Wanted!

by JoAnn Ross

  "It's over, Clayton," he said. His voice was quiet, but easily heard in the stillness of the canyon.

  The man spun around and leaped to his feet in one quick movement. The barrel of his rifle was pointed directly at Rory's chest. His torn jeans and the amount of blood flowing down his left leg from his inner thigh revealed that at least one of Trace's shots had hit home.

  The wound, which looked painful and potentially deadly, did not seem to encourage the outlaw's surrender.

  "You're right, Mannion," he growled. His malevolent gaze told Rory that at that moment, he knew exactly who Rory was. "It's over. For you. I should have hung around to make sure I killed you the first time. When you came back and found your sweet little bride being barbecued in her cute little blue house."

  Fury surged. Knowing that Clayton was trying to rattle him, Rory forced himself to remain calm. "You're not going to get away this time."

  Clayton roared with amusement at that idea. "Wrong again, lawman." His evil grin belonged on the face of Death himself as he pulled the trigger.

  A roar echoed around them. Birds took to the air, squirrels screeched and chattered in fear. There was a singing sound as the bullet hit a rock inches from Rory.

  Although time seemed to have slowed to a snail's pace, Rory knew that only an instant had passed since Clayton had pulled the trigger.

  He slowly, carefully, pulled the trigger of the .45 that had served him so long and so well.

  The shot hit Clayton in the chest. His eyes widened in shock. His face twisted in anguish.

  And then Rory watched as the man he'd sworn either to capture or kill fell over the edge of the Mogollon Rim to his death.

  Despite the icy weather, Jessica paced the porch of the old Prescott ranch house, her arms wrapped around herself more for comfort than warmth. Where was Rory? He and Trace had been gone for hours.

  "Clayton couldn't have killed him," she assured herself. "It wouldn't be fair. Surely fate didn't bring us together after all these years only to separate us again?"

  Jessica told herself that. Over and over again. But the words did nothing to soothe her turmoiled mind. So she kept pacing.

  Just when she thought her nerves were going to jump out of her chilled skin, Jessica saw the Suburban driving up the curving road to the house. And although the logical part of her mind knew it was impossible, she would have sworn her heart stopped.

  The passenger door opened. And then she saw him. Safe, alive, walking toward her.

  Weeping and laughing at the same time, she ran down the porch steps and flung herself joyously into Rory's arms.

  "Where do you think he is?" Jessica whispered as she and Rory lay together in the wide bed in Mariah and Trace's guest room.

  "In hell," he whispered back against her hair. "Counting the wages of sin."

  Jessica shivered at the mental image his words created. "I was so worried."

  "You shouldn't have been. I told you I'd be back."

  "I know." Still trembling, she wrapped her arms more tightly around him. "But you told me that once before."

  "And I did return." He began unbuttoning the silk pajama top Mariah had lent her.

  The touch of his hands on her flesh was like a brand, claiming her for all time. When she was struck with a sudden urge to cry, Jessica swallowed back the sob and tried to forget her fears and concentrate on the pleasure.

  "Ah, but you forgot to tell me it was going to take you a hundred years."

  "My mistake." He cupped her breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples into taut peaks. "Next time I promise not to stay away so long."

  He lowered his head and took one of those rosy crests between his lips and began sucking in a way that created an exquisite pull between her legs. She wanted to cry out, but knowing that Trace and Mariah were just across the hall, she instead buried her mouth into his shoulder.

  "Something else worried me," she admitted, still whispering. "I was afraid that after you killed Black Jack, that once you'd gotten your revenge, you'd be gone. Back to your own time, like what happened to Noel after she saved Wolfe."

  He'd worried about that as well. "Obviously, fate has other plans in store for us," he murmured, switching to the other breast. "Like this."

  He took his time, treating each breast to a sensual assault that went on and on until she was writhing beneath him, desperate for more.

  "Not yet."

  Although he'd never admit it to her, Rory was panic-stricken that once they'd made love he'd be pulled back into his own time, forced to leave Jess behind. And he couldn't bear the prospect of losing her again.

  So, although as always when he was with her, he felt as explosive as gunpowder, instead of taking her in a whirlwind of passion as he so often did, Rory forced himself to take his time.

  It had never been like this. Jessica lay naked on the bed, the borrowed pajamas stripped off her an eternity ago. Her eyes were closed, her breath was weak and shallow. She was his for the taking. And oh, dear heaven, how he took!

  His mouth skimmed over her moist flesh and she burned. His fingers tangled in the damp curls between her thighs, probing for feminine secrets, and liquid heat flowed forth like warm honey. Never had she been so aware of her body. He touched her wherever he chose, tasted wherever he wanted until she was certain that not a single inch of flaming skin had gone unloved. She couldn't count the number of times she'd come; her climaxes seemed to be as endless as their love.

  She'd never known passion could be so unbearably sweet. Or pleasure so strong. He'd imprisoned her in a world of mist and smoke and warmth and she didn't ever want to escape.

  "Lord, I love you like this," he murmured against her throat as he lifted her hips and slid into the welcoming warmth that so generously enfolded him. "Warm, willing, all mine."

  "Yours," she managed to whisper. She lifted arms that seemed remarkably heavy to spread her fingers on his back and urge him closer. And together, they discovered paradise on earth.

  Jessica had no idea how long she'd been asleep. But the sun was slipping through the crack in the draperies when she finally opened her eyes to find Rory, propped up on one elbow, gazing down at her.

  "You're still here." Relief shimmered in her eyes.

  "I'm still here." He'd been feeling the same relief for hours as he'd watched her sleep.

  She pressed a trembling hand against his cheek. "When you didn't leave after killing Clayton, I thought that perhaps, after we'd made love one more time…"

  "I know." He turned his head and kissed her palm. "I was worried about the same thing. But it seems, my love, that you're stuck with me."

  "I can't think of anyone I'd rather be stuck with." Jessica laughed, unable to remember ever having been this happy. In either lifetime. "And, don't forget, it works both ways. You're stuck with me, too."

  Their fingers linked, their eyes met, their hearts entwined. Then they smiled.

  "Eternally," they said together.