The moment she opened the door, he could see she wasn’t. There were tear stains on her cheeks, and her eyes were red. He was proud of himself for seeing both of these things before noticing how sweet and sexy she looked in her silk nightgown.
You are the soul of decency and decorum, West.
She kept her face averted, as if to hide her distress from him. “I’m fine. I’m just having a bit of a rough night.”
“You’re having nightmares again, aren’t you?” He’d worried that tonight’s shooting would trigger her again.
She nodded, her chin quivering. “Every time I close my eyes ... ”
“It was selfish of me to ask you to stay here with all of this going on. I should have taken you back to Denver today when the highway reopened.”
She pressed her fingertips to his lips to silence him. “Please don’t say that. I’ve had a great time.”
“Give me a few minutes to get washed up, and I’ll make you my special remedy for sleepless nights.”
“I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”
He reached out, ran his knuckles over her cheek. “Just say, ‘Thank you.’”
“Thank you.” She smiled.
He hit the shower, brushed his teeth, then dressed in a T-shirt and pair of sweatpants and walked to the kitchen, where he found Janet reading yesterday’s paper, a silk robe covering her nightgown, her feet bare.
She looked up. “How did it go tonight?”
While he heated milk in a saucepan on the stove, he brought her up to date. “Luke identified Kip from a photo lineup. Taylor says they’re going to bring Kip in tomorrow morning. As soon as they get a warrant, they’ll search his place for firearms. I wouldn’t have thought him capable of this, but I guess you never know.”
“Why did you fire him?”
“He had a drinking problem. He never got violent, but he did have a hard time presenting himself for work in the morning. We gave him a few warnings. I even gave him time off to go to alcohol treatment. But a few weeks ago, he missed his shift again. I had to draw the line somewhere.”
“Was he resentful about being fired?”
“Not that I could tell. But enough already. I don’t want you worrying about any of this.” Jack took the mug from the microwave, sprinkled a bit of nutmeg into the milk. “Now we’re ready for the secret ingredient.”
“Is that secret ingredient some form of booze?” Her lips curved into a smile.
“Damn it, how did you know? It must be your special agent training.”
She laughed. “Bourbon was the secret ingredient in your chili. Hard cider was the secret ingredient in your stew. Let’s just say I made an educated guess.”
“I feel transparent, exposed.” He got down a bottle of Aberfeldy, poured out a shot, and stirred it into the warm milk. “It’s bedtime. Let’s get back to your room.”
She pointed to the mug, confusion on her pretty face. “Shouldn’t I drink that concoction first?”
He shook his head. “You’re going to be asleep thirty seconds after you drink this, so unless you want to sleep on the floor ... ”
She gave him a look that said she didn’t believe him but grabbed her cane, got to her feet, and started down the hallway.
When they reached her room, she slipped off her bathrobe and sat on the edge of the bed, staring skeptically at the mug in his hand.
He handed her the mug. “Drink it as fast as you can.”
She took a sip, made a face, shuddered. “Oh, God! That’s awful!”
“I didn’t say it would taste good. Drink.”
She took a breath, clearly gathering her resolve, then swallowed the drink in several deep gulps and shuddered. “Oooh, God!”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m right down the hall if you need me. You know which room is mine, right?”
“Yes.” She looked up at him, her gaze slowly losing focus, then lay back on her pillows. “But Jack...”
“Yeah?” He drew the blankets and quilt up over her.
She caught one of his hands with her much smaller one, her eyes drifting shut. “Can’t you stay? Not for sex, though I like the thought of having sex with you. It’s just that I don’t think I’ll ... have bad dreams … if you’re ... with ... me.”
He didn’t think she’d dream regardless, but he didn’t say that. He reached up, brushed a dark strand of hair from her cheek. “Sure. I’ll be right here.”
When he was certain she was asleep, he went to grab a throw blanket off the sofa in his bedroom, then stretched out on the chaise longue beside her bed. It was a chaise not-nearly-long-enough, if you asked him.
He glanced over at Janet, thought about what she’d revealed.
So, she liked the idea of having sex with him, huh? Well, he couldn’t fathom how that could be true, given how much older he was, but as they said, “In vino veritas.” It was a fortunate coincidence, because he liked the idea of having sex with her, too.
On that thought, he closed his eyes.
# # #
Janet stretched and rolled over, feeling wonderfully rested, her mind blank. She opened her eyes, looked around the comfortable little room that had become her home away from home, then glanced at the clock on her nightstand. She sat bolt upright.
How could it possibly be 11:45 already?
She got up, brushed her teeth and her hair, washed her face, then put on her makeup and got dressed, her gaze falling on the chaise longue. It sat up against the bed, a blanket she hadn’t seen before draped across it.
Can’t you stay?
She remembered herself saying those words.
Jack must have slept there.
That couldn’t have been comfortable. He was a tall man, well over six feet. Still, he’d been too much of a gentleman to sleep in her bed when she was drugged on his hideous concoction, so he’d slept in the chair.
The thought warmed her. What a caring, unselfish man he was.
