Kiss of an Angel

by Janelle Denison

  A helpless sound escaped her raw throat. The structure seemed to close in on her, snatching the breath from her lungs. Head spinning and stomach rolling, she groped for the medallion beneath her sweatshirt.

  Heaven help her, she’d lost all sense of direction.

  * * *

  Bringing his truck to a skidding halt in front of the house, J.T. jumped out of the driver’s side before the dust and gravel had a chance to settle. His feet hit the ground running, too anxious to wait for Kirk, who’d pulled up in his truck behind J.T.’s.

  When Laura had called him, sobbing, and told him the barn was on fire and Caitlan was in it trying to save the animals, his heart had stopped beating. All he could remember thinking was that if he lost Caitlan in that fire he’d never be the same again.

  Laura’s plea of, “Hurry, Dad, I’m scared” propelled him to hang up the phone and yell the message to Kirk before bolting out of the house to his truck. The drive had taken him less than three minutes.

  Now, adrenaline and gut-wrenching fear for Caitlan’s life ruled him. Shoving aside his worry, he ran to the barn, his gaze scanning the area for Caitlan. His men were just arriving on the scene.

  Frank shouted orders as he opened the storage shed off to the side, flipped on a flood light to illuminate the area, and began tossing out buckets for the troughs, extinguishers, and water hoses.

  Oh, God, where was Caitlan? Stark terror twisted in his heart as he neared the barn. Smoke spewed out the doors, the windows, and even slithered through minuscule cracks in the structure. The sinister sound of flames enveloping wood, and anything else in their path, breached the night. More adrenaline surged through his body at the thought of Caitlan being trapped in there.

  “Dad!”

  J.T. whipped around. Laura stood away from the activity, all alone, her arms wrapped around her stomach. The floodlight shone off her tear-streaked face. Relief poured over him at seeing her unharmed, only to be replaced by dread. “Where’s Caitlan?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

  A sob broke from Laura. “She’s still in the barn!”

  J.T. swore profanely, hating the fear that made his blood run cold. He despised even more the horrifying memories of another woman’s tragic death. And that he’d been helpless to save her.

  Not this time, he vowed, racing toward the barn. He wouldn’t lose Caitlan. Not without a fight. Not after she’d insinuated herself in his life and made him fall in love with her. Especially not after she’d made him feel and need and care so deeply again.

  Thinking only of Caitlan, he pushed aside his men and entered the barn first. The darkness of night, mingled with the hazy smoke, momentarily blinded him. He swallowed to ease the rasp in his throat, unsure if the bitter taste in his mouth was fear or smoke.

  “Caitlan?” he bellowed, charging into the thick of it.

  He heard her cough weakly, and King’s sharp cry of alarm, just yards away from him. Breathing shallowly, he moved forward and nearly ran into her. He found her clutching that damnable medallion of hers like a lifeline in one hand and the rope secured to King in the other.

  She looked up at him, gratitude touching her features. “J.T.,” she rasped, then coughed.

  Torn between throttling her and hugging her, he took the rope from her fingers and grabbed her arm, navigating her and King around his men rushing to put out the blaze.

  Once outside, J.T. didn’t give King a chance to put up a fight or turn wild on him. Keeping up a steady, fast-paced stride, with Caitlan jogging to keep up, he dragged the skittish stallion to an empty corral. Letting go of Caitlan long enough to unlatch the gate, he removed the towel from King’s head, then led the horse inside and set him free.

  Then he turned toward Caitlan.

  Now that the crises was over his blood ran hot in his veins and his pulse beat erratically. Knowing Frank and his men could handle things without his assistance, J.T. focused on the more important matters pressing in on him.

  Needing to affirm that Caitlan was truly alive and unharmed, he dropped the towel and took her face in his hands. He cupped her warm, smooth flesh, his thumbs caressing her cheeks, her nose, her lips. Reassured by her presence, giant shudders of relief rippled through his body.

  Her thighs pressed against his and her fingers curled desperately into his shirt. She drew in a deep, cleansing breath, then her lashes fluttered closed and her lips parted on a sigh.

