When she said nothing, Jackson offered his hand to her father. “Nice to meet you, sir. Kathleen…thinks very highly of you.”
“Mmm,” Nathaniel grunted. He shook Jackson’s hand and then turned back to his plate. Jackson’s knee bumped hers under the table. She felt a jolt of electricity followed quickly by a healthy dose of remorse.
The memory wouldn’t leave her alone. She heard the joy in her voice when she proposed. Why did she do that? What had she been thinking? Jackson Taylor was the farthest thing from her mind when she boarded that plane two weeks ago. Then, she wanted rest and maybe a holiday fling. She didn’t want to get married. Not then, maybe not ever. But proof that at some point she changed her mind was right there, waiting in her memory. And on her ring finger. The band seemed to constrict and she rubbed her finger over the thin gold as if she could alleviate the memory.
To make matters worse, she’d pulled Jackson into her idiocy.
“Is this what that harebrained trip to Mexico was all about?”
Kathleen finally found her voice. She wanted to set the record straight then and there but found herself repeating the old-friends-fall-in-love story to her father, complete with the way they first met when she knocked over his tripod on the UTEP campus and busted a camera lens. Jackson took her hand, raising her fingers to his lips. It was all Kathleen could do not to jerk her hand away and run from the room.
Go ahead, Kath, dig that hole a little deeper.
She watched closely as Nathaniel’s fork wobbled on the way to his mouth. His hands were shaking. From his afternoon at the bar? Had to be.
“Congratulations, then, I guess,” Nathaniel said between bites of food. He pushed away from the table without another word to her and walked out. Jackson squeezed her hand beneath the table as if he knew how hurtful seeing her father this way was.
Guillermo, now standing at the door to the kitchen, gathered Nathaniel’s and Vanessa’s plates before retreating inside. A little family interaction went a long way for him. Not that Kathleen could blame him, especially when said family was her family. And things would only get better when Monica returned home for her annual summer visit next week.
Unable to finish her meal, Kathleen pushed the food around her plate. Jackson rescued her when, plate empty, a huge yawn escaped him.
As if unaware of the tension at the table, Mitchum took more food from the casserole dish and happily dug in.
“Grandfather — ” she began but he waved a hand and cut her off.
“Go, Kathy-bean. Forget about Vanessa. Your marriage puts her divorce stories on the back-burner. You know how she hates that.” Typical that he didn’t mention her father or his drinking. “Don’t forget about the hospital benefit Saturday night. It’s black tie, so you can drive into town in the afternoon and plan to overnight at the condo.”
She had forgotten about the benefit. One of Mitchum’s pet projects, the benefit raised money to provide surgery for underprivileged children. He still sat on the board of the organization but had stopped attending the benefit two years before. Kathleen attended in his stead, which would put even more pressure on Jackson. Too tired to argue about Vanessa’s broken heart, to try to get out of the benefit appearance or broach the subject of her not-so-honest marriage Kathleen bussed his cheek. Morning was soon enough to ruin her life.
“Goodnight, then.” She hesitated at the doorway with Jackson by her side.
“Go upstairs. Be a married couple for a while,” Mitchum said, gulping another bite of enchilada.
Kathleen swore she could hear his chuckles all the way upstairs.
Chapter Seven
“Black tie benefit?” Jackson asked as soon as the door closed behind them.
Kathleen collapsed on the settee and explained about the charity. “Don’t worry about the tux, this is west Texas, not Dallas or Houston. Most of the dignitaries will be in blue jeans and sport jackets, only we women will be dressed to the nines. And you could skip it, if you wanted. I know black tie events weren’t in our agreement.”
Jackson shrugged. “I’ve been to enough to know who to schmooze.”
She couldn’t believe it. He acted as if this wasn’t a big deal. As if her lies at the table were expected, that Vanessa’s actions were understandable and that her father wasn’t a raging drunk. Had he been at the same table? Maybe it was better if he didn’t pay attention. If the family dynamics went straight over his head, because she wasn’t sure how to answer the questions that were sure to come over the next few weeks.
