Heaven's Gift aka Kiss of an Angel

by Janelle Denison

  Jared touched J.T.'s shoulder. "I'm sorry, son, but Amanda didn't make it. She died instantly."

  "No!" J. T. raged, the one word overflowing with hurt and grief.

  A sob caught in Caitlan's throat as J.T.'s loss and sorrow became her own. Excruciating pain wrenched at her heart. Before another vision could cripple her ability to remove the ring, she pulled it off her finger and put it back in the velvet lining. She shoved the cigar box back onto the bottom shelf, hoping to dam the flood of images and emotions swamping her.

  An emptiness enveloped her, and she buried her face in her hands, the wetness of tears dampening her fingers. "Oh, no," she choked, unable to bear any more of this craziness. She had to contact her Superior before she went insane, if that hadn't already happened. The visions, the identical drawings, the link to J.T., the mortal emotions, all needed explanations. And what about her falling in love with J.T.? Oh, what a mess of things she'd made!

  Spurred by an urgency to find answers, she rushed from the office, swiping away the tears on her cheeks with the back of her hand. She opened the front door and nearly knocked down Laura in her haste to get somewhere private and secluded. She stopped short, her mind whirling in a hundred different directions.

  "Oh, Caitlan, you scared me!" Laura exclaimed, her eyes wide. "I was just about to open the door and I didn't expect…" She frowned, her brow furrowing in concern. "Caitlan, are you okay?"

  Caitlan mentally shook herself and forced a smile for Laura's benefit. "Yes, I'm just fine."

  Laura looked unconvinced. "You've been crying. Did something happen while I was at school?"

  "No, really, I… I just need to get some fresh air. I think I'll take a walk near the pasture." Caitlan took a few steps across the porch, anxious to be gone.

  Laura started toward her, a hopeful spark in her eyes. "How about if I come with you? We can talk-"

  "No!" The hurt look on Laura's face stabbed at Caitlan, and she immediately softened her voice. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but I need to be alone for a little while. How about we play a game of checkers or cards when I get back?" If my Superior allows me to come back after I divulge all my transgressions.

  "Okay," Laura said reluctantly, her worry obvious.

  Caitlan walked down the path until she was out of Laura's sight, then she broke into a run, needing to work off the anxiety nearly smothering her. She jogged alongside the fenced-in pasture, then up and over a knoll covered with wildflowers. Exhausted, she fell to her knees, gasping for breath, wondering when her heart and soul had become so tangled up with J.T.'s life. And if she'd ever be the same again.

  "Anybody home?" J.T. called as he entered the house.

  No answer.

  "Caitlan? Laura?" Still, no reply. He glanced at his wristwatch. Three-thirty. Paula would be gone, but where were Caitlan and his daughter? After checking the kitchen and the den and finding them empty, he started up the stairs. He glanced in Laura's room first, then moved to Caitlan's, hesitating on the threshold when he saw it too was unoccupied.

  He stared at her impeccably made bed, a sudden streak of guilt assailing him for the way he'd handled things with Caitlan this morning. He'd been anything but a gentleman in her bedroom when he'd asked her about birth control, and like a coward he'd left the house before she'd had a chance to come downstairs. But, dammit, whenever he was around her she brought out feelings in him he didn't want to deal with. He refused to deal with them, or label them, when she'd be gone in a few days. Yet he couldn't quite fully convince himself that keeping his distance until she left was for the best. He couldn't convince his body that he'd had Caitlan and she was out of his system, because she wasn't. The soft, silky feel of her skin and the feminine scent of her would haunt him for a long, long time. Not to mention those uncanny violet eyes, her dimple, and how incredibly perfect and fulfilled he'd been with her.

  Frustrated, he stepped into the room, wishing he knew more about Caitlan besides the vague tidbits she'd shared. He found himself walking toward the nightstand, where he'd seen her put her pad of paper. Amanda had loved to draw. He remembered many lazy Sunday afternoons down by the creek when she'd made him lay there while she sketched him. Afterward he'd have to sweet-talk her into showing him the drawings; she'd been that modest about her ability. Just like Caitlan.

