Heaven's Gift aka Kiss of an Angel

by Janelle Denison

  That's because I mended the deep laceration, she thought. Wiping her hands on the towel, she circled the table to stand next to him. "You just sit there and drink your coffee. It'll only take a minute to check it."

  "Who appointed you my guardian?" he growled, batting her hands away from the back of his head. "I'm a grown man-"

  "With a thick head?" she interrupted, jamming her hands on her hips and giving him a fierce look.

  He had the grace to look a little contrite for his impolite behavior. "Yeah, that's probably why the blow didn't split my head wide open."

  Her lips tightened in disgust. "Yes, well, someone definitely wanted to do away with you." But who had been the culprit? she wondered with a little frown. Moving closer, she wove her fingers gently through his hair, searching for the site of his injury.

  "How do you know?" He took a swallow of coffee, then balanced the cup on his thigh.

  "What? That someone wanted to kill you?" she asked, luxuriating in the velvety feel of his hair sifting over her hand.

  "Yes." He finished off his coffee and put the cup on the table. "A bullet would have been more effective."

  "You're right, of course," she countered, trying to concentrate on her task and not the peculiar sensations swirling deep inside her. "But what if someone wanted this to look like an accident?"

  "I would have come around eventually."

  She pulled away to look into his eyes, remembering how close to dying he'd been when she'd reached him. Without the aid of her Superiors, he wouldn't be sitting in front of her, looking so strong and healthy. "It wasn't likely you would have 'come around.' Not only were you unconscious from the blow, and your body freezing, but your head was near the creek. By the time I found you the water had risen to your forehead."

  The implications of her statement registered in his eyes, then was replaced by something more watchful and searching. "Which brings me around to an intriguing question I'd like answered," he said, his gaze laser-intense. "How, exactly, did you stumble upon me? I hate to be skeptical, but I don't believe in miracles."

  Chapter Two

  J.T. crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Caitlan's answer. After a hesitant second she broke eye contact and once again resumed checking the bump on his head. Except this time her fingers worked tensely, pressing over his skull without the gentleness she'd used before.

  "You remember the sleet storm, right?" she asked.

  "Yeah. I got hit in the head just as the sky split wide open." Her fingers probed an especially sensitive area and he winced and sucked in a harsh breath. "Hey, watch it!"

  "Sorry," she mumbled, and continued on with a bit more care. "I was on my horse, Daisy, when I saw your body by the creek."

  "Whoa, back up," he interrupted. "How about telling me where you came from and what you were doing trespassing on private property?"

  "Turn your head toward me just a bit, would you please?"

  As a stall tactic, he had to admit her approach was original and quite effective. He turned his head slightly and found himself eye level with her breasts. He tried focusing on the nondescript material of her shirt, but his gaze kept straying to the collar, where the first three buttons were undone, granting him a more enticing view of creamy flesh and wisps of satin and lace.

  She shifted from one foot to the other. A gold pendant nestled between her breasts caught his attention. The piece of gold looked ancient, with a swirled design that was neither unique nor spectacular, yet he had the strangest urge to reach out and touch the medallion.

  Troubled by the lure of something so insignificant, he frowned and averted his gaze back to the slope of her breast, which only served to prompt fantasies in which he had no right to indulge. He closed his eyes, a low moan escaping him. Hell, what was it about this woman that made him want her so badly?

  "I'm sorry," she said, obviously misinterpreting his aches and pains. "I wish we had some ice for your head. It sure would help ease the pain and take down the swelling."

  "You're absolutely right," he said through clenched teeth. Except he needed the ice in his lap, not on his head! "Stop trying to distract me and quit avoiding my questions," he growled, turning his head forward once again.

  "I'm not," she replied, her fingers still touching and exploring.

  "You are."

  "Don't be such a grouch. I'm only concerned about you."

  "Leave me alone. There's nothing you can do about my head anyway." She ignored him and pressed the swollen perimeter of his bump. Brilliant sparks of pain exploded in his head. He grimaced. "Dammit, Caitlan! Enough!" Grabbing her wrists, he jerked her away, pinning her with a scowl he hoped she'd interpret as intimidating. "Sit down."

