Heaven's Gift aka Kiss of an Angel

Chapter Six

At three in the morning, after two hours spent with King, forming a fragile trust, Caitlan slipped quietly into the ranch house and up the stairs to the guest bedroom. Everyone had been asleep for hours, and she was careful not to make any loud noises as she shrugged out of her jacket and pulled off her boots.

Caitlan was pleased with the open way King had responded to her. With time and care J.T. would be able to fully enjoy the stallion's spirit, without the threat of the horse being dangerous. She couldn't help but wonder who was spooking King, and why.

More exhilarated than tired, Caitlan changed into her nightshirt, grabbed her sketch pad and pencil from the dresser drawer, and went back downstairs to cozy up in her spot in the livingroom window seat. Drawing up her knees slightly for a table, she rested the pad on her thighs. Tonight she was too keyed up to lay down.

Thumbing past the disturbing sketch of the young boy she'd drawn last night, Caitlan started on a clean sheet of paper, consciously sketching a picture of J.T. astride King to keep herself occupied. The contours of J.T.'s handsome face came easily to her, and as the image came to life, each feature at a time, a warm, shimmering sensation settled in her belly. Familiar images once again touched the edges of her memory. She closed her eyes to probe deeper, searching valiantly for the link to these visions.

Strangely, the fragrance of a spring afternoon surrounded Caitlan, and the sensation of a warm breeze wafted across her skin. The sky above the beautiful meadow was cloudless. She heard the chirp of birds, and two orange butterflies fluttered past. The sound of giggles and boyish laughter reached Caitlan's ears; then she saw them in her mind. The boy she'd drawn last night was playfully chasing the blond-haired girl, deliberately allowing her to take the lead. Caitlan realized with sudden clarity that the boy was J.T., at about the age of fifteen. Why hadn't she noticed the resemblance in her drawing? And what significance did the girl hold to her visions?

J.T. chased the girl, closing in on her as they neared a stream and a large shady tree. The girl taunted him over her shoulder, daring him to catch her. One last long stride and he tackled her gently to the soft carpet of grass, her squeal of surprise rending the air.

"I gotcha!" he said, smiling down at her.

She gave him an upswept look, much too sultry for a girl so young. "So what're you gonna do about it?"

"This."

Caitlan watched in her mind as J.T.'s fingers fluttered over every ticklish spot on the girl's body. Impossible as it seemed, Caitlan's body began to tingle, as if she was being tickled, and she had the strangest urge to laugh along with J.T. and the girl. The young girl's gales of laughter filled the meadow and she gasped for breath, begging him to stop the torture.

"Say the magic words," J.T. coaxed, all the while his fingers were finding every vulnerable area-her neck, under her arm, her waist, just above the knee.

"I love you," she said breathlessly, then grew serious when J.T. stopped tickling her. She stared up at him, eyes shining with adoration. "I love you, Johnny."

"Much better," he murmured, a grin of satisfaction curving his mouth. All play vanished, replaced by a sensual hunger. "Now kiss me, Mandy." Lowering his head, he dropped his mouth over hers.

The kiss the young lovers shared was passionate, like the one she'd shared with J.T. last night. Caitlan's breath caught as ripples of silky heat rushed along her nerve endings, and the sensation of being deeply, thoroughly kissed stole through her. She was being swept away, into her vision, taking the place of the blond-haired girl.

J.T.'s feelings poured into her soul, an aching tenderness, an eternal love that twined around her heart, seducing her in the sweetest way…

The creak and soft thud of someone coming down the stairs penetrated Caitlan's mind, banishing the images, but leaving the soft hum of awareness in her veins. Startled out of her thoughts, the pencil fell from her fingers and hit the wooden floor at the same instant that J.T. rounded the corner into the living room. He stopped abruptly, and even in the dim moonlight she could see his whole body go rigid and alert. Then a hiss of breath escaped him when he saw her form silhouetted in the window seat.

