Miracles and Mistletoe

by Cait London

  Burned peach-pie-scented smoke swirled in the room between them and Jonah felt the hairs at the back of his neck lift slightly.

  “No,” he said quietly and thought that Lucky should lasso June. Jonah shook his head; it wasn’t possible that Lucky could understand his thoughts. “Didn’t say a word.”

  “Hmm. I got the feeling that you were trying to…” Lucky replaced the psychic book he’d been flipping through and glanced at Jonah with a puzzled expression. “Funny. I was just thinking that you thought I ought to finally corral June.... Never mind. I always thought that someday June and I would eventually get around to each other.”

  After Lucky had gone, Jonah sat and stared at the books. He didn’t believe in ESP, telepathy, clairvoyance or any of the other psychic phenomena.

  He pushed his fingers through his hair, noted the new price tag beneath his arm and ripped it away. Clothes had never made a difference to him, but he didn’t want Harmony to be ashamed of him as a potential... What? He was just losing his mind and was dopey over a woman who believed in the paranormal. Harmony said he had “abilities.” He didn’t understand “powers” and “abilities” and he sure as shootin’ didn’t want them.

  But there were a whole lot of answers that needed answering:

  Before Harmony explained, how did he know a man named Mark had touched her?

  Why did he feel as though he were holding a part of his daughter by holding that old doll?

  Why was he really starting to sense— “read,” the books called it— what other people were thinking?

  When he picked Harmony out of the blizzard, how did Harmony know about his plans for June?

  What was all that business before Christmas when he imagined Harmony in a black negligee?

  Jonah stopped worrying and concentrated on that memory. Then he skipped to the first time he’d made love with Harmony— when he was asleep.

  “Dreams,” he muttered. “Just dreams.”

  The tiny kitten that he’d gotten from Myrtle Hanks meowed and began to claw its way up his jeans leg. The kitten’s tawny fur reminded him of Harmony’s amber eyes, and— Jonah stood and cuddled the kitten close to his cheek. She licked his skin and rubbed against him, just as Harmony had done.

  “Well… may as well take our peach pie and go on our way,” he said to the kitten. “You have a job to do, kitty. Buy me some points with Harmony. I’ve lost a few, and from the looks of things, I need all the help I can get.”

  ~**~

  “Jonah baked a peach pie for you? Jonah?” Pax’s laughter filled the cabin. He collapsed into Harmony’s kitchen chair and tried unsuccessfully to stop laughing.

  She tossed a tea towel at him and Pax used it to swipe away the tears on his cheeks. He pointed at the burned pie, started to say something, and then erupted in laughter again.

  Harmony clumped her work boots in a steady rhythm and waited tensely for him to finish. “Jonah also brought me Amber.”

  “Amber?”

  “A beautiful little kitten. She’s sleeping now, but Jonah said she reminded him of me. Stop laughing, Pax. You didn’t have Jonah standing on your porch and looking like a lost little boy. He was so proud of his peach pie, his first attempt. When he gave me Amber, he was so shy. It was all I could do not to hug him.”

  “You didn’t eat that missing piece, did you?” Pax asked with a grin. “And by the way, you’re the only person I know who might see Jonah as having little-boy endowments. That new mustache he’s sporting makes him seem more weathered.”

  “Don’t pick on his mustache. He’s developing his new look. He’s trying new things and that’s important. He was so eager for me to taste his handiwork. How could I refuse?”

  “I would have. Come on, Harmony. Give up and admit that you recognized him as your other half as soon as you met him. Jonah doesn’t fit your pre-specifications for a relationship, but you’re stuck with that cowboy.”

  Harmony considered the missing piece of pie and how much water she had drunk to remove the aftertaste. She refused to lay any tidbits beneath Pax’s nose. Waiting for Jonah in the three weeks, one day, twelve hours and fifty-four seconds since they’d made love had taught her a lesson: While she had ached for him desperately, he was taking his time. No man in love would act as Jonah had done, leaving his bonded mate alone and aching.

