Heaven's Gift aka Kiss of an Angel

Chapter Three

"What the hell do you mean, the bridge was damaged in the storm?" J.T. bellowed, unable to believe this newest turn of events. Quinn, startled by his master's sudden rage, flattened back his ears and shied away. "That's impossible," he said in a softer tone, soothing the horse with a gentle caress. "That bridge is built like a fortress!"

"Was," Kirk corrected, then shrugged. "It's one of those freak things that happens, I guess. From what we hear, even Hugh Parson and the county engineers can't figure it out. With ordering all the materials and getting a crew out this way, they're figuring a couple of weeks to reconstruct it."

J.T. glanced at Caitlan, scowling at her expression. She was actually smiling! Didn't she understand the implications of what was being said? Two weeks, echoed through his mind, taunting him with the realization that she'd be underfoot on his ranch. Fourteen days of seeing her and trying to curb this overwhelming attraction to her. Hell.

"You realize, don't you," he began succinctly, impaling her with a steady gaze, "that you won't be going back to Parson's Dude Ranch anytime soon."

She had the grace to look a little worried. "You did say the bridge is the only way over."

"Exactly. The bridge or eight miles of rough, rocky, verticalterrain, and I'm not about to endanger one of my valuable horses, or myself, to take you back." For a moment she seemed almost glad, relieved even, that the bridge had collapsed. Irritation coiled in him, bunching the muscles across his shoulders. "You're stuck here, Caitlan." And that was the very last thing he wanted or needed.

"I guess it's my own fault," she said softly, moving toward him and Quinn. She stroked the horse's nose and received a gentle, appreciative nuzzling in return. "I'll just have to make the best of things, won't I?"

J.T. was grateful his men had started ahead and were far enough away so they couldn't hear his conversation with Caitlan. "This is a working ranch, Caitlan. Don't expect guided tours. In fact, I'd prefer you stay off my horses. I don't want to be responsible if you should get lost again."

"I won't go off on my own, I promise." She gave him an upswept glance that had his gut tightening. "In fact, I'd love to go out with you sometime, just to see how a working ranch operates."

"Absolutely not. I don't have time to baby-sit."

Exasperation sparkled in her eyes. "You won't even know I'm there."

Oh, he'd know. He'd feel her presence, smell her light feminine scent that did crazy things to his body. "No."

J.T. watched Quinn brush his nose against Caitlan's cheek affectionately, wanting more of her attention. What a pushover his horse was, he thought. What was it about her that so totally captivated everyone, himself included?

"This isn't a private retreat," he went on, before he gave in to the temptation in those violet eyes. "It's dangerous out here, and I won't have you distracting my men or disrupting their work because you want to tag along."

Caitlan wisely kept quiet, even though she wanted to argue. Her job was to stay near him, but how could she accomplish that when he was so adamant about keeping her at a distance? He didn't seem to care that his life was in jeopardy. Well, she could be just as stubborn as he, and even if she had to face his wrath, she'd be by his side, or close to it, until her mission was accomplished.

J.T. knew he couldn't put the inevitable off any longer. Time to get the show on the road. "Mount up, Caitlan." He moved out of the way so she could use the stirrups.

She shook her head. "Oh, no, really, J.T., you should ride Quinn. I'll walk."

He rocked back on his heels. "Don't worry about me; I'll be sitting right behind you."

She glanced from the saddle to him. Shock enveloped her face and her eyes widened in comprehension. "We can't both ride on him-"

"We can and we will." She opened her mouth to say something, and he grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the saddle, cutting off her words. "You really know how to try my patience, Caitlan. This is an order, not a polite request. Now get up on Quinn or I'll put you there myself." Letting go of her, he crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

She shot him a disgruntled look. "Mount up," she mimicked in a huff. Shoving her boot into the stirrup, she hoisted herself up into the leather saddle. "I've never met anyone so bossy as you!" she said, glaring down at him.

There was something infinitely sexy about this woman in a temper, her eyes snapping with anger. "Get used to it," he replied, and in one smooth, fluid motion settled himself in the saddle behind her.