"Jesus, Caitlan, you scared the hell out of me." He dragged his fingers through his disheveled hair. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

Willing her pulse to subside, she watched him approach in slow, lazy strides, his bare feet padding on the floor. The only article of clothing he wore were his jeans, and Caitlan's mouth went a little dry when she remembered the hard warmth of his chest beneath her fingers last night. She swallowed and answered his question. "I, uh, I'm rawing." Flipping the pad closed, she concealed her private thoughts and images. "I couldn't sleep."

He sat down on the other end of the seat, his thigh touching her toes. His smile was sleepy, warm and sensual, and did intimate things to her already aroused body. Somewhere along the way last evening, through a pleasant dinner and afterward, watching a video with Laura, a truce had been called silently between them. She liked being comfortable with him and hoped it would last.

"Do you ever sleep?" he asked, moonlight glinting off the humor in his eyes.

"Yes." Considering two nights in a row he'd caught her up in the early morning hours, his question was a valid one. "I function fine on a few hours."

"I wish I could say the same." He leaned closer, looking over her jersey-covered knees to the sketch pad she held against her chest. "What are you drawing?"

"Nothing." Her chest tightened with apprehension. Now that she knew the boy she'd drawn was him, she wasn't sharing her sketches with anyone. If she didn't understand all the crazy things happening to her, how could she begin to explain them to him?

"Can I have a look at your nothing?" he persisted.

He touched a finger to her ankle-just a butterfly touch, really-but after the vision she'd seen and experienced, her reaction was anything but mild. Pleasurable waves of heat lapped up her leg, making her conscious of a growing heaviness in secret places. He didn't seem aware of the turmoil he caused in her, and she wasn't about to let on to it by jerking her foot away.

"I'm just sketching a picture of King, nothing spectacular." She surprised herself with the casualness of her voice.

"Don't tell me you're self-conscious about your work." He smiled, that lazy, sexy smile that lit up his eyes.

She shrugged. "I guess I am."

His finger fell away from her ankle and he stared thoughtfully out the window. "I knew someone who was the same way with her drawings. She had this natural gift, yet she was so modest about it, like you." He glanced back at her, and the distant pain in his eyes gripped her heart. "Maybe someday you'll show me your sketches?"

Someday. The future. There wouldn't be one for them. Why did that thought make her ache deep inside? "Maybe," she said, knowing it was a promise she didn't have half a chance of keeping.

He stood and nodded toward the kitchen. "I was just going to get a glass of orange juice. Since both of us seem to have insomnia, care to join me?"

J.T.'s invitation was one Caitlan couldn't resist.

She wanted to be near him, for reasons beyond protecting him. For selfish reasons that could never really amount to anything. He made her feel reckless and bold, and she went with the moment before it was lost to both of them.

"I'd love a glass of orange juice." Sliding off the window seat, she followed his form through the darkened living room.

J.T. flipped on the light when they walked into the kitchen. Caitlan sat down at the table. Setting her sketch pad and pencil aside, she watched as he strolled to the refrigerator, opened the door, and peered at the contents. The smooth muscles across his back flexed as he bent over and reached inside.

"I'm gonna wring her neck," J.T. grumbled irritably.

"Whose? Paula's?"

"No. Laura's." He brought out a glass pitcher with a ring of orange juice staining the bottom. "She always puts the pitcher back with only a few drops left in it. Does that look like enough to fill a glass to you?" He held the container up for her inspection.

Caitlan laughed softly, suspecting he asked the same question, and used the same patronizing tone, when reprimanding Laura herself. " 'Fess up. I'm sure you did it when you were a boy."

His fierce frown dissolved into a guilty grimace. "Actually, I was worse. I drank the juice directly out of the pitcher, then put it back in the fridge empty. Now I know why my mother used to get so upset, because it annoys the hell out of me when Laura does it." He set the pitcher in the sink, went back to the refrigerator, and grabbed the container of milk. "How about a cup of hot cocoa instead?"

"Sounds good." Standing, she walked to the counter where Paula had left the tarts. She pulled the plastic wrap off the plate, and the sweet yet tangy aroma of cherries drifted up to her. "Would you like one?" she offered. "I made them. You didn't have one after dinner, and if I do say so myself, for a first attempt they aren't half bad."

