Kirk gave his head a rueful shake. “I wonder how they’re going to transport people and food in and out.”

Caitlan swallowed a mouthful of the best chili she’d ever tasted. “I don’t know. They didn’t say. The clerk sounded a little frazzled, so I made the conversation as brief as possible.”

“Well, you’re welcome to stay as long as it takes to repair the bridge,” Paula offered, as if she had complete authority over the Rafferty ranch and its occupants.

J.T.’s spoon clattered in his empty earthenware bowl. He sent Paula a look of annoyance, his jaw clenched, but the housekeeper, busy taking an apple pie out of the oven, didn’t see it.

Debbie glanced from her brother to Caitlan, an intuitive smile canting the corner of her mouth. “I’d be more than happy to loan you some clothes, Caitlan. You’re a bit shorter than I am, but I think we can find something that will fit you comfortably.”

“Thank you,” Caitlan said, overwhelmed by their graciousness. If only her real host would be so congenial and cooperative, her mission would be a breeze.

J.T. abruptly stood, the legs of his chair scraping on the wooden floor. Eight pairs of eyes darted his way. “Excuse me,” he said, surprised at the gruffness of his own voice. “There’s a few things I need to take care of.” He turned and strode from the kitchen, down the hall, and out the front door.

Ignoring the chill in the evening air, and the fact that he should have grabbed his jacket, he headed for the barn. He just wanted to get away from Caitlan. She was getting under his skin in a way he couldn’t shrug off, with those violet eyes and that flashing dimple. The feeling irritated the hell out of him, because he’d vowed never to let another woman get that close.

Unbidden, thoughts of his ex-wife Stacey filtered through his mind, of her unrelenting pursuit of him while he’d been at the No Bull Bar and Grill one evening three years after Amanda’s death. Still grieving over the loss of Amanda, he’d followed Stacey’s come-ons in an attempt to forget memories of another woman. Their affair had been tempestuous and steamy—a calculated ploy on Stacey’s part to land herself a wealthy husband. She got her wish when she turned up pregnant.

J.T. shoved his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans and scuffed his boots over the gravel walkway, remembering how he’d wanted things to work with Stacey, how he’d hoped she’d be the one to make him forget Amanda. What a fool he’d been. Once married, Stacey had realized her mistake. Although J.T. lived comfortably, he led a simple life that didn’t include fancy clothes and expensive jewels and nights on the town. The novelty of living on a remote ranch and being Mrs. John Rafferty lost its appeal shortly after Laura was born, and from there things only went from had to worse, until Stacey’s indiscreet affairs with the seasonal ranch hands lost their excitement and she left him and two-year-old Laura. He had given her the divorce she wanted with the stipulation that he received full custody of their daughter. The last he’d heard, she’d married a rich oil baron from Texas.

That had been ten years ago, and since then he’d had a few flings. Hell, he wasn’t a monk, but neither did he want strings or commitments—he was not good with either. The women he’d seen knew the rules, and he always ended the affairs before they got emotionally messy. Like he’d told Caitlan, he didn’t have any use for a wife, except maybe for the physical pleasure and convenience a wife would afford.

So why, then, did he look into Caitlan’s eyes and feel not just desire but a need that tangled his emotions into one big knot? Emotions he had sworn he wasn’t capable of feeling any longer.

Lost in his thoughts, a red glow by the corral finally snagged J.T.’s attention—the tip of a burning cigarette. J.T. strained in the darkness to see who it was, and as he walked closer, he recognized the man as his newest hand, Mike.

“Evening,” J.T. said, nodding his head in the man’s direction.

Mike muttered something—could’ve been a greeting or a curse, for all J.T. knew—then he flicked his cigarette to the ground and crushed the butt with the toe of his boot. With a dark frown, Mike turned and headed toward the bunkhouse.

J.T. didn’t know a thing about Mike except that he was a Vietnam veteran. Definitely a loner. No one seemed to like him much, but he worked hard and earned his pay, and that was all J.T. cared about. So far, he hadn’t caused any trouble.

Entering the barn, J.T. inhaled the sweet scent of fresh hay and the sharp, natural tang of livestock, tack, and ointments. Walking down the wide corridor, he stopped at King’s Ransom’s stall. The prized stallion glared at him with suspicious black eyes, daring J.T. to enter his pen. King stomped his hoof defiantly and whinnied.

“King’s Ransom, hell.” J.T. shook his head, regretting his impulse to purchase the animal he’d thought merely spirited, not downright mean. “More like Fool’s Gold, you wretched animal.”

The pitch-black stallion tossed its glorious head and snorted. The horse was more trouble than he was worth, J.T. thought. No one could even get near the wild beast without the threat of being trampled.

J.T. didn’t know how long he stayed in the barn. The cold seeped into his bones, stiffening his joints and aggravating his head. Breaking the stare-off with King, J.T. shoved off the stall and headed back inside the house to get some neglected paperwork done, hoping to keep his mind occupied so he wouldn’t think about a certain violet-eyed woman.

* * *

Caitlan met J.T. in the foyer just as he stepped inside the house. He saw her and scowled, then shouldered past her without a word. His office door slammed shut a moment later.

Sighing at J.T.’s bristly attitude, Caitlan decided to take a quick tour of the ranch to familiarize herself with the spread. Donning her jacket, she went outside and followed the gravel walkway leading to the barn. Overhead, a blanket of stars twinkled in the clear sky, and a three-quarter moon illuminated the path.

Caitlan sensed more than heard Randal behind her. And she knew it was him. An unmistakable sinister aura surrounded him, an evil that alerted her and made her cautious. She kept on walking, and it didn’t take long for Randal to make his presence known.

“Well ... if it isn’t Ms. Caitlan Daniels,” Randal drawled insolently from behind her. “You managed to con my cousin, but you can’t fool me.”

Caitlan didn’t relish having a confrontation with Randal, but she knew there’d be no getting around it. Stopping, she turned to face him, and he nearly bumped into her. Glaring at her as if she was to blame for his clumsiness, he straightened.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Randal,” she replied, keeping one eye on the ranch house to be sure no one saw or heard them.

His eyes glittered savagely. “Don’t play stupid with me! Who the hell are you?”

She recoiled from the sour odor of onions and liquor on his breath. Although he’d been drinking, he seemed to be in complete control of his senses. “You know who I am.”

His gaze narrowed. The moonlight highlighted his face, giving his features a diabolic slant. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

She knew what he was asking and chose to avoid the obvious. “You heard what happened.” Her voice was calm and well-modulated. She felt no real fear or threat from him. Yet.