“Jo,” he murmured against her lips.
“Mm.” She couldn’t even speak. Didn’t want to. The world was tilting. No, she was. Carter had rolled over until she lay firmly on her back, looking up at his devastatingly handsome yet dear face.
He rose up, his hands on either side of her. “I want you so much,” he confessed, making a glow of happiness ignite inside her.
Forever? She banished the wishful thought and nodded, which he took quite rightly as her agreement.
He reared back so he could begin unbuttoning his shirt, while she watched with interest. It hit the floor in a few seconds. Then he started to unbutton her blouse, which she allowed until it was open to her waistband, exposing her corset and low-cut shift.
“We’ve got too many clothes on to undress properly lying down,” she pointed out.
“True,” he agreed. “It will take us all day at this rate.”
He was right, and she for one felt too eager to take all day.
“Let me up,” she ordered, and they both stood. She removed her blouse, and he watched her do so, while he kicked off his shoes and unbuckled his belt, finally dropping his pants to the floor. He stood in his unmentionables, and when at last she’d unfastened her corset, she was left in only her lacey shift, stockings, and a smile.
“Lord have mercy,” he muttered, and she felt her smile lift her cheeks.
“You affect me the same way, Carter.”
“Why don’t you call me Jameson?”
“Why don’t you kiss me again?”
“Remove your holster,” he ordered, gesturing to her ankle where her derringer glinted wickedly. “And I’ll do precisely that.”
“Fair enough,” she said, surprised at how her voice sounded like a soft purr. She undid the strap and placed it beside her shoes.
He bent down and unhooked her stockings from her garter belt, which he removed with a quick flick. Slowly, he rolled her sheer white stockings down her legs, leaving a trail of goose flesh where his fingers touched her. She shivered.
When he rose to his feet, he pulled her close and kissed her as promised, a long fiery fusing of their mouths that left them both panting for more. He brushed his knuckles across her still shielded nipples, and she arched against him. He slipped the lacey garment off her shoulders and let it fall, revealing all her generous curves that had teased and tormented him for so long.
In a heartbeat, a thudding, throbbing, chest aching beat, she found herself on her back again on the hotel bed.
“I’ve wanted you stark naked and lying under me for what feels like a hundred years.”
She laughed, aware that her breasts bounced, drawing his fascinated gaze. He lowered his head and brushed his lips against one dusky nipple then the other.
“Mm,” she murmured, and let him feast on her for a few minutes.
“When we do this,” he said, “you’re mine. I don’t share.”
That sobered her. She didn’t know whether to take offense that he thought her so loose a woman he had to explain his philosophy, or to be flattered by his possessive tone.
“Likewise,” she retorted. Exclusivity suited her just fine, especially where Carter was concerned. She might have lain before with a man for the sheer enjoyment of it, but she had never done so when she’d promised herself to another. Nor would she allow someone to lie with her who belonged to another woman.
Without further preamble, he sunk into her slick warmth and filled her, sending her into immediate bliss.
“Too fast?” he whispered against her neck.
“Just fine,” she replied. She rocked her hips, and he thrust again, repeating the rapture.
“I knew it would feel like this with you.” His lips left that sensitive place on her neck, as he lifted his head, gazing into her eyes.
“Me, too,” she said, her voice a throaty whisper. He pulled back and slowly filled her again. She caught back a moan of pure pleasure, astonished to find herself already close to the edge.
Leaning on his forearms, he paused long enough to lower his lips to hers again, kissing her with tiny nibbling kisses, alternately sucking on her lower lip as he continued to stroke deep into her. His tongue slipped inside her welcoming mouth once again to mimic the thrusting of his body.
She groaned, sucking on his tongue until he groaned, too.
In another moment, she felt his mouth trace a fiery trail, caressing her throat as far down as he could reach while still staying firmly sheathed in her snug passage.
She arched again, beginning to shudder in response to the tightening at the core of her body.