Filling the pan on the stove with milk, he glanced at her, his eyes glittering with a teasing light. "I'll risk eating one. Warmed, please."

She smiled. Setting two on a plate, she popped them into the small microwave, set the timer, and let them warm. Leaning her hip against the counter, she watched as he scooped sweetened cocoa into two mugs and then stirred the milk so it didn't scald.

Interested to know more about his family, and him, she asked softly, "Has your mother been gone for long?"

The surprise her question triggered was quickly replaced by a distant sadness in the depths of his gaze. "She died from cancer when I was eight."

His long-ago grief touched her. "You were so young." The microwave buzzed. Removing the plate, she took it to the table and sat back down.

"Yeah." He sighed, pouring the milk into each of their mugs. Bringing them to the table, he sat in his usual spot across from her. "It was tough when Mom died. Debbie and I were both close to her."

"Your father never remarried?"

"Nope. He loved Mom so much, he said he didn't even want to try and find someone as sweet as her." He grabbed one of the pastries and took a huge bite.

Caitlan smiled to herself, instinctively knowing that, with a love as binding as the one his parents had shared, they were joined in heaven. "So you grew up without a mother around," she went on, taking the other pastry and nibbling on the corner of it.

"Yeah." He stared thoughtfully at the filling oozing from his pastry. "I missed her, but I still had Dad for guidance. Mom's death was hardest on Debbie." He transferred his gaze to her, distant emotions shading his eyes. "Dad wasn't all that comfortable explaining 'female' things, and even though Paula was around, Debbie got cheated out of that closeness mothers and daughters seem to share. That's probably why Deb is so protective and extra loving with her own girls. She wants to give them everything she missed out on."

Caitlan swirled the cocoa in her mug, deciding to take a gamble with her next question. "What about Laura's mom?"

Glancing at her sharply, he swallowed the last of his tart, chasing it down with a drink of his cocoa. "What about her?"

His tone and expression didn't encourage further questions, but Caitlan was too curious about this mystery woman. "Will you tell me about her?"

"What are you more interested in hearing?" he began, bitterness deepening the timbre of his voice. "That Stacey was a gold digger? That she deliberately got pregnant so I would marry her? Or maybe you'd like to hear about how she got bored with ranch life right after Laura was born and started sleeping with the hands before she divorced me to marry some rich guy from Texas?" His mouth stretched into a grim line, and there was a challenge in his gaze. "Not a pretty story, is it?"

Caitlan didn't allow his bluntness to dissuade her from wanting to know more. "Did you love her?" For some reason his answer was important to her.

He stared at her for a long moment, the air charged with turbulent emotions. Dragging his palm down the side of his face, he released a long breath burdened with regrets. "I tried, Caitlan. I really did. I wanted so badly to forget Aman-" He stopped abruptly, as if catching himself revealing too much. Then his jaw hardened. "It's difficult to love a woman who traps you into marriage for her own selfish means. I cared for Stacey. She gave me Laura, and for that I'll always be grateful."

"But you never loved her," she stated softly.

He shook his head. "No. I've already told you, I've only loved one woman and she's dead."

Caitlan understood his loneliness and pain so much better. What she didn't understand, however, was why her own heart felt exposed as a result of his lost love. Crazy. Unexplainable. Staring at the dregs of cocoa in the bottom of her mug, she channeled her thoughts down a different avenue. "Does Stacey ever see Laura?"

"Not since the day she left the ranch ten years ago. She had visitation rights, but she never exercised them. She didn't want the complications of a kid messing up her life with her rich Texan." He shrugged. "Actually, I'm grateful, because Laura doesn't need to be in the middle of a tug-of-war between Stacey and me. I know it has to be difficult for Laura without a mother around, but I try and do the best I can."

Caitlan heard the doubt threading through his voice, and without really considering her actions, she reached across and placed her hand on his arm and gave him a light squeeze. The contact of his warm flesh against her palm radiated up her arm like a ray of sunshine. "She's a wonderful girl. You should be proud."

