Kiss of an Angel

by Janelle Denison

  J.T. scrubbed a hand over his jaw, absorbing everything she’d told him. He, too, had experienced that powerful link to her, the awesome need to make her his in every elemental way possible. He could no longer chalk it up to lust. The connection had gone beyond sex, to the very core of him.

  “So,” he said on an exhalation of breath. “You really aren’t a guest at Parson’s, are you?”

  “Yes ... I mean no,” she amended, shaking her head.

  “Which is it?” he asked, irritation creeping back in.

  “It’s all part of the mission.”

  “How convenient.” His dry tone held a heavy dose of sarcasm.

  Caitlan twisted toward him, anger flaring in her eyes. “You were going to die out in the middle of nowhere? You should be grateful that I was able to reach you in time.”

  He could have died. Someone had meant for him to die. And Caitlan had undoubtedly saved him. Springing from the bed, he paced to the other end of the room, a deluge of questions overwhelming him, “How did you really get me to the line shack?”

  As if remembering the outrageous tale she’d told him of dragging him to the shack, she lowered her eyes to her lap. “My Superiors helped.”

  A derisive smile quirked his mouth. “Heavenly intervention?”

  “Yes.” She shrugged, her hand absently smoothing over the quilt, tracing the intricate pattern his mother had created over three decades before. “Once we got you to the shack, Chris mended your head wound and I worked to get your fever under control.” She looked back up, her gaze intense on his face. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it.”

  J.T. rubbed at the tense muscles across his shoulders. “I don’t understand. Why all the trouble to save me?”

  “It wasn’t your time to pass on to the next plateau.” Standing, she padded soundlessly across the floor to him, her brow creased in concern.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  He stared down at Caitlan, drowning in those incredible violet eyes. He breathed deeply, dragging the warm, feminine scent of her into his lungs. God, he wanted her. Again. Regardless of the turmoil between them. That familiar tug pulled on his soul. He stubbornly blocked the feeling. “Come on, Caitlan. You have to admit, this whole scenario is a little bizarre. Even if I did believe in guardian angels, I think you’re stretching the story a bit by claiming to be Amanda.”

  Her lips pursed. “I am Amanda.”

  “Okay,” he relented, crossing his arms over his chest. “Tell me about Amanda.”

  Holding his gaze steadily, she proceeded to tell him about the pictures she’d sketched on her mission, and how they matched exactly the drawings he kept in the cigar box in the office, the ones Amanda had drawn of him when she was alive.

  A shiver snaked down J.T.’s spine when he realized how close he’d been to discovering that particular truth when Kirk had interrupted him with his call for help. Then again, he rationalized, Caitlan could have reproduced the drawings as she’d originally claimed when he’d confronted her out in the meadow with the pictures she’d created in her sketch pad.

  He couldn’t shake his doubts, maybe because it was the only anchor he had left to reality. “Not good enough. Tell me something no one else but Amanda and I would know.”

  She looked thoughtful for a moment, as if sifting through memories. Then she smiled widely, a dimple appearing in her cheek. “The pie,” she said.

  “The pie?” he echoed, frowning.

  She grasped his hand, her eyes sparkling brightly. “Johnny, don’t you remember? We were just kids. Your mother made three apple pies and set them on the kitchen counter to cool. We stole one of them, along with a half gallon of ice cream. and—”

  “Ate all of it down by the creek,” he finished, stunned by the recollection of the ancient memory.

  She laughed, the sound sweet and pure to his ears. “We got so sick! We were both afraid of getting in trouble, so we buried the pie tin and the empty ice cream carton ...” Suddenly she grew serious, the humor fading from her eyes. “I remember everything. I remember the day you rescued me from drowning in the creek, the first time you kissed me, the night of my eighteenth birthday.” She reached up and placed her palm on his cheek, her voice softening perceptively. “We made love for the first time and you asked me to marry you. It’s all I ever wanted in this lifetime, to be your wife and have your babies.”