  Any woman with lick of sense would have heeded his tone and expression and done as he ordered, but she only tossed him an indulgent look that made him feel like a small boy. "Are you always this bossy?"

  "I am the boss."

  "Of this ranch?"

  "Yes." He let go of her hands, enjoying too much the feel of her soft, warm skin and wanting even more to pull her onto his lap and kiss some compliance into her. A long, deep, lazy kiss ought to do the trick, he thought, then immediately chastised himself for entertaining the notion. He didn't want involvements and entanglements with this woman, or any woman, for that matter. The tragic loss of Amanda and a bitter, loveless marriage had taught him that he had no emotion left to give. As soon as they arrived at his ranch house, she'd be back on her way to wherever she'd come from, and that's exactly how he wanted things.

  She rubbed her wrists, as if branded by his touch. He saw the awareness in her eyes, a hint of confusion, and knew she felt the same sizzle of attraction he did. Looking away, she walked to the other side of the table and sat down in her chair.

  "I don't even know your name," she said softly.

  "J.T. Rafferty, and you're doing it again," he said, unable to keep his exasperation from his voice.

  "I'm just curious about you," came her innocent reply.

  "Then we have something in common, because I'm more than a little curious about you. Answer my question, Caitlan."

  "Which was?"

  A broken laugh escaped him, a cross between irritation and mild amusement. He rubbed the taut muscles at the back of his neck and sighed. If any other woman had dared to provoke him like this, he would have been gruff and demanding in response. He didn't want to analyze his reaction to Caitlan too deeply, and instead strove for a stern tone of voice. "You're trying my patience, Caitlan Daniels. Listen up: Where did you come from and what were you doing trespassing on private property?"

  She hesitated for a moment, as if thinking up a plausible excuse. "I'm a guest at Parson's Dude Ranch," she began, folding her hands primly on the table before her. "It was an absolutely gorgeous day yesterday. At least in the morning it was sunny and pleasant." The direct look she gave him made him feel as though the temperamental change in weather had been his fault. "I was out on a trail ride doing a little sightseeing on my own, except I have a lousy sense of direction. I got lost." She cast a dubious look heavenward and gave a slight shake of her head, as if even she couldn't quite believe her tale.

  He had his doubts as well. "Parson's Dude Ranch is well over eight miles away, most of which is rugged terrain."

  She shrugged delicately. "See how lousy my sense of direction is? I thought I was headed back towardthe dude ranch."

  Her story had a loophole, and he zeroed in on it. There was only one way to and from Parson's that separated the dude ranch's property from Rafferty land. "Didn't you wonder where you were going when you crossed the bridge over the American River?"

  "I wanted to explore the other side of the river." An impish expression etched her features, and he found himself totally charmed by the mischief sparkling in her eyes. "I never thought I wouldn't be able to find my way back. How can you miss a body of water as big as the American River?"

  "You obviously did."

  Her spine straightened defensively.
"If it wasn't for the sleet storm, I would have found it again eventually."

  "Sure." He settled back as comfortably as the unyielding wooden chair would allow. Stretching his legs out under the table, he laced his fingers over his stomach. "Go on, please," he said in a lazy drawl.

  "I started to panic when the storm rolled in. When I found the creek I followed it, hoping it would lead back to the river, a main road, or another ranch."

  "Creeks don't necessarily lead to roads or ranches, and they can take miles to reach the river, depending on which direction you're heading."

  "Well, excuse my ignorance," she said haughtily. "I didn't know what else to do."

  Feeling appropriately reproved for making light of a situation that could have been perilous, he murmured, "I'm sorry." He could well imagine her fear of being stranded in a strange place and softened a bit. After all, she wasn't here in his line shack of her own choice, and she had saved his life.

  Seemingly satisfied with his apology, she continued. "I was following the creek when a bolt of lightning struck nearby. Daisy didn't take too well to the thunder and lightning and took off like a bat out of-" She stopped abruptly, her cheeks pinkening.