He smiled, a genuinely proud grin that reached his eyes. "Yes, she is, and yes, I am."

Caitlan grinned back and reluctantly withdrew her hand from the solid strength of his arm. He stared at her, his smile slowly fading into something more curious. His gaze gradually lowered to her mouth, making her suddenly conscious of her lips, and the way his had felt moving over hers. Like heated silk and, deeper, the taste of man and earthy desire. A light, fluttery sensation settled within her.

"What about you, Caitlan?" he asked, turning the tables on her. "Ever been married?"

"No."

He studied her closer, a scrutiny that made her uneasy. "How old are you?"

"Thirty-four."

"An old maid." He grinned, humor creasing the skin around his eyes. "That clock of yours is ticking."

"Yeah," she agreed for his benefit. She pressed her hand to her stomach, an unexpected, vast emptiness consuming her. For the first time since passing on, she resented not having had the chance to have children, the love of a good man, and a full life. Why did that bother her so much now?

"Ever been close to getting married?"

She glanced at J.T., his question evoking all kinds of feelings in her. Elusive sensations, and even more distant, wispy emotions. "Yes," she automatically answered. "Once. A very long time ago. Things didn't work out." She frowned, wondering how she knew she'd been close to getting married at one time, but unable to fully grasp the answers she sought. Vague images danced in her mind, and she closed her eyes to bring them into focus, ignoring the sudden heat of the medallion against her skin.

J.T. as a young man knelt in front of the blond-haired girl. His eyes openly displayed his love for her as he slipped a ring on her finger. "Will you marry me, Amanda Hamilton?"

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

"Absolutely. You've always been mine, Amanda… "

Caitlan sucked in a sharp breath as a brutal pain seized her head and the images dispersed. Pressing her fingers to her temples, a distressed moan rolled from her throat. Heaven help her, what was her connection to these strange visions?

J.T. watched Caitlan squeeze her eyes shut, her face pale. She drew in a deep, steady breath as she rubbed her temples, as if warding off a sudden headache. "Caitlan, you okay?"

"No," she said on a low moan, blinking her lashes open. Confusion and pain glazed her eyes; then they cleared. "I mean yes, yes, I'm fine," she quickly amended, avoiding his gaze. "Just tired, I think."

Nodding his agreement, he gathered up their plates and stood. "Considering it's nearly five in the morning, you should be." He rinsed their dishes, wondering at how easily she'd pried personal confessions from him, how easily he'd whiled away over an hour with her. What surprised him the most, though, was that he'd enjoyed every minute of being in her company.

He turned back toward her, noting that the color in her cheeks had returned, and she looked more in control of her senses. "Come on; I'll walk with you upstairs."

Grabbing her sketch pad and pencil, she slid from the bench. She passed him on the way to the door, giving him a facsimile of her normal bright smile. He shut off the light, throwing them into shadowed darkness. Quietly, side by side, they ascended the stairs. At the landing he grabbed her elbow and stopped her when she would have veered off toward her room.

She glanced at him, and he saw the questions in her eyes. Her tongue slid along her bottom lip, a nervous gesture he found endearing, and arousing. His gut tightened and heat flared like wildfire inside him.

For a reason he couldn't explain he didn't want to let her go, even though he knew he should. What he wanted was to lead her into his bedroom, lay her down on the bed, ease deep inside her, and stay in that paradise forever. He wanted to fill her up the same way she filled him when he was near her. Completely. Unequivocally.

Looking into her eyes, he wanted to drown in their endless depths that promised everything he'd lost faith in so long ago. Things he had no right expecting or taking from her.

He slid his fingers from her elbow and down her arm. Picking up her hand, he rubbed his callused thumb across the soft skin of her knuckles. "Thanks for listening to the sordid details of my life," he said, his voice low, a wry grin curving his mouth.

