by Kylie Brant
It was obvious that Larry did mind, but he wasn’t about to say so to his boss. “I guess not,” he muttered.
Kaly waited till they got on the dance floor to lay into Jackson. “I suppose you have a very good explanation for your behavior tonight.”
“Almost sounds like you aren’t happy to see me this evening, Kaly. I’m hurt.”
“There is no way I’m going to believe your presence here is coincidence,” she stated firmly. “Did you come here to play dog in the manger?”
Jackson whirled her around the corner of the dance floor, using the movement to press her closer to him. “Not at all. That would suggest I didn’t want you. I’m here because I’m jealous as hell and to prevent you from spending time alone with Larry.”
Kaly was speechless at the bland way he made his incredible pronouncement. “You are the limit! I can’t believe you admit to that.”
“I’m not lying to myself like you are,” Jackson shot back. “You’re hiding your head in the sand, refusing to face what’s between us. Well, I’m going to make sure you do face it. I’m not going to let you lead some other poor sap on, feeling the way you do about me.”
Kaly would have broken away then, but Jackson was holding her much too firmly. He looked down into her face and allowed grimly, “Be honest with me. Be honest with yourself. I don’t understand this pull between us, and it scares the hell out of me. But I’m willing to follow it and see where it leads us. I’m not a coward, and neither are you. I can’t sleep at night, and I’m not real efficient at work these days. Something’s got to change, and fast.”
Kaly blinked away tears. She should have been overjoyed at his confession, but it so closely paralleled her own confusion she felt even worse. It was easy for him to choose to follow his feelings, since she doubted they ran very deep. But she was coming to the aching realization that she would not emerge from this relationship unscathed. He might be able to enter into a physical involvement and keep a part of himself detached, but she knew from bitter past experience she didn’t have that ability. Jackson was right—she was afraid to show her vulnerability, but it had taken so long to recover from Philip she didn’t know if she could risk getting hurt again.
But she wanted to. Oh, she wanted to. She shook with the intensity of her longing for him. However, she knew exactly what to expect from him. He hadn’t made a secret of his intentions. A short-term physical involvement was all he had to offer her, while she ached for an emotional, lasting relationship.
An old Springsteen ballad came on next, and Jackson’s fingers tightened on hers as he recognized the words that so aptly summed up the agony he’d been going through since Kaly had come into his life. Their bodies slowed, swaying to the haunting refrain.
Kaly stared, mesmerized, into Jackson’s eyes. She felt his accelerated heartbeat, and her rapid pulse was just as apparent. It was as though the song was sung by someone who could look into her heart, who saw her restless sleep and put the chaos to words.
Jackson muttered hoarsely, “That’s how I feel, Kaly. After I do finally get to sleep I wake up sweating and shaking from wanting you. Do you enjoy doing that to a man? Tying him into little knots so that he doesn’t even know himself anymore?”
She swallowed and answered huskily, “You know that isn’t true. I don’t play games. I’m not responsible for the way you feel.”
Jackson’s face was taut, as if he was holding on to his control by one frazzled thread. “The hell you aren’t. It’s you I want to taste again, your name on my lips when I wake from another dream about you. You’re responsible for the way I feel, because you feel the same damn way, but you’re too immature to admit it.”
Kaly kept a stranglehold on her last ounce of self- preservation to reply shakily, “What would be immature is to blindly follow this...this...attraction between us, without any regard to consequences, without any thought to the future.” She raised her face to his, pleading with him to understand. “I just can’t be casual about it.”
Jackson’s features were like granite. He wished he could force some sense into that too-logical brain of hers. He didn’t know what else to say, but was damned if he was going to beg. And he was perilously close to begging, he admitted to himself savagely. Kaly Scott wreaked havoc with his normally deliberate pursuit of a woman. His control had withstood all the punishment it could take tonight. If he held her like this much longer, the other patrons were going to get an X-rated floor show.
His voice was laced with all his pent-up frustration when he put her away from him and told her bitingly, “Maybe you should find someone who will play your high-school games with you. When you’re ready for a real man, let me know.” He stalked away from her. He’d have to trust the deputy Roy had assigned to Larry to keep Kaly from harm tonight. Jackson had run fresh out of patience.