“Beautiful,” he said against her skin.
She shattered under him, the pleasure so great and the release so long and powerful that it left her immediately sapped. His body quivered and then held still, having plunged as far inside her as he could, holding there, motionless. A second later, he pulled out and spent himself beside her.
He didn’t collapse on top of her as she expected, but rather, rolled to the side so they were face-to-face, their heads on the pillow, legs still entwined.
“Jesus!” He regarded her with a look that was nothing short of stunned.
She imagined she wore the same expression. What should she say, if anything?
“Do you think we should get out of here before someone sets fire to the hotel?” she quipped.
Whoops, wrong thing apparently. It was meant to be a joke, but it only served to banish his dreamy look and replace it with a solemn one. He ran a finger along her cheekbone.
“I think you ought to move immediately into my cabin on the boat so we can look out for one another.”
Her heart gave a flutter. Being of practical nature, she liked the image of a common cause of self-preservation. She also appreciated that she would have hated him to declare he had to do all the protecting. Instead, he’d stated it as a mutual partnership. Still, no matter how tempting Carter’s offer, she was used to taking care of herself, and she intended to continue doing so.
“We might go down with the ship together,” she pointed out, making light of his suggestion. “Your vessel hasn’t proven to be the safest place either.”
“Darla,” he recalled with a wince. “I should get back and see how she’s faring.”
Jo nodded but noticed he wasn’t jumping up and out of bed. He was still tracing her jaw and then brushing his thumb across her lips.
“Will you come with me?” he pressed again.
His breath flowed over her face, and she kissed him once more. When they finally pulled apart for air, he added, “I don’t think I could stand to have you out of my sight. And if anything happened to you now, when I’ve finally got you right where I want you . . . “ He shot her a weak smile, clearly worried.
Dodging his question, she asked, “Who would want us both dead?” That seemed to be the objective, even if, so far, the would-be killer had failed.
“The only connection we have to violence is that man from your saloon.”
“Frank Hirsch.” She pondered the man’s name for a moment. “And we know he’s not aiming at us.”
“Maybe an angry wife?”
“Nope.” Jo was hardly able to believe she was having this conversation while naked in bed with Carter. “Frank didn’t have any family, at least not in Keokuk or in Hamilton, not that I’m aware of.”
“That you’re aware of.”
“Well, I do get around,” she reminded him. Realizing the implication of her words, she averted her gaze, pained to imagine what he thought of her and her occupation.
But he turned her face back to his with a firm hold.
“It’s all right. I knew what you meant. You hear everything in your position. I hear quite a bit, too, though I think when men are at The Pork, they’re more openly communicative than when gambling.”
And just as before, a shot rang out, sounding as if it were directly outside her hotel window in the street below. Jo rolled her eyes, more annoyed than scared.
“We
’ve got to take care of this guy,” she said, sitting up. “This has to stop.”
“Right,” Carter agreed, at the same time pulling her back down and over the edge of the bed with him. “But you can’t do anything with a bullet in your head.”
He scrambled around gathering his clothing, and she did the same. As she wriggled into her skirt, anger heated within her, growing from a simmer to a rolling boil. Yes, she was mighty pissed off. First her saloon, then Carter’s boat. Now . . .
It was no surprise when a woman started shrieking outside the front of the hotel, making the skin on Jo’s nape prickle. Now, what?
Chapter Five
Jameson’s hand tightened around Jo’s slowing her pell-mell rush down the hotel stairs to the exit. The scene they had just witnessed from their window flashed before his eyes—Jo’s trim, black gelding lying maimed in the street, a gaping hole in its side, blood widening in a pool around it.
The gruesome sight awaiting them made him pull her to a halt on the landing.
“Jo, wait. It could be a trap.”
“Or just a threat,” she countered, amazing him that she could keep her head at such a moment. The sheen of tears that brightened her wide eyes was the only indication that the horror just outside had upset her.
