Heaven's Gift aka Kiss of an Angel

Chapter Ten

Love. Sitting up in bed two hours later, unable to sleep, Caitlan sketched furiously, hoping to purge her heart and soul of the emotion. The word rested heavily on her heart, burdening her with despair when it should have brought her joy. In a mortal lifetime she'd probably be ecstatic, but as a spiritual being, she'd been told an emotion as intense as passionate love wasn't possible. Her Superior had been wrong; so very wrong.

She'd done the unpardonable by making love with J.T., her only defense being that with him she experienced a connection so undeniably perfect and powerful in its magnetism, she couldn't deny the fierce longing to blend hearts and souls so irrevocably they meshed into one entity. She'd done that and more. Much, much more. Her face flamed when she recalled the wicked things he'd done to her, and her sensually uninhibited response to him.

But to have actually fallen in love with J.T., a mortal, to have given him her heart and soul as she had, was a reprehensible act that would no doubt warrant severe punishments. She was already eternally matched, her spirit supposedly secured to her soulmate while she waited as a guardian angel to be joined with him. As hard as she tried, though, she couldn't recall her soulmate's face or the warmth of his soul, because the only thing filling her up inside was J.T.'s essence.

The picture she'd drawn reflected her jumbled emotions, swirling patches and broad strokes that created nothing more than confusion. With a moan of hopelessness, she drew her knees up and hugged her sketch pad to her chest. She tried to keep herself together when all she wanted to do was fall apart, or run back into J.T.'s arms, where she'd been so content, so fulfilled.

Heaven help her, what was she going to do about J.T.? When she returned from her mission and her Superior discovered she'd given her heart to another, what plausible excuse could she give? Her actions couldn't be explained as a moment of weakness, because she'd openly wanted J.T., had felt a link to him from the very beginning of her mission. She'd ached to be a part of him, but she'd never expected to fall in love with the man, the ultimate of mortal emotions.

She couldn't allow them to make love again, not that she believed J.T. would want to after she'd blurted out the special nickname Amanda had called him. She still couldn't figure out why she'd called him Johnny, why the name had slipped so naturally from her lips. Another piece of the ever-growing puzzle to tuck away. When she returned from her mission her Superior would have all the answers to the bizarre visions she'd had, to the feelings that made J.T. so much a part of her.

Resting her head on her knees, she drew in a breath to release the awful tightness constricting her chest. What hurt the most, she supposed, was the way J.T. had shut down after she'd accidentally called him Johnny. His cool remoteness had cut her to the soul like a blade. She'd wanted to cry out at the bleakness creeping back into his gaze, the loneliness churning in the depths of his eyes. But she understood his withdrawal. His heart and soul belonged to Amanda, his eternal soulmate.

Sorrow and sadness engulfed her, and she swallowed back uncharacteristic tears. There was no future for them. Ever. Once her mission was complete, she would leave J.T. behind to continue her work as a guardian angel. But the memory of the way their bodies had been joined in complete harmony would always remain a part of her, and she didn't know if she'd survive the sweet, aching memory of it all.

The sound of someone moving around in the room next to hers penetrated the walls and her thoughts. She guessed J.T. was getting ready to start the day, as she should be doing, but she couldn't drum up the energy to move. Facing him didn't hold much appeal, especially after the brusque way he'd escorted her to her bedroom and left her there to enter his.

She sighed heavily, reminding herself that no matter what happened between them, she still had a job to do. In a few minutes she'd get up, she told herself, just as soon as the crushing despair lifted from her heart.

Staring at his freshly shaven face in the bathroom mirror, J.T. berated himself for the hundredth time for being so thoughtless, so utterly careless while making love to Caitlan.

He hadn't protected her from conceiving a child. The alarming thought had hit him like a two-ton brick while he'd been taking a shower. Unbidden, memories of the tight, hot feel of Caitlan wrapped around him had taunted his mind. Deep inside she'd been silky soft and snug, exquisitely so, and with nothing separating them he'd given her every bit of himself. He'd burned with need, had forgotten everything but the taste and feel of her.

Nothing separating them. He'd never intended to make love to her when he'd followed her to the barn, but that didn't excuse his negligence. He knew better than to have unprotected sex.