She gasped softly as he shifted into a more comfortable position-if one was possible underthe circumstances. Her bottom nestled into the crux of his hard, tense thighs. She leaned forward-to keep her back from pressing into his chest, he guessed-but it only caused her to become more intimate with the fly of his jeans and the growing arousal that would be more pain than pleasure in a matter of seconds, when he spurred Quinn into a gallop.

"Be still," he said roughly into her ear. Doubts about this brilliant idea of his settled over him. He swore under his breath. Two weeks. He'd die from sexual frustration before one week was out.

With a barely perceptible tug on the reins he urged Quinn forward, eager to be on their way. The swaying motion of the horse's first few steps rocked Caitlan closer to him, tighter, until not even a whisper could slip between their wedged bodies. Until he knew she felt the proof of his desire for her.

Her breath caught again, a soft intake of air that was more provocative than anything J.T. had heard in a long time. Like one of those delicate sounds a woman makes when she's on the precipice of pleasure…

"I don't think this is a very good idea," she said.

He didn't think so, either, but he wasn't about to admit it to her. "We don't have a choice. I'm not walking, and I sure as hell am not going to saunter along on Quinn while you do. Just hang on and we'll be at the house soon."

Before she could protest his actions, he anchored a strong arm around her waist, bent forward, and deliberately pressed into Caitlan so they leaned low over Quinn. At the same instant he spurred the horse out of a canter and into a heavy gallop. A moment later he gave Quinn his head, and the stalwart animal practically took flight across the pasture.

Caitlan tensed, her fingers gripping the saddle horn. She locked her knees against Quinn's sides since she didn't have the security of having her feet in stirrups, and hung on for dear life. J.T. urged Quinn faster, and the horse complied, his hooves pounding on the soil. Fear pumped through Caitlan's veins. The wind whipped through her hair, tangling the strands around her face.

"J.T., are you crazy?" she yelled.

He chuckled, and since his face was next to hers she heard the wickedly sensual sound clearly, felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek. "Don't worry. I've got you." For emphasis, he tightened the arm banded around her waist.

Don't worry? A hysterical laugh escaped her. She was riding a horse that raced so fast that if he happened to stumble over the uneven terrain they'd be catapulted a hundred feet ahead, not to mention the danger of being embraced by a man whose hard body was draped all over her. He was so close, the stubble on his jaw grazed her cheek, a delicious friction that brought an involuntary flutter to her stomach. The heat of his thighs bracketed hers, his chest a slab of muscular heat along her spine. And then there was the forearm around her waist, and the large hand splayed just beneath her right breast, his thumb nudging the soft underside through her jacket. Her nipple bloomed into a tight bud, aching for something more.

Quinn no longer provided the biggest threat; J.T. did. She thought of using the medallion to slow Quinn, and to take the edge off her quivering response to J.T., but she didn't want to risk the Superior's suspicions. How could she explain that she felt things for this man, physical, shameless things, that would surely shock them? Shewas shocked by her quickening pulse and the electrifying tempest pounding through her.

J.T. slowed Quinn slightly to accommodate for the ravine they were approaching at a rapid rate. Caitlan automatically stiffened.

"Relax, Caitlan," J.T. murmured, his tone gentle. "I won't let you fall."

Willing herself to do as he commanded, she drew in a deep breath of cold, biting air and loosened her hold on the pommel. Allowing J.T. to support her, she marveled at the sleek strength and power of the animal beneath her, and of the man holding her. Funny, but she felt safe and secure with him, an exceptionally odd feeling considering she was hisprotector.

The trail dipped into the ravine, and Quinn took the change in grade with ease. Caitlan, however, leaned to one side of the saddle and clutched once again to the pommel.

"We're almost there," J.T. said, holding her upright. "About another mile. Can you hang in there?"

She nodded.

J.T. wondered if he'd survive the short distance left. The soft feel of Caitlan, and the rain-scented smell of her hair and skin, would be his undoing, he was sure. Pure, 100 percent woman, a temptation more intoxicating than a shot of liquor. He had the compulsive urge to press his mouth to the sensitive flesh beneath her earlobe and flick his tongue out to taste her skin. The way her slim body moved with his and Quinn's stride was nothing short of fluid and graceful, evoking images of a more rhythmic sliding, of bodies joined so inseparably there'd be no tomorrow, only molten heat and sheer paradise. J.T. couldn't remember the last time he'd desired a woman so fiercely, and wondered if taking her once would quench the unrelenting need he seemed to have for her.