Caitlan got the distinct impression that J.T. didn't discuss his private life freely, yet he'd been so open with her. "They say confession is good for the soul." She resisted the urge to pull back the hand he caressed so softly. The way he stroked the sensitive skin in between each of her fingers made her knees weak and heat shimmer up her arm. Clutching her sketch pad to her breasts in an effort to stop the tingling in the sensitive tips, she forced a smile. "At least I'm good for something, huh?"

"You're good for a lot of things, I'm sure," he said, his suggestive tone adding to Caitlan's already overloaded senses. Leaning close, he grinned. "Don't tell Paula, but those cherry tarts were better than hers."

He looked so much like the young boy she'd drawn, so carefree and full of mischief, that she allowed an unrestrained grin to grace her lips. "I'm glad you liked them."

"Oh, I did," he murmured. "Very much." Suddenly growing serious, he let go of her hand and caressed the dimple creasing her right cheek with his finger, his touch feather-soft and reverent.

A shiver swept down Caitlan's spine. His gaze darkened hungrily, and deeper, she saw the desire and need that matched the building tension in her. Her breath caught, and a delicious anticipation sped up her pulse. Leave before it's too late, she told herself, but she ignored the warning, too caught up in the essence of J.T. A powerful force kept her rooted to the spot.

J.T. moved closer, his bare toes touching the tips of hers. Sliding his hands along her jaw, he cupped her face in his warm palms and lifted her mouth to his. Slowly lowering his head, his lips whispered over her cheek. Then his tongue darted out to stroke her dimple, a warm, damp caress that electrified her.

His assault was so gentle, so sensual, her lips parted on a soft moan.

J.T. glided his thumb across Caitlan's bottom lip, his mouth hovering inches above hers. "I'm gonna kiss you, Caitlan," he said, his voice husky with barely leashed restraint. "If you want me to stop, tell me now."

Even if she had wanted him to stop, she couldn't have found her voice to say so. The only sound she could manage was a whimper when his mouth skimmed over hers, then pressed more intimately. His fingers slid into her hair, and he cupped the back of her head in his hand, angling her mouth just so for his heated invasion.

Before Caitlan could catch her breath his tongue surged into her mouth, taking possession and stealing what little sanity she had left. His other hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her so close, the only thing separating them was their scant clothes and the tenacious hold she had on her sketch pad. Automatically, she splayed her free hand on his chest. The moment she touched his warm, firm flesh, her body swelled with awareness and an intense heat flooded her. Her connection to J.T. was stronger, more powerful than ever.

A groan of surrender rumbled up from his chest, and his kiss gentled. He made love to her mouth like a man who had all the time in the world. Like he couldn't get enough of her. Like she was water and he was dying of thirst.

She yearned to give him any sustenance he craved.

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, both of them struggling to regain a normal breathing pattern. Caitlan ran her tongue over her swollen lips, tasting the unique flavor of J.T., cherries, and chocolate.

Eyes closed, smiling, she whispered, "I like the way you taste."

He brushed his mouth over her lips again, his tongue following suit. Fingers still tangled in the hair at the back of her head, he gently pulled her away, waiting until she blinked her eyes open to look at him. "And I want to taste more of you. Everywhere, Caitlan. In every way possible. That kiss wasn't nearly enough."

She shivered at the wicked promises glittering in his eyes, wanting everything as much as he. Somehow, a semblance of reason stole through the desire making her lethargic, and she stepped from his embrace. She hated the chill that replaced the heat of moments before. "We can't. We shouldn't."

"Yeah, I know." His voice was rough, like sandpaper. "But it doesn't stop me from wanting you." Shoving his fingers through his hair, he glanced away, as if he'd revealed too much.

Finally he released a heavy sigh. "Go to bed, Caitlan."

The following day at noon, restless and unable to concentrate on the columns of figures in front of him, J.T. left his office. Strolling into the kitchen, hoping to catch a glimpse of Caitlan, he instead found Paula and Laura making sandwiches for lunch. His guest was nowhere to be seen.

"Hi, Dad." Laura greeted him with a huge smile, eyes sparkling. Abandoning her chore of shredding chicken, she gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Nice to see you've come out of hibernation. Are you going to stay in the office all day today?"

