Heaven's Gift aka Kiss of an Angel

Chapter Two

J.T. crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Caitlan's answer. After a hesitant second she broke eye contact and once again resumed checking the bump on his head. Except this time her fingers worked tensely, pressing over his skull without the gentleness she'd used before.

"You remember the sleet storm, right?" she asked.

"Yeah. I got hit in the head just as the sky split wide open." Her fingers probed an especially sensitive area and he winced and sucked in a harsh breath. "Hey, watch it!"

"Sorry," she mumbled, and continued on with a bit more care. "I was on my horse, Daisy, when I saw your body by the creek."

"Whoa, back up," he interrupted. "How about telling me where you came from and what you were doing trespassing on private property?"

"Turn your head toward me just a bit, would you please?"

As a stall tactic, he had to admit her approach was original and quite effective. He turned his head slightly and found himself eye level with her breasts. He tried focusing on the nondescript material of her shirt, but his gaze kept straying to the collar, where the first three buttons were undone, granting him a more enticing view of creamy flesh and wisps of satin and lace.

She shifted from one foot to the other. A gold pendant nestled between her breasts caught his attention. The piece of gold looked ancient, with a swirled design that was neither unique nor spectacular, yet he had the strangest urge to reach out and touch the medallion.

Troubled by the lure of something so insignificant, he frowned and averted his gaze back to the slope of her breast, which only served to prompt fantasies in which he had no right to indulge. He closed his eyes, a low moan escaping him. Hell, what was it about this woman that made him want her so badly?

"I'm sorry," she said, obviously misinterpreting his aches and pains. "I wish we had some ice for your head. It sure would help ease the pain and take down the swelling."

"You're absolutely right," he said through clenched teeth. Except he needed the ice in his lap, not on his head! "Stop trying to distract me and quit avoiding my questions," he growled, turning his head forward once again.

"I'm not," she replied, her fingers still touching and exploring.

"You are."

"Don't be such a grouch. I'm only concerned about you."

"Leave me alone. There's nothing you can do about my head anyway." She ignored him and pressed the swollen perimeter of his bump. Brilliant sparks of pain exploded in his head. He grimaced. "Dammit, Caitlan! Enough!" Grabbing her wrists, he jerked her away, pinning her with a scowl he hoped she'd interpret as intimidating. "Sit down."

Any woman with lick of sense would have heeded his tone and expression and done as he ordered, but she only tossed him an indulgent look that made him feel like a small boy. "Are you always this bossy?"

"I am the boss."

"Of this ranch?"

"Yes." He let go of her hands, enjoying too much the feel of her soft, warm skin and wanting even more to pull her onto his lap and kiss some compliance into her. A long, deep, lazy kiss ought to do the trick, he thought, then immediately chastised himself for entertaining the notion. He didn't want involvements and entanglements with this woman, or any woman, for that matter. The tragic loss of Amanda and a bitter, loveless marriage had taught him that he had no emotion left to give. As soon as they arrived at his ranch house, she'd be back on her way to wherever she'd come from, and that's exactly how he wanted things.

She rubbed her wrists, as if branded by his touch. He saw the awareness in her eyes, a hint of confusion, and knew she felt the same sizzle of attraction he did. Looking away, she walked to the other side of the table and sat down in her chair.

"I don't even know your name," she said softly.

"J.T. Rafferty, and you're doing it again," he said, unable to keep his exasperation from his voice.

"I'm just curious about you," came her innocent reply.

"Then we have something in common, because I'm more than a little curious about you. Answer my question, Caitlan."

"Which was?"

A broken laugh escaped him, a cross between irritation and mild amusement. He rubbed the taut muscles at the back of his neck and sighed. If any other woman had dared to provoke him like this, he would have been gruff and demanding in response. He didn't want to analyze his reaction to Caitlan too deeply, and instead strove for a stern tone of voice. "You're trying my patience, Caitlan Daniels. Listen up: Where did you come from and what were you doing trespassing on private property?"

She hesitated for a moment, as if thinking up a plausible excuse. "I'm a guest at Parson's Dude Ranch," she began, folding her hands primly on the table before her. "It was an absolutely gorgeous day yesterday. At least in the morning it was sunny and pleasant." The direct look she gave him made him feel as though the temperamental change in weather had been his fault. "I was out on a trail ride doing a little sightseeing on my own, except I have a lousy sense of direction. I got lost." She cast a dubious look heavenward and gave a slight shake of her head, as if even she couldn't quite believe her tale.

