by Naomi Horton
She used to smile at him and arch her back, offering herself to him, and he remembered what it had been like to cup her firm little breasts in his hands and hear her breath catch. Her nipples were a rich rose color and they would be slightly swollen by then, and he used to lower his mouth and capture one between his lips like something sweet, sucking it gently while it hardened in his mouth. And then she would slip her fingers into his long hair and press his mouth against her, and he would hear her heart fluttering in her chest like a bird's wing and that breathy catch in her throat as she whispered his name.
But that would be only a prelude to what he'd really wanted. The true treasure lay farther south, and he used to tip her gently back and peel her jeans down and nuzzle the downy skin on her belly. And then lower, finding that wonderful pouty little softness at the juncture of her thighs, tantalizingly sweet under the thin, silky fabric of her briefs. He used to kiss her there and tease her with his tongue, running the tip of it along the elastic legs of her briefs, down the moist cleft in the middle, half drunk on the tastes and scents and sounds of her.
He would tease her like that for as long as either of them could take it, then he'd reach up and slide her briefs right off and finish what he'd started, having discovered that it was better for her like that.
Better for him, too, to be honest. Because once he'd pleasured her, he didn't have to try so damn hard to hold on. He would keep at it until she cried out in startled satisfaction and arched fiercely against him, fingers tangling in his hair. And then he would ease himself up and between her thighs and sink down into the honied heat of her with a groan of raw pleasure, and the whole world would just come to a shuddering stop while he—
"Here. And thanks."
Silken blond hair swirled near enough to brush his shoulder, and the scent of her filled his nostrils, and then she was right there, right in front of him, smiling up into his eyes. She held up his shirt, and Jett took it automatically, feeling dazed and stupefied, as though he'd been in the sun too long.
He pulled on the shirt without even thinking, wishing he hadn't the instant the flannel hit his skin. It was warm with the heat of her, and it wrapped around his ribs as intimately as the woman herself. The air was suddenly scented with her, so familiar it left him feeling hollowed out and aching with a wanting he hadn't felt in years. Had thought he'd put behind him so long ago that it didn't even count anymore.
"Come on," Kathleen said beside him suddenly, her arms full of blankets and gear. "I'll help you saddle the horses."
Jett didn't say a word the entire time they saddled the two horses and collected their things. Kathleen glanced at him now and again, but he wouldn't look at her, his expression like a thundercloud, although she couldn't for the life of her figure out what she'd done.
He moved with smooth economy, hat pulled low so she couldn't see his face clearly, shirt still unbuttoned and hanging loose over his jeans. It left his chest and muscle-corded belly bare, and she was annoyed at how badly that glimpse of smooth, golden flesh distracted her.
Sex, that was all it was, she told herself ferociously. They hadn't been able to keep their hands off each other sixteen years ago, so it made sense that her mind would keep drifting in that direction when he was around.
"Don't bother making that cinch too tight." A sun-browned arm reached past her, and Jett checked the saddle. "You can't ride him when he's lame like this. I'll take you back."
"I can walk." She said it more impatiently than she'd intended, unnerved by how close he was standing. The heat from his skin pressed against her back like a caress, and she was finding it suddenly difficult to breathe properly, which didn't make a bit of sense.
"It's ten miles, Kathy," he said, and laughter ran through the words. "You scared of me after all this time or something?"
"I can't think of any reason I should be." Annoyed by her own silly reactions, wanting to prove to herself that she wasn't lying, she turned to face him almost defiantly.
Trapped between man and horse, she gave her tangled damp hair a toss to get it off her face and looked up into his dark eyes. "Can you?"
He didn't say anything, just standing there so close to her that she could see the rise and fall of his chest, the faint line of a healing cut across his cheekbone, the full swell of his lower lip. She swore she could hear the thump of his heart, but maybe it was her own, the sound as loud as the beating of ancient drums.