Shoving away from the sink, he muttered a dark curse and strode into the adjoining bedroom to put on his boots. He jammed a foot into one boot, arranging his jeans over the top, and then the other.

He'd been careless once before, with Stacey, and the result had been less than ideal. Caitlan wasn't calculating or manipulative, like Stacey had been in her pursuit-quite the opposite, actually-but Caitlan wouldleave to go back to the city, and he didn't think she'd be too happy being burdened with a child.

His empty stomach churned with anxiety and twisting deeper was regret. He'd marry Caitlan if she turned up pregnant, but he knew she'd grow to resent him and his way of life, and worse, he'd never be able to give her the love she deserved. He just didn't have it in him. Hadn't he learned that with his attempt at marriage with Stacey?

And then there was the strange link between him and Caitlan to consider, the way she extracted need and longing from him, and a yearning for something more. That medallion of hers unnerved him, as if it held some kind of power to connect them. Twice he'd been affected by the damned thing when he'd touched the heated gold, experiencing an out-of-body sensation straight out of some sci-fi movie. And, most hauntingly, she'd called him Johnny, when no one had called him that since Amanda's death.

The other experiences could be written off as an active imagination, but how had she known his nickname? Standing, he shook off the niggling doubts settling over him. Maybe he didn't want to know.

Dressed and ready for the day ahead, J.T. left his bedroom, glancing toward Caitlan's closed door. A streak of light at the bottom of the door told him she was up, and he walked over and knocked lightly, wanting to get this awkward conversation about protection and pregnancy over with.

"Yes?" she answered softly.

"It's me. I need to talk to you." He grimaced at the clipped tone of his voice and deliberately softened it. "Can I come in?"

She didn't reply; not that he could blame her. He'd been anything but congenial on the walk back to the house from the barn. Guilt weighed down his conscience when he recalled how cold he'd been, and how he'd all but deserted her at her bedroom door without so much as a good night, an apology, a promise, a curse… nothing.

"Caitlan?"

"Go away, J.T.," she said wearily. "I'll be downstairs in a bit."

Okay, he deserved that. He almost turned away, but a streak of stubbornness held him there. Testing the knob, he found it unlocked and slowly opened the door and looked inside.

She sat on the bed, knees pulled up under the covers, drawing on that pad of paper she coveted. Her hand stilled and she glanced up, but she didn't glare at him as he'd expected her to. Like he wished she would, so he wouldn't feel like such an ass. No, her features were delicately somber, her violet eyes wide and glossy. The bedside lamp haloed her dark tousled hair, and he detected a faint smudge of weariness beneath her bottom lashes. She looked extremely vulnerable, and achingly beautiful.

A sudden emptiness consumed him, leaving him emptier and more desolate than ever. As he held Caitlan's gaze, something elemental shifted within him, making him too susceptible to this woman who'd intrigued him from the very first. He denied his growing feelings for Caitlan, that he was coming to care for her in a way that he hadn't cared for anyone in a long time. She made him feel, and he couldn't afford to. Besides, she'd only get hurt.

Pushing aside the tenderness and warmth crowding their way into his heart, he stepped inside her room without an invitation and shut the door quietly, wanting privacy for their discussion.

She returned her attention back to her drawing, the tip of her pencil scratching across the paper. "What do you want, J.T.?"

You. The word came without provocation; it was the absolute truth. All he wanted at that moment was to strip off his clothes and hers, push her back on the bed, and sink deep inside her, losing himself in her damp softness and heat. He wanted to see passion and desire flare in her eyes, wanted to experience again those ripples of pleasure that clutched him when she reached that crest.

He'd been right: once with her wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. God, he hated this weakness he had for her.

Business, Rafferty, he reminded himself. Walking to the side of her bed, he braced his shoulder against the wall, silently vowing he wouldn't touch her again.

He cleared his throat of the thick need gathering there. "We need to talk about what happened earlier."

She tensed but didn't look up at him. Instead, her pencil increased in tempo-quick, short, abrupt strokes slashing across the page. "I'd rather not."

He leaned forward slightly to get a look at what she was drawing but she held the pad at such an angle that he couldn't make out the sketch. "I'm not giving you a choice, Caitlan. I didn't protect you."