  “J.T.,” she whispered, leaning into him, lifting her mouth to his.

  Sensing the same urgent need in Caitlan that flowed through his own body after such a harrowing experience, he crushed his mouth to hers without coaxing preliminaries or gentleness. No, this kiss was meant to possess and brand her as his own.

  God, he could have lost her, he thought desperately, wrapping his arms around her back and hauling her body flush to his. He could have been thrust back into the same kind of nightmare that had shattered his life sixteen years ago. If he lost Caitlan, he’d die inside. She’d become a part of his heart and soul and he couldn’t imagine living without her. He refused to think of living the same lonely, desolate existence he had before she’d arrived on the Circle R.

  With a groan of surrender, he opened his mouth wider over hers, kissing her deeply, thoroughly. Her mouth was warm and sweet and generous. The gates imprisoning his emotions broke, and he poured every worry, every need, every feeling he had for her into the hungry kiss. She tasted like smoke and woman, like life itself. He saturated his senses in her, took greedily and gave openly.

  When he finally lifted his mouth from hers they were both breathing hard. Shimmering moonlight enabled him to see the exhaustion painting her features and the desire brightening her eyes. As he looked at her, drinking in her disheveled appearance and dirt-smudged face, an incredible protective feeling drenched his heart. This time he accepted the emotion willingly, treasured and cherished it like a rare jewel.

  Sweeping a hand down her spine, he molded her to him. He held her so close they were practically one, so intimately he was certain she felt the hard, aroused length of him straining the confines of his jeans.

  “Don’t ever do anything so foolish as that again!” he said fiercely, burying his face in her neck, skimming his lips along her soft, warm flesh. He couldn’t get enough of her. Touching her, tasting her, confirmed that she wasn’t just an illusion.

  She pulled back so she could look into his eyes. “I had to save King.” Her resolute tone clearly stated that she would have risked her life for the horse again if faced with the need.

  Her goodness and loyalty should have surprised him but didn’t. Not anymore. “You could have been killed trying to save him.” His arms tightened around her. “Don’t you understand? I could have lost you!” I love you! his heart shouted, but the actual words snagged in his throat.

  She smiled and touched her warm fingertips to his jaw. “I’m fine, really.”

  An abrupt laugh escaped him, releasing the last of the tension coiling his body. He shook his head, unable to believe how unflappable she was about the incident. “Only you would shrug this off as an everyday event. Until I find out what happened in the barn I don’t want you around here. Take Laura and go on up to the house.”

  Her gaze flickered to the stallion in the corral. “But King—”

  “I don’t want you near him right now, Caitlan. He doesn’t look in the mood for company.” She opened her mouth, but he covered it with his hand. “If you don’t stop putting yourself in danger with that horse, you’re going to make me crazy,” he growled. “And if you don’t stop arguing with me, I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and haul you up to the house myself.” His voice lowered huskily. “And I won’t be responsible for what happens after that.”

  His sexy threat registered in her eyes.

  “What’s your decision, Caitie?”

  She hesitated a moment, something warm and inviting glistening in her eyes, then she backed away. “I’m going.” She gave him one last, lingering glance tha
t filled him with warmth. “Be careful,” she said softly, then turned and headed toward Laura.

  J.T. stood there, watching Caitlan take Laura under her arm and comfort the girl as they walked up to the house. Once they were inside J.T. strode into the barn. The fire had been extinguished. Now his men were busy sopping up water and piling the debris. The pungent scent of burnt wood and wet ash surrounded him.

  Glancing around the immediate area, he found no fire damage. He moved with purpose down the row of stalls toward the back of the barn and froze when he saw King’s burnt and blackened stall, and the stall directly next to his, the only area seemingly devastated by the fire. The beams overhead had collapsed into the stalls and would have crushed King if Caitlan hadn’t saved him. Hell, those beams could have been her coffin!

  Impotent anger tangled with new emotions swirling inside him. Who was behind this latest incident? he wondered.