  Why had he even thought that? Shaking off the apprehension climbing his spine, he opened the drawer and withdrew the pad. His conscience argued with him to put it back unopened, but he wanted more insight into Caitlan, wanted to know who or what occupied her mind in the late hours of the night while she sketched by moonlight.

  Before he changed his mind, he opened the cover. He stared in stunned disbelief at a sketch of himself as a young boy, the sensation of being punched in the stomach rendering him breathless. She'd reproduced him in precise detail, right down to the stubborn tilt to his chin and the faint lines around his eyes when he smiled. He flipped through the pages, seeing that she'd drawn him in different stages of youth and as a grown man. All the pictures were meticulously detailed-eerily so-as if she'd known him fifteen or twenty years ago.

  He turned to the next page and thought the clamping pressure in his chest was a sure sign of a heart attack. His blood roared in his ears and prickles of heat skimmed along his nerve endings.

  In remarkable exactness Caitlan had drawn Amanda, every delicate feature of her face finely etched, along with her beautiful, beguiling smile and her dimple. Amanda's head was tilted back, her long hair streaming over her shoulders, that mischievous twinkle he'd loved sparkling in her eyes. The pose was a likeness that only could have been captured in a candid moment-how in the hell had Caitlan managed that?

  "Christ," he muttered, thumbing through the rest of the pages. Caitlan had drawn a few pictures of Laura and King, and even one of Randal, but the majority of the sketches were of him and Amanda.

  Once J.T.'s initial shock wore off anger settled in, prompting him into action. He wanted explanations for these bizarre reproductions. And he wanted them now.

  Taking the pad, he bounded down the stairs. The kitchen screen door slammed shut, and he headed in that direction. "Caitlan?" he called, unable to contain the fury lacing his voice.

  "It's me, Dad."

  He ignored the curious look Laura gave him when he walked into the kitchen. "Where have you been?" he asked, glancing out the window to see if Caitlan was outside.

  She went to the sink and washed her hands. "Down in the barn. I wanted to check on Missy."

  Paternal instincts kicked in. "Alone?"

  She nodded. "Yes."

  "After what happened with Missy's kittens I prefer you don't go down there unless someone is with you." His fingers curled tight around the sketch pad, renewing his anger. "Where's Caitlan?"

  "She went for a walk." Grabbing the terry towel, she dried her hands, slanting a speculative glance J.T.'s way. "What's going on? Everyone's acting weird today. First Caitlan, then you-"

  "What's wrong with Caitlan?" he interrupted.

  Laura shrugged. "I don't know, exactly. I came home from school today and just as I was about to come inside the house she came running out. She nearly crashed into me. It looked like she'd been crying, but she said she was fine, that she just wanted to be alone for a bit." Her fingers twisted in the towel. "I'm kind of worried about her, Dad. Maybe you should go find her, just to be sure she's okay."

  Oh, he planned to. And just as soon as he reassured himself of her well being he'd get some answers. "Which way did she go?"

  "Alongside the north pasture fence."

  "I'll find her," he promised, striding toward the front door. "And we'll be back before supper."

  Caitlan didn't know how long she knelt there in the pasture, afraid to contact her Superior but knowing she no longer had a choice. Her Superiors had no idea what she'd experienced with J.T., didn't know about the haunting visions that touched her soul, or that she'd done the unthinkable and fallen in love with J.T. Unless summoned for help or guidance, Superiors
never monitored an angel while on a mission, and for that she was grateful.

  A crisp breeze blew, tangling in her hair and chilling her to the bone with icy fingers of dread. The cold, damp earth beneath her knees seeped through her jeans and stole into her joints. Her tears of confusion had flowed freely, and even after they'd dried a chasm of bleakness echoed in her soul. She wished she had the ability to freeze into a statue, an emotionless slab of stone with no real worries or cares. When had being a guardian angel become so emotionally and physically draining? Never had she experienced such mental exhaustion. Not until J.T.

  Not wanting to put the inevitable off any longer, she wiped the moisture from her cheeks and grabbed her medallion, silently transmitting a summons to her Superior.

  "Yes? Is everything all right?"