Finally, she glanced at him, confusion darkening her eyes. "Protect me?"

Damn. She couldn't be that innocent! "Yeah, I didn't use a condom, so what I want to know is if you're on some kind of birth control. The last thing I want is for you to end up pregnant. I don't think you'd want that either."

She blushed at his bluntness and averted her gaze back to her pad. "Don't worry about it, J.T.," she said quietly.

A shaft of white-hot jealousy lanced through him when he thought of her on contraceptives for some other man. He should have let the subject drop, but a possessiveness he had no right to feel provoked him into pressing for more answers. "So you're on some form of birth control then?"

His tenacity earned him a sharp look from her. Then a raw pain flickered in the depth of her eyes. "No. I can't get pregnant."

Shock rippled through J.T. Her confession momentarily stunned him speechless. When he recovered he silently berated himself for being so callous. "I'm sorry, Caitlan. I didn't mean to be so insensitive. It's just that…" He shoved his fingers through his shower-damp hair, now wishing he'd never broached this subject with her. "It's just that after what happened with Stacey I don't care to make the same mistake twice."

"I understand," she said softly, flipping her sketch pad closed. "But there's nothing for you to worry about."

He should have been relieved by her reassurance, but the sadness lingering in her gaze touched a chord within him. She wanted children, he realized, but for some reason couldn't have them. The thought made him ache for her.

She opened the nightstand drawer and put her pencil and pad inside. "If you're done, I'd like you to leave so I can get dressed."

No, he wasn't done. He didn't like being dismissed, and he liked even less the sensation of something still unresolved between them. Unable to get a firm grasp on what that something was, he gave her a curt nod and crossed to the door, then let himself out of her bedroom.

As soon as J.T. left, Caitlan sagged against her pillow and closed her eyes, willing away the dull twinge in her chest. Her hand absently strayed to her flat abdomen. A baby. J.T.'s baby. The thought filled her with such a sweet sorrow she wanted to weep for all the things that could never be. Where had all this longing come from?

The answer eluded her.

Freshly showered and changed into a pair of jeans and a pink sweatshirt, Caitlan went downstairs to the kitchen, prepared to face J.T. again. Except he wasn't sitting at his usual spot, eating breakfast and drinking coffee. Dirty breakfast dishes were stacked by the side of the sink, along with a platter of leftover scrambled eggs, sausage, and pancakes. Paula stood by the counter next to the sink tenderizing a roast, engrossed in her task. The clock above the kitchen window read five-thirty in the morning. Where were the men?

Drawing a deep breath for calm, Caitlan pasted on her best smile. "Good morning, Paula." Stopping at the coffeepot, she reached into the cupboard and brought down a mug, then filled it with the steaming brew. This morning a double shot of caffeine would be just the ticket.

Paula glanced over her shoulder, smiling brightly. "Oh, good morning, Caitlan. I didn't hear you come in." She gave the meat a few more whacks with the mallet. "J.T. mentioned you were awake and would be down shortly. You're quite an early riser."

Caitlan shrugged, aware of the other woman's scrutiny. "Habit, I guess."

Paula nodded. "I know how that is. My body has its own natural alarm clock built in too." She placed the meat into a roasting pan and added peeled carrots and potatoes. "Sleep well?"

Startled by the question, Caitlan slopped a dollop of cream over the rim of her mug. Grabbing a paper towel, she soaked up the mess. "Uh, yes. Just fine." She hadn't slept a wink.

"Didn't seem like J.T. did," Paula commented, her lips pursed in disapproval. "That man had the temperament of a provoked bear this morning. Even his usual cup of coffee didn't help."

Smiling blandly, Caitlan leaned her hip against the counter and took a sip of coffee. I guess I bring out the best in him, she wanted to reply sarcastically but kept her thoughts private.

"We had a long day at Debbie's yesterday, and he was up late last night," she said as an excuse. Both accounts were true, the latter most likely being J.T.'s reason for being so grouchy. But he'd been the one to follow her into the barn, then seduce her in the early hours of the morning…

And you welcomed every one of his kisses and heated caresses.

"Did you have a nice time?"

