by Cait London
“Do you like my work?” she asked slowly. He’d better, because she ached in every muscle, and the cupids were her best efforts in her career. She’d worked extra hours, fashioning them between preparing wind chimes and other smaller weather vanes for shipping to her customers. And she had deserted Therapy.
“Cupids,” he snapped. “Cupids all over the place.”
“Yes?” she inquired carefully.
“You can have them back, just as soon as I locate your accomplice and make him take them down. Now, who is he? Pax? No, Janice wouldn’t let him do ladder work with that newly healed leg.”
“You can’t just barge in here and demand the names of my ‘accomplices,’ Jonah.”
“Why can’t I? Lucky just called me a ‘love god,’ and some city woman and photographer are invading my ranch. I must have had five local women stop and ask where I got my cupids.” He gripped the sponge she had been holding, won the small tug-of-war easily, then tossed it into the bathroom sink. “Well?”
“Buckaroo, you are truly pushing me.” Harmony crossed her arms and strained to keep her temper leashed.
“Good.” His gaze drifted downward, brushing the cloudy water and bubbles lapping against her concealing hands. Then Jonah slowly looked down the length of the tub until he found her toes.
She eased them down into the water, which only caused her knees to rise above the concealing milky water, and Jonah’s gaze slid back to them. Harmony lowered her knees, settling for her toes’ exposure to Jonah’s very close scrutiny. His study of her returned slowly up the bathwater to look at her freshly washed hair pulled on top of her head.
Then his blue eyes shot a laser like stare at her mouth, then her eyes. “We’ve got something running between us,” he stated in a low, steady tone that caused her to shiver. “I don’t like it.”
“Cupids on your rooftops?” she prodded innocently, desperately wanting to avoid the electricity flowing between them.
“You wanted the names of my helpers?” Her voice rose too high on her last words because Jonah was calmly rolling up his sleeves. “What are you doing?”
She caught a quick image of her nude, dripping body flopped over Jonah’s shoulder.
“This.” Then he bent and plucked her from the water, carried her into the bedroom and dumped her on the bed.
Harmony quickly reached for the hems of the quilt and flipped them over her body. She glared up at him. “We have nothing in common, other than your emerging powers… which you have, Jonah. There is nothing ‘running’ between us.”
“I can’t think of anything worse than a man-woman thing with you,” he stated flatly.
“Likewise. You may leave now,” she said regally, in her best dismissing tone. Jonah didn’t leave time for her to study him, to sort out and prepare for his next move. When he was in her vicinity and acting like this, she had her hands— her psychic abilities— full of protecting herself. Whatever happened to the Harmony Davis who methodically planned her life?
“You’ve got circles under your eyes and you’ve lost weight.”
She resented his notation of the obvious. “I work hard. It’s my busy season. You’re not looking so great yourself.”
“I’ll bring back your cupids. You can sell them and save yourself some work.”
“You will not. They are my masterpieces… my final payments on my debt. You saved my life, remember?” There was no way she could have bonded with Jonah Fargo. She was far too sensible and cautious, and the irate, tough cowboy in front of her didn’t suit any of her requirements for a relationship— if she were looking.
There is no way I could have made love to her, Jonah thought grimly. I’d sooner get thrown in a pit of snakes.
Been seeing June lately? Harmony tossed back, and belatedly recognized that he was calmer now, in full reception of her thoughts.
Jonah inhaled sharply, then very firmly began prying away the shielding quilt. When Harmony batted at him, he held her wrists in one hand and pinned her squirming body on the bed with the flat of his other hand on her stomach.
“Let me go, Jonah,” Harmony ordered, her heart racing as Jonah looked down her body, his eyes darkening.
“This is what’s real, not fairies and crystal balls,” he said bitterly. “I don’t want any ties with you past this. And right now, it’s a powerful need, rosebud.”
Rosebud. The name shocked Jonah, his hands trembled. Then his fingers locked over her femininity, pressing gently, and his eyes closed. I remember you, Rosebud.
He frowned deeply, as though trying to remember. His uncertainty and agony swirled around Harmony and she ached to hold him close to her. The bells on her wrist tinkled as Jonah’s thumb caressed her wrist.
Harmony tried to balance the emotions storming in the quiet bedroom. Jonah’s psychic senses were seeing her again, holding her again, making her a part of him. He was testing the images against reality as she lay beneath his hands…
Jonah slowly sat on the bed and, with his eyes closed, eased his hands to fit over her breasts. He touched her gently, seeking the hardened tips with his thumbs. He inhaled sharply and stood. “If you want me, you don’t have to splash cupids on my property. Just give me a call.”
Harmony lay still on the bed, winded by Jonah’s touch, his quick emotions and her unsteady needs. She realized that Jonah had reclaimed his hat and was standing at her bedroom door watching her.
She couldn’t let him get away with that arrogant, pleased expression as if he’d had the last word.