He had his doubts as well. "Parson's Dude Ranch is well over eight miles away, most of which is rugged terrain."

She shrugged delicately. "See how lousy my sense of direction is? I thought I was headed back towardthe dude ranch."

Her story had a loophole, and he zeroed in on it. There was only one way to and from Parson's that separated the dude ranch's property from Rafferty land. "Didn't you wonder where you were going when you crossed the bridge over the American River?"

"I wanted to explore the other side of the river." An impish expression etched her features, and he found himself totally charmed by the mischief sparkling in her eyes. "I never thought I wouldn't be able to find my way back. How can you miss a body of water as big as the American River?"

"You obviously did."

Her spine straightened defensively. "If it wasn't for the sleet storm, I would have found it again eventually."

"Sure." He settled back as comfortably as the unyielding wooden chair would allow. Stretching his legs out under the table, he laced his fingers over his stomach. "Go on, please," he said in a lazy drawl.

"I started to panic when the storm rolled in. When I found the creek I followed it, hoping it would lead back to the river, a main road, or another ranch."

"Creeks don't necessarily lead to roads or ranches, and they can take miles to reach the river, depending on which direction you're heading."

"Well, excuse my ignorance," she said haughtily. "I didn't know what else to do."

Feeling appropriately reproved for making light of a situation that could have been perilous, he murmured, "I'm sorry." He could well imagine her fear of being stranded in a strange place and softened a bit. After all, she wasn't here in his line shack of her own choice, and she had saved his life.

Seemingly satisfied with his apology, she continued. "I was following the creek when a bolt of lightning struck nearby. Daisy didn't take too well to the thunder and lightning and took off like a bat out of-" She stopped abruptly, her cheeks pinkening.

"Hell?" he supplied, holding back a chuckle at her chagrin over a simple swear word.

"Uh, yeah, I guess that's the term." She cleared her throat and fiddled with a napkin on the table. "Anyway, I shouldn't have asked for such a spirited horse. I could barely control her. We passed this shack, and when I tried to stop her she just got more skittish. By the time I got her back under control, we were only feet away from where you lay by the creek. I jumped off Daisy to see if you were still alive and she took off before I could tether her to a tree."

He stared at her for the longest time, past those deep blue eyes and beyond. Finally, he shook his head. "That's the damnedest story I think I've ever heard. It's so unbelievable, I actually believe it."

"It's what happened," she said, brushing a swath of hair from her cheek, the movement artless and feminine. "How else would I have found you?"

"Hell if I know." Leaning forward, he braced his forearms on the table. His humor fled when he thought of another important fact. "If I was unconscious when you found me, how did you manage to get me to the shack?"

"I dragged you," she replied without missing a beat, then gave another one of those heavenward glances he would have found endearing if her answer hadn't been so preposterous.

His eyes narrowed perceptively. "You couldn't even push me off you when we were on the bed and you expect me to believe you draggedme over a hundred yards?"

"You're here, aren't you?" she shot back.

"I guess I am." If she was lying, J.T. decided she had it down to a science. He searched her gaze, seeing nothing but a delicate pureness that reached deep into his soul and tugged. Startled by the warmth unfurling in him, he glanced away.

Her chair scraped against the wood floor as she scooted back and stood. "I'm sure you've heard that people do incredible things when they find themselves in a panicked situation. Adrenaline and all that," she said, gesturing with her hands.

"Yeah, adrenaline," he agreed, suddenly tired of doubting her every word. What other explanation could there be? And if she meant him harm, she'd had plenty of opportunity to do so while he'd been unconscious. As outrageous as her story sounded, everything she'd told him was possible.

Rubbing a hand over his jaw, he watched her flit about the shack. She put away their dishes and washed up the coffee pot, then stored everything where she'd found it in the pantry. She worked quickly, efficiently, and he marveled at how at home she seemed with none of the normal everyday conveniences one usually takes for granted.

"Let me help," he offered, pushing back his own chair. Before he could stand she shook her head and sent him an adamant look.

"Absolutely not." Folding the blanket on the bed, she set it at the foot of the mattress. "You sit and relax. I'll take care of this. You need to save your strength."