"Oh, yeah," he said then, so softly it was little more than a whisper. "Oh, yeah, I can think of a reason or two…"
He'd no more intended to touch her than fly, but Jett found himself reaching for her without conscious thought. Found himself slipping his arms loosely around her and pulling her closer and looking down into those summer-sky eyes and wondering where in the hell the past sixteen years had gone.
She stared up at him, full red lips parted slightly, and he could feel the unsteady beat of his heart. And against his chest, the beat of another, faster, wilder, as familiar as his own.
Under the surprise in those blue eyes was something else now: an awareness that something was happening, had happened, could happen. That awareness was filled with memories and warmth and a kind of breath-held anticipation, as though she had no idea what was going to happen next and wasn't sure whether she should wait to find out or not.
He didn't know, either. So he did the first thing that came to mind and dropped his mouth gently over hers.
It surprised him nearly as badly as it surprised her. But after a moment he forgot all his good intentions and his doubts and even his guilt, and started to enjoy the process. And Kathleen must have, too, because after the first little indrawn squeak of surprise, she sort of melted against him and parted her lips and kissed him back with the same enthusiasm.
Jett pulled his mouth from hers after a leisurely while and smiled down at her. "Welcome home."
Looking a little dazed, she stepped back unsteadily. "Thank you." She drew a deep breath, as though testing her own reactions. "I think."
"You didn't like it."
"Oh, I didn't say that." Laughter warmed her mouth, but she refused to give in to it, looking up at him very seriously instead. "I'm not sure you should have done that."
"It seemed like the right thing to do."
"Did it?" Another deep breath.
She ran the tip of her tongue across her upper lip, and he watched the gesture avidly, gut tightening. "Mmm." Grinning, he pulled her against him again. "Seems like the right thing to do again, in fact."
The thought occurred to Kathleen in that instant before Jett's lips met hers again that it might be a good idea to push him away and tell him to go straight to hell if he thought he could treat her like a leper for days on end and then, with no warning at all, start kissing her as though it was going out of style.
But somehow the words got all muddled up between thinking them and actually saying them and then he was kissing her again and by then it was too late, anyway.
Besides, it wasn't all that unpleasant, being kissed by Jett Kendrick again.
One thing was certain: he hadn't forgotten how.
His tongue moved against hers lazily, and she just relaxed into the experience, telling herself that they were adults now, for heaven's sake, and one little kiss couldn't hurt. Trying to ignore the distinctly disturbing thoughts that kept pushing into her mind. Thoughts about what it would be like to make love with him again. Of what his skin would feel like against hers after all this time. Of what they would be like now, all grown up, with time and experience on their side…
Jett groaned softly into her throat, and she murmured something in reply as he caressed her back with one strong hand, pressing her against him. She could feel the play in his thigh muscles as he shifted his weight in the loose sand, and she moved slightly to keep her own balance. She felt his belly tighten as she moved against him. Felt the subtle yet unmistakable stirring of his body in response to her. Felt her own stomach quiver in anticipation…
Pulling her mouth from his, she clung to him and tried to catch her breath so she could tell him that this was all very nice, but that they had to stop now. He was nuzzling the side of her throat, his mouth warm on her skin, and she had the sudden insane realization that if she didn't stop it now, she wasn't going to stop it at all.
"I—I have a feeling…" She closed her eyes and fought to make sense of what was happening, thoughts still scattered to the four winds.
"I've got one or two of those myself," he murmured against her ear. "Funny how that happens, isn't it?"
In spite of herself, Kathleen had to laugh. "I'm serious!"
"So am I. C'mere and I'll show you how serious."
But to her relief, he lifted his warmly questing mouth from her ear and loosened his embrace, grinning down at her. "Like old times, huh?"
"Too much like old times," she said unsteadily. "This is crazy. We haven't seen each other in sixteen years and—"
"It doesn't feel like sixteen years," he said softly, his eyes holding her with electric intensity. "Feels like only hours ago that I made love to you for the first time right over there under those trees."