J.T. couldn't suppress a grin at his daughter's impudence. He was feeling pretty good, despite his lack of sleep last night. Refusing to admit Caitlan was responsible for his pleasant mood, he replied, "I thought I'd check the creek for blockages."

Laura shot him a disproving glance. "What about your head?"

"My head is fine, Smidget. I only want to check and make sure the creek is clear." Leaning his hip against the counter, he nabbed a piece of chicken and tossed it into his mouth.

Frowning, she spread mayonnaise on a slice of bread, then heaped it with chicken and a slice of cheese. "Why can't the other guys do that?"

"They can, but I want to get out for a bit. I won't do anything strenuous, I promise." To prove his point, he added, "Want to go with me?"

She looked at him, and he caught a flicker of pleasure in her eyes before it was quickly replaced by something much more mischievous. "No, but I'd bet Caitlan would like to go with you. She's been cooped up for two whole days. You can show her how beautiful it is here."

J.T. glanced at Paula, who gave him a light shrug and a I-had-nothing-to-do-with-Laura's-scheme kind of look before she continued slicing the loaf of fresh bread she'd made that morning. Paula might not have anything directly to do with Laura's ploy, J.T. thought, but she definitely wasn't against the idea.

Neither was he, which should have been enough to warn him he was getting too damned close to her. After their hot kiss last night, and the truce they'd established, taking things a couple of steps farther would be so easy…

Reminding himself of the complications of getting involved with Caitlan, he shored up his resolve. "We haven't had much time together lately, Laura. I'd really enjoy if you came with me."

She waved a hand between them. "I've got things I want to do around here today. And Karen might come over this afternoon. Caitlan was saying just yesterday how she'd love to see the ranch." A sudden smile lit up her features, her eyes dancing with excitement. "You know, I just thought of something."

"Really?" he said dryly. "I can hardly wait to hear this one."

"Dad, stop being so stuffy!" she huffed in exasperation.

He raised his brows. "Me? Stuffy?"

"Yes, you." Laura poked him playfully in the chest, then gave him her best impression of an angelic look. "I was thinking, why don't I make you a couple of sandwiches, and after you and Caitlan check the ranch you can take her on a picnic?" Satisfied with the merit of her plan, she began wrapping sandwiches in plastic wrap.

"Laura, I don't think that's a good idea-"

She gave him a pointed look. "If you're going to be out checking the ranch, then you're both bound to get hungry." Grabbing a knapsack from a kitchen drawer, she put three sandwiches inside. "Here, I'll pack you a few sandwiches, some potato salad, and apples."

Paula chuckled, and J.T. glared at her, somehow knowing he'd lost this round.

"The girl's right, you know," Paula said, handing over two shiny apples to Laura. "You need to get out of the house, and Caitlan would love to see the place. You both just might get hungry, too."

J.T. didn't mention that he could just as easily eat lunch before he went out. He'd always used ranching as an excuse to forget everything and clear his head. Now, cooped up in his office, he found he constantly wondered where Caitlan was and what she was up to. What harm could there be in taking her with him? And a picnic was an innocent enough gesture, considering they were bound to get hungry.

"Where is Caitlan, anyway?" He watched as Paula filled a thermos with lemonade and added it to the sack.

Laura handed J.T. the care package with an encouraging smile. "She went to take Missy some milk and scraps. She's probably still down in the barn. Why don't you go get her?"

"I guess I will." J.T. grabbed one of his old Stetsons off the coat rack and jammed it on his head. "We won't be gone long."

"Don't worry about hurrying back." Laura practically pushed him out the kitchen door. "Oh, and have a good time!"

J.T. shook his head at his daughter's match-making. In the back of his mind he knew he should at least be annoyed by Laura's meddling, but he found it difficult to get mad at her for something he wanted just as much.

"Hello, Missy," Caitlan said in a soft voice as she approached the momma cat and her kittens. "I brought you some milk and chicken." As soon as she placed the bowl and plate next to the cardboard box housing Missy's family, the feline abandoned her nursing kittens for the food. Caitlan laughed softly at the loud mews of protest coming from the box.