  Her telephone and CB were at his beck and call... just one little call. Then she had humiliated herself in his arms. “I am not stuck with him. I refuse to be hurt further. I sent him home, of course.”

  “Oh, right. Of course.”

  The next morning, Harmony breezed by the barbershop where Jonah was getting his hair trimmed. In midstride, she tensed and caught the full blast of his focus on her backside. His thoughts swished out of the barbershop and latched on to her. His lap was very empty, and he liked holding her on it. She tried not to let her hips sway while walking hurriedly to the drugstore.

  Jonah’s need to hold her was frightening; she was a thirty-nine year-old career woman who had always kept her life unencumbered with troublesome people, and Jonah was proven, grade-A trouble.

  Now here she was, fairly running down the street in her work boots from a man who wanted to cuddle her… Every five-foot-eight, athletic, Amazon inch of her.

  She was hurriedly paying for her purchases when Jonah appeared at her side.

  “Good morning, Harmony,” he said in a deep tone that caused her to shiver.

  Customers in the drugstore began to gather, watching Harmony and Jonah stealthily. Their thoughts settled into a steady, approving hum. She clutched her sack close to her chest and once again felt Jonah’s little caresser feelers pet her. Her body warmed to his touch and she knew immediately when his dark blue eyes locked to hers that he wanted to kiss her. Since she’d spent the night wallowing in dreams of his kisses and bonding and mating, she was extremely susceptible to his need of her.

  “Have to go,” she stated airily. “Busy. Very busy.”

  While she was too tense and anxious to be a safe thinking distance from Jonah, the alert senses of the customers caught her. Every one of them had a whimsical grin and the room hummed steadily with their thoughts: They liked Jonah and it was time someone took him to task. They hoped he’d be happy, and they liked the new coppersmith city woman, but they truly were enjoying the sparks flying between Jonah and herself.

  They hoped the entertainment would last a bit longer. Watching Jonah perk up with the coppersmith lady was more fun than golfing or watching tourists or going on historical digs. Jonah looked just like his dad with that new mustache—a real ladykiller without a clue as to how women wanted to snatch him. Harmony apparently couldn’t resist Jonah, because once a person got past his ornery cuss facade, he was “true gold.” He was just like the Fargo men before him, finding a ladylove and keeping true to her for his lifetime.

  Harmony sniffed righteously. To date, there was no reason to believe that she was Jonah’s only ladylove. She probably had done the groundbreaking ceremony for others.

  “She’s on the run,” someone whispered. Or did they think it?

  “She’s been dancing out of his reach for a week now,” she knew someone else thought, because the store was very quiet. Too quiet. No one was speaking aloud.

  Jonah reached to smooth a tendril from her temple, his fingertips lingering on her skin. Simply, achingly, he said, “Harmony…”

  She took one look at him, realized that her heart was beating for him and said firmly, “Come to dinner tonight, Jonah. Don’t be late. Ah... you won’t need to bring anything.”

  That evening, Harmony set the table for two, then changed her clothes several times. She’d acted impulsively, untrue to her contemplative nature, and it was Jonah’s fault. She wanted everything settled in her world. She wanted regular sleeping patterns, set working hours and wanted to stop eating nervously. Or dreaming about Jonah holding her close and looking as if he’d never looked at or held anyone but her.

  Harmony wanted harmony i
n her life. She would lay out the rules for Jonah, thus beginning a logical life with him.

  The bottom line was that she loved Jonah Fargo, mean Montana cuss who had deserted her on the morning after their loving. She couldn’t stand the lines and shadows clinging to his face, reminders of his sleepless nights. He needed her care and attention and he was getting it. She tugged a basic black sheath over her head and adjusted the hem around her thighs.

  She’d mentor him on the sly; Jonah wouldn’t realize it. She’d gradually infuse the idea into him that psychic abilities didn’t have to be one’s life priority. A balance of relationships with others and being comfortable with one’s self was extremely important. Once Jonah understood that, he’d have to release certain doubts and believe in the future. Then his life would settle into place.