  "Hell?" he supplied, holding back a chuckle at her chagrin over a simple swear word.

  "Uh, yeah, I guess that's the term." She cleared her throat and fiddled with a napkin on the table. "Anyway, I shouldn't have asked for such a spirited horse. I could barely control her. We passed this shack, and when I tried to stop her she just got more skittish. By the time I got her back under control, we were only feet away from where you lay by the creek. I jumped off Daisy to see if you were still alive and she took off before I could tether her to a tree."

  He stared at her for the longest time, past those deep blue eyes and beyond. Finally, he shook his head. "That's the damnedest story I think I've ever heard. It's so unbelievable, I actually believe it."

  "It's what happened," she said, brushing a swath of hair from her cheek, the movement artless and feminine. "How else would I have found you?"

  "Hell if I know." Leaning forward, he braced his forearms on the table. His humor fled when he thought of another important fact. "If I was unconscious when you found me, how did you manage to get me to the shack?"

  "I dragged you," she replied without missing a beat, then gave another one of those heavenward glances he would have found endearing if her answer hadn't been so preposterous.

  His eyes narrowed perceptively. "You couldn't even push me off you when we were on the bed and you expect me to believe you draggedme over a hundred yards?"

  "You're here, aren't you?" she shot back.

  "I guess I am." If she was lying, J.T. decided she had it down to a science. He searched her gaze, seeing nothing but a delicate pureness that reached deep into his soul and tugged. Startled by the warmth unfurling in him, he glanced away.

  Her chair scraped against the wood floor as she scooted back and stood. "I'm sure you've heard that people do incredible things when they find themselves in a panicked situation. Adrenaline and all that," she said, gesturing with her hands.

  "Yeah, adrenaline," he agreed, suddenly tired of doubting her every word. What other explanation could there be? And if she meant him harm, she'd had plenty of opportunity to do so while he'd been unconscious. As outrageous as her story sounded, everything she'd told him was possible.

  Rubbing a hand over his jaw, he watched her flit about the shack. She put away their dishes and washed up the coffee pot, then stored everything where she'd found it in the pantry. She worked quickly, efficiently, and he marveled at how at home she seemed with none of the normal everyday conveniences one usually takes for granted.

  "Let me help," he offered, pushing back his own chair. Before he could stand she shook her head and sent him an adamant look.

  "Absolutely not." Folding the blanket on the bed, she set it at the foot of the mattress. "You sit and relax. I'll take care of this. You need to save your strength."

  He didn't like feeling like an invalid. "I'm fi-"

  A firm hand on his shoulder pushed him back into his seat. "Stay put." Her tone rivaled a drill sergeant's.

  He resisted the urge to click his heels, salute her, and say, "Yes, sir."

  "Are you always so bossy?" he asked, repeating her earlier question to him.

  "Only when I'm in charge," she replied over her shoulder.

  She bent over to dig something out of a tin can in the pantry, and his gaze slid over her bottom, admiring and appreciating her curves. "I'm not going to win this one, am I?"

  "Nope. Have a snack and relax." Turning, she tossed him a sealed package of dried apricots, and he caught the bag.

  Using his teeth, he tore open a corner of the plastic bag. Pinching a dried apricot between his fingers, he examined the shriveled piece of fruit or a second before deeming it edible. "Relaxing isn't one of my strong suits."

  Caitlan picked up the damp pair of jeans draped on the far side of the table and shook them out before folding the denim into a tidy square. "You might want to get used to it, at least for a few days. You really should give your head, and your body, time to recuperate from your accident." She added a folded shirt to his pile of soggy clothes.

  He looked up, intending to tell her he wasn't about to sit around for a couple of days. Even the nastiest of flus couldn't keep him down, and he wouldn't let this mishap keep him from overseeing the ranch and cattle, either. Especially if someone was bent on sabotaging his livelihood.