He didn't like feeling like an invalid. "I'm fi-"

A firm hand on his shoulder pushed him back into his seat. "Stay put." Her tone rivaled a drill sergeant's.

He resisted the urge to click his heels, salute her, and say, "Yes, sir."

"Are you always so bossy?" he asked, repeating her earlier question to him.

"Only when I'm in charge," she replied over her shoulder.

She bent over to dig something out of a tin can in the pantry, and his gaze slid over her bottom, admiring and appreciating her curves. "I'm not going to win this one, am I?"

"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 or 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, try ing 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, iswaterproof," 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; 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. "Oryou 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."

His tone was cold and harsh and didn't welcome further scrutiny of his ex-wife. Casting a glance at the chiseled lines of his profile, she noticed the grim set of his mouth and the deep furrow of his brow. Both belied his attempt to remain unconcerned about the topic. "Don't you ever get… lonely? I mean, not having a wife and all?"

"No. I have Laura."

His pace picked up, forcing Caitlan to quicken hers to stay by his side. "That's not what I meant."

"The only thing I miss is a warm body to share my nights with. Sex, Caitlan." His jaw hardened and he shot her a scathing look. "Other than that, I don't have any use for a wife. And my personal life is really none of your business."

She glanced away. He was right, of course. Meddling in his affairs wasn't on her heavenly agenda, yet she found it odd he didn't want the intimacy and love that flowed between a man and a woman. Such emotion seemed to be the ultimate aspiration of most mortals.

An arctic gust kicked up, slicing through the warm sunshine to maliciously steal the warmth from their bodies. She shivered and watched J.T. flip the collar of his jacket around his neck to ward off the brisk breeze. Shoulders hunched, he tucked his hands into the lined pockets. The wind tugged at his hair, tousling the thick strands around his bent head. He seemed so much the loner, suddenly distant and remote, yet the glimpses of sincerity she'd seen told her he was a compassionate man who deserved the love of a good woman.

"I've never met anyone who didn't want to share his life with someone," she said quietly, more to herself than to him.

He heard her and met her gaze. "The person I wanted to share my life with died, Caitlan. I've never wanted anyone but her." The desolation in his eyes made his words that much more profound.

Instinctively, Caitlan knew the woman he spoke of was his eternal soulmate. But didn't J.T. realize he could find another to love while waiting for the woman of his heart? He only needed to allow himself the emotion to live out his years happily. "You could still be happy with someone else-"

Slicing a hand through the air, he cut her off, slanting her a look of disgust. "Don't tell me you're one of those females who believes in fairy tales and happily-ever-after."

"Well, yes, I believe everyone has a soulmate, and what's more-"

He interrupted her again. "I hate to be the one to burst the bubble you've been living in, little girl, but Cinderella and Prince Charming only exist in books. And 'soulmates' went out with the seventies."

His subtle insult made her bristle. "I'm hardly a little girl."

Stride slowing to a leisurely pace, he slid his gaze over her, lazily, thoroughly, making her feel as though he'd physically caressed the length of her with his hands. Heat suffused her body, making it difficult to put one foot in front of the other without wondering if her legs would hold out or turn to mush. She felt as if she was melting, which was ridiculous, considering the windchill factor. By the time he finished his inspection and had the good manners to lift his gaze from the vicinity of her breasts, she knew she was in big trouble.

"Pardon me, Ms. Daniels," he replied in a silky drawl that stroked over her senses and tickled her belly. "You're absolutely right. I take that back. You're very much a woman. Built quite nicely, I might add." A wicked, unrepentant grin curved his lips. "However, your philosophy on love is right along the mentality of my daughter's. She thinks everything is hearts and flowers. She's just discovering boys, so I can understand her romantic notions."

What could she say to top that? Nothing, so she didn't try. Once her mission with J.T. was over, she was going to discuss his single status with her Superiors. Surely there was someonefor him.

They walked into a channel between two grassy knolls. The sun struggled to break through the canopy of trees surrounding them and failed.

A shiver chased down her spine. "It's getting cold. Where are we?"

"We're still on Rafferty land. I'm taking a short cut to the main ranch road." He rubbed his forehead, frowning. "Just keep walking. It'll keep you warm and your blood pumping."

"Don't you want to stop and rest?" He looked tired, and she wouldn't be surprised if his head was throbbing. "Maybe have a drink of water and some beef jerky?"