Jameson had not seen Jo come unhinged before. Apparently, from what he’d heard, she’d escaped the fire with cool aplomb, and he’d seen for himself how well she’d handled being shot at. Now, faced with seeing her horse, a bullet in its side, lying wild-eyed and bleeding from its mouth, his heart broke for her. Whoever did this was one mean son of a bitch!
He pulled her into a brief embrace before tugging her to follow behind him as he led her cautiously through the exit. They went through unnoticed, the door left ajar by the many people pouring outside to witness the atrocity, joining those already in the street.
“Step aside, please. Let us through,” he ordered, feeling safe enough in the presence of so many to expose them to whoever had shot the horse.
As they came upon the fallen animal, Jo sank to her knees, bending over to stroke her horse’s muzzle and murmur reassurances while she looked it over at the same time, apparently noting the severity of its injury. However, when she held out her hand to him, Jameson didn’t know what she wanted.
When he didn’t respond immediately, she leaped up and snatched his revolver out of its holster. Pausing for a moment to gather her resolve, he watched her swallow hard, lift the gun with a slightly trembling hand, and shoot the gelding between the eyes. Jameson jumped even though he saw it coming. The horse went immediately limp, released from its agony.
Then Jo stood back, whipping her hair over one shoulder, and screamed—not a feminine shriek of terror. No, she sent a primal yell of anger up toward heaven, and he almost felt sorry for whoever had done this. She was going to make someone pay with his hide, no mercy given.
With a stiff spine and without looking at him, Jo handed him back his revolver, with its bullet so much larger than her derringer that she’d left on the hotel room floor in her haste to get outside. His gun had been certain to kill the horse in one shot, and it had done the job. Jo turned and silently walked back into the lobby.
Jameson paid a man to cart the horse away and then hurried to follow her. He expected to find her crying in the privacy of her room. Instead, she stood at her window, staring down at the scene of the carcass being removed.
“I want to personally slay this bastard with my bare hands,” she grated, not turning around though she’d obviously heard him enter.
“I’m sorry, Jo.”
She lifted a hand and waved away his condolence. “Just a horse,” she muttered, though he heard a catch in her voice. “But a damn fine one who didn’t deserve that.”
“I know,” he said, and put a hand on her slender shoulder. Not an hour ago, he’d had his mouth on it, kissing her silky skin.
She flinched slightly but let him turn her to face him. Her features were pinched, and he wished there was something he could do to take away her pain and anger.
“What was its name?” he asked.
As if she hadn’t expected such a sentimental question, her eyes widened, glistening as the tears he’d been expecting made their first appearance.
“Daisy,” she whispered. Sure enough, first one salty drop then another slipped down her lovely cheeks. She dashed them aside with her knuckle before he could, and he watched her pull herself together.
He paused, frowning with puzzlement. “But it was a gelding.”
She sighed. “I know. I just liked the name.”
Amused by her unexpected whimsy of giving a castrated male horse the sweet name of Daisy, he hid a small smile, brushing his lips across her forehead, and then he simply held her. He would have been content to stand that way all the rest of his life, with his hands on her back, holding her close. Eventually, she took a deep breath and pushed at him.
“You have to go,” she reminded him. “Check on Darla.”
“I know,” he agreed.
“Send word to me how she’s doing.” Jo’s voice was steady again, and he felt his admiration for her swell as he dropped his hands from her.
“Why don’t you come back with me?” he asked, hearkening back to his earlier offer, though he already knew her answer.
Turning slightly, she averted her face. “No, I’m not moving to your boat. That’s not who I am, Carter, someone who hands her problems over to someone else, namely you. Nor do I hide from trouble.”
“This isn’t only your problem. I think it’s ours.”
“We don’t know that for certain. I’ll be all right here. There are a lot of people around, and I have my gun.” Having said that, she bent down and retrieved her holster from the carpet, strapping it around her ankle. Then she straightened.