He shook his head free of those dangerous thoughts. From what he'd learned so far about Caitlan Daniels he didn't think she'd agree to a brief, mutually pleasurable fling for the two weeks she was at his ranch. Yet that's all he had to offer any woman. Good, hot, satisfying sex. Nothing more. Nothing less.

In the distance a large red barn and a two-story ranch house came into view. Home never looked so good, he thought, spurring Quinn the last quarter mile. They passed the ranch hands' bunk house and a few cabins nestled off to the side. Frank and Kirk had arrived and were speaking to a group of his ranch hands by the corral, no doubt relaying the tale he'd told them about his accident and Caitlan's part in it all. His newest ranch hand, Mike, a drifter hired for a few months' work, stood alone by the barn, smoking a cigarette. With a brooding expression, he eyed the other hands but made no move to join them.

In order to give him and Caitlan a minute before they were bombarded with questions, J.T. halted Quinn by the corral, some fifty yards away from his men. J.T. dismounted, then stepped back to give Caitlan room to do the same. Moving slowly, stiffly, she swung her leg over Quinn's rump and lowered herself to the ground, grimacing. Still holding on to the saddle, she groaned.

A deep chuckle escaped him. He didn't have to ask to know that, not being a seasoned rider, Caitlan would be sore from the rough ride and cramped quarters of the saddle, her legs probably the consistency of cooked spaghetti.

She attempted to glare at him for laughing at her expense, but he saw the sparkle of humor in her eyes. "Thanks a bunch, Rafferty. This is your fault, you know."

Hooking his thumbs in his belt loops, he lifted a brow. "Really?"

She straighten moderately and gave another moan for the effort it cost her. "I'm not used to riding so hard. I hurt in places I didn't know I could hurt."

"Then maybe you ought to ride more often, city girl," he drawled. "You're too soft." He knew that much for a fact.

His playful goad backfired on him. "Well, maybe I'll take you up on your offer, considering I'll be here for a while."

The group of men started toward them, headed by his cousin Randal, preventing J.T. from responding to her comment. By the looks of collective interest and speculation cast Caitlan's way, J.T. knew he'd have to set some ground rules for the men living in the bunk house-Caitlan was off limits and he wouldn't tolerate any advances made toward her during her stay at the ranch.

Ever the womanizer, Randal chased anything with breasts and long legs, and Caitlan definitely fit that bill. However, Randal looked more intent on throttling Caitlan than trying to flirt with her, which surprised J.T. Curiosity over the ominous looks Randal cast Caitlan mingled with a sense of relief J.T. didn't want to analyze too deeply. At least he wouldn't have to battle with Randal for making a move on Caitlan, and cause more discord between himself and his cousin.

"Who is this?" Randal demanded.

J.T. stared at Randal's matted blond hair and bloodshot brown eyes and guessed his cousin was suffering from one helluva hangover, which explained, not excused, his surly attitude. Glancing over Randal's shoulder to the other hands, he gave them a brisk nod of acknowledgment. "Would you mind excusing us for a few minutes?"

The men dispersed without question, one of them taking Quinn to cool the horse down for the boss. Beside him, Caitlan shifted on her feet, and when he looked at her he wondered at the intent way she studied Randal. Once the hands were out of earshot J.T. turned back to his cousin, whose face was now flushed.

"This is Caitlan Daniels," J.T. explained. "She's from Parson's Dude Ranch and happened to get lost on Rafferty property."

"All the way from the dude ranch?" Randal's scowl deepened. "Parson's is eight miles away. That's impossible!"

A wry smile tugged at J.T.'s mouth. "About as impossible as the bridge over the American River collapsing, but it happened."

"I was sightseeing on my own and lost my way," Caitlan interrupted, striving to substantiate her presence.