  Mary's voice drifted clearly through Caitlan's mind. Glancing toward the heavens, a glimmer of despair swept over her. "No… I mean yes." Taking a deep, calming breath, she started again. "J.T. is fine," she assured her Superior, knowing that would be Mary's first concern.

  "Then what is it? You look upset."

  Devastated was more like it. "I…" She swallowed to ease the anxiety congealing in her throat. "I'm having these… visions that I don't understand. And at times, when I'm with J.T., I feel… strange things."

  Silence.

  Frowning, Caitlan grasped the pendant tighter. "Mary?"

  "What kind of visions?" This from Christopher.

  "J.T. when he was a boy, and a young girl. Her name is Amanda. From what I've learned from J.T., I believe she's his soulmate. Why am I so connected to these two people that I feel and see things they've experienced in the past?"

  "Oh, dear," Mary said, her tone distressed.

  "What kind of strange things do you feel?" Christopher asked in a tight voice.

  Heat tinged Caitlan's cheeks when she remembered all the wonderful sensations J.T. evoked inside her. In the barn last night she'd been drawn into him, her heart and soul reaching for his as if they belonged together. She erased those thoughts quickly, before Christopher or Mary could latch onto them. She couldn't very well tell them about the sensual feelings she experienced for J.T., or that she'd fallen in love with him. Eventually she'd have to tell her Superiors, but not now, not until she understood more about the link she shared with J.T.

  "Sometimes I feel like I'm a part of J.T., but I know that's impossible, considering I have a soulmate… right?" she asked tentatively, hoping they'd divulge who her soulmate was.

  Silence.

  Sighing, Caitlan rubbed her brow wearily. Why couldn't she remember certain things about her own past? "I feel like a guardian angel with amnesia," she mumbled.

  Christopher chuckled.

  "This is not a laughing matter, Christopher. In fact, it's all your fault," Mary said sternly.

  "We need to tell her the truth," Christopher argued.

  "The truth about what?" Caitlan managed to get in.

  "Absolutely not," Mary said emphatically. "The mission is nearly over and we can't jeopardize J.T.'s life like that."

  "Like what?"

  "We can always send down another guardian to take over for Caitlan," Christopher suggested.

  Panic had Caitlan blurting out, "No!"

  Deafening silence.

  She definitely had their attention now. She could feel them staring at her, waiting for an explanation. But how could she reveal that she wanted to stay with J.T. as long as possible, for selfish reasons they'd surely disapprove of?

  Pasting on a smile, Caitlan shrugged indifferently. "I mean, I've already come this far in the mission. J.T. believes my reasons for being here, so why start with someone new that he'll have to come to trust? You just said the mission is nearly over."

  "Caitlan is right," Christopher conceded. "From what we have on the schedule, in another day or two the mission should be over. Three days tops."

  "What about her memory?" Mary asked.

  Caitlan frowned. "What about my memory?"

  "For some reason her memory wasn't completely suppressed," Christopher supplied.

  "Will it hold out for another few days?"

  "Possibly. If she takes care with the medallion."

  "I don't like this, Christopher. I warned you how risky it would be to do this… "

  Frustration coiled in Caitlan as she listened to her Superiors argue about her, stretching her nerves taut. "Whatare you talking about?" she grated out.

  Silence.

  She closed her eyes, fighting back the urge to scream. All she wanted were answers, a clue as to why her soul seemed entwined with J.T.'s past. So far her Superiors hadn't helped her solve anything. In fact, they were arguing about her memory, and keeping J.T. safe. Maybe, if she opted for the truth, if she told them she'd fallen in love with J.T., they'd listen to her and give her the answers she sought. Maybe they'd tell her what was going on.

  Dismissing the sudden prickles of awareness radiating from behind her, she clutched her medallion for courage. "There's something I need to tell you."

  "Go ahead," Mary said.

  The words jammed in her throat. Heaven help her, she couldn't do it! I'm in love with, J.T. Just say it, Caitlan, and get it over with! "I'm in lo-"

  "Who the hell are you talking to, Caitlan?"