Jarred from her intimate thoughts by Paula's question, Caitlan stared at the older woman, wondering if she somehow knew what had transpired between her and J.T. "You mean at Debbie's?"

"Of course." Paula frowned at her as she rolled out a slab of dough for biscuits. "What did you think I meant? Did you go somewhere else I don't know about?"

Just paradise, Caitlan thought. Sheer, unadulterated paradise. But she wasn't about to divulge that information to Paula. "No, we didn't go anywhere else, and yes, we had a nice time." Before she could put her foot in her mouth any further, she asked, "Where's J.T.?"

Paula dusted flour on the rolling pin and continued spreading the dough. "He left about fifteen minutes ago. You just missed him."

"He left?" Caitlan echoed. A frisson of alarm shot through her. "Where did he go?"

Cutting out round discs of dough, Paula placed them on a baking sheet. "He said he had some things to take care of in town and that he wouldn't be back until this afternoon."

Caitlan silently reprimanded herself for allowing her emotions to make her remiss in her duties to J.T. While she'd been wallowing in sorrow he'd left. Without her to protect him. "Did he go by himself?" Urgency tinged her voice, but she couldn't help it.

"He took Kirk with him." Paula sent her a curious glance. "You should have told him you wanted to go with him. He probably thought you'd be bored."

More likely he left without telling me so he wouldn't have to deal with me as a tagalong. Taking a swallow of coffee, she glanced out the window above the sink. A gray dawn was just breaking, and Caitlan could see the bustle of the hands down at the barn as they prepared for the day. She searched for her nemesis but couldn't find him. "Have you seen Randal this morning?" she asked in a neutral tone.

"No. I usually don't." Finished with her biscuits, Paula washed her hands and dried them on a terry towel, giving Caitlan a shrewd look. "Just a word of advice, Caitlan: Stay away from Randal. I don't know what's gotten into that boy lately, but he's a fuse just waiting to be lit."

Caitlan nodded and rinsed her cup. "I will."

"Good." Paula dismissed the topic as quickly as it had been brought up. Bustling to the pantry, she brought out a container of sugar and two cans of pineapple rings. "Ever made a pineapple upside-down cake?"

Caitlan smiled. "No."

"Well, you're about to learn." Paula handed her an apron from a kitchen drawer, winking at her conspiratorially. "It's J.T.'s favorite. Maybe it'll soften him up some."

Caitlan doubted it, but she was desperate enough to bridge the rift between them to try anything.

Paula left the house a little after two in the afternoon, once Caitlan had convinced her she'd be fine until Laura arrived home from school in an hour or so. The house was spotless, and dinner was ready to pop into the oven later that evening. The sweet, heady fragrance of the cake they'd made permeated the house.

Wandering through the big, quiet ranch house, Caitlan wondered what she could do to keep herself, and her mind, occupied so she wouldn't think about what had happened between her and J.T. last night, and this morning. Going to the barn to see King was out of the question; too many fresh, sensual memories lingered there. She didn't think she'd ever be able to smell the sweet scent of hay without thinking of J.T. and the way he'd made love to her.

She thought about sketching, but discarded the idea. She wasn't in the frame of mind to deal with the confusing visions that usually plagued her when she drew. Heading toward J.T.'s office, she decided reading a book would be the best way to divert her thoughts.

The floor-to-ceiling bookcase offered a variety of reading material. Perusing her way down the shelves, she discovered books on American history, accounting, cattle ranching, and literally a dozen other subjects. A set of encyclopedias occupied the second-to-last shelf, and below that were a row of photo albums.

Interest piqued, she sat cross-legged on the carpet and withdrew the first album. Opening the tan cover, she immersed herself in what she assumed was the Rafferty family. Pictures of J.T. and Debbie as children graced the pages, and there were even a few photographs with Randal in them. She realized Randal had the same belligerent, cocky air about him then as he did now. Picking out J.T.'s parents was easy to do; J.T. resembled his father and Debbie had the fair looks of her mother. She recognized a few shots of Frank and Paula, but other than that no one looked familiar.