  Ultimately, he popped another apricot into his mouth and kept his protest to himself. He didn't owe this woman an explanation, and he didn't need her permission to do anything. As protective and concerned as she seemed to be, he considered himself lucky she'd be gone once they reached the ranch house.

  "I'm surprised no one has found us by now," he commented, reaching for his cowboy boots, sitting under the table. "My horse should have wandered back to the ranch without a rider. Unless whoever hit me over the head killed Quinn, he should have gotten there last night, which should've alerted someone that I'm out in the pasture alone." He glanced out the window, try ing to gauge the hour. "How long ago did it stop raining?"

  "Sometime last night."

  He watched her with his briefs, her fingers tucking and creasing the cotton easily, as if she'd been folding his underwear for years. The intimacy of the simple task started a slow burn in his veins and made him too aware of how her hands might have felt against his flesh as she'd stripped those same briefs off him last night.

  Jamming his right foot into his boot, he scowled in disgust as a cold dampness seeped into his thick sock. Since he lacked an extra pair of boots in the shack, and he didn't relish walking the three miles back to the ranch house in bare feet, he put the other boot on and arranged his jeans over the tops.

  "What time is it anyway?" he asked, realizing his watch was no longer strapped to his wrist. "And what did you do with my watch?"

  "It's right here." She glanced at the timepiece before handing it to him. "Ten A.M. Your watch, at least, iswaterproof," she said, an unrestrained grin canting the corners of her mouth.

  "I don't think-" J.T.'s hand froze as he reached for his watch, and his heart stopped midbeat. Every thought flew from his head and the room seemed to shrink as he stared at the dimple creasing Caitlan's right cheek, a single dimple identical to the one Amanda had when she grinned. The same violet-blue eyes, the same dimple…

  Sweet, haunting memories crowded in on him, suffocating him with their poignancy. Then, like a cloud of smoke, the recollections dispersed, and it was Caitlan he wanted to touch, Caitlan's feminine scent that wrapped around him, seducing him, tempting him, making him long for something that was just beyond his grasp and always would be.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, hating the vulnerable way he felt, despising even more that this woman made him remember and feel things he thought he'd permanently locked away. Dammit, why her?

  "J.T., are you okay?"

  She pla
ced a caring hand on his arm, and he flinched as her fingers seared him through the thin material of his shirt. Swearing at his reaction, he put distance between them the only way he knew how, shoving up a wall in front of his emotions before he made a fool of himself. "I need to take care of some personal matters, if you know what I mean. Outside. Alone."

  She nodded and backed away. "I understand."

  The hurt look in her eyes grabbed at him, but he kept his tone deliberately brusque. "As soon as the shack is cleaned up, we'll start toward the ranch."

  "Are you sure you're up to it?"

  He wasn't about to spend the afternoon in the shack with her; too small a room with too many possibilities. He strode to the door and opened it, welcoming the slap of brisk morning air.

  "We'll get to the house even if I have to crawl," he said, then glanced back at her with purpose, his harshness fading. "Oryou could always drag me." Before she could offer a retort, he stepped outside and closed the door.

  Caitlan looked out the window and watched as J.T. strode toward a copse of trees, wondering at the light flutters in her belly as she admired the leashed power and strength of his body. An altogether strange sensation, she thought, like none other she'd experienced as a guardian angel. Something about J.T. Rafferty elevated her nerves to a level of consciousness and made her feel things that were dark and surely forbidden to her. Yet she couldn't seem to stem the desire and longing sweeping through her. She was even more ashamed because the feeling wasn't at all unpleasant to her.

  Once J.T. disappeared from view and she knew she'd have a few moments to herself, she cleared her mind of those disconcerting thoughts and closed her fingers around her medallion.

  "Yes?"

  "You guys gave me a real doozy of an excuse to convince J.T. how I found him unconscious," she said, remembering his doubts. "He probably thinks I'm a real ditz."

  "It was the best we could do at such short notice. He believes you, which is all that matters. Your expressions and emotions flowed naturally. Now, please, you mustn't summon us unless it's an absolute emergency. We've been swamped since you left."