“And I know you’ll use it,” he said, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. Then the question uppermost in his mind slipped out of him. “Miss Holland, would you consider being my gal?”
Her mouth formed a delightful “O.” Apparently, he’d succeeded in astonishing her. And thankfully, she wasn’t frowning or turning him down outright.
“You can’t really be surprised,” he added.
But clearly she was. She put her hands up to her cheeks before clasping them in front of her. “Female saloon owners don’t get asked that question very often. At least, this one hasn’t.”
“Do I get an answer?” he asked.
She angled her chin into the air. “I suppose I need to know what being your gal entails.”
Her practical reply tickled a chuckle out of him. “Whatever you want, Jo. Whatever you’re ready for. I’m fairly easy on the details. As long as it’s just you and me, then I’ll be fine with the arrangement.”
She cocked her head, looking him up and down as if he were a rack of ribs at the butcher’s shop. “In that case, I suppose I can’t say no. We’ll sew together the details next time we meet.”
“Which will be when?” he prompted, still loathe to leave her behind.
“Are you going to demand all my time?” she teased.
He slipped his arms around her waist again. “As much as you’ll give me.”
Holding her close felt like the most natural thing in the world, just as waking up and seeing her had. He didn’t think it would be too much longer before he’d be offering her his hand and his name.
Lowering his head, he touched his lips to hers, feeling her melt against him. She was all luscious and warm, curves and softness, and he had to remind himself that he was heading out the door.
“You were just leaving,” she said, reading his mind.
“I know. I want to see you later. I’ll come back, or do you want to come to the boat?”
She hesitated.
“I know you’re not too busy,” he prompted. “No saloon to run at the moment.”
“Unfortunately, that’s true. However, I don’t want you to get too used to my company.”
“W
hy not? Let’s get used to it,” he insisted. “I think we could both use the companionship.”
He bent down and kissed her again, feeling her hands against his chest, grabbing on to his shirt.
“Go,” she said, “I’ll see you later. If I’m not at your boat by, say, 7 o’clock, you can come here and we’ll have dinner.”
He grinned. “Deal.”
To get to Pete’s house, Jo had to hire a taxi now that Daisy was gone. She would replace the horse, but not today. A niggling suspicion that this was all connected to Frank Hirsch had her worrying over Pete and his little family. As far as she knew, he didn’t carry a gun, but only kept the shotgun behind the bar. He was a brawny man, and no one normally picked a fight with her partner. But whoever would shoot a horse out of spite was not normal.
She was relieved to see Emily hanging washing in the side yard in the full afternoon sun. Pete sat on the porch and had his little one with him, watching him play while tapping his hand on the armrest of his chair.
“You look at loose ends, too,” Jo said by way of greeting. “I heard you checked on the workmen today already.”
“You know it. I’ll do so every day, twice a day. They don’t want to see me again, but they’re working lickety-split.”
“You’re doing something right,” she said, with admiration. “I was just over there, and I’ve never seen a building transforming so quickly.”
He nodded toward the taxi that was waiting at his gate. “What’s with that?”
She told him briefly, leaving out the fact that she’d had to administer the coup de grâce. Poor Daisy.
A scowl gathered on his forehead as she spun her tale. “That is strange, Miss Josephine, and I’m sorry for the loss of good horseflesh, quick and smart as it was, too. But send the taxi away. I’ll take you back later. Stay for supper.”
Two thoughts popped into her brain. One, she didn’t want Pete leaving his family unprotected. She would never forgive herself if he was out driving her and someone came gunning for him, hitting his wife or son instead. And two, she’d decided to go to Carter’s boat after all, and this time behave herself and not get tossed off. She intended to stay only for the night, however, and only to explore further where their new arrangement might lead. She didn’t particularly want her partner knowing where she was going to spend her evening either.
An Impassioned Redemption: A Defiant Hearts Novella Page 7