Whiling away the next hour, she went down the line of albums, seeing the progression in J.T.'s and Debbie's childhood, all the way up to their teen years. When she pulled out the last album she noticed a cigar box tucked into the corner of the shelf, out of sight until she removed the last volume.

Sliding the album back into its slot, she picked up the box, then laid it on the carpet in front of her, debating on whether or not to open it. No tape or locks secured it, and there was nothing to indicate the contents were of a personal nature. Assuming it held more photographs, she lifted the lid and looked inside.

Her gaze inventoried a small stack of letters and papers, photographs, a lock of blond hair tied with a pink satin ribbon, and a black velvet ring box. Each piece of memorabilia shimmered with a strange life of its own, beckoning to a deep, secluded portion of her soul. Drawn by unknown forces, she picked up one of the letters and unfolded the page, realizing as she read the flowery script that it was a love letter to J.T. from Amanda. Her medallion warmed between her breasts, a tingle of warning she knew it was best to heed, but she couldn't put the letter down. The heartfelt words wove through Caitlan, and she closed her eyes and recited the rest of the prose out loud as easily as if she'd memorized the words, or written the letter herself.

Shocked by her ability to repeat each line word for word, she quickly returned the letter to the pile. Her heart pounded in a heavy rhythm and apprehension climbed up her spine. She now realized the purpose of the medallion's warming was to caution her, and possibly to protect her from discovering something. She ignored the warning, more determined than ever to find out what that something was. All her visions and emotions for J.T. were linked to the medallion, and she wanted to know why.

Reaching into the box again, she grasped the loose photographs and flipped through them, recognizing Amanda from her visions. The snapshots were of J.T. and Amanda as teenagers. They looked so in love with one another, Caitlan's heart gave a sharp twist of longing. Replacing the pictures, she found sketches of J.T., the paper yellowed by years, the pencil markings smudged. Upon closer inspection, she realized these sketches were the exact ones she'd drawn from her visions a couple of nights ago. How could that be possible, when she'd never seen these sketches before? Her hand trembling and her stomach clenching in trepidation, she returned the papers to their precise spot. Unable to stop herself, she touched the lock of silky hair, then fingered the ribbon. A deep, heavy pressure settled in her breast, and she swallowed back the sudden thickness in her throat. What was happening to her?

Pulling back her hand, she stared at the black velvet box. The urge to open the lid and see what it contained overwhelmed her. She chewed on her bottom lip, telling herself to put the cigar box back where she had found it and leave J.T.'s office. Without a doubt he'd be furious to know she'd gone through his personal momentos of Amanda, but stronger elements she didn't understand guided her.

The moment she touched the velvet box her medallion singed her skin. Gasping, she quickly brought the gold pendant out from her sweatshirt, but the heat was so intense it burned through the heavy cotton material. Ignoring the increasing heat, she defiantly opened the lid. A solitaire diamond engagement ring sparkled up at her, the gold band smooth and shiny. Impulsively, she removed the solitaire from the folds of velvet and slipped it on her left-hand ring finger. Instantly, a maelstrom of sensations invaded her body and mind, pulling her into a vortex of emotions so powerful she couldn't escape. The medallion burned like fire through her sweatshirt; then the startling heat slipped under her skin, spreading an unnerving tingle throughout her entire body. Her temples throbbed, and she squeezed her eyes shut to block the confusing fragmented visions swirling inside her mind.

"Will you marry me, Amanda Hamilton?"

"Are you sure?" Amanda whispered in a voice mingled with happiness and insecurity.

"Absolutely." J.T.'s. eyes shone with love and adoration. "You've always been mine, Amanda… "

J.T.'s love poured over Caitlan, warm and sweet and pure. The emotion grabbed at her heart-a deep, abiding love that echoed her own devotion for him.

"Yes, John Thomas Rafferty, I'll marry you. I've loved you forever… "

The buried words escaped Caitlan's memory like a well-preserved keepsake. Heaven help her, she felt as though she had loved him forever.

"I want to feel you inside me. Please, Johnny…"

Caitlan gasped when the sensation of her and J.T.'s body meshing as one cascaded over her, their souls twining in an eternal devotion that superseded a mortal lifetime. Their union coalesced love and need and longing into a glorious completion.