Wait a minute. The next few weeks? There were no “few weeks” and she needed to get a grip on reality. Stop wallowing in the craziness of her family, tell him the truth, and then march downstairs to deal with the fallout from her Grandfather. There would be no benefit, no more playacting. It was time to take her life back.
Head buried in her hands, Kathleen tried to find the strength to do just that and couldn’t. Jackson’s hand on her shoulder bolstered her confidence, or maybe it was just the last straw.
“Go back to New York.” And her voice didn’t even crack, that was something to be proud of, right? “I won’t make you stay here playing house with me. I’ll figure out how to broach Grandfather and I’ll deal with the fallout, but you shouldn’t have to deal with any of this.” She raised her eyes to meet his. “I’m sorry, Jackson. But you can go home now.”
The words were out. Jackson could feel free to return to his life, forget about their insane interlude in Puerto Vallarta, his side-trip to the Texas Hill Country, and her crazy family issues. Somehow, though, she couldn’t bring herself to admit that marriage was really her idea. Would he think she was playing out another fantasy from their college days? Would he understand that she really, truly did not know why she proposed on the beach that night?
He wouldn’t. He would think she was still the wallflower, tag-along student from UTEP. She couldn’t give him the impression that she was still hung up on an old crush. The mere thought was humiliating. When he said nothing, she plunged ahead, trying to convince him to leave before he saw straight through her.
“My family is coming apart at the seams. Grandfather will be distracted by my sister and father, so he probably won’t notice you’re gone until I’ve had time to see a lawyer about the annulment. If he does notice, I’ll deal with it. It’s time I stopped running scared and started showing him how I can bring the ranch into the twenty-first century.” There, that sounded like a plan. She rubbed the tension from her neck. Now if she could just pull it off.
His hands began kneading the tense muscles in her neck. “Is that what you really want?” His thumb found an especially tight knot and he pushed until a soft groan escaped her throat. She shouldn’t want anything less than him leaving the ranch. But she couldn’t make him stay under false pretenses. Telling him the truth would only reinforce his image of her as a shy, moon-eyed girl from college. She intentionally skipped over her feelings for him to focus on the ranch and horses.
“I want Jester in the Games and I’ll get him there. The training angle has always been part of the ranch, and I’ll just have to convince Grandfather my ideas are just an expansion. I can’t let you ignore your real life to play babysitter to my dreams for this ranch.” That, at least, was the full truth. What she wanted, needed to come second because her wants were getting her into too much trouble.
She wanted a break from the ranch so she ran off and married the first man to cross her path. Wasn’t that a sign that she was as unstable as her sister and father?
“What you want does matter, Kathleen. Why don’t you stop playing the family martyr or the asylum nurse and admit what you really want?” His heavenly hands finally moved from her tense shoulder muscles to the indentation between her shoulder blades. It was all Kathleen could do to hold back a groan of pleasure and not melt in a puddle at Jackson’s feet. She had to finish this.
“So what do you really want?”
You. Kathleen jerked from sensual overload to fully alert mode. Did she say that? Or think it? Jackson appeared confused at her abrupt change in posture. Thought it. She only thought that single, traitorous word.
“You think your family is crazy? They have nothing on most of the families I’ve known. So, come on, you’re twenty-seven years old. What do you want?”
I want you to go back to New York. I want you to stay.
Did she even know what she wanted? She wanted to run the ranch, she wanted Jester Eight to win World’s. Wanted Jackson. She focused on the last want, the one want she could control, hoping Jackson would drop the subject of family.
Rising up on tiptoe, she kissed him, wondering if the feel of his lips on hers would bring back more flashes from those missing hours. Instead of memory flashes, her entire world melted down to more want and this time she told herself that wanting Jackson was enough.
She pressed her lips more firmly against his, relieved when he took her in his arms, his hands spanning her waist. Jackson nibbled her lower lip, inviting her to open to him, and she did.
