“I want Jester in the Games and I’ll get him there. The training angle has always been part of the ranch, and I’ll just have to convince Grandfather my ideas are just an expansion. I can’t let you ignore your real life to play babysitter to my dreams for this ranch.” That, at least, was the full truth. What she wanted, needed to come second because her wants were getting her into too much trouble.
She wanted a break from the ranch so she ran off and married the first man to cross her path. Wasn’t that a sign that she was as unstable as her sister and father?
“What you want does matter, Kathleen. Why don’t you stop playing the family martyr or the asylum nurse and admit what you really want?” His heavenly hands finally moved from her tense shoulder muscles to the indentation between her shoulder blades. It was all Kathleen could do to hold back a groan of pleasure and not melt in a puddle at Jackson’s feet. She had to finish this.
Had to set him free.
“So what do you really want?”
You. Kathleen jerked from sensual overload to fully alert mode. Did she say that? Or think it? Jackson appeared confused at her abrupt change in posture. Thought it. She only thought that single, traitorous word.
“You think your family is crazy? They have nothing on most of the families I’ve known. So, come on, you’re twenty-seven years old. What do you want?”
I want you to go back to New York. I want you to stay.
Did she even know what she wanted? She wanted to run the ranch, she wanted Jester Eight to win World’s. Wanted Jackson. She focused on the last want, the one want she could control, hoping Jackson would drop the subject of family.
Rising up on tiptoe, she kissed him, wondering if the feel of his lips on hers would bring back more flashes from those missing hours. Instead of memory flashes, her entire world melted down to more want and this time she told herself that wanting Jackson was enough.
She pressed her lips more firmly against his, relieved when he took her in his arms, his hands spanning her waist. Jackson nibbled her lower lip, inviting her to open to him, and she did.
She could taste Guillermo’s special enchilada sauce on him, could smell wine on his breath. The scents tantalized her into moving more securely into his personal space. Curling her arms around his neck, Kathleen secured his body to hers.
Jackson’s hands drifted from her waist to the bottom swell of her breasts, waiting there as if wondering if he would be invited to touch. His thumb played with the soft cotton fabric of her sundress but went no further even when Kathleen pushed her chest against his. A mewling sound escaped her and Kathleen felt heat burn her face.
“I asked you before what you wanted,” he said, the deep baritone of his voice sending shivers up her spine. “Tell me what you want, Kath.”
This time she couldn’t hold back the words. “You. I want you, Jackson. Here.” She nibbled his chin. “Now.” And damn the consequences. As Scarlett O’Hara would say, she could deal with the rest tomorrow.
Jackson led her to the bed, laying her across the silk quilt as if she were made of porcelain. He slowly undid the tie at her neck and pushed her simple, cotton sundress to her waist. She lay proudly before him, suddenly glad she left her bra in the drawer when she dressed for dinner. Clad in only skimpy black lace panties and her favorite Lucchese boots, she watched him survey her body and felt her muscles tighten. Did he like what he saw?
Kneeling over her, he grinned. “I’ve never found cowboy boots sexy before but you can wear these for me any time.”
His kisses, already heated, ratcheted up a notch, threatening to burn the bed down around them, but Kathleen didn’t care. She wanted his fire. Wanted to blot out the inertia and mistakes of the past few weeks. She wanted him.
He circled her right nipple with his index finger, teasing until it pebbled from his touch. How could he do this to her? Make her respond when barely touching her? It was a wonder to Kathleen. Finally he dipped his head to stroke the mauve tips with his tongue and Kathleen forgot everything else. She grasped his head in her hands, holding his mouth against her until she couldn’t stand the torture any longer. His left hand lifted her hips as his right pulled her panties from her hips to her ankles. She kicked the garment off from there.
His mouth trailed kisses between her breasts to the pulse beating madly in her throat and back again. He was everywhere, pressing against her stomach, her breasts. His erection a hard promise against the silken skin of her belly. She wanted more.
She pulled him to her but the fabric separating them was too frustrating. She wanted, no she needed, the feel of his skin against hers. Frantically, she tried to open the buttons on his western cut shirt but her fingers were too clumsy to do more than worry the buttons, making Jackson chuckle.
“You know, I’m pretty sure we’ve done this before. There’s no rush,” he said, hands slowly opening one button and then the next.
“Yes, but this time I’m going to remember every second,” she said. “Get rid of the shirt.”
Grinning, he slowly pulled his arms from the cotton as Kathleen, unable to look away as inch after inch of suntanned chest was revealed to her, tried desperately to calm her racing pulse. For a photographer who spent a lot of time in dark rooms he was certainly tanned. And buff.
When his eyes fastened hungrily on her breasts she forgot to breathe altogether. Kathleen scrambled from her position against the walnut headboard, grabbing Jackson’s ruined shirt from his thick fingers and tossing it across the room.
She should have tried harder to attract him in college was all she could think as her eyes feasted on his muscled chest, the heavy sprinkling of hair there, narrowing until it disappeared completely beneath his jeans. Was there ever a more perfect picture of the male of the species, she wondered? Her fingers found his flat nipples and stroked, eliciting a soft groan from Jackson.