"Stupid female," Randal said, his gaze slurring over her as insolently as his words. "Didn't you see the private property signs posted on the main road and fence posts? Maybe charges of trespassing would make you think twice before you wandered off on your own again."

"Randal, cool it," J.T. said in a deceptively mild voice that warned most people they were treading on very thin ice. J.T. was used to Randal's explosive temper-worse since Randal's father had died two months ago-but J.T. saw no justification in Randal's hostility toward Caitlan for an incident that had resulted in more good than bad.

Randal's fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, as if battling to contain the fury brewing in him. "Don't you think it odd that she showed up out of nowhere-"

Lightning-fast, J.T. grabbed a fistful of Randal's shirt, jarring the other man into submission. He heard Caitlan's soft gasp at the aggressive move, but his only thought was to shut Randal up. "Good God, man! Who the hell cares where she came from?" He gave Randal a slight shake, then let go of the wad of material in his hand. Randal stumbled back, eyes wide. "Caitlan saved my life. Didn't Kirk and Frank tell you about my accident and how she found me?"

Caitlan watched Randal transform from raging madman to subdued composure in the blink of an eye. The abrupt change made her wary and cautious.

"Yeah. Sorry." Discreetly straightening his shirt, he shoved his fingers into his hair, which did nothing to tame the thick, unwashed strands. "I don't know what came over me. We've all been so worried about you. I'm glad to see you're okay." He glanced at Caitlan and smiled, but she saw the resentment and bitterness banked in the depths of his eyes. "I guess you're lucky this woman came along when she did. No telling what would have happened to you if she hadn't."

Caitlan didn't miss the flash of challenge in his eyes, and gave him a demure smile in return. A muscle in his cheek twitched, and she saw the beginnings of that madman surface again.

Unaware of the turmoil between his cousin and Caitlan, J.T. sighed tiredly. "I suggest you lay off the bottle, Randal. You know I'll do whatever I can to help you with your father's debts, but I won't put up with your mood swings."

The fire in Randal's gaze blazed an infuriated molten gold, but J.T. didn't see it. He'd glanced beyond Randal, a warm smile teasing his mouth. Caitlan followed his line of vision to a willowy young girl running down a path from the main house toward them, her long mahogany hair streaming down her back in wild abandon. In her wake, a woman with shoulder-length blond hair followed at a more leisurely pace, and tagging along were two tow-headed girls bundled in jeans and jackets.

"Dad, you're home!" the young girl squealed, launching herself into J.T.'s arms. The expression on her pretty face brimmed with unconditional love.

J.T. laughed, a deep, rumbling chuckle, and swung her around in a big bear hug. "Of course I am, Smidget." He set her down, grinning as he chucked her affectionately under the chin.

She looked up at him, green eyes crowded with concern. "I was so worried when Quinn came back last night without you. Uncle Kirk said you had an accident."

"I'm fine, Laura," he assured her gently. "Just a little bump on my head, but it'll take more than that to get rid of your old man."

Caitlan watched the reunion, a feeling of rightness ribboning through her. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a stiff movement from Randal, a slight bristling as he straightened his lanky frame. Randal watched J.T. with Laura, his eyes narrowing to menacing slits before he turned and stormed away. No one but Caitlan seemed to notice Randal's malevolence-or if they did, no one made mention of it.

A shiver of apprehension passed through Caitlan. J.T. seemed to treat Randal's animosity as a common occurrence, which made her wonder what kind of relationship the cousins shared. She knew without summoning her Superior that Randal was the man she had to protect J.T. from. The vibrations of evil and hatred emanating from Randal were so strong and gripping, Caitlan shuddered to think such a person was free to come and go at will. And why didn't J.T. see the threat Randal posed?

There was nothing she could do about Randal, except make sure he didn't harm her ward. One of the first lessons she'd learned as a guardian angel was that she was to interfere as little as possible with destiny-less for the Superiors to cover up or repair once the mission was complete. Her job was to protect and nothing more. J.T. had to learn for himself who stalked him.

"Uncle J.T.!" the two little blue-eyed girls chorused as they neared. A moment later they clamored around him, and J.T. obligingly squatted so they could smother him with hugs and wet, smacking kisses.