She blinked her eyes open, her heart pounding in her chest. Shaken by the visions and feelings provoked by the engagement ring, she started to remove the solitaire. As the band slid down her finger, tragedy rushed in on her. A sharp jolt pierced her temples.

Screams echoed in her head, her screams and Amanda's. Or were they the same? The screech of tires, the grinding crush of metal, shattering glass, then the awful, wrenching feeling of being physically, spiritually torn from J.T…

"Where is she, Dad?" J.T. demanded from his hospital bed. A bandage swathed his forehead and a plaster cast encased his left arm. His eyes were glassy, but determination fired from his gaze. "I want to see Amanda. Now."

Jared touched J.T.'s shoulder. "I'm sorry, son, but Amanda didn't make it. She died instantly."

"No!" J. T. raged, the one word overflowing with hurt and grief.

A sob caught in Caitlan's throat as J.T.'s loss and sorrow became her own. Excruciating pain wrenched at her heart. Before another vision could cripple her ability to remove the ring, she pulled it off her finger and put it back in the velvet lining. She shoved the cigar box back onto the bottom shelf, hoping to dam the flood of images and emotions swamping her.

An emptiness enveloped her, and she buried her face in her hands, the wetness of tears dampening her fingers. "Oh, no," she choked, unable to bear any more of this craziness. She had to contact her Superior before she went insane, if that hadn't already happened. The visions, the identical drawings, the link to J.T., the mortal emotions, all needed explanations. And what about her falling in love with J.T.? Oh, what a mess of things she'd made!

Spurred by an urgency to find answers, she rushed from the office, swiping away the tears on her cheeks with the back of her hand. She opened the front door and nearly knocked down Laura in her haste to get somewhere private and secluded. She stopped short, her mind whirling in a hundred different directions.

"Oh, Caitlan, you scared me!" Laura exclaimed, her eyes wide. "I was just about to open the door and I didn't expect…" She frowned, her brow furrowing in concern. "Caitlan, are you okay?"

Caitlan mentally shook herself and forced a smile for Laura's benefit. "Yes, I'm just fine."

Laura looked unconvinced. "You've been crying. Did something happen while I was at school?"

"No, really, I… I just need to get some fresh air. I think I'll take a walk near the pasture." Caitlan took a few steps across the porch, anxious to be gone.

Laura started toward her, a hopeful spark in her eyes. "How about if I come with you? We can talk-"

"No!" The hurt look on Laura's face stabbed at Caitlan, and she immediately softened her voice. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but I need to be alone for a little while. How about we play a game of checkers or cards when I get back?" If my Superior allows me to come back after I divulge all my transgressions.

"Okay," Laura said reluctantly, her worry obvious.

Caitlan walked down the path until she was out of Laura's sight, then she broke into a run, needing to work off the anxiety nearly smothering her. She jogged alongside the fenced-in pasture, then up and over a knoll covered with wildflowers. Exhausted, she fell to her knees, gasping for breath, wondering when her heart and soul had become so tangled up with J.T.'s life. And if she'd ever be the same again.

"Anybody home?" J.T. called as he entered the house.

No answer.

"Caitlan? Laura?" Still, no reply. He glanced at his wristwatch. Three-thirty. Paula would be gone, but where were Caitlan and his daughter? After checking the kitchen and the den and finding them empty, he started up the stairs. He glanced in Laura's room first, then moved to Caitlan's, hesitating on the threshold when he saw it too was unoccupied.

He stared at her impeccably made bed, a sudden streak of guilt assailing him for the way he'd handled things with Caitlan this morning. He'd been anything but a gentleman in her bedroom when he'd asked her about birth control, and like a coward he'd left the house before she'd had a chance to come downstairs. But, dammit, whenever he was around her she brought out feelings in him he didn't want to deal with. He refused to deal with them, or label them, when she'd be gone in a few days. Yet he couldn't quite fully convince himself that keeping his distance until she left was for the best. He couldn't convince his body that he'd had Caitlan and she was out of his system, because she wasn't. The soft, silky feel of her skin and the feminine scent of her would haunt him for a long, long time. Not to mention those uncanny violet eyes, her dimple, and how incredibly perfect and fulfilled he'd been with her.