Missy feasted on her meal, and Caitlan stroked the cat's back and scratched her behind the ears. Missy purred deep in her throat and let out an appreciative meow.

Smiling, Caitlan turned her attention to the mewling kittens. Murmuring sweet words to them, she reassured each of them with a touch and a caress that their mother would be returning soon. She heard steps behind her and assumed it was one of the hands working around the ranch today. From what Laura had told her, on weekends the hands rotated days off, and most of the men spent their time lazing around the bunkhouse and barn area.

Then the fine hairs at the nape of her neck tingled with apprehension.

"Well, if this isn't a tender scene."

The familiar, insolent voice sent a shiver racing up Caitlan's spine. Standing, she turned and gave her nemesis a tolerant look. "What do you want, Randal?"

He pushed off the stall he'd been leaning against and approached her with slow, stalking steps that made Caitlan uneasy. "You know what I want." Bloodshot eyes raked her from head to toe. "I want some answers."

Caitlan didn't care for the heinous glint in his gaze. "I don't know what you're talking about." She started past him, determined not to get into another confrontation.

Blocking her path, he shoved his hands hard against her shoulders, and she stumbled back into the wall. Missy, eating by Caitlan's foot, hunkered down and glared at Randal, her tail swishing in warning.

Gaining her composure, Caitlan made an attempt to dodge Randal, but the quarters were cramped and his hands shot out and slammed against the wall on either side of her head before she could make a clean getaway.

His eyes glittered with malevolence. "You're not going anywhere."

She turned her head slightly as his breath, hot and fetid with the odor of liquor, slipped up her nose. Knowing better than to provoke someone who'd been tipping the bottle, she remained calm. "Let me go, Randal."

"I want to know what the hell is going on!" he said in a low voice infused with fury. "You being here is just too damned convenient."

Lifting a brow, she looked him square in the eye, hoping to intimidate him. "Do you have something to hide, Randal?"

Panic flashed in his glassy eyes, then was quickly replaced by a challenge of his own. "You tell me."

If she informed him she knew he was behind J.T.'s attack, she'd put J.T., and this mission, in jeopardy. She couldn't say anything; J.T. had to discover Randal's intentions on his own. So, instead, she gave Randal a noncommittal shrug.

He looked at her long and hard, the uncertainty in his gaze shifting to an outright leer. Slowly, a crude grin curved his mouth. "I don't know how you've managed it, but you've got J.T. wrapped around your finger." He pressed his body to hers, grinding his hips obscenely against hers. "You must really be something in the sack."

A thread of panic stole through Caitlan. Randal was a solidly built man, and she was no match for his strength. She pressed her hands against his chest and pushed, but he didn't budge. "Let me go, Randal." Her voice was even, in control. "You don't want to do this."

"Oh, I think I do." He laughed, the sound full of malice. "The perfect retribution. I think I'd like a piece of J.T.'s woman for myself. J.T. always gets everything, and since he's taken everything from me, I can show him what it feels like to be betrayed."

Caitlan shook her head, seeing a chance to reason with Randal. "J.T. has never betrayed you. He wants to help you, Randal-"

"What do you know about it?" His hostility lashed out at her like a whip.

God, there had to be some good in Randal, she thought desperately. A shred of decency somewhere. She tried to tap into some virtuous part of him, wanting so badly to convert him. It's not your job to redeem Randal, she reminded herself, but she wanted to at least try. For J.T.'s sake. "J.T. is a good man. It doesn't have to be like this."

"Yeah, but it'll be worth it just to see the look on J.T.'s face when I tell him I've had you." That thought alone seemed to give him great satisfaction, brightening his leering face.

Ignoring the panic tightening her chest, she thrust up her chin a notch. "You touch me and I'll scream. There're quite a few people around."

He laughed again, seemingly enjoying the game. "And when they come runnin' I'll tell them you came on to me. Wouldn't be the first time J.T. got himself involved with a slut." He lowered his mouth to her ear. "Besides, you might find you like bein' with me better than J.T."