He briefly glanced at the knapsack. "No. I want to get back to the house as soon as possible."

"Your head-"

"Is fine. I'll let you know if I need a break."

How am I suppose to take care of him and protect him when he won't let me? "Fine," she replied, deciding to play the game by his rules. "Just don't pass out on me, because I refuse to drag you back to the shack."

He chuckled softly, and Caitlan decided she loved the deep, rumbly sound. "I promise," he said.

The path they followed narrowed, the grass tapering to dirt and rocks. Unexpectedly, he grabbed her hand, enveloping her fingers in his. "Be careful; it's a little rough through here."

Caitlan stumbled over a cluster of small rocks, unsure if her balance had been knocked off kilter by the terrain or by the man whose hand held hers with such gentleness and care. As she careened toward him, his other hand shot out to steady her, landing on the swell of her hip. Shocked to the tips of her toes by the current of heat spreading where his fingers pressed into her flesh, she dropped the knapsack. The bag fell to the ground at her feet with a muted thump. Catching her breath, she stared into his eyes, watching as the orbs darkened in slow, tempered degrees.

The unusual connection she'd felt to this man earlier stirred within her, a bond so deep it shook her to the core of her being. A warm ripple of excitement teased her body. What is happening to me? she wondered. Why do I feel this way?

"Hey, you okay?"

Snapped from her daze by his concern, she pushed the disturbing thoughts aside for another time. "Um, yes. I should have paid more attention to where I was going." Then, ensnared by his gaze, she said the silliest thing. "Your eyes remind me of fresh moss dusted with gold."

"Like the moss that grows on the rocks in the stream?" His palm slowly slid from her hip to the indentation of her waist beneath the jacket she wore.

She managed a nod, her throat too dry to speak.

"How flattering." His voice was low and husky and full of a playful charm Caitlan suspected he didn't use very often. He stared at her as if seeing someone else, and the hard edge of his jaw softened. "And your eyes remind me of…" He caught what he'd been about to say and gave his head a slight shake, as if dislodging the thoughts in his mind.

Sorrow flickered in his eyes and, strangely, Caitlan felt his sadness as if it were her own. She didn't understand its source, and as she reached out to touch his face and offer what comfort she could, he saw her intent. Abruptly, he let her go and stepped away. Wrapping her arms around her stomach, she tried to sort through the upheaval of rampant emotions in her. But how did she begin to understand something so powerful and foreign in her experience as a guardian angel?

J.T. bent down and picked up the knapsack, still unable to believe he'd almost told Caitlan her eyes reminded him of lush violets. How incredibly stupid and sappy. Damn. He'd wanted her to touch him in the worst way, but he knew if she did, he'd go up in smoke and take her with him.

Scowling at everything in general, he grasped her hand in a businesslike manner and practically dragged her behind him. "Let's get the hell out of here," he muttered, forging a path up over the final crest of the ravine. A couple of times her boots slid from under her, but he had a firm enough grip on her to keep her on her feet. Once they were on flat land he let go of her hand.

Another pasture stretched out ahead, and beyond that was the main ranch road. A sweet, clean breeze curled around them.

"Oh, J.T.," Caitlan breathed, gesturing to the group of elk grazing near the tree line. "This is so beautiful."

Seeing the wild beauty of his land through someone else's eyes gave J.T. a new appreciation for it. "I guess I see them so often, I take everything for granted."

"I could watch them for hours," she said in a soft voice. The animals maintained a guarded wariness and wouldn't need much provocation to bolt.

"We don't have hours," he reminded her, and started forward. Several of the elk backed away; others sprinted into the grove of trees lining the far side of the pasture. When she caught up to him he said, "You never did say where you were from or what you do."

Caitlan looked surprised at the switch in conversation. "Chicago. I'm an illustrator for a children's magazine."

"You're a long way from home, city girl."

"Yes." One of those secret smiles brushed her lips. "But I get a hankering for the country and horses every once in a while."

And she'd no doubt get bored after a week or two, he thought, knowing from experience that city women didn't adapt well to life in the country. "Did you grow up in the country and around horses?"

"My uncle owned a ranch in Montana and I spent my summers there."

"So what brings you to such a rural place as an Idaho dude ranch?"

She shrugged and scuffed her boots over the grass. "A vacation. I just wanted to get away for a while."