  As if he’d just been delivered a punch to the solar plexus, J.T. lost his breath. He stared at Caitlan, seeing her in a different light. He saw Amanda in her soft smile, her violet eyes, and knew without further interrogation that Caitlan was telling the truth.

  A maelstrom of emotions welled in him. Afraid to believe in something he’d fantasized about numerous times, he backed away from her. He had to get away, to think and sort everything out.

  Spinning around, he strode to the end of the bed and jammed on his boots.

  “Where are you going?” Her voice wavered with concern.

  “Out.” He didn’t look at her, knowing if he did he’d never make it out the bedroom door. “I need time to think.”

  Caitlan watched J.T. leave, her heart sinking to the floor. She understood his need to be alone—he’d been dealt quite a shock—but she hated the loneliness that enveloped her on his departure. That same emptiness echoed in her heart.

  “Oh, Johnny,” she sighed dismally. The nickname came so naturally to her, she couldn’t imagine having called him anything else. “What are we going to do?” But she knew the answer to her question. Regardless of who she was, and despite her love for J.T., she had a mission to complete. She ached with the knowledge that she would have to leave him. Again.

  She slipped her medallion back on. Now that her memory had been restored, the pendant no longer shimmered with that strange energy. The vibrant life it had possessed had transferred itself to her, leaving the medallion as a device solely for use in contacting her Superiors.

  Running a shaking hand through her disheveled hair, she left J.T.’s room, needing the comfort she knew King could offer her. She changed into warm clothes and a jacket and left the house heading for the corral, praying her Superiors would have a cure for her lovesick heart once she arrived back in heaven.

  * * *

  An hour later, calmer now from his fast-paced walk to burn off the chaos raging inside him, J.T. followed the pasture fence back to the barn. The night air chilled his skin, and he shrugged deeper into the warmth of his jacket.

  Rounding the final curve from the pasture to the corral, he saw Caitlan with King and stopped, silently watching the two of them from a distance. Moonlight spilled over them, giving them both an ethereal appearance. Caitlan slowly stroked a curry comb over King’s gleaming coat, her soft murmurs soothing the stallion. He found himself fascinated with the gentle way King responded to Caitlan. Now that he knew she was an angel, he understood the uncanny bond she shared with the horse.

  Amanda. Caitlan. One and the same. His instincts wanted to deny her claim, but she’d given him too much proof not to believe her. The whole situation boggled his mind. He’d fallen in love with Caitlan, and never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined he’d actually fallen in love with Amanda ... again.

  Although he’d resolved that Caitlan was Amanda’s spirit in different packaging, he couldn’t help but think of her as Caitlan, the woman he’d fallen in love with. This feeling of love he harbored for Caitlan was different from the one he’d shared with Amanda. Stronger somehow, full of rich passion. An adult love. Mature and lush with promise. Powerful and everlasting, like the love for Amanda would have grown to be had she lived.

  He no longer cared who she was, only that she made him feel truly alive after being dead inside for so long. He’d been given a second chance, and he wasn’t about to give her up.

  Quietly unlatching the corral gate, he stepped inside. Caitlan glanced over her shoulder, acknowledging his presence, then resumed grooming King.

  Slowly, he approached the pair s
o as not to frighten the stallion. The smell of damp, burnt wood still hung in the air, and he was suddenly struck with a question he should have asked Caitlan earlier, but had been too swamped by other feelings to think past the fact that Caitlan was Amanda.

  Three feet away, he stopped. King eyeballed him warily but stood still for Caitlan’s praise and loving ministrations. “Do you know who’s behind all the incidents at the ranch?” He asked in a quiet tone.

  She hesitated so long, J.T. didn’t think she planned to answer him. Finally, she said, “Yes.”

  “Who?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Why not? You’ve told me everything else.” His voice rose with a touch of irritation, and King shied away.

  Caitlan consoled the horse, then glanced over her shoulder at him. Even in the darkness he could see the reluctance in her gaze. “It’s Randal.”