Not that she would object to sharing a bed with him, but she’d prefer to be awake if and when it actually happened.
I like the thought of having sex with you.
Oh, God! Had she really said that?
Fantastic.
Even as she wrestled with her own embarrassment, she knew Jack wouldn’t throw her words in her face or use them to pressure her. He wasn’t that kind of man.
She checked her appearance and saw a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there in a long time. She was happy. She was actually happy again. And it wasn’t a mystery why.
She left her room and walked to the kitchen, where she found a pot of coffee waiting for her along with a handwritten note.
I’m out with the horses. Breakfast is waiting for you in the buffet server. Help yourself. I hope you slept well.
Yours,
Jack
She lifted the lids on the little electric buffet server and found scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage links, and cinnamon French toast. Her mouth watered at the mingled scents. French toast had been a favorite of hers since she’d been a little girl.
She piled her plate embarrassingly high, then went to the table, where she found butter and—yes!—real maple syrup. How anyone ate the other kind, she couldn’t say.
She’d savored the food, allowed herself to eat an extra piece of sausage, and then another, then put her dishes in the dishwasher and started the machine. She’d just poured herself another cup of coffee, when Jack walked in.
He smiled when he saw her, and her heart did a little flip. “Good morning, beautiful. How did you sleep?”
She felt heat in her cheeks. “I slept well, thank you. Thanks for staying with me. Did you get any sleep in that chair?”
“Oh, yeah.” He reached for a coffee cup. “I can sleep pretty much anywhere—a benefit of having served with the Rangers. If I get five hours a night, I’m good.”
She poured the coffee for him. “Is there any news?”
“As a matter of fact, I just heard from Taylor.” He sat at the table. “Po
lice picked up Kip first thing this morning.”
“Thank goodness.” A warm sense of relief rushed through her.
The man was in custody and no longer a threat.
Jack went on. “He denies shooting Chinook or Luke, claims he was home drunk both nights.”
She poured milk into her coffee and stirred. “Can anyone corroborate that?”
Jack shook his head. “They searched his place and found three forty-fives, including a Kimber 1911. I don’t know if it’s the same one that was reported stolen. They’ve sent off all of the weapons for ballistics testing.”
“Was he up there with you the day you confronted the hunters? I thought that happened a few days before the blizzard. You said you fired Kip a few weeks ago.”
“You’re right. He was fired last month, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t there. He knows the property like the back of his hand. He could have followed us, hung back in the trees, and taken the weapon while we were all distracted.”
She supposed that was as good an explanation as any. “I guess we just have to wait for the ballistics tests.”
Jack frowned, got to his feet. “I don’t want you thinking about all of this. When you finish your coffee, we’re heading out to those stables. Today, you’re riding Buckwheat on your own.”
“You’ll help me mount and dismount, right?”
“You bet—if you want me to.”
Thirty minutes later, she found herself walking up the stairs of the mounting block without her cane, Jack holding her right hand. Buckwheat watched her progress through a gentle, dark eye, his stillness a contrast to her nervousness.
Jack handed her the reins. “You can do this.”
She took the reins and the saddle horn in her left hand, her pulse quickening. She looked down, lifted her left leg high, tried to get the tip of her unresponsive left foot into the stirrup once, twice, three times.
Buckwheat craned his neck to watch, but didn’t move.
Janet tried again, resolved to ask Jack for help if she couldn’t do it this time. She bent her knee again, lifted her leg higher, and her left foot slid into the stirrup. When she was certain her foot was where it should be, she straightened her leg and shifted her weight onto it, then lifted her right leg over the saddle.
She let out a relieved breath and found Jack smiling up at her. She couldn’t help but smile back. “Okay, Buckwheat, let’s go for a walk.”
# # #
Jack never got tired of it. He never got tired of watching someone who’d been hurt in some way rediscover a sense of joy riding on the back of a horse. Buckwheat had helped his daughter-in-law recover from a hellish life, and now the gelding was giving Janet back a piece of herself that she’d thought she’d lost.
She walked Buckwheat around the riding barn, then brought him easily to a lope, her face alive with happiness. She rode with the skill of someone who’d been born to it, and although she’d been raised riding in the English fashion, she’d obviously become accustomed to riding Western style somewhere along the way. Buckwheat responded to her lightest touch, horse and rider seeming to move as one.
God, she was a sight. Just watching her made his heart beat faster. Did she have any idea how beautiful she was, or had a life of working in pantsuits and facing down society’s violent assholes left her unaware of her own feminine appeal?
Can’t you stay? Not for sex, though I like the thought of having sex with you.
He’d heard what she’d said last night, but he wasn’t sure that was the direction she wanted to take things. She had yet to kiss him. He’d promised not to cross that line again until she did, and if she wasn’t going to do it…
Hell.
Well, at least he knew she’d thought about it, and it was the thought that counted.
Keep telling yourself that.
She loped the horse again, then brought him to a gallop, giving him his head. Her laughter rang through the confined space, the sound of her joy bringing a smile to his face. She let the gelding run off his restlessness before reining him in and letting him walk it out. She smiled at him as she passed, patting Buckwheat on his neck. “What a sweet big boy you are.”