Frustrated, he stepped into the room, wishing he knew more about Caitlan besides the vague tidbits she'd shared. He found himself walking toward the nightstand, where he'd seen her put her pad of paper. Amanda had loved to draw. He remembered many lazy Sunday afternoons down by the creek when she'd made him lay there while she sketched him. Afterward he'd have to sweet-talk her into showing him the drawings; she'd been that modest about her ability. Just like Caitlan.

Why had he even thought that? Shaking off the apprehension climbing his spine, he opened the drawer and withdrew the pad. His conscience argued with him to put it back unopened, but he wanted more insight into Caitlan, wanted to know who or what occupied her mind in the late hours of the night while she sketched by moonlight.

Before he changed his mind, he opened the cover. He stared in stunned disbelief at a sketch of himself as a young boy, the sensation of being punched in the stomach rendering him breathless. She'd reproduced him in precise detail, right down to the stubborn tilt to his chin and the faint lines around his eyes when he smiled. He flipped through the pages, seeing that she'd drawn him in different stages of youth and as a grown man. All the pictures were meticulously detailed-eerily so-as if she'd known him fifteen or twenty years ago.

He turned to the next page and thought the clamping pressure in his chest was a sure sign of a heart attack. His blood roared in his ears and prickles of heat skimmed along his nerve endings.

In remarkable exactness Caitlan had drawn Amanda, every delicate feature of her face finely etched, along with her beautiful, beguiling smile and her dimple. Amanda's head was tilted back, her long hair streaming over her shoulders, that mischievous twinkle he'd loved sparkling in her eyes. The pose was a likeness that only could have been captured in a candid moment-how in the hell had Caitlan managed that?

"Christ," he muttered, thumbing through the rest of the pages. Caitlan had drawn a few pictures of Laura and King, and even one of Randal, but the majority of the sketches were of him and Amanda.

Once J.T.'s initial shock wore off anger settled in, prompting him into action. He wanted explanations for these bizarre reproductions. And he wanted them now.

Taking the pad, he bounded down the stairs. The kitchen screen door slammed shut, and he headed in that direction. "Caitlan?" he called, unable to contain the fury lacing his voice.

"It's me, Dad."

He ignored the curious look Laura gave him when he walked into the kitchen. "Where have you been?" he asked, glancing out the window to see if Caitlan was outside.

She went to the sink and washed her hands. "Down in the barn. I wanted to check on Missy."

Paternal instincts kicked in. "Alone?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"After what happened with Missy's kittens I prefer you don't go down there unless someone is with you." His fingers curled tight around the sketch pad, renewing his anger. "Where's Caitlan?"

"She went for a walk." Grabbing the terry towel, she dried her hands, slanting a speculative glance J.T.'s way. "What's going on? Everyone's acting weird today. First Caitlan, then you-"

"What's wrong with Caitlan?" he interrupted.

Laura shrugged. "I don't know, exactly. I came home from school today and just as I was about to come inside the house she came running out. She nearly crashed into me. It looked like she'd been crying, but she said she was fine, that she just wanted to be alone for a bit." Her fingers twisted in the towel. "I'm kind of worried about her, Dad. Maybe you should go find her, just to be sure she's okay."

Oh, he planned to. And just as soon as he reassured himself of her well being he'd get some answers. "Which way did she go?"

"Alongside the north pasture fence."

"I'll find her," he promised, striding toward the front door. "And we'll be back before supper."

Caitlan didn't know how long she knelt there in the pasture, afraid to contact her Superior but knowing she no longer had a choice. Her Superiors had no idea what she'd experienced with J.T., didn't know about the haunting visions that touched her soul, or that she'd done the unthinkable and fallen in love with J.T. Unless summoned for help or guidance, Superiors never monitored an angel while on a mission, and for that she was grateful.

A crisp breeze blew, tangling in her hair and chilling her to the bone with icy fingers of dread. The cold, damp earth beneath her knees seeped through her jeans and stole into her joints. Her tears of confusion had flowed freely, and even after they'd dried a chasm of bleakness echoed in her soul. She wished she had the ability to freeze into a statue, an emotionless slab of stone with no real worries or cares. When had being a guardian angel become so emotionally and physically draining? Never had she experienced such mental exhaustion. Not until J.T.

