Miracles and Mistletoe

by Cait London

  ~**~

  The image of Jonah scooping June against him, bracing his weight against the barn, tore open Harmony’s patched heart.

  Though she wasn’t a horsewoman, she urged Pax’s mare to race, carrying her away from Jonah.

  Harmony leaned forward in the saddle, wiping her tears away with her hand and locking her body to the mare’s. Each rapid heartbeat ripped more pain into her, or was it the pounding hoof beats?

  She had given her heart, her life, to Jonah.

  She would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that she loved Jonah Fargo.

  Thundering hoof beats filled the bright April morning— too many hoof beats for one horse. Harmony glanced over her shoulder, brushed away a strand of hair and saw Jonah riding after her, his dark face as grim as any outlaw’s. A part of the land, of the tough men who had settled it, Jonah looked as though nothing would stop him.

  She couldn’t let him see her pain... not now, when pieces of her were lying on the plains... when she was too vulnerable....

  She concentrated on the mare, sending her fear into the reins and to the horse that understood.

  Jonah? Fear surged through Harmony. She sensed another person’s emotions. Jonah?

  His fear for her surged around Harmony, fueling her heartbreak.

  She glanced at a sign, a tree and then a field and knew that she’d circled the Fargo property. Jonah’s house lay in the afternoon shadows, and she urged the mare over a knoll and toward safety. All she needed was a moment before he arrived— if he decided to make the circle back to his ranch. She’d paste her emotions into a cement wall that Jonah could not penetrate.

  Harmony dismounted, ran into the house and locked the door. She splashed water on her face, dried it, and tried to pull the tiny strips of her emotions into line before seeing Jonah.

  She closed her eyes. He’d never circle back, and for the moment she was safe. Her head throbbed; she ached in her soul and her heart, and he wouldn’t see her this way…

  In a few minutes she’d be fine... She’d be back to calm, capable Harmony; she’d find a way to explain her actions—

  Jonah?

  “If you think a locked door is keeping me from you, guess again,” Jonah stated a heartbeat before the door crashed open, the upper hinge tearing free from the force of Jonah’s shoulder.

  Harmony gripped the kitchen counter with both hands and shook. She concentrated on the dish hurling through the air at Jonah. He caught it just as thunder crashed in the room and a bolt of lightning lashed between them.

  So he was angry now, was he? So was she. Smoke boiled from the stove, though there was no fire, and the dinosaur teeth began rattling on the table.

  Several bottles exploded and the scent of Jonah’s aftershave filled the wind-whipped room.

  “You’re crying,” he said suddenly, very quietly, and the turbulence in the house eased.

  “No. Really?” Harmony asked mockingly as tears slid freely down her cheeks and she dashed them away. Trust Jonah to change his mood quickly, leaving her with a magnificent, unused mad aura. The floorboards seemed to bounce beneath her feet— Or was that due to Jonah’s weight as he crossed the room to Harmony and jerked her into his arms, burying his face in her hair?

  Jonah’s heart thudded against her, pounding his fear for her safety into her senses.

  Harmony stood very still in his arms, her body tense and shaking. She sensed the images of June’s breasts against him, more firm and defined than her own softness. “Let me go, Mr. Fargo.”

  She refused to fight Jonah, to give him the pleasure of subduing her easily. She’d been rejected before; she should have known better.

  “I said, let me go,” she stated and hated the tearful tremor in her voice. She wanted her raging anger back. She’d flatten Jonah’s lesser powers and walk out of his life.

  Darn... How like him to send her emotions shifting, needing his cuddling and cherishing.

  Jonah cradled her closer, easing her body against his as though he wanted to make her a part of himself... to keep her safe.

  “Don’t cry, Harmony,” he was saying unevenly, a deep shudder moving through his body. “Please don’t cry.”

  She wasn’t crying... she wasn’t. Not for a buckaroo whom she had claimed as her own— who had done fantastic, memorable claiming of his own, and now was roaming the range romancing other women.

  She hated him fiercely then, the images of June’s pointy breast impressions slashing at her. Oh, fine. Every centimeter of her broken heart came welling up her throat to cry aloud, “You made love to me. Don’t deny it. You’ve certainly gotten bored quick. Or aren’t I enough?”