He hurriedly shucked his jeans and then pushed her back against the down pillows. “I don’t think either of us will forget this time around,” he said, taking her mouth again, this time thrusting his tongue inside as if her mouth alone was keeping him alive.
Kathleen met him thrust for thrust, her hands memorizing every muscle in his back, the curve of his shoulders, the indentation at the small of his back. He rained kisses across her cheek, finally finding the soft spot behind her earlobe. Sighing, Kathleen collapsed farther into the pillows. Jackson chuckled.
“I don’t think I’ve ever made a woman fake a faint before,” he said, grinning.
“That’s not a faint and don’t you dare stop,” she said, hands teasing the soft hair at the base of his skull.
His hand traced the line of her jaw, down her neck, to her shoulder, and then the sensitive hollow beneath. He teased the side of her breast, then her ribs before finally settling at her hipbone. Kathleen felt her entire body clench, anticipating his next move. His hand crossed to her belly button, swirled inside for a split second before walking the few scant inches to her center. Kathleen drew a ragged breath, but Jackson stopped, watching her closely.
“Four weeks,” he said softly as if reminding her that this wouldn’t last forever. As if she needed that reminder. “We don’t want any accidents.” Grabbing a foil packet from the pocket of his jeans, Jackson sheathed himself. Before her body could cool at the words, he pressed his mouth to hers, his body covered her and thrust inside.
Kathleen forgot to think as their internal rhythms synched. Her eyes rolled behind closed eyelids as her muscles tightened in response to him.
“Jackson.” She breathed the word and thought she felt his muscles clench beneath her hands as she did.
He reached his index finger between them, found her center, and pressed. Lights exploded in the darkened room as Kathleen flew over the cliff, Jackson close behind her.
Still breathing heavily, Jackson rolled off her, snuggling her body against
his.
“Kath?”
“Mmm?” It was took all her remaining energy to voice that single syllable.
“You can put those blankets back in the closet. I won’t be sleeping on the floor for single second of the next few weeks.”
Thank you, God, she thought as her mind closed and she drifted off to sleep.
• • •
Jackson lay quietly, listening to Kathleen’s slow, steady breathing. He was an idiot.
Kathleen had offered him an out, a reason to get away from the ranch and back to his life. Instead of jumping at that chance, he’d seduced her. Given in to the wanting that had never truly left his consciousness, even when he tried to convince himself he couldn’t respect a family that spent money like it was going out of style rather than helping people who really needed it.
And then he learned about the children who were helped by the yearly benefit. He was getting too tangled up with these people when he should be focused on what he wanted.
Now he was well and truly stuck here for the next few weeks because, instead of running when he had the chance, he had slept with Kathleen. Again.
And reminded them both of the time limit. As if either needed that reminder. At least he’d remembered protection this time around.
He clenched his teeth, wondering if she would understand if he left a note and deserted her. He refused to give that notion a second thought. Jackson was a lot of things but he didn’t run out on commitments once he made them. So for the next four weeks he had a mission: concentrate on San Antonio and steer clear of Kathleen’s family.
First thing in the morning he would drive into the city and lose himself, looking for answers to his past. That should keep his libido sufficiently cooled, his mind off of Kathleen’s problems. And after dinner tomorrow night, he would make his excuses and stay far, far away from Kathleen’s bedroom until she had time to fall asleep. That way there would be no repeats of tonight. No possibility that she would mistake tonight for what it was: a mistake.
Even though he didn’t understand why she couldn’t tell Mitchum straight out what she wanted, he wouldn’t, would not, ruin her chance to get Jester Eight in the World’s.
Chapter Eight
Breakfast was a near-repeat of dinner. Although Mitchum sat at the head of the table and Guillermo joined them over eggs, coffee, and sausage, Vanessa and Nathaniel were nowhere to be found.
Vanessa was likely still choosing her outfit for the day and Nathaniel sleeping off whatever he’d drunk the night before. Kathleen gulped coffee and rearranged the food on her plate, hot in the air-conditioned room even though she was wearing a simple tee-shirt and jeans for her work with the horses.
No one spoke.
The silence was deafening, but she didn’t know how to break it. Should she ask Jackson about his day? No, that was something to ask over dinner. Bring up her training plans for Trio and Jester? His terse silence when she tried to talk to him in the bedroom earlier was all the answer she needed. Jackson was definitely not interested in her horses.
She should never have made love with him last night. She should have made him listen to her instead and set him free. Obviously this morning he wanted out.
“The eggs are great, Guillermo,” she said. Guillermo nodded and shoved another forkful into his mouth.
Great conversation starter, Kathleen.
She watched Jackson covertly from the corner of her eye. On his second helping of eggs and sausage, he didn’t seem to have a problem with the lack of conversation. But then he hadn’t said much more than two words to her since she woke, alone in her bed, and found him packing his camera case in the sitting room.
What were his plans for the day? She asked upstairs but couldn’t understand his mumbled answer and couldn’t bring herself to ask a second time. Fine. He wanted strictly business she could do strictly business. Trio and Jester were waiting. Their training had to take precedence over her wounded pride. She pushed the eggs across her plate and cut the sausage link into even smaller bits. Gulped more coffee. Couldn’t make herself leave the table.