"I don't think we should talk about that," she said a trifle desperately.
"Like I said before, you never used to be this shy."
"I was too young to know better."
"Fifteen." He gave his head a wondering shake. "Just a kid."
"We were both just kids."
"But we're not kids now," he heard himself say softly. And then, not allowing himself time to think about it, he lowered his head and settled his mouth over hers with lazy enjoyment.
It didn't seem to surprise her. Her lips parted with no hesitation at all, and she kissed him back as though she meant it.
It wasn't a kiss for old times, or stray sparks from years ago, or even a kiss given out of curiosity just to see what it would be like. This was a grown-up, enjoying - every - minute - of - it, done - because - it - feels - good kind of kiss, slow and lazy and full of enough sexual energy to light up a small city.
And when he finally pulled his mouth from hers and looked down into her eyes, she just looked back at him, not saying a word.
"There's a barn dance over in Indian Springs night after next. I'll pick you up about seven."
"Jett…" Frowning, she ran her fingers lightly through his hair. "This has been nice, being here with you today. But…" The frown deepened.
"It's just a dance."
"Like that movie and hamburger sixteen years ago was just a movie and hamburger." But she was laughing as she said it, her eyes alight with mischief.
He had to smile. "I'd be a liar if I said there haven't been a couple of times today when I've wondered what it would be like to get you into bed again. But that's not why I'm asking you to the dance."
She was insane if she even thought about it, Kathleen told herself very deliberately. Absolutely, certifiably insane. So she formed the word no very clearly in her mind, opened her mouth, and promptly heard herself say, "I'd love to."
They headed back to The Oaks a few minutes later, riding double on Jett's big, loose-gaited buckskin and leading Kathleen's horse. They talked quietly, of old times mainly, laughing over this memory or that one, trying to remember details gone fuzzy with time.
He hadn't bothered buttoning his shirt, and the heat from his bare chest and belly soaked into her, and she could feel the slow, steady thump of his heart against her back, the warmth of his breath against her ear, her throat. His hand had settled warmly on her ribs, fingers splayed, a possessive touch she doubted he was even fully aware of, the angle of his thumb and finger almost but not quite cupping her breast.
She thought of moving it at one point and even put her hand on his to slide it down a little, but then he said something, and she laughed, and a few minutes later she realized she didn't mind the intimacy of his touch at all.
She was still contemplating this—what it meant, what she wanted it to mean—an hour or so later as she brushed the bay thoroughly, then put him into a box stall with fresh water and a pail of oats.
Today was going to complicate things. If she decided to stay in Burnt River, would she be doing it for the right reasons—or because some small part of her was in love with Jett?
Or thought it was in love with him. In spite of herself, Kathleen had to grin. There was a very good possibility that what she was feeling was nothing more complicated than lust. Hormones and curiosity: a deadly combination, even at her age.
She was still grinning as she pulled open the door and stepped into the big mudroom. Dropping onto the built-in bench along one wall, she started pulling her boots off, vaguely aware of voices drifting through the half-open kitchen door.
It was only when one of them rose in anger that she realized Gord and Sherry were arguing. Wincing, she sat there for a moment, boot in hand, torn between going back outside and pretending she'd never come in, or dropping the boot to let them know she was there.
And then she heard her own name and realized they were arguing about her. Cheeks burning—not knowing what they were saying and not wanting to know—she set the boot down gingerly.
"I am telling you, Gordon, I stood right here in this kitchen and saw him with my own two eyes," Sherry was saying furiously. "I'm not imagining things! If you don't ask his father about it, I will!"
"I don't want you going anywhere near Jett Kendrick," Gordon replied just as angrily. "The man's insane! He came into my office yesterday looking for Jody, and started ranting and raving some crazy stuff that didn't even make sense. If someone hadn't come in just then, I don't know what he might have done."
"Gordon, I know what I saw!"
"What you're saying is flat-out impossible, but I'll look into it," Gordon muttered, sounding none too happy about it.