Kaly wended her way back to the table self-consciously, still inwardly reeling from their argument. Larry sat at their table looking glum. When he saw Kaly his eyes looked behind her, then swung back to her. “Where’s Jackson?”
She slipped into her chair. “He left.”
Larry turned and looked around the restaurant, then turned back to her, his face more cheerful. “Great! We can be alone again.” Then he looked more closely at her. “You look a little pale, Kaly. Are you all right?”
She smiled wanly. “I’m fine, Larry. Just a headache. It’s sort of warm in here.”
“Did you have words with Jackson?” he asked bluntly. Kaly’s head shot up. He saw the answer on her face and apologized profusely. “I never should have let him sit with us, Kaly. I’m sorry as hell.”
“We just don’t get along very well,” she remarked as casually as she could. That was an understatement, she thought with bitter irony. Either they were verbally tearing each other up or they were wrapped in a cloak of intimacy that threatened her very sanity each time it ended.
Larry was perceptive enough to drop the subject and offer to take her home. Kaly agreed gratefully.
They took it slow going back to the ranch, and both had their windows down to catch the invigorating night breeze. “If we’d ridden my motorcycle we’d be able to really cool off tonight,” Larry said. He glanced at her. “I didn’t think you’d want to arrive at the restaurant all windblown, so I brought the truck instead.”
Kaly asked delightedly, “You have a motorcycle? I’d love to go for a ride sometime. My brother had one, and I enjoyed riding with him.”
“I’d be glad to take you sometime.”
The brisk air did help rid Kaly of the dull throbbing in her head, if not her heart. She and Larry talked about their plans for the future. “What I really want is to get my own place,” he told her. “It won’t be near the size of the Circle R, of course. Just a small place, so I can raise my own cattle and work for myself.” He shot her a glance. “Probably doesn’t sound too exciting to you, but I’ve hired on at ranches since I was about fifteen. I’m getting ready to be my own boss.”
“I think that’s wonderful,” Kaly said sincerely. “And I understand the need to go your own way, believe me.”
“Well, I’ve got some saving to do before I’ll even have enough for a down payment,” he responded. “It takes some major money before a bank will take you seriously.”
As they drew near the ranch house, they noticed blazing lights and activity at the barn. Larry frowned. “Maybe you should go in. I’d better go over and see what’s going on.”
Kaly refused. “I’ll go with you,” she said. “I’d like to see for myself. Maybe there’s something I can do.”
The two hurried over and encountered frenzied excitement. Men were going off in twos and threes on horseback or in pickups, all carrying flashlights or lanterns.
Nick was giving orders in a terse voice, and when he caught sight of Larry and Kaly he lost no time greeting them. “Larry, go help Rod. We need to take an inventory on the head in the pastures and check all the fences.”
Larry looked bewildered. “That�
�ll take days,” he objected.
Nick ignored his protest. “You and Rod can go in his pickup. He knows what to do. He’ll explain everything to you on the way.”
Larry turned to Kaly. “Sorry to leave you like this. Something must be up.”
Kaly waved his apology aside. “It’s all right. I can make it to the house by myself. You go ahead.” He nodded and disappeared with the other cowboy.
She stood for a moment, scanning the confusion. Jackson was nowhere in sight. She frowned in consternation. Surely he wasn’t still out for the evening. Chewing her lower lip, she observed in silence for a while. But when she still failed to see him, she felt cold fear begin to congeal in the pit of her stomach. He’d left the restaurant at least an hour and a half ago. He should have been home by now. The mood he’d been in when he’d left her was too dangerous for him to have gone elsewhere. She couldn’t imagine his not being in the thick of things here, giving orders and conferring with Nick.
“Nick, where’s Jackson?” she asked worriedly.
The man spared her barely a glance as he answered briefly, “He should be in the office talking to the sheriff.” He turned away for a moment to shout instructions at the last men to depart. Then he looked back at her. “He took a blow to the head, but he’s probably all right.”