Harmony gripped the bells on her wrist and prayed that she could keep the temper that only Jonah could arouse.
“I suppose that fire-hot woman look of yours means you’ll be welding on Therapy again,” he drawled. “Clumping around in your work boots and wishing you could have me.”
“Ohh...” Harmony, who liked a harmonious life and comfortable people, launched herself at him.
He thrust out his hand, staying her. Because she was new in the physical attack business, she wondered about her first strike zone. Jonah looked as tough as granite. While she was wondering, he stripped away his shirt and stuffed her into it.
Come on, rosebud, she heard his thoughts taunt her.
With the tiny bit of control she still possessed, Harmony slammed her bedroom door shut. It helped to muffle the sound of Jonah’s chuckle.
She stared at the door, listening to the deep masculine sound that became roaring laughter.
~**~
Chapter Seven
“Buckaroo, I’ll come after my cupids. If you don’t appreciate great art, someone else will. I don’t want you to keep anything that you don’t want. I’ll find another way to repay you. I’ll be coming after them,” Harmony repeated in a low, trembling, husky tone as she jerked open her bedroom door.
She dismissed the sound of her bracelet’s tiny alarm system. When Jonah was around her, her calm aura seemed to require higher maintenance than she possessed. Tiny bells on her wrist weren’t enough.
“No, you won’t come near their bare backsides. I’ve decided to hold them hostage,” Jonah said, controlling his need to grin. He felt strong, light, and back to plain old good. Harmony, in a lather, did put a pretty shine on his love-god problems. She looked delicious in his shirt, which reached her knees. Jonah studied her legs; she had really pretty knees. He thought about her sitting on his lap at Christmas. “Don’t worry. When Christmas comes, I’ll put twinkle lights on them.”
“Why? Why are you holding them hostage?” Harmony stalked into the living room while jamming his shirtsleeves up higher on her arms. The heavy froth of her damp hair tumbled down to her shoulders and she blew away a spiraling curl that had lodged on her nose.
Jonah drew on his leather gloves. “You bring that crew of desecrators to my place and we’ll talk.”
He frowned, belatedly remembering a quick impression when Lucky had arrived at the Fargo ranch. Lucky had been proud of his handiwork.
“Talk?”
“Not an
y of the mental communications stuff you spout. We’ll decide the rules of living in the same area… after I teach them a lesson or two about invading and welding graffiti to a man’s property.”
“You are not using violence on the people who helped me. You’ll have to go through me first. And my cupids are not graffiti,” Harmony shot back, bending to pick up a crystal ball as though she were going to throw it at him.
“You’ll have to come after them. Think of them as unloved little orphans.” Jonah liked the idea of Harmony coming to him.
Harmony’s eyebrows shot up. “They require care. I’ll send you instructions— or I’ll come tend them myself.”
“No visitation rights until this is settled. There won’t be any bare backsides polishing on my rooftops until I say so.” Jonah studied his leather gloves and flexed his fingers. He was getting to Harmony and savoring it. He hadn’t played or teased for an eternity. Getting under Harmony’s skin was little payback for the sleepless nights he’d had dreaming of her in that skimpy nightie and Santa Claus cap. At least now she wasn’t saying in that imperial tone, “You may leave now.”
“You may leave now” was pretty hard on a man who felt like a bridegroom the morning after his wedding night. Even if their lovemaking was a dream, she ought to have treated him more gently.
Jonah tightened his lips and the cords of his jaw ached with tension. He was not a sensitive man, but there were limits.
“I did not bruise you,” Harmony stated shakily. “I have never hurt anyone in my life.”
Jonah flexed his fingers again, enjoying the passion rising in her; Harmony went to his head. He discarded that thought; he had enough problems in his head. Harmony just made him feel good. He could fell her revving up, the emotions swirling around her, fire lighting her golden eyes and shimmering in the reddish lights of her hair.
“Yep. Unloved little orphans, that’s what they’ll be. Standing out there in their birthday suits, icicles hanging from their little bows and arrows and birds—”
“Jonah!” Harmony exclaimed in a tone of pure indignation and hurled the crystal ball at him.
He caught it neatly, hefted it thoughtfully, and then placed it on her countertop. The crystal ball represented her psychic theories. He had enjoyed his skirmish with her, really enjoyed it. But he didn’t trust himself to look at her again. He was getting that loving feeling, like a man who needed a second helping of a really good first event. The crystal ball reminded him of reality: Harmony wasn’t for him.
“Ma’am,” he said solemnly, nodding and placed his hand on her doorknob, preparing to leave.
“Jonah, you can’t leave like that,” Harmony stated unevenly behind him.
“Why not?” His body tensed, his senses alerted. A really nice dream about this time would be for Harmony to wrap her arms around him and invite him into her boudoir, like a good dream-bride should. But that wasn’t going to happen, and what was he doing feeling bruised and discarded anyway? Making love to Harmony had only been a dream and not a very smart one at that.