  Chapter Eleven

  Caitlan started at the sound of J.T.'s deep voice, the declaration she'd been about to announce caught in her throat. Whipping her head around, she glanced over her shoulder, meeting his dark gaze, smoldering with annoyance. And anger. The gold in his green eyes sparked like fire, and his mouth compressed into a harsh line. From her vantage point, he looked tall and lean and intimidating. She shivered.

  Letting go of the medallion and severing her connection with her Superiors, she willed her heart to stop galloping. She hadn't heard J.T. approach. She was losing her edge, that finely honed instinct that usually kept her so alert. All because she'd fallen in love with him and couldn't keep her emotions under control.

  Slowly, she came to her feet, tucking a tousled strand of hair behind her ear. "How long have you been standing there?" she demanded.

  He shifted on his feet, his powerful body seemingly rippling with the movement. "Long enough to hear you babbling to yourself."

  She knew he couldn't hear her Superiors, but how much of her side of the conversation had he eavesdropped on? And she'd been about to make the ultimate of confessions! Opting for the offensive, she thrust up her chin and gave him what she hoped would pass for a haughty look. "Aren't I allowed some privacy around here?"

  He pinned her with a shrewd look. "Sure, as long as its near the main house. With all the strange things that have happened around the ranch, you of all people should know better than to run off on your own." His voice held a heavy dose of censure.

  "I wanted some time alone to think. Out loud." Anxious to change the subject, she brushed past him, heading back toward the house. "What did you want, J.T.?"

  He grabbed her arm before she could pass, bringing her up short. "An explanation."

  So did she, for so many things, but it looked as though her answers would have to wait until tonight, when she'd have some privacy in which to contact her Superiors again.

  The heat of J.T.'s fingers filtered through her sweatshirt, wreaking havoc on her senses and flowing through her blood like a narcotic. The clean, masculine scent of him drifted on the breeze, curling around her. His touch aroused her in a primitive, shameless way. When she looked into his gaze she saw an answering hunger there, a need to take possession and never let go. Had making love bonded them more spiritually than before?

  She tugged on her arm and he let it go. The sensations receded and she took a safe step back. "An explanation for what?" If she could only clear the husky need from her voice, she'd be fine.

  He looked disoriented for a moment; then the smoky desire faded from his eyes. He straightened, a determined cast to his features. "To this."

  Horror ripped through her when he li
fted her sketch pad for her to see. Head spinning, the wildflowers around them became a blur of colors as she focused on the one object that betrayed her most private thoughts and visions. She'd been so caught up in everything else, she hadn't noticed the sketch pad in his hand.

  She recovered from her shock. Barely. "You went through my things?" she choked, shaking off the panic creeping up on her. "You had no right!" She tried to grab the sketch pad, but he jerked it out of her reach.

  A ruthless light came into his eyes, made more chilling by the outright anger in his voice. "You came to my ranch with nothing more than the clothes on your back. This is my pad of paper and you're living under my roof for the time being. Considering the strange things that have happened since your arrival, I had every right to see what you've been drawing." He flipped the pad open to the sketch of him as a youth. "Somehow, I hadn't expected this. I'd like an explanation, Caitlan. Now."

  Caitlan trembled from the inside out, and it had nothing to do with the sudden disappearance of the sun behind a cloud. She wrapped her arms around her waist in an effort to ward off the tremors invading her body. How could she tell him she didn't know what possessed her to draw those pictures, that the images had been so clear in her mind that she'd reproduced them without any real effort. "I… I was just drawing how I thought you'd look as a young boy." The excuse sounded lame even to her own ears.

  His eyes narrowed, skepticism mingling with blatant disbelief. "And you hit it right on the bull's-eye. It's impossible you could be this accurate when you didn't know me at that age." He thumbed to another page, his expression grim. "And how in the hell do you know what Amanda looked like?"

  I have visions of her. Oh, God, what explanation could she give him that wouldn't make her sound like a psychiatric patient? She grasped the first logical answer that came to mind. "I saw pictures."

  "Where?"

  "In your office. The bottom shelf in your bookcase."

  He thought for a second, then fury blazed in his eyes. "So, you went snooping through my personal things?"