She shivered in revulsion. Drawing a deep breath, she shoved at Randal with all her might. He grunted at the unexpected move, and as she fought against him, he tried to grab her hands. In the shuffle he kicked the box of kittens, and Missy retaliated.

With a low-throated growl, Missy clawed at Randal's leg as if it were a scratching post. Randal let out a howl of pain, then cursed, backing away from Caitlan. Even as Randal shook his leg to dislodge the feline, Missy hung on to his pants, her sharp claws ruthless.

Blessing Missy's interference, Caitlan feinted around Randal and ran to the entrance. Slipping outside, she glanced back to make sure Randal wasn't in pursuit… and slammed into a solid wall of flannel-covered muscle.

J.T. caught her arm before she would have bounced back and fallen on her bottom in the dirt. "Damn, Caitlan. Watch where you're going."

Caitlan had never been so relieved to see anyone in all her guardian days. Pressing a hand to her galloping heart, she caught her breath and glanced up into J.T.'s face, shadowed by his hat. "I'm sorry."

"What's the matter with you?" His lips compressed into a thin line and his eyes narrowed. "You weren't with King again, were you?"

She groped for the truth, unsure if she wanted to tell J.T. about her run-in with Randal, and risk a potentially explosive confrontation between cousins. In Randal's state of mind, which was precarious at best, Caitlan feared for J.T.'s safety. "No, I, uh, was with Missy and her kittens." She smiled up at him as if she didn't have a care in the world. "Did you need me for something?"

Frowning, he stared at her for a long moment, suspicion coloring his eyes. Finally he let go of her arm. "I was just going to do some spot-checking around the ranch." Glancing over her shoulder, he shifted restlessly on his feet. He cleared his throat. "Laura mentioned you might like to see the spread."

Despite the underhanded way he'd delivered his invitation, Caitlan couldn't stem the thrill of pleasure racing through her. "I'd love to."

"Go on up to the house and get a jacket," he said, nodding in that general direction. "I'll saddle up the horses."

J.T. stared after Caitlan as she made her way to the main house, wondering why he felt like a gawky adolescent again, like the first awkward time he'd asked Amanda to go riding with him with the intentions of stealing a kiss from her. He'd been thirteen, and J.T. could still remember the rapid hormonal awakening that had made him see Amanda for more than just a "buddy," had made him want to kiss her and touch her in more than a brotherly manner.

The first time he'd attempted to kiss Amanda she'd socked him in the arm. She'd been spitting mad, and confused. He'd seen the conflicting emotions in her eyes, and when he'd tried to apologize, she'd charged after him, knocking him to the ground. A skirmish ensued, but he came out the victor. He had kissed her again, gently, softly, and when her lips parted on a gasp, he'd introduced them both to their first deep kiss. Seconds later she had melted beneath him, warm and receptive to his exploration. And J.T. knew he was in love.

The sweet memory drifted through J.T., leaving him achy and empty inside. Why had he thought of that now? Shaking off the sensation of loss, he walked inside the barn, searching for a clue as to what Caitlan had been running from. And she had been running from something; he'd felt her tremble when he'd caught her arm, like she'd been spooked.

The horses in their stalls seemed calm, King included. He passed Missy, who shot him a disgruntled look before tending to her kittens. J.T. was on the verge of dismissing his concern when he saw his newest hand, Mike, in the tack room. Had the man said or done something to frighten Caitlan? Mike was moody, but he didn't seem the surly type.

Mike turned, a curry comb in his hand and a cigarette dangling from his lips. He gave J.T. a curt nod, but before he could escape out the back door to the adjoining paddock, J.T. stopped him.

"You know the rules, Mike: No smoking in or around the barn."

Mike squinted as plumes of smoke curled from the tip of his cigarette. "I was just getting a comb for-"

"No exceptions," he said, watching as the other man's jaw hardened.

"Sorry, boss," Mike murmured, pulling the cigarette from his mouth. "It won't happen again."

"Make sure that it doesn't." With a curt nod J.T. dismissed the hand, then went to saddle up the horses.