Mitchum cleared his throat. “Jackson, how about a drive around the property this morning?”
Swallowing, Jackson said, “Maybe next week, once we’ve had time to settle in. I need to finish a project in San Antonio today.” Mitchum raised his eyebrows. Kathleen, curious about Jackson’s mysterious “project” herself, put down her fork and turned to him. His jaw tensed but it was the only outward sign of discomfort he showed before continuing. Uncomfortable because he didn’t want to mess up their fictitious marriage or uncomfortable because he didn’t like talking about his work? Kathleen wasn’t certain; in Mexico he’d talked about his art show often, at least it seemed that way. She thought harder and realized Jackson had turned nearly every conversation that began to get personal to his work. Why would he do that?
“For part of the show I’m preparing in New York. I’d planned to add just a section focused on the Malecon in Vallarta but adding in a bit of San Antonio color will enhance it even more. New Yorkers have a thing about Texas and the Alamo. The Southwest in general, really.”
“You couldn’t go into town early tomorrow? Do your photography before the benefit?” Mitchum wasn’t asking, Kathleen realized. He wanted Jackson to drop everything and fill the role of grandson-in-law. He may have welcomed Jackson to the family yesterday but today he expected Jackson to jump head-first into his idea of what family did. Kathleen interrupted.
“Jackson’s work is very important, Grandfather. Why don’t you two plan the tour for tomorrow — ” Jackson’s jaw clenched again. Uh-oh. Did he have plans for tomorrow? Or did he not want to tour the property at all? Kathleen had no idea. This was the kind of thing they should have talked about last night instead of jumping back into bed. Where was her head lately?
“Or maybe even later this week? After all, we newlyweds will need some time alone, too.” She smiled brightly, hoping Grandfather would drop the subject.
He didn’t.
“The weather today will be perfect for a ranch tour,” Mitchum said, crossing his knife and fork over his plate to signal the end of the conversation. Guillermo began gathering plates, once again eager to leave the friendly fire from the dining room table.
Kathleen opened her mouth to speak but Jackson’s firm thigh bumping hers stopped her. He wanted to argue with Grandfather? Fine with her.
“The weather is exactly why I need to get into town today, Mitchum.” The use of his first name rather than the “sir” he had been using was clear. Jackson would respect the older man only if the older man respected him, as well. Kathleen was torn between wanting to kiss Jackson and duck for cover. “Days like today are perfect for the outdoor shots and local color I need. I’m sorry to disrupt your plans,” he said, placing his napkin over his plate. He picked the plate up and carried it into the kitchen, effectively stopping any more inquiries from Mitchum.
“Well, I guess he told me,” Mitchum said, sounding suspiciously happy about it.
Kathleen spun to face him but he was already walking away down the hall. Now what was that about?
• • •
San Antonio was nothing like Jackson imagined. Even as a child growing up in Texas, he had never visited the historical place. The Spanish architecture fit beautifully with the countryside, tourists packed the sidewalks and as he passed the River Walk, he imagined slowly browsing the shops and restaurants one night with Kathleen. Maybe he should try convincing her to leave the ranch early tomorrow to come into San Antonio. Wander the streets before they had to make that appearance at the benefit. He liked the idea. Anything to get them away from Mitchum’s ranch-tour ultimatums.
Before his thoughts could be completely sidetracked, he pushed Kathleen from his mind. He was here to work. Not the work he’d talked about at breakfast but work all the same. The
sooner he got this over with the sooner he could stop wondering about his past. Move on with his life.
Kathleen’s face, hurt that he was ignoring her this morning, hovered in his mind. He pushed the memory of her away as if it were a physical presence. She may have asked about his plans, but she wasn’t really interested. She couldn’t understand the need he had to answer questions that had plagued him since he was seven.
He found the side street the private investigator noted in the report and turned west, wondering again why he didn’t let the P.I. do the legwork. He could read a report as well as the next person. Block after block, the area became more impoverished until all that was left of a once-trendy area was little more than a few hovels with bars over the windows and sad, defeated people sitting on the stoops. The faces were different but the people were the same — disillusioned, tired. More than the words on the pages the P.I. would have given him.
He slowed the rented SUV to a crawl. Many of the building numbers had fallen off or been removed, but by counting the buildings he finally found what he was looking for: a small, two-story brick unit that had been turned into apartments several years before.
Camera in hand, he lowered his window and took a few shots of the outside of the building. There were holes in the walls, making it look like a refugee from the battle of the Alamo. Most of the windows had bars but some were rusted through and some were missing pieces. The front door glass was cracked and a small red ribbon tied to the handle floated on the breeze.
It was the most recent address the investigator had found and probably identical to the dozens of other hovels where Maria lived after abandoning him in Dallas. The likelihood of her still being here was slim, but a neighbor might know something. Part of him wanted to pound of every door in the place until he found a lead. Another part asked, for the hundredth time, why he still cared. Obviously Maria didn’t.
Texas Temptation Page 27