  He caught her head gently in the cradle of his hand, keeping her locked to him with the other. “Harmony... Harmony... listen to me. Don’t—”

  “Don’t? Don’t what?” She stared up at him through her tears and found Jonah’s worried expression. Fine, let him be worried. She was shattering. Since she’d met him, she’d been either ecstatic, angry, or weepy. With Jonah there was no easygoing relationship, and now he had cradled another woman against him, held her body in his arms, and...

  She swiped away tears— evidence of her bleeding heart. Jonah certainly had quick moves for a man who had thoroughly welded himself to her.

  She pushed her hands against his shoulders and the bells on her wrist tinkled eerily. She rattled them beneath his nose. “Do you know why I wear these? To keep me from people like you— disaster people, trouble people, illogical, dark, moody auras, who aren’t sensitive in the least—”

  She looked at his lips. She had to know—

  Harmony locked her hands to Jonah’s ears and pulled his lips against hers. Though she tasted the salt of her tears, she didn’t taste another woman. Jonah had not kissed June and he did not like her pointy breasts poking him.

  “Put me down,” Harmony ordered shakily.

  After the kiss, Jonah looked stunned. Good. Harmony had pulled out her little poleax and whacked him: Mr. Quick Moves Fargo who left her hanging in the middle of a really good storm fit.

  She concentrated on the hot sauce bottle on the kitchen counter and it shattered satisfyingly. Though her powers weren’t strong in that area, she had accomplished her threat.

  Jonah didn’t look away or seem startled; he was concentrating on her. Harmony sniffed, unsettled with the immediate knowledge that when Jonah focused on her, nothing else mattered to him.

  She hadn’t asked for the comfort of his arms around her. She squirmed slightly and knew that Jonah would hold safe anything he wished.

  “Let you go after that nightmare ride? No,” he said firmly and lifted her in his arms. “I’m holding you until we both settle down. You could have been hurt. Don’t you realize that ride was dangerous? That field is filled with gopher holes... The mare could have gone down.”

  “There will be none of this,” Harmony stated with another sniff as Jonah sank into the couch, holding her on his lap. This man was exhausting, draining her emotions. Or was it the lack of sleep and her psyche on overdrive because of him? “I just came to get my cupids... that’s all. I couldn’t care less about disgusting clinch scenes involving you and June.”

  “I do. She scares me.” Jonah smoothed her curls with his cheek and cuddled her against him. “I can hear your heart pounding,” he whispered unevenly against her hair.

  “So what?” Harmony breathed sharply; she realized that Jonah was trying to understand, his mind searching her reactions to him.

  She was calmer now, leaping into the swift current of his thoughts. Jonah thought she cared for him... that he had hurt her and he feared he would say the wrong thing. He’d never seen anything so frightening as her racing over the countryside, an unskilled city woman with a pretty backside that should be held and caressed by a man regularly.

  When she could ride better, he’d like to take her out to his favorite dinosaur dig. Not many women appreciated dinosaur finds, but Harmony was a sensitive woman. She’d fit in his
sleeping bag, cute as a—

  Trust Jonah not to keep their argument on a safe level or notice her threat and first-accomplished shattering, breaking the hot sauce bottle.

  “Don’t you think about making love to me now, Jonah Fargo,” Harmony stated darkly as she glared at him. “If you were a sensible man— which you are not— you would realize that we are not pleased. Lovemaking is not on my schedule with you. Not even a kiss. Not one.”

  “No... wouldn’t think about it, rosebud,” he said very quietly, gathering her softening, warming body closer to his. “I’d just do it naturally.”

  “Not now, Jonah. Not ever again. I’ve learned my lesson about trusting lanky Montana buckaroos,” Harmony stated unevenly. She placed her elbow firmly into the spot on his chest that had touched June’s breasts.

  “I like soft warm women with round curves,” Jonah said huskily, smoothing her thighs gently.

  She clamped her thighs together tightly and Jonah’s open hand settled on her stomach. A claiming. His every touch on her was a claiming, yet he had embraced the infamous peach pie maker.