  Frank walked into the barn from the south end, followed by Jack, a lanky hand of twenty-two. “Once we get this mess cleaned up let’s start moving the animals back into their stalls,” Frank ordered.

  “What should we do about the stallion?” Jack asked.

  Frank picked up a water hose and began coiling it. “Hitch one of the other mares at the far end of the barn and give him his own stall for the night so he doesn’t hurt anyone.”

  “Who’s gonna bring him in?” Jack asked, hands placed defiantly on his hips. “Andy’s the only one crazy enough to drag King into the barn, and he isn’t here. You can’t pay me to get within five feet of the beast.”

  “Then leave King in the corral for the night,” J.T. ordered. “Andy can bring him in the morning.”

  Both men glanced his way. Jack’s expression turned sheepish and his hands dropped back to his sides.

  “Here, Jack.” Frank passed the other man the water hose. “Take this back to the shed.”

  Jack took his cue and left.

  “How’s Caitlan?” Frank asked, his tone softening.

  “Fine. I sent her up to the house with Laura. I think I’m more shaken by what happened than she is.” J.T. rubbed at the tense muscles in his neck, still baffled at how calm Caitlan had been. No tears over the ordeal, no hysterics, just a hot, needy kiss that reached to his soul and beyond.

  Glancing back at King’s incinerated stall, a fresh batch of fury coursed through him. “What, exactly, happened here?”

  Grabbing a rag from his back pocket, Frank wiped his dirty hands. “Seems like a fire started in the empty stall next to King’s. All the animals are fine and the damage minimal, thanks to Caitlan’s foresight.”

  A prickle of awareness skittered over J.T.’s skin. “Foresight? What do you mean?”

  Bewilderment creased Frank’s bushy brow. “It’s the damnedest thing. From what Laura says, Caitlan ran out of the house earlier like something was wrong. She got to the barn just as the fire started and began releasing the horses from their stalls.”

  J.T. dragged a hand down his face, somehow not surprised that Caitlan had sensed the fire. Strange. Strange like her drawings. Strange like her medallion. Strange like the link that made her seem so much a part of him, even when she wasn’t around. Who could explain any of that?

  Kicking that nonsense out of his head, he rerouted his thoughts back to business. “What do you think about the fire? Was it set deliberately?” Did he even need to ask?

  “Most likely.” The tone of Frank’s voice bordered on resignation as he concentrated on rubbing soot off his palm. “There was nothing in either stall that could have started the fire.”

  J.T.’s jaw hardened as his first two prime suspects entered his mind without any prompting. “Where were Randal and Mike?”

  Frank shook his head, already ahead of the game. “I checked them out first thing. Mike had a solid alibi and Randal said he was watching TV in his cabin when he heard the hands yelling for help. Both men helped to put out the fire.”

  Uneasiness crept over J.T. “I want the fire marshal out here tomorrow to conduct an investigation.” And maybe he’d mention the strange occurrences that had happened over the past week, just to get them recorded for future reference.

  Frank nodded. “Will do.”

  Nearly an hour later, after the animals had been secured in the undamaged section of the barn, J.T. slipped into the quiet, dark house. The guest bathroom shower was running, and J.T. assumed Caitlan was in there, scrubbing the smoke and soot from her body. He found Laura fast asleep in her bed. Placing a loving kiss on her cheek, he smoothed the covers, then left her room and headed back down the hall.

  J.T. restlessly paced the guest room while waiting for Caitlan. He tried not to imagine her in the shower, the warm water and slick soap sluicing over her silken skin, and failed. He wanted her too badly not to respond to the merest thought of her.

  She was well and truly in his blood, a growing fever that made him burn from the inside out. He thought of having a wife, a mother for Laura, and how he wanted all that with Caitlan, a woman who would risk her life to save a horse. A woman who gave him so much without realizing it. Love. Laughter. Anger. Passion.

  He didn’t know how he’d been fortunate enough to have found her—or the other way around, as the case might be—but he was willing to fight for her, to prove that she belonged here on the Circle R with him and Laura.