He grinned, receiving his penance for his absence with obvious relish. "How are my favorite nieces?"

"Uncle J.T.," one of the sprites chided, eyes sparkling. "We're your only nieces!"

He tapped her on the nose and received a girlish giggle in response. "You're getting too smart for me."

Standing, he approached the other woman and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. "Hi, Deb."

"Hi yourself." Tilting her head to the side, she shoved her fingers into the back pockets of her jeans. "You really had everyone worried. When Kirk left at dawn to search for you I knew it was serious."

His quick, devilish smile was meant to reassure. "Your brother wouldn't dare leave you with a ranch to run and an extra hellion to raise." He punctuated that statement with a wink to his daughter.

Debbie's mouth curved with sibling fondness. "He'd better not."

Caitlan marveled at how at ease J.T. was with his family, so openly caring and warm, a direct contrast to the temperamental man who'd just accompanied her from the line shack-the man with a melange of emotions churning within him.

"Who's that, Dad?" Laura asked, nodding toward Caitlan, her eyes shimmering with questions and blatant interest.

"This is Caitlan Daniels, and I'll explain the details once we get up to the main house," he said, then began a round of introductions. "Caitlan, I'd like you to meet my daughter Laura, my sister Debbie, and my two nieces, Brittany, who is eight, and Alisha, who just turned seven," he added, pointing to the girls peeking at her curiously from his side.

Caitlan accepted each of their greetings of hello with a smile. "It's nice to meet all of you."

"You have pretty eyes," Alisha said shyly, moving closer to her mother.

"Thank you," Caitlan replied softly, too aware of J.T.'s eyes on her.

Brittany swept Caitlan with a head-to-toe inspection. "Were you with my uncle last night?"

"Honey," Debbie interrupted, trying not to grin at her young daughter's impudence, "that's not a polite question to ask."

Brittany frowned at her mother. "Why not?"

"It's okay," Caitlan said before Debbie could dredge up an appropriate answer to appease her daughter's innocent query. Addressing Brittany, she replied, "Yes, I was with your uncle last night, but only because he needed my help."

"Oh. Are you and my uncle getting married?" Brittany's delicate features were etched with solemn seriousness. "Mom is always saying that Uncle J.T. needs a wife."

Caitlan glanced at J.T. and found him staring at his niece as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd heard. Then he glanced at his sister, speculation glittering in the depths of those striking eyes. Laura giggled, and Debbie looked decidedly uncomfortable.

Brittany waited patiently for Caitlan's response, childishly ignorant of the discomfort she'd cast among the adults. "Uh, no, we're not getting married. We're just friends," she told the little girl.

J.T. cleared his throat and lifted an inquiring brow at Debbie.

"What?" she said defensively, an embarrassed flush sweeping across her cheeks. "I only mentioned it once or twice to Kirk in casual conversation. You know how the girls repeat everything they hear."

J.T. gave her a pointed look, but an amiable smile teased his mouth. "Then watch what you say," he said, his tone a gentle rebuke.

"Oh, Dad, it's not a big deal," Laura cut in, slipping her arm through his. "I'm just so glad you're home. I missed you last night." She glanced at Caitlan with a sly smile, then looked back at her father. Standing on tiptoe, she whispered into his ear, loud enough for everyone to hear, "But I understand why you stayed out, and I want to let you know that I don't mind at all. Next time, just make sure you let us know so we don't worry."

J.T.'s groan of defeat rolled into a deserving chuckle. Shaking his head, he looked at Debbie. "What happened to that angelic little girl of mine?"

"I grew up," Laura replied with a self-important smile.

"It does happen," Debbie agreed with a sigh, then offered Caitlan a friendly smile. "You two must be exhausted and hungry. Why don't we go on up to the house where it's warm?"

"Uncle Kirk said you saved my father's life. I want to hear all about it," Laura said eagerly, eyes shining.

Caitlan didn't have to see J.T.'s warning look to know he wanted her to tell his family the story he'd fabricated. As they followed the paved walkway to the house, she relayed the same story J.T. had told Kirk and Frank, with J.T. adding in the "accident" that had happened before she'd found him. Debbie and Laura expressed their gratitude hat J.T. had been so fortunate, and his life had been spared.