  “I don’t make peach pies and you are not a nice man.”

  Darn. Why did her bones and flesh seem to turn so easily in his direction? she lamented as Jonah began kissing the tears from her damp lashes.

  “You scared me,” he admitted shakily, stroking her taut neck and shoulders. “Don’t do that again. Ever.”

  “So I’m not a skilled rider. But you don’t have to say anything about my bottom bouncing in the saddle,” Harmony whispered back.

  “Did I say that?” Jonah asked with a slight, whimsical smile. “I did notice that it was real cute— high up there in the air... off the saddle— real soft-like… just a bit of jiggle going on beneath your jeans when you bounced.”

  “I do not jiggle or bounce. Don’t say intimate things like that when we’re having summit talks. Try to keep on the subject at hand. It’s easy to read you, Jonah Fargo. Sure...talk this way... hold me here, prisoner on your lap, like you’re holding my cupids. I just came by to make arrangements to buy them from you. By the way, I didn’t come to check on your latest... latest—” Harmony swallowed and licked at the tear that had collected at the corner of her lips.

  Jonah kissed that sensitive spot and gathered her closer, placing her head on his shoulder. “Let’s sit like this for a while and mull this problem… what has stirred you, rosebud.”

  The problem was she loved him and she’d overreacted instantly. Harmony should have carried on a normal, light conversation with Jonah and the infamous June. She should have offered him a reasonable amount of money for cupid ransom.

  But she hadn’t done those things and he’d run her down, captured her and now wanted to pry the gory, heartbreaking details from her. He couldn’t have them; she refused to have her emotions dissected. “I have to go now... a busy day, Jonah. Customers. Work on Therapy. Book work... accounts... ordering new copper sheets, you know,” she protested as Jonah eased back and tucked her damp face against his throat. Her fingers tightened on his shirt and his heart pounded heavily beneath her cheek.

  “That Therapy monster appeals to me for some reason… Now tell me why you ran from me,” Jonah said after she’d dried her eyes on his shirt collar.

  The scene of June in his arms slashed through her again.

  “She’s got strange underwear,” Jonah stated ominously, his mind cruising through images and open to her probes. He didn’t like June touching him at all; his loving belonged to his sweet little rosebud.

  Harmony sat very still, curled upon Jonah’s hard lap, as she tapped into his thoughts. He’d plan something rash because June wasn’t choosing his loving moments for him and she wasn’t getting that close to him again, either. June would be the perfect revenge for Lucky.

  Jonah’s thoughts settled into an even hum. He had what he wanted sitting right in his arms. If he could just get Harmony-rosebud into his bed, he’d show her with his body that she was special, a part of him now.

  Harmony swallowed. “Special isn’t a very—”

  She clamped her lips closed. She would not tell Jonah that he was far past the special mark on her scale of heart mates.

  “Women are hard to understand,” he began in a thoughtful, western wisdom tone as he kissed her temple. “You’re too emotional and get all the wrong readings from nothing.”

  “‘Emotional?’” Harmony repeated in an outraged tone. “Emotional? I love you, you jerk,” she shot back at him.

  The bald truth hovered in the air. Harmony realized instantly that her frustration with his density had caused her to speak aloud.

  She tried to scoot off his lap and just made it to his knee, before Jonah grabbed her thigh. He leaned forward to gather her back to him. He grunted as her elbow bumped into his ribs; they overbalanced and went down on the floor.

  “This isn’t where I want to be,” Harmony stated primly after she got her breath. Jonah’s weight above her, and his thoughtful, intense expression caused her to squirm. She noted belatedly that Jonah had protected her in the fall, keeping his body tense and cradling hers until she settled gently to the floor.

  She certainly couldn’t afford to be gentle with him; she’d just told him she loved him!

  Harmony turned her head away. She didn’t want him to see into her, not now— and spotted another pair of his boots at her eye level and tried his quick-shifting topic technique. “You should polish your boots more. The leather is drying.”