Not wanting to put the inevitable off any longer, she wiped the moisture from her cheeks and grabbed her medallion, silently transmitting a summons to her Superior.

"Yes? Is everything all right?"

Mary's voice drifted clearly through Caitlan's mind. Glancing toward the heavens, a glimmer of despair swept over her. "No… I mean yes." Taking a deep, calming breath, she started again. "J.T. is fine," she assured her Superior, knowing that would be Mary's first concern.

"Then what is it? You look upset."

Devastated was more like it. "I…" She swallowed to ease the anxiety congealing in her throat. "I'm having these… visions that I don't understand. And at times, when I'm with J.T., I feel… strange things."

Silence.

Frowning, Caitlan grasped the pendant tighter. "Mary?"

"What kind of visions?" This from Christopher.

"J.T. when he was a boy, and a young girl. Her name is Amanda. From what I've learned from J.T., I believe she's his soulmate. Why am I so connected to these two people that I feel and see things they've experienced in the past?"

"Oh, dear," Mary said, her tone distressed.

"What kind of strange things do you feel?" Christopher asked in a tight voice.

Heat tinged Caitlan's cheeks when she remembered all the wonderful sensations J.T. evoked inside her. In the barn last night she'd been drawn into him, her heart and soul reaching for his as if they belonged together. She erased those thoughts quickly, before Christopher or Mary could latch onto them. She couldn't very well tell them about the sensual feelings she experienced for J.T., or that she'd fallen in love with him. Eventually she'd have to tell her Superiors, but not now, not until she understood more about the link she shared with J.T.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm a part of J.T., but I know that's impossible, considering I have a soulmate… right?" she asked tentatively, hoping they'd divulge who her soulmate was.

Silence.

Sighing, Caitlan rubbed her brow wearily. Why couldn't she remember certain things about her own past? "I feel like a guardian angel with amnesia," she mumbled.

Christopher chuckled.

"This is not a laughing matter, Christopher. In fact, it's all your fault," Mary said sternly.

"We need to tell her the truth," Christopher argued.

"The truth about what?" Caitlan managed to get in.

"Absolutely not," Mary said emphatically. "The mission is nearly over and we can't jeopardize J.T.'s life like that."

"Like what?"

"We can always send down another guardian to take over for Caitlan," Christopher suggested.

Panic had Caitlan blurting out, "No!"

Deafening silence.

She definitely had their attention now. She could feel them staring at her, waiting for an explanation. But how could she reveal that she wanted to stay with J.T. as long as possible, for selfish reasons they'd surely disapprove of?

Pasting on a smile, Caitlan shrugged indifferently. "I mean, I've already come this far in the mission. J.T. believes my reasons for being here, so why start with someone new that he'll have to come to trust? You just said the mission is nearly over."

"Caitlan is right," Christopher conceded. "From what we have on the schedule, in another day or two the mission should be over. Three days tops."

"What about her memory?" Mary asked.

Caitlan frowned. "What about my memory?"

"For some reason her memory wasn't completely suppressed," Christopher supplied.

"Will it hold out for another few days?"

"Possibly. If she takes care with the medallion."

"I don't like this, Christopher. I warned you how risky it would be to do this… "

Frustration coiled in Caitlan as she listened to her Superiors argue about her, stretching her nerves taut. "Whatare you talking about?" she grated out.

Silence.

She closed her eyes, fighting back the urge to scream. All she wanted were answers, a clue as to why her soul seemed entwined with J.T.'s past. So far her Superiors hadn't helped her solve anything. In fact, they were arguing about her memory, and keeping J.T. safe. Maybe, if she opted for the truth, if she told them she'd fallen in love with J.T., they'd listen to her and give her the answers she sought. Maybe they'd tell her what was going on.

Dismissing the sudden prickles of awareness radiating from behind her, she clutched her medallion for courage. "There's something I need to tell you."

"Go ahead," Mary said.

The words jammed in her throat. Heaven help her, she couldn't do it! I'm in love with, J.T. Just say it, Caitlan, and get it over with! "I'm in lo-"

"Who the hell are you talking to, Caitlan?"