"Are you staying at Parson's by yourself, or is there someone waiting and worrying about you?" And why did he even care? His only concern should be getting her safely back to Parson's, regardless of who might be waiting for her there.

She shook her head, and the sun painted golden highlights in her hair. "No, I came by myself."

"Well, you can call Parson's as soon as we get back to the main house and let them know you're okay."

She gave him her dimpled grin, and this time J.T. only felt a minimal shock at seeing it. "Look!" she exclaimed, pointing. "Someone's coming."

J.T. glanced up. Sure enough, three figures appeared on the horizon: two men on horses and a horse with no rider. J.T. whistled loud and shrill, garnering their attention. The riders spurred the horses into a gallop. Minutes later, J.T. recognized his ranch foreman, Frank, and his brother-in-law Kirk. J.T.'s faithful chestnut, Quinn, tagged behind on a lead rope.

Kirk reined to a stop a few feet away, a sly grin on his handsome face. "Sorry, boss," he said, thumbing back his Stetson on his head, his light blue eyes appraising Caitlan. "We didn't consider you might not want to be found, or realize you'd have company with you."

Frank, chuckling at his partner's comment, halted his horse and Quinn beside Kirk. He grinned good-naturedly, adding more wrinkles to his well-weathered face. "And here we were, worrying you'd got stranded out in the open and froze to death last night," he said, his voice a raspy drawl.

J.T. watched a blush rise on Caitlan's cheeks from the men's innuendos. A rush of protectiveness gripped him. Assuring himself that the feeling was nothing more than paternal instinct kicking in, he pinned both men with a shrewd look. "Can it, guys. This is Caitlan Daniels and, quite frankly, she saved my life."

Frank and Kirk exchanged incredulous glances.

"Say again?" Kirk asked. "I could have sworn you said she saved your life."

Quinn stepped forward, seeking his owner's familiar hand. J.T. obliged the horse, stroking his palm down the side of Quinn's neck. "You heard me correctly," J.T. said, irritated for a reason he couldn't pinpoint. "I had an accident in the west pasture." He met Caitlan's gaze, telling her without words to go along with his story and not to dare refute him. "A tree was blocking the creek. After I pulled it out and untied the rope I slipped and fell and must've hit my head on a rock. I was out cold, and when I woke up I was in the line shack."

Frank leaned into his saddle, eyeing Caitlan curiously. "And where does this pretty lady fit into all this?"

J.T. summarized the story Caitlan had relayed to him, about her being a guest at Parson's Dude Ranch and stumbling upon his body by accident. By his men's dubious expressions, J.T. knew they were having a little trouble digesting the tale, just as he had. Yet he asked himself again, what other explanation could there be?

"By the way, Caitlan," J.T. began, nodding to Frank, "this ancient cowpoke is my foreman Frank, and Kirk here is my sister's husband and one of my best hands."

"Nice to meet you," she replied, looking from one man to the other.

"Same here, Ms. Daniels," Frank said politely.

Kirk tipped his Stetson at her, a broad smile on his lips. "Any friend of J.T.'s is a friend of ours. Welcome to the Circle R."

J.T. tied the knapsack on the saddle, annoyed with the way both men, married men at that, were so totally captivated by Caitlan's smile. "So, what the hell took you so long to find me?"

Kirk spared him a glance. "Randal said you'd been working on the north side of the ranch and insisted we search for you there. When nothing turned up Frank and I decided to give this end a try."

"I was working on the north side of the ranch in the morning, until I found the blockage in the creek and followed it west."

"Well, no matter," Frank cut in. "At least we found you. Quinn made it back to the corral late last night and was acting spooked."

"Probably from the storm," J.T. said, even though he knew it would take more than a little thunder and rain to terrify Quinn. The horse had never deserted him before in bad weather.

"Yeah," Kirk agreed. "Let's get moving so we can tell the other guys the search is off."

J.T. nodded, checking the saddle and the girth before he helped Caitlan mount Quinn. "As soon as we get back to the main house I'll be driving Caitlan back to Parson's."

Kirk's horse danced impatiently, chomping at the bit to go. "Uh, that's not going to be possible," he said uneasily.

A sense of foreboding settled on J.T. "Excuse me?"

Kirk took an audible breath, clearly uncomfortable being the one to impart bad news. "She won't be going back to Parson's anytime soon-at least another week or two. The bridge over the American River was heavily damaged in the storm. It isn't safe for crossing."