  The mirror caught her image and Harmony studied her Harmony-with-Jonah image. Long, wild hair atop flushed cheeks and luminous amber eyes— He’d said, “The kitten reminds me of you— gold and shimmering... amber eyes... like a tiger.”

  Harmony fluffed her hair over her bare shoulders. She ran her fingers over the dress’s two tiny straps and thought of the drab shapeless dresses and slacks she had preferred before meeting Jonah. This tight little number and the other leopard-print dress were her “today’s woman” statements: in control, a business woman at play and feminine.

  She’d never been a tiger woman before. She felt hot and fine. Double hot and fine when she was with Jonah. And very, very strong as an empowered woman.

  While Jonah hovered around with his tantalizing little caresser feelers, Harmony had decided to become a woman of action.

  Over dinner, she would keep on schedule, be gentle with him, persevering and understanding. She would keep the conversation light, yet directed and meaningful. She wouldn’t let him tilt her emotions, because Jonah needed to understand the balance and give and take in the relationship she proposed: a gentle understanding, developing relationship.

  To release his inhibitions, she might keep his wineglass filled and the music soothing. After dinner, with the lights turned low, Harmony would allow him to hold her hand, and she would impart her thoughts to him. All this equating would be very gentle, very firm and scheduled.

  Tonight, after her plans were in place, she would test Jonah as he had never been tried before. She would release every hot molecule of her love for him, and if he withstood the test... she’d treat him very gently, but honestly. She would not shield her real self from him, and truly she was a strong woman.

  Jonah? Her senses announced his arrival. She listened to the hoof beats coming closer and ran to the window. A horse pulling a buggy crossed the moonlit road to her house.

  Jonah didn’t come in. He stopped the horse, slid from the covered buggy and stood there in the moonlight, looking perfectly... perfectly...

  He propped his boot on a wooden spoke and looked at the cabin, willing Harmony to come to him. She sensed that while Jonah was vulnerable and fragile now, he also was as immovable as the landmarks jutting up in the flat country. He’d come his distance; now she could come hers.

  The poor man needed reassurance. He needed her care and she needed him to hold her, too—

  Harmony threw up her hands. “I give up.”

  Moments later, she handed Jonah the picnic basket and muttered, “How like you.”

  She tried not to look at him; he was too breathtaking. “If you only knew how much trouble it is to keep vegetable lasagna hot in the same basket with chilled wine. The salad won’t be fresh at all...”

  Jonah placed the basket in the buggy, placed his hat on top of it and drew her into his arms.

  “Hello, rosebud,” he whispered huskily before his lips met hers.

  Jonah’s new mustache prickled and sensitized; she fitted her lips to him once, twice, testing the texture. With delight, Harmony opened her lips to him.

  When she recovered from his kiss, she was seated in the buggy, close to Jonah. He held the reins with one hand and her against him with his other. His exciting little kisses to her forehead, ear, nose and lips did nothing to soothe the humming warmth he had aroused with that first mind-blanking kiss.

  “I had planned to be in charge of the evening—” Harmony managed between kisses and cuddling. She flattened her palms to the padded leather seat and emotions pulsed at her.

  The sensation of love warmed her skin as she prowled through layers of what had happened in this same buggy: Other men had taken other women for moonlight rides and making up and loving. Promises had been spoken beneath the buggy’s fringed top and women had been treasured. A man had cried with joy when his beloved told him she carried his child. A teenage girl had decided that she was a woman and wanted to marry her young beau and she’d never regretted their young love.

  Harmony nestled in the love feelings. She needed the comfort because Jonah certainly wasn’t making her feel in control.

  “That is some getup,” Jonah stated admiringly and glanced at her.

  “Well... yes. Just a basic black dress.” Harmony smoothed the hem lower because Jonah’s gaze warmed her moonlit knees. She knew he had her flustered, his typical effect on her. She knew she was losing control of the evening and the establishment of rules between them. Darn. Her need for Jonah overrode her schedules and all rules.

  The horse clip-clopped softly in the night, her heart raced and thudded and Jonah eased her head to rest on his shoulder. He nuzzled her hair and she wondered why everything was so right, but so confused, and why she couldn’t make plans and keep to than, and—

  “Do you still love me, rosebud?” Jonah asked softly.