Kaly’s feeling of dread intensified. “A blow to the head! What happened to him?” She grasped the foreman’s arm and shook it slightly. “Nick, what’s wrong? Is Jackson seriously hurt?”
The man sighed and took off his dusty hat, running his hand through his dark hair. “I guess he took a walk before turning in tonight and ran into someone who didn’t belong here. Jackson was hit from behind. There was no one in sight when he came to.”
All Kaly’s anger and confusion about her feelings for Jackson were buried as alarm for his well-being flooded her. “Came to? He was knocked unconscious? Why isn’t he on his way to the hospital? He could have a concussion!”
Nick looked at her with amused tolerance. “I wouldn’t know about that. Jackson Roberts sure isn’t going to let on to me how much his head hurts or if he’s feeling a little dizzy. He raised hell getting the men out to the pastures, and then when the sheriff came they holed up in the office.”
“He still could be seriously hurt.”
The foreman shrugged. “Go see for yourself, then.”
She hurried away. “Maybe I can convince him to go to the hospital,” she said over her shoulder.
Nick shook his head at her optimism. “Good luck.”
She reached the office door just as it swung open and almost collided with the large, balding man coming out.
“Whoa, there, miss, didn’t mean to run you down,” Sheriff Dumont boomed out as he caught her by the shoulders.
“Where’s Jackson?” Kaly blurted. The sheriff gestured with his thumb, and Kaly saw Jackson standing in the middle of the room, holding a washcloth to the back of his head. The relief she felt at the sight of him standing, apparently healthy, was overwhelming. Ignoring the scowl he directed at her, she stepped into the room. “I’m Kaly Scott, Sheriff—Jeff’s research assistant.’
The sheriff followed her back into the room. “Figured who you was—heard Jeff had a pretty young filly working for him.” He seemed unaware of the narrowed look his words brought to Kaly’s face and went on, “Jackson can fill you in on the ruckus. I’m heading back to town.”
He replaced his hat on his head and addressed the rancher. “We’ll be back first thing in the morning, Jack, to look around.” He winked at Kaly as he walked out. “You may want to convince him to see a doctor, miss—he’s got a goose egg on the back of his head and the temperament of a grizzly with a sore paw.” He continued out the door, still talking. “ ‘Course, the doctor can’t do nothing about the temper, no sir, that’s Jackson, with or without a sore head.” He left, chuckling at his own wit, and Kaly hurried over to Jackson.
“Let me see,” she ordered as she pried his hand away from the back of his head. The ice-wrapped cloth he’d been holding to the wound was smeared with blood, and her stomach turned over.
“Get away,” he groused. “I don’t need some would-be Florence Nightingale fluttering over me.”
Kaly paid him no heed as she pushed him onto the couch. “Sit down and shut up. I want to see if you need to go to a doctor.”
“Get real.” Jackson scoffed. “I’m not about to go to a doctor for a tap on the head.”
She peered closely at his injury and was relieved to see that the wound was not as serious as she had feared. “Looks like your hard head came in handy this time. Do you feel dizzy or nauseated?”
Jackson pulled away from her touch, irritated. “I’ve had enough damn concussions to know that I don’t have one now. Dumont already checked my pupils. I’m fine. I was only out a minute, if that.”
Kaly stood next to him uncertainly. She knew him well enough by now to know she wouldn’t be able to convince him to see a doctor in his present frame of mind.
Jackson stood and confirmed her judgment. “I don’t need a hospital or a doctor. All I want is a stiff drink, more aspirin and a long soak in the Jacuzzi.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Think you can help me out with that, honey?”
“Sure.” Kaly agreed, ignoring his caustic tone. She was relieved to note that he wasn’t swaying on his feet, and his color looked good. She could check on him during the night and call the doctor if necessary then.
Jackson walked past her and headed for the stairs. “Bring everything to my bedroom. I’ll wait there for you.”
Chapter 9
Kaly kicked off her sandals and made her way barefoot up the stairs, balancing the tray she’d prepared. She walked carefully to Jackson’s room and tapped on the door with her toe. When no answer was forthcoming, she went in, crossed to the nightstand and put down the tray. She turned and went to knock on his bathroom door.