The group clamored into the entryway of the ranch house. A cozy warmth greeted them, mingled with the thick, fragrant smell of spicy chili, heavy yeast, and a sweeter scent of pastries.

"God, that smells good," J.T. said, shrugging out of his jacket. Hanging it in the coat closet, he helped Caitlan out of hers and added it to the rest.

"Paula's been so nervous since they started searching for you this morning that she's been cooking all your favorites," Debbie told him.

J.T. grinned, the skin around his eyes crinkling with humor. "I was hoping she would." Then, to Caitlan, he explained, "Paula cooks like there's no tomorrow when she's nervous or worried."

A woman in her mid-forties with soft blue eyes and short brown hair bustled out of a doorway, the worry on her brow vanishing when she spotted J.T. Frank followed close behind. "I thought I heard J.T. talking about me," Paula said, wiping her hands on the apron tied around her waist.

"I sure was," he admitted unabashedly, accepting her light, caring embrace. "I was just telling Caitlan here what a wonderful cook you are. Couldn't manage without you, Paula."

She looked him over, as if to reassure herself that he really was fine. "I'm relieved to see a black bear didn't get your onery hide."

He grinned. "Nope. They wouldn't dare mess with me."

"And this must be Caitlan." Paula grabbed Caitlan's hand and gave it a congenial squeeze, bonding an instant friendship. "Frank told me the exciting story of how you saved J.T.'s life. I'll tell you, J.T. must have had a guardian angel sitting on his shoulder!"

"I believe he did," Caitlan replied with a smile.

"Caitlan will be staying with us for a while," J.T. said brusquely, his tone suddenly businesslike.

Caitlan noticed she wasn't the only one who'd caught J.T.'s abrupt shifting of mood, as if she was stepping too close to his territory and he didn't like it and wanted distance.

Giving J.T. a purposeful look, Caitlan transferred her gaze back to Paula. "I'll try and keep out of your way while I'm here."

"Nonsense!" Paula waved a chiding hand through the air. "It'll be nice having another woman around the house."

J.T.'s lips thinned at that remark, but he remained silent.

"Hey, what about me?" Laura jumped in indignantly.

"Excuse me." Paula's gentle smile placated Laura. "I sometimes forget you're not a little girl anymore. Come on, everyone, there's plenty of food to eat."

The group started toward the kitchen. Caitlan grabbed J.T.'s shirtsleeve. He stopped, his gaze traveling from the hand on his arm to her eyes.

"Yes?" he asked tightly, moving his arm so her fingers fell away.

Caitlan ignored the tingles on her palm and the odd yet deliciously exciting shivers racing down her spine. "I need to call Parson's. May I use your phone, please?"

"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 bad 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, regreting 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.

"Oh, yes," he said disdainfully. "The story of how you're a guest at Parson's and how you just happened to get lost on Rafferty property."

Crossing her arms over her chest, she affected a pose of casualness, refusing to take his bait. "That's correct."

"Funny how Parson's doesn't have a Caitlan Daniels registered."

"Pardon?" A frisson of panic raced down Caitlan's spine. How could he have known?

"I called Parson's." A smug smile lifted his mouth and challenge lit his eyes. "They've never heard of you."

Careful to keep her composure intact while her mind raced with explanations, she replied in a mild tone, "There's obviously been a mistake."

He leaned close, and his noxious breath nearly made her gag. "I don't think so," he said in a low, menacing voice. "I'll ask you again: Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"I think you're getting a little paranoid, Randal." She turned to go, but he grabbed her arm, whirling her around.

"Bitch!" he hissed. "I don't know what you're up to, but by the time I'm done with you you'll be off this ranch and wearing handcuffs for trespassing-"

"J.T. won't allow it." Caitlan knew that even though J.T. had been gruff at times today, he wasn't a cruel man.

He gripped her arm tighter, pinching the flesh so fiercely she winced. "We'll just see what J.T. has to say about your lies," he sneered, jerking her around and shoving her back toward the house. "He doesn't take lightly to women lying. All it will take is a phone call to Parson's to verify who's telling the truth and who's an imposter."