  Before he could talk himself out of joining her in the shower, he began stripping off his clothes. With every article hastily shed, his body grew achingly hard for her, his heart opening to receive her in the purest sense. Seconds later he stepped into the steamy bathroom and smiled when he saw her misty outline through the frosted glass shower stall door.

  The time had come for him and Caitlan to settle a few things.

  Chapter Twelve

  Caitlan sensed J.T. before she actually heard or saw him. Eyes closed, the hot shower spray rinsed away the last of the soap from her body and hair and pounded the tense muscles across her back. An incredible awareness swelled within her, as if J.T. had reached out and physically caressed her. The shower stall door opened on a soft click and she shivered, not from the cool air rushing in but from the sensual anticipation racing along her spine.

  Her lashes fluttered open and she looked at J.T., standing just outside the shower. He was naked and aroused, all sleek strength and firm, hard muscle. Liquid heat fluttered in her belly when his dark gaze slowly, reverently, glided the length of her body, and then back up again. Desire had clouded his eyes by the time he’d finished his visual exploration.

  Touched by live flame, she fought the urge to cover herself. She knew what he wanted, knew she should tell him to leave, but her need and love for him eclipsed any semblance of reason or modesty she might have had.

  He stepped inside the one-person stall and shut the door. Water droplets bounced off her and clung to his skin. He stood so close she had to tilt her head to meet his gaze. So close, his erection brushed her belly like a velvet caress and the tips of her breasts grazed the sprinkling of hair on his chest. Her nipples puckered into exquisitely tight buds, and she resisted the impulse to move even closer and rub against him.

  The intense need blazing in his eyes kicked her heart into a heavy beat, reminding her of the desperate way he’d kissed her and held her after pulling her from the barn, as if he never wanted to let her go. Indeed, she hadn’t wanted him to release her. At the time she’d rationalized his reaction as an outpouring of adrenaline and fear, but now she sensed his longing ran much, much deeper.

  Tentatively, she reached up and touched a streak of soot on his cheek, wiping it away with her wet fingers. He’d put himself in danger by rescuing her from the fire, when it was her job to protect him. A tender ache wove through her.

  “You could have died for me,” she whispered thickly, her fingers playing over his stubbled jaw.

  Catching her wrist, he dragged her hand to his mouth. He placed a kiss in her palm, then nipped at the flesh just below her thumb. “I would have, if it meant savi
ng you.” His voice vibrated with emotion.

  The love in his gaze was unmistakable, echoing her own feelings for him. In that moment she knew she’d take whatever he would give her. Tonight she didn’t want to think ... she wanted to feel everything J.T. had to offer.

  Curling her hand around the back of his head, she pulled his mouth to hers and kissed him without restraint. Water sluiced over them and she pressed her body to his, sliding her slick, naked breasts against his chest.

  He growled deep in his throat. Wrapping his arms around her back, he pulled her closer, returning the deep, tongue-tangling kiss with fervor.

  And then it wasn’t enough for Caitlan. She trembled. She ached. She burned for his touch. Her medallion tingled hot against her skin, but she ignored the radiant sensation for the excitement surging the length of her body.

  His lips left hers and trailed down the side of her throat to her collarbone, his tongue lapping the water from her skin. When the wet heat of his mouth closed over a turgid nipple, suckling her deeply, her need mounted. He paid homage to both breasts, then nipped his way lower, exploring with mouth and tongue and the light graze of his teeth every sensitive hollow and curve. By the time he found his way back up, he was as soaked as she. He wiped the water from his face, his gaze so passionately intense she shivered.

  “J.T., please,” she whimpered, plowing her fingers through his wet hair. She strained into him, yearning for the ultimate union with him, the wonderful ecstasy of being a complete part of him.

  “Not here,” he rasped, then groaned when she curled a leg around his hip, trapping his thick arousal between their bodies. “Oh, God, Caitlan. I want you in my bed.”

  Caitlan didn’t think she could wait that long.