She could taste Guillermo’s special enchilada sauce on him, could smell wine on his breath. The scents tantalized her into moving more securely into his personal space. Curling her arms around his neck, Kathleen secured his body to hers.
Jackson’s hands drifted from her waist to the bottom swell of her breasts, waiting there as if wondering if he would be invited to touch. His thumb played with the soft cotton fabric of her sundress but went no further even when Kathleen pushed her chest against his. A mewling sound escaped her and Kathleen felt heat burn her face.
“I asked you before what you wanted,” he said, the deep baritone of his voice sending shivers up her spine. “Tell me what you want, Kath.”
This time she couldn’t hold back the words. “You. I want you, Jackson. Here.” She nibbled his chin. “Now.” And damn the consequences. As Scarlett O’Hara would say, she could deal with the rest tomorrow.
Jackson led her to the bed, laying her across the silk quilt as if she were made of porcelain. He slowly undid the tie at her neck and pushed her simple, cotton sundress to her waist. She lay proudly before him, suddenly glad she left her bra in the drawer when she dressed for dinner. Clad in only skimpy black lace panties and her favorite Lucchese boots, she watched him survey her body and felt her muscles tighten. Did he like what he saw?
Kneeling over her, he grinned. “I’ve never found cowboy boots sexy before but you can wear these for me any time.”
His kisses, already heated, ratcheted up a notch, threatening to burn the bed down around them, but Kathleen didn’t care. She wanted his fire. Wanted to blot out the inertia and mistakes of the past few weeks. She wanted him.
He circled her right nipple with his index finger, teasing until it pebbled from his touch. How could he do this to her? Make her respond when barely touching her? It was a wonder to Kathleen. Finally he dipped his head to stroke the mauve tips with his tongue and Kathleen forgot everything else. She grasped his head in her hands, holding his mouth against her until she couldn’t stand the torture any longer. His left hand lifted her hips as his right pulled her panties from her hips to her ankles. She kicked the garment off from there.
His mouth trailed kisses between her breasts to the pulse beating madly in her throat and back again. He was everywhere, pressing against her stomach, her breasts. His erection a hard promise against the silken skin of her belly. She wanted more.
She pulled him to her but the fabric separating them was too frustrating. She wanted, no she needed, the feel of his skin against hers. Frantically, she tried to open the buttons on his western cut shirt but her fingers were too clumsy to do more than worry the buttons, making Jackson chuckle.
“You know, I’m pretty sure we’ve done this before. There’s no rush,” he said, hands slowly opening one button and then the next.
“Yes, but this time I’m going to remember every second,” she said. “Get rid of the shirt.”
Grinning, he slowly pulled his arms from the cotton as Kathleen, unable to look away as inch after inch of suntanned chest was revealed to her, tried desperately to calm her racing pulse. For a photographer who spent a lot of time in dark rooms he was certainly tanned. And buff.
When his eyes fastened hungrily on her breasts she forgot to breathe altogether. Kathleen scrambled from her position against the walnut headboard, grabbing Jackson’s ruined shirt from his thick fingers and tossing it across the room.
She should have tried harder to attract him in college was all she could think as her eyes feasted on his muscled chest, the heavy sprinkling of hair there, narrowing until it disappeared completely beneath his jeans. Was there ever a more perfect picture of the male of the species, she wondered? Her fingers found his flat nipples and stroked, eliciting a soft groan from Jackson.
He hurriedly shucked his jeans and then pushed her back against the down pillows. “I don’t think either of us will forget this time around,” he said, taking her mouth again, this time thrusting his tongue inside as if her mouth alone was keeping him alive.
Kathleen met him thrust for thrust, her hands memorizing every muscle in his back, the curve of his shoulders, the indentation at the small of his back. He rained kisses across her cheek, finally finding the soft spot behind her earlobe. Sighing, Kathleen collapsed farther into the pillows. Jackson chuckled.