  “Randal? That’s ridic—” He stopped abruptly, unable to deny that his cousin had been acting strange lately. Combine Randal’s surly attitude and financial obligations with his drinking habit and you’d get a man on the verge of sliding off the edge. But to go as far as to commit murder ...? “Randal wouldn’t gain anything by killing me.”

  “I don’t believe he’s after material possessions,” she stated. “Please don’t ask me anything else, Johnny. I’ve already risked fate to tell you this much. Just let me do my job and protect you.” Her voice was a shade away from a plea.

  Anger passed through J.T. How could he have been so blind to his cousin? Maybe because he didn’t want to admit Randal, his own kin, could be so devious. “I’ll get Randal help.”

  “No one can help Randal but himself. He doesn’t want to change. That’s why I’m here.”

  J.T. didn’t argue, though he wanted to. He didn’t excuse Randal’s behavior the past couple of weeks, but Randal was family, and he’d do whatever was necessary to put him back on the straight and narrow—starting with checking him into a rehab center for his drinking. Tomorrow, he decided, he’d approach Randal and tell him he’s suspended with pay if he agrees to get help.

  Satisfied with his plan, he pushed it out of his mind for the time being. All he wanted right now was Caitlan, except she was giving her total attention to King, stroking him and praising him. He was actually jealous of a horse.

  “Can I touch him?” he asked, wanting to be a part of the bond between Caitlan and the stallion.

  Caitlan framed the side of King’s head gently in her hands, her thumbs caressing his muzzle, and looked into his eyes in silent communication. She glanced back at J.T., moonlight brushing her features in pale silver. “You’re not a threat to him. I can see it in his eyes. Move slowly and he might let you.” Grasping his halter lightly, she moved to make room for J.T.

  J.T. approached King cautiously, and the horse whinnied and shied away. Caitlan reassured the stallion with soft words and a gentle caress, until J.T. stood close enough to touch him. He raised his hand and King sidestepped anxiously. Remembering Caitlan telling him King had been abused, he suspected Randal was the culprit.

  After a few minutes of sweet-talking the horse J.T. finally touched King, his fingers stroking down the strong muscles in the stallion’s neck. That was all King allowed before he jerked away, neighing uneasily. Caitlan let go of King and he galloped to the far end of the corral, tossing his sleek black head, watching J.T.

  “That was incredible,” J.T. said, a sense of awe filling him. “I can’t believe he let me get that close.”

  “It’s a start. He’s been through a lot lately.” She placed the curry comb on the fence post, a smile of satisfaction gracing her mouth. “Take care with him, Johnny. He’s a beautiful horse.”

  J.T. nodded. Holding Caitlan’s gaze, an awareness swirled in the cold night air between them. Heart pounding in his chest, he slowly approached her, suddenly needing to reaffirm that she was truly alive, and not some wispy figment of his imagination.

  Sliding his cool fingers into her silky hair, he absorbed her warmth and softness, gradually moving closer until his thighs pressed against hers. Staring into the face of the woman he loved, something magical and promising sparkled between them. Love—pure, sweet, and crystal clear.

  With a groan of joy, he folded her into his arms, reveling in the accepting way she came to him. She worked the zipper on his coat down and slipped her hands inside, snuggling into him. Her cheek rested on his chest, and her arms circled him in the sweetest way.

  Closing his eyes, he buried his face in her hair, saturating his senses in the unique, feminine scent of her. “Oh, God, Caitlan ... I mean, Amanda ...” He swore, his eyes snapping open in annoyance. “What in the hell am I supposed to call you?”

  Against his chest he felt her lips lift in a smile, “For now, call me Caitlan.”

  Caitlan ... but her spirit belonged to Amanda. Would he ever get used to such a novelty? “I’ve missed you so much,” he breathed against her temple.

  She looked up at him, her eyes shining with adoration. “I know. I’ve felt your love all along.”

  His hands slid down her back to her hips. “How?”

  “Our souls are matched eternally.”

  He liked the sound of that. He’d gladly be bound to her forever. “What happens now?”