"Nothing is impossible where your father was concerned. If I'm right, it's going to devastate Kathy. And Kendrick should go to jail for … for something!"
Kathleen winced again. So Sherry had figured it out. When she'd seen Jody yesterday, she'd been clearly startled at how old he was and had obviously concluded that Pam must have gotten pregnant at almost the same time as Kathleen. For Jett's sake, she should explain the whole thing to Sherry—how her father had bought Jett off, how Jett had taken up with Pam out of hurt and anger only days after Kathleen had left.
But there was no way to do that without also admitting she'd been standing out there eavesdropping.
Tiptoeing across to the outside door—trying desperately to wade through the clutter of toys and coats and boots without tripping—Kathleen stepped through onto the back porch. Then she came back inside, making plenty of noise this time.
The voices in the kitchen stopped abruptly. Kathleen picked up the boot she'd already pulled off and dropped it loudly, then started pulling the other one off.
"Kathleen?" Sherry's voice, still tight with anger.
"Yeah," Kathleen called carelessly. "Sorry I was gone so long. I ran into a little problem." Planting a smile on her mouth, she walked through into the kitchen, pretending not to see the guilty glance that passed between Sherry and her brother.
Sherry's eyes widened as she took in Kathleen's wrinkled clothes and damp, tangled hair. "Good golly! Are you all right?"
"That tangle-footed bay of Dad's dumped me in Beaver Creek, but I'm okay."
"Are you sure? I could run you in to Doc Jones just to—"
"I'm fine," Kathleen assured her with a laugh. "I'll be as good as new once I shower and get into some clean clothes. Then I think I'll, uh, go into town. Is there a… Uh, anywhere in town I can buy something suitable for a barn dance?"
"A barn dance?" Sherry blinked in surprise. "Who are you—that is … yes. Brenton's Ladies' Wear has some nice things."
Kathleen had to smile. "Jett. I'm going to a dance in Indian Springs with Jett the day after tomorrow."
Sherry's expression of astonishment was almost comical. "It surprised the hell out of me, too," Kathleen admitted ruef
ully.
"He didn't seem to be in any mood to take you dancing when I saw him yesterday," Gordon said quietly.
"We, uh, talked." That wasn't all she and Jett had been doing, but Gord didn't need to know everything.
"Kathy…"
He looked so worried that Kathleen had to laugh. "Gord, I know what I'm doing. Trust me." And she prayed, as she turned to go upstairs, that she was telling the truth.
* * *
Chapter 7
« ^ »
"Kathleen Patterson?" Jody sounded stunned. "You're going out with Kathleen Patterson?"
Jett eyed his own reflection in the small bathroom mirror, wondering why the hell he felt so nervous. "So?"
"You mean, like a date?"
The word held such astonishment that Jett looked at his son impatiently. "You got a problem with that?"
Jody shrugged and shoved his good hand into the pocket of his jeans, trying not to grin. He'd been hovering around the bathroom door like a maiden aunt for the past five minutes and showed no sign of leaving anytime soon. "Well, no, I guess not." The grin widened. "But ain't you kinda old for that sorta thing?"
"Old?" Jett's voice made the mirror vibrate.
"Well, you know. I mean … I can't remember the last time you had a date."
Jett just gave a noncommittal grunt and straightened his shirt collar for the third or fourth time.
"So, where are you takin' her? A movie or something?"
Jett glared at the recalcitrant collar, wondering if he should change shirts. "A dance. Over in Indian Springs." He glanced at Jody, then back at his own reflection, wishing he'd thought to get a haircut while he'd been in town. "Guess you'll be thinking about dances yourself one of these days," he said casually.
Jody shrugged, as though the thought didn't appeal one way or another.
"You, uh, got a special girl or anything yet?"
Jody gave another spectacularly offhand shrug, kicking at the floor. "Nah. Not really."
Oh, boy. Jett took a deep breath. "You, uh, remember that talk we had last year?"