“I don’t think I’ve ever made a woman fake a faint before,” he said, grinning.
“That’s not a faint and don’t you dare stop,” she said, hands teasing the soft hair at the base of his skull.
His hand traced the line of her jaw, down her neck, to her shoulder, and then the sensitive hollow beneath. He teased the side of her breast, then her ribs before finally settling at her hipbone. Kathleen felt her entire body clench, anticipating his next move. His hand crossed to her belly button, swirled inside for a split second before walking the few scant inches to her center. Kathleen drew a ragged breath, but Jackson stopped, watching her closely.
“Four weeks,” he said softly as if reminding her that this wouldn’t last forever. As if she needed that reminder. “We don’t want any accidents.” Grabbing a foil packet from the pocket of his jeans, Jackson sheathed himself. Before her body could cool at the words, he pressed his mouth to hers, his body covered her and thrust inside.
Kathleen forgot to think as their internal rhythms synched. Her eyes rolled behind closed eyelids as her muscles tightened in response to him.
“Jackson.” She breathed the word and thought she felt his muscles clench beneath her hands as she did.
He reached his index finger between them, found her center, and pressed. Lights exploded in the darkened room as Kathleen flew over the cliff, Jackson close behind her.
Still breathing heavily, Jackson rolled off her, snuggling her body against his.
“Kath?”
“Mmm?” It was took all her remaining energy to voice that single syllable.
“You can put those blankets back in the closet. I won’t be sleeping on the floor for single second of the next few weeks.”
Thank you, God, she thought as her mind closed and she drifted off to sleep.
• • •
Jackson lay quietly, listening to Kathleen’s slow, steady breathing. He was an idiot.
Kathleen had offered him an out, a reason to get away from the ranch and back to his life. Instead of jumping at that chance, he’d seduced her. Given in to the wanting that had never truly left his consciousness, even when he tried to convince himself he couldn’t respect a family that spent money like it was going out of style rather than helping people who really needed it.
And then he learned about the children who were helped by the yearly bene
fit. He was getting too tangled up with these people when he should be focused on what he wanted.
Now he was well and truly stuck here for the next few weeks because, instead of running when he had the chance, he had slept with Kathleen. Again.
And reminded them both of the time limit. As if either needed that reminder. At least he’d remembered protection this time around.
He clenched his teeth, wondering if she would understand if he left a note and deserted her. He refused to give that notion a second thought. Jackson was a lot of things but he didn’t run out on commitments once he made them. So for the next four weeks he had a mission: concentrate on San Antonio and steer clear of Kathleen’s family.
First thing in the morning he would drive into the city and lose himself, looking for answers to his past. That should keep his libido sufficiently cooled, his mind off of Kathleen’s problems. And after dinner tomorrow night, he would make his excuses and stay far, far away from Kathleen’s bedroom until she had time to fall asleep. That way there would be no repeats of tonight. No possibility that she would mistake tonight for what it was: a mistake.
Even though he didn’t understand why she couldn’t tell Mitchum straight out what she wanted, he wouldn’t, would not, ruin her chance to get Jester Eight in the World’s.
Chapter Eight
Breakfast was a near-repeat of dinner. Although Mitchum sat at the head of the table and Guillermo joined them over eggs, coffee, and sausage, Vanessa and Nathaniel were nowhere to be found.
Vanessa was likely still choosing her outfit for the day and Nathaniel sleeping off whatever he’d drunk the night before. Kathleen gulped coffee and rearranged the food on her plate, hot in the air-conditioned room even though she was wearing a simple tee-shirt and jeans for her work with the horses.
No one spoke.
The silence was deafening, but she didn’t know how to break it. Should she ask Jackson about his day? No, that was something to ask over dinner. Bring up her training plans for Trio and Jester? His terse silence when she tried to talk to him in the bedroom earlier was all the answer she needed. Jackson was definitely not interested in her horses.
Texas Wishes: The Complete Series Page 7