Jackson called for her to enter and she started to, but halted to ask warily, “Are you decent?” An inelegant snort was her only answer. She peeked in to see him seated on the side of the hot tub, minus his shirt and boots. He had started the jets in the Jacuzzi.
With great self-discipline Kaly kept her eyes from lingering on his massive torso. “I brought some sandwiches, too. Are you hungry?”
Jackson started to shake his head, but winced at the pain the movement brought on. “No. Just bring me the aspirin with a glass of Kentucky’s finest, will you?”
Kaly eyed him doubtfully. “I don’t think you should be drinking with a possible concussion.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, striving for patience. “I do not have a concussion.” His tone was measured.
“You don’t know that for sure,” she maintained, “And even if you don’t, whiskey isn’t going to cure that headache.”
“It can’t hurt,” he answered dourly. When she still didn’t move, he snapped, “Well, do you have any more advice, Clara Barton, or are you going to help me out here?”
Kaly shrugged and left the bathroom, obediently returning with a glass of whiskey and a couple of tablets. Once inside the door she stopped short. Jackson’s blue jeans were lying on the floor next to his shirt and boots. Black boxer briefs lay starkly on top of the pile of clothes. Her eyes traveled slowly to the hot tub, skittered away and then were pulled back against her will. Jackson’s bare chest was partially submerged in the frothing water, and he’d leaned his head back against the edge of the tub, eyes closed.
“Jackson?”
His eyes opened immediately and he sighed mightily when he saw her. “Great. Bring it over here, will you?”
She made her way over to the tub, keeping her eyes carefully on his face. “Are you sure you should have more aspirin so soon?” she asked, worried, as he took the glass and pills from her grasp.
“Yes, Mama,” he mocked, swallowing the aspirin with a slug of whiskey. He again leaned back and closed his eyes.
Kaly’s protests subsided. He was a big man: he’d prob
ably need a greater dose than most. Her eyes wandered over his heavily muscled physique. The strenuous work he did daily showed in his deep chest and wide shoulders. His biceps were thick and heavily corded. She felt her breathing grow shallow as her gaze lowered to the dark mat of hair covering his chest. With great discipline she pulled her recalcitrant eyes back up and mentally shook herself.
Schooling her voice to a matter-of-fact tone, she said, “You’ll need to wash the blood out of your hair.”
Jackson didn’t even bother to open his eyes this time. “All right, but don’t use soap. It ruins the Jacuzzi.”
Kaly felt her mouth fall open at his assumption that she would be willing to perform the task for him. The man’s colossal nerve never failed to astound her. Then she reconsidered. She could only imagine the pain he’d experienced tonight. It wouldn’t kill her to help him.
She got a washcloth and soaked it thoroughly in the sink. Kneeling beside the tub, she wet his hair, careful to keep her eyes only on his head. When his hair was completely wet and glistening, she dabbed tenderly at the injured area, until she was sure the last trace of blood was removed, then returned to the sink to wet the cloth again. As she rinsed his hair, she could feel him relax and sink his head deeper into her palms.
The temptation was too strong to deny. She dropped the rag and massaged his scalp, keeping up a steady rhythm with her fingers. She continued the hypnotic movement for long minutes, entranced by the sensuous feeling of the wet strands gliding through her slippery hands. Finally, reluctantly, she pulled her hands away. She picked up a towel and lightly rubbed at his wet hair, soaking up some of its dampness. He thwarted her efforts by raking one hand through it, slicking it back carelessly.
Kaly busied herself putting his wet and dirty clothes in a pile. She reached for the wet cloth and her wrist was captured. She raised startled eyes questioningly; Jackson was surveying her solemnly.
He brought her wrist to his lips and dropped a soft kiss on the inside, where the delicate blue veins showed beneath her skin. “Thanks, Kaly.” His unexpected sweetness, so at odds with his earlier brusque manner, made her heart turn over. His eyes had lost the dullness from the pain and looked deeply into hers. She managed a smile and slipped her hand away.