She circled once more, then reined Buckwheat to a halt beside the mounting block. She reached out, handed Jack the reins. “Last time, I almost fell dismounting.”
He was pretty sure she could do this without his help, but he wasn’t about to deny her. “Just take your time.”
She grasped the saddle horn, looked down at her left foot as if to see whether it was still where she’d put it. Then she lifted her right leg over the saddle, dismounting smoothly. Her gaze met his, surprise in her eyes as if she couldn’t believe she’d done it on her own.
He started to say something encouraging, but then she was in his arms, her mouth on his, her arms locked behind his neck.
He dropped Buckwheat’s reins, wrapped his arms around her, crushed her against him, the need he felt for her, need he’d suppressed, rising fast and wild in his blood. He let her take the lead, answering the flick of her tongue with his, tasting her lips when she tasted his, breathing in when she exhaled. God, she tasted sweet, her body soft and precious in his arms.
Somewhere very nearby, a horse snorted, and he felt something nibbling at his coat. Reluctantly, he ended the kiss and found Buckwheat nipping his pocket to check for carrots. “Hey, knock that off.”
Janet laughed, patted the horse’s neck. “I suppose he wants attention, too.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sure as hell not kissing him.”
She laughed again, her gaze meeting his. “Thank you, Jack.”
“You do realize you kissed me, right? You know what that means.”
She smiled, the seductive glint in her eyes making his heart skip a beat. “I guess you have no choice now but to kiss me back.”
He had no choice. No choice at all.
CHAPTER NINE
Jack wasn’t on vacation like Janet was. With Luke recovering and Nate still in Denver, he had a full afternoon of work cut out for him in the stables. Janet stayed with him as he went from stall to stall, checking on the health of the mares and yearling foals, turning them over to Chuck to exercise in the riding barn, then shoveling manure and dirty straw into a large wheelbarrow while the stalls were empty.
She had a feeling he could have asked one of his men to do this but chose to do it himself. It was part of the way he held their respect. There was probably no job on the ranch he hadn’t done, no job he felt was beneath him. How could any of his men shirk their duties when he worked so hard?
“I don’t know why a woman with as much sense as you wants to stand out here in the cold watching me shovel straw and horseshit,” he said.
But Janet knew that he did understand.
She wanted to be near the horses, near the way of life she’d known as a child, but she also wanted to be near him. It didn’t matter what he was doing. She just wanted to be close to him. In truth, she couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t get enough of his voice, his wit, couldn’t get enough of watching him, of watching the way his body moved.
Of course, what she really wanted was to kiss him again. She was pretty sure he knew that, too. But now wasn’t the best time, and the stables certainly weren’t the place.
She helped as much as she could, distributing clean straw and fresh hay, holding a skittish yearling colt by its halter while Jack dealt with a problem with the stall door latch. They talked about horses, about his service in Vietnam, about her new position.
“It sounds like a promotion.”
“Technically, it is.”
“Are you excited to get started?”
“No. I’m dreading it. I never wanted to work a desk job. I like being outside. I know being on the city streets probably doesn’t sound to you like being out of doors, but it’s a lot better than sitting on your butt in a big glass and concrete box, breathing canned air and staring at a computer all day.”
“I’d have to agree with you th
ere.” He pushed the very full wheelbarrow to the next empty stall. “Have you thought about retiring early?”
“I’ve thought about it. I would lose a fair amount of my pension if I did. Besides, what would I do with myself?”
“You could work for me.”
“Work ... as a ranch hand?” She laughed, genuinely amused by the image of herself in a cowboy hat cutting cattle that popped into her head. “I can’t even walk in the snow without help.”
He glared at her. “You’re a fantastic rider.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you truly offering me a job?”
He stopped shoveling, rested on the hay fork, gave her a lopsided grin. “I would if it would keep you around.”
Something about that felt more romantic to her than a dozen red roses.
“Jack West, you are a charming man.”
“Me?” He shook his head, got back to shoveling. “I think you need to look that word up in the dictionary, angel.”
He stopped once to chat with one of his men, who was driving up to Scarlet Springs to pick up a few things. He handed the man a slip of paper. “Here’s my list and explicit instructions. Get my credit card from Chuck.”
“Yes, sir.”
He pushed the wheelbarrow outside, dumped it onto a concrete pad the size of the average living room. “We compost this and sell it to nearby organic farms. Between the cattle and the horses, we have no shortage of shit.”
Janet laughed. “I suppose not.”
She walked with him to the barn that held Chinook’s stalls and watched while Jack checked the stallion’s wound and then tacked him up.
“Nate and I are the only two who ride or exercise Chinook.” He led the stallion toward the riding barn, Janet walking beside them.
“Has no one else ever ridden—” Janet’s cane slipped on the ice, and she pitched forward with a cry.
But instead of hitting the ground, she found herself draped across Chinook’s thick neck, his coarse mane tickling her chin. The stallion whickered softly, slowly raising his head and helping Janet back to her feet.