  She straightened away immediately, reminded of how she had bared her heart to him. Her infamous “I love you, you jerk” remark lingered in the night air.

  “Well?” he prompted in that western drawl. She sensed he was tense, afraid that his notions about this up-to-date city woman were old-fashioned.

  While she loved his courtly ideas about moonlight rides, she had to keep a minimum of her pride.

  “I’d rather not say,” she stated primly. “I’m too put out with you right now.”

  “Dad courted Mother in this rig and Grandpa courted Grandma in it. It seemed right to take the woman who said she loved me riding in it.”

  Harmony’s fingers locked to the arm of the wagon, sensing Jonah’s other love. Whispers curled around the carriage— a woman whispering loving goodbyes.

  “Yes,” Harmony said simply as the wind curled around Jonah once, then was gone.

  Love and tenderness layered the old polished leather seat and the fringed top swirled around Harmony. She smoothed the leather. “Where are we going?”

  He smiled tenderly down at her as they crossed a field and began down into a coulee. “Worried about the lasagna, the wine or something else?”

  “You... you have the ability to unnerve me, Jonah,” she admitted softly, truthfully. “I had a plan for tonight, a step-by-step program.”

  “Were you unnerved when you said you loved me?” Jonah asked too quietly as he pulled the reins and the buggy stopped in a cottonwood grove.

  “Yes,” she answered slowly, searching her heart. “You aren’t what I had planned.”

  “Pre-specifications?” he asked with a whimsical grin.

  “Something like that.”

  The wind moved through the leaves, and the moonlight spread silver upon the lush grass. This was a loving place... where Jonah had taken no one but her, and where he wanted to show her what lay within him.

  The night wind shook the leaves across the treetops and Harmony knew that long ago, other men and women had shared themselves here.

  Jonah leapt from the buggy, a man of action to Harmony’s contemplative mind. He raised his hands to her, and when her hand touched his, he reached to lift her into his arms.

  “You’re a loving woman, a caring, warmhearted woman,” Jonah said slowly as he lowered her to stand in the lush grass.

  Harmony suddenly discovered
that she had rushed to meet him so quickly that she had forgotten her shoes.

  “You unnerve me, Jonah,” she repeated and wiggled her toes in the grass.

  “Stay put,” he said with a grin and carried the basket and quilt toward cottonwood trees.

  When he returned to her— a tall, lean masculine silhouette stroked by moonlight— Harmony knew that Jonah would always return for what he wanted. A sense of ceremony and commitment eased her taut nerves, making her feel very certain and suddenly very—

  “Shy?” Jonah asked softly, picking her up in his arms.

  Harmony locked her arms around his neck and held him tight, shielding her blush in the warmth of his throat.

  “Frightened,” she admitted truthfully.

  “I’ll keep you safe, rosebud,” he whispered huskily.

  Safe. She’d never been safe until Jonah held her like this, she decided.

  When he eased to the quilt and settled her on his lap, Harmony sat very still.

  He leaned against a tree, gently pulled her closer to him and held her hands. Jonah’s fingers trembled around hers and she gathered their hands close to her heart.

  “I’ve decided to start working the ranch again… to get back into wheat,” he stated thoughtfully. “It won’t be easy. Long hours… To get started, I’ll have to mortgage Fargo land. Anything could go wrong and crops could fail. I could lose the homestead.”

  “You won’t.”

  Jonah shifted her slightly and looked down at her tenderly. “How do you know so much?”

  “Just a lucky, intuitive hit. And I know that you’ll work for what you want... fight for it.”

  His smile was gentle. “Is that all?”

  “I know you.” Harmony knew him very well, better than he perhaps knew himself. Because Jonah Fargo was the other half of her heart.

  “You love me,” he pushed teasingly and brushed a kiss across her lips.

  Harmony trembled, reacting to her emotions instantly. “Well... yes. But it isn’t easy.”

  “I’m an ornery old cuss,” Jonah murmured agreeably as he kissed her lashes and her nose.