  She knew what he was asking. Sorrow clouded het eyes, and her smile faded away. Withdrawing from him, she stepped away and focused on King, prancing at the opposite end of the corral. “Nothing has changed,” she said quietly, pain in her tone. “Once my mission is over I’ll be leaving.

  His body went as taut as a bow. “No.”

  Her gaze found his again. “Johnny, it’s all so complicated. I ... can’t stay.” Her voice was thick with the unshed tears pooling in her eyes.

  “I’m not letting you go.” He heard the desperation in his voice but didn’t care. “It’ll kill me to lose you again.”

  “No, it won’t.” Caitlan’s heart ached for him, for everything that could never be. “The memory of me being here will fade with time.”

  Disbelief flared in his eyes. “You’re a part of me, Caitlan.” Grabbing her hand, he pressed her palm over his heart. “Can you feel that? How could I ever forget you?”

  The heavy beat beneath her hand reverberated through her, flowing to her soul in a river of longing. “Oh, Johnny ...” A sob of despair caught in her throat.

  “I won’t let you go twice. Not without a fight.”

  “You have no choice,” she argued.

  “I do.” His hand curled around the back of her head and pulled her to him, his mouth covering hers before she realized his intent.

  Caitlan gasped at the surprise attack, and he took advantage of her parted lips to sink his tongue inside her mouth. She moaned ... in pleasure, and at the pain that would haunt her once she left him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she clung to him, matching the silken glide of his tongue, stroke for intimate stroke.

  Breathless, they broke apart. J.T. buried his face in her neck, his lips brushing her flesh, his teeth grazing her soft skin up to her ear. Caitlan shivered and hugged him closer.

  “Come back to bed with me.” J.T.’s voice was rough and dark with passion.

  Selfishly wanting the time she had left with him to be special, she took his hand, silently leading him back to the house and up the stairs to his bedroom. In the dark hours of night and into the early hours of morning, they made love, their hunger for one another insatiable. Soft moans and whispered words blended with the sensual sliding of damp bodies and warm tangled sheets. Caitlan’s love fused with J.T.’s, making the link between them stronger, more intense, more binding. She stored up every feeling, every scent and sensation for when she returned to heaven.

  And if she had to suffer consequences for her transgression once she left earth and her only love, she’d gladly pay the price.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Caitlan gradually woke the next morning, a smile pulling at her lips. Recollections of the way J.T. had found the birthma
rk in the back of her knee during a very thorough exploration of her body brought a flush to her skin. Stretching languorously, she reached toward J.T.’s side of the bed and met cool, empty sheets. Blinking her eyes open, she leaned up on her elbow and pushed the tousled hair from her face.

  J.T. was gone. Sunlight streamed through the window, indicating the start of a new day. The digital clock on the nightstand glowed eight fifteen.

  “Eight fifteen!” she said, alarm threading through her voice. Throwing back the covers, she scrambled out of bed, unable to believe she’d slept so late, and so soundly she hadn’t heard J.T. leave her. She was becoming lax in her duties.

  Berating herself for letting her heart rule her head, she slipped on the medallion J.T. had insisted she remove while they made love. Pulling on the shirt he’d given her the night before, she left his room and went to the guest room to change.

  After everything that had happened last night, and her confession that Randal was the person responsible for the incidents, Caitlan didn’t want J.T. going anywhere without her. Randal was a bomb waiting to detonate, and nothing J.T. could say or do would change that, except maybe make Randal explode sooner. She knew that for certain, had seen the banked rage in Randal’s eyes numerous times. He was on the brink.

  An uneasy feeling settled within her, a sudden, dark intuition that made Caitlan anxious. Throwing on her sweatshirt, she left the medallion on the outside, where it would be easily accessible, then pulled on her jeans and boots and raced to the kitchen. Her panic increased when she didn’t find J.T. there.

  “Good morning,” Paula greeted her cheerfully over her shoulder. Putting aside the vegetable she was peeling, she turned around, wiping her hands on her apron. “How about breakfast? I’ve got some leftover pancake batter and sausage.”