  “Boots...” he repeated distantly. Jonah settled comfortably upon Harmony, trapping her legs with his. He braced his weight on his elbows and caught her face with his hands. His fingers smoothed her hot cheeks, drying the tear trails. “Tell me the part about you loving me again, Harmony.”

  “Only you would double back to Fargo land, to this house. That was really low and calculating. You disgust me. Just disgust me,” she stated hotly and began squirming with all her might to dislodge him.

  Jonah chose not to be dislodged; his hand spanned her hip, claiming her firmly and heating her through the layers of clothing. He studied her intently, tracing her tangled hair, her tear-filled eyes and her trembling lips. Because she was aghast with her admission, spoken aloud and surprising herself, Harmony shivered.

  She couldn’t love him.

  She’d given herself to him in the deepest way and he’d betrayed her for a peach pie baker with a cone bra.

  Then Jonah slowly settled his face into the curve of her throat and Harmony’s senses leaped. Oh, no! Why did he have to go for that vulnerable spot? She could have refused him if he’d placed his lips anywhere else but at the base of her throat. If he just hadn’t seemed so vulnerable... If he—

  “Because this is where I can feel your heart against my cheek and your pulse beneath my lips. Feels like a pretty little bird with wild fluttering wings... one that was hurt,” he murmured gently. “I’m sorry you were hurt, rosebud.”

  “Hurt? Me? No... I wasn’t...” But she was shattered, shot through the heart. Worst of all, Harmony had told him she loved him. She’d spread her pride before him. She couldn’t allow him to actually believe that... that she ached as though a part of her had been torn away. “Get off me, Jonah.”

  He ignored her, his thumbs caressing her cheeks, following the tear trails. “You really came over here to rescue your cupids? Or did you miss me?”

  “Miss you? Ha. That will be the day.”

  But Jonah was thinking how sweet she was... how ripe and sweet she felt beneath him. Jonah thought Harmony looked cuter than a newborn calf in a spring-green meadow. Prettier than little bunny rabbits snuggled together under a perky-fresh daisy. Better than a sunflower opening to catch the sunlight or a frisky colt playing with a butterfly. Better than the dawn catching sparkling jewels on the dew of a spider’s web. She looked tastier than a wild berry pie, hot from the oven, with ice cream on top.

  Harmony inhaled, assailed by his thoughts, which were stronger than she remembered. His sen
ding powers were developing, growing. He was too deep in his thoughts to be sensitive to hers. Jonah had probably thought the same thing about other women. She would not be his ‘sweet and ripe’ anything ever again.

  She was out for revenge, deadly in her purpose to bring him to his knees— once her cupids were safe. They were the only— repeat, only— reason she’d come to his ranch. “That’s exactly why. To rescue my orphans— er... my cupids. How much?”

  “I’ll think it over,” Jonah said quietly, then lowered his lips to hers. “You think about this.”

  Oh, no... She would remember thinking later.

  Oh, yes, rosebud...

  ~**~

  Later that night, when he could trust himself to ride to the knoll overlooking Harmony’s cabin, Jonah leaned against a tree and listened to her wind chimes.

  He wanted to walk down the knoll and— And what?

  After Harmony had responded so sweetly, so hungrily to his kiss, she’d eased free of his weight and frowned at his chest.

  “Stay away from me, Fargo,” she had said in a quiet, low tone. Then she’d walked out the battered door, her head held high and her shoulders straight.

  He’d hurt her badly.

  Harmony was a fierce, wildly loving woman and a sweet rosebud wrapped up in one volatile package. When he’d caught her at her circle-and-hide act, she’d exploded right in front of him. For just a second, he thought the room was filled with a summer storm, complete with thunder and lightning. The old stove chimney had tilted and briefly smoke had boiled into the room. Bottles had dropped and broken with the force of his breaking down the door—

  Jonah grimaced. At that moment— leaping off his mare at a run into the house— he’d known that no door would keep him from Harmony; she was his. He hadn’t tried the lock because he’d known she had turned it— How had he known?

  “Reasonable,” Jonah answered his question aloud, then added “You scared her chasing her like that. How was she supposed to act?”

  With the soft musical chimes sounding in the wind and the moon overhead, Jonah regretted that he had hurt her.