After almost three months of her “You may leave now,” he was still reeling from that cursed dream.
“Uh... it’s fairly warm outside, almost April, but uh… Jonah, you aren’t wearing a shirt. You could catch cold.”
His fingers tightened on the doorknob, his body tensing. He turned slowly to her. Though she was angry with him, Harmony was a softhearted lady.
“That’s because you’re wearing it,” he said very reasonably.
She shifted restlessly within the loose folds of the shirt and glanced down at it in surprise.
“Oh! Yes, I am. Wait a minute. I’ll change,” she said airily, inching toward her bedroom door.
“No other woman has ever worn my shirts,” Jonah stated, responding to the impulse that had just hit him. Now where would he get an idea she didn’t want to wear another woman’s leftovers?
“You certainly stuffed me into it like you knew what you were doing,” Harmony said, eyeing Jonah warily as he took two steps toward her.
“I’m a fast mover.” When her eyes locked to his chest, the taut muscles on his arms, Jonah realized that he was flexing his muscles. He instinctively knew that the line of his body fascinated Harmony. She wanted to place her hand on him, trace the flow of his muscles and— He watched the delicate swallow move down her throat and the tiny bells on her wrist jingled merrily.
Oh, no... He heard a low, husky feminine voice mourn. Yet Harmony’s lips hadn’t moved, the bottom one was trembling too much.
“You sure look ripe,” Jonah heard himself murmuring in a deep, husky voice. “As sweet as dew sparkling like little jewels in the dawn. That or a rosebud bouquet about to open to full glory. I’d say you could be a real steamy, hothouse rose if—”
“Uh... let’s stay on track here,” Harmony said breathlessly, after a full two seconds and several disbelieving blinks. She took another step back from him. When her back hit the wall, she gasped slightly. “Let’s be reasonable and do some clear thinking.”
He sensed her desperation and fought the laughter tugging at his lips. She made him feel good; it had been forever since a woman was desperate around him, and he’d never known a woman as nervous as Harmony was with him right now. That was good because the feeling was mutual, and he didn’t want her to be disadvantaged when they came to a showdown.
Sunlight shimmered in her hair as she said, “Let’s get back to the part about how I am going to retrieve my lost orphans... er... ah... my cupids.”
“Did anyone ever tell you that you think too much?” Jonah asked, lifting a damp curl with his leather-covered finger and studying it.
“Thinking is good,” Harmony stated evenly. “Thinking is very good to sort out problems, analyze them and—” Then she closed her eyes, inhaled and flushed as he thought about how he’d like to love her from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet.
“You’re flustered and very warm,” Jonah noted and realized suddenly that when Harmony’s emotions were ruling her, he wasn’t that sensitive to her thoughts. Of course, he corrected warily, her expressions were clear-cut definers of her moods. Because she was so horrified that she had thrown the crystal ball, so uncertain of her need to touch him right now, to hold him, Jonah carefully folded her in his arms.
Without her clear-thinking cloak and her quiet, peaceful aura, Harmony required delicate care. Jonah eased off his gloves while she was trembling, rigid in his arms. She needed petting, and cuddling, and holding and reassurance and sweet talk. He could almost hear her think: Harmony had been more emotional than she’d ever been; she was shaken in the aftermath and fearing being near him. Being near him was disaster. She could handle the situation— No, she couldn’t. Her legs were too weak and in another minute…
He understood her emotions. It wasn’t every day that a man like him folded the other part of himself into his heart like a sweet, yet aching homecoming. He stroked her back gently and rocked her against him and treasured her heartbeat racing against his. Whoever that “Mark” was, he should have treated Harmony better.
“I don’t want this,” Harmony whispered against Jonah’s shoulder.
“Okay,” he agreed slowly, continuing to rock and to smooth her back. If Harmony were really his and they were approaching their second lovemaking, Jonah didn’t know if he could restrain himself this time. Harmony trembled in his arms and Jonah nuzzled the fast-beating little vein in her temple; she was in a panic, her emotions in turmoil. She began focusing on the fit of their bodies, the dual pressure of her breasts erotic against him.
Her hands opened to slide around his back and Jonah knew his heart had stopped beating as her fingertips settled lightly on his skin.
“You’ll catch cold if you go outside without your shirt,” Harmony worried aloud, her fingers fluttering across his shoulders. Her hands locked to his upper arms.
“I’m a tough old buzzard,” Jonah whispered gently as her hands explored the muscles of his back. He shifted
slightly and drew her softness against his chest. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the fit of Harmony’s body against him.
“Mmm. How tough?” she asked, her lips warm against his skin.
“Well, maybe I’m more sweet and lovable than tough,” Jonah teased, and her lips curved against his throat.
“You’re hopeless.”
“I know. Hopeless through and through, that’s what I am,” Jonah agreed easily. He slid his hands under her shirt and eased them to settle on her backside. Just one word, one look from her and he’d leave…
Harmony stood very still as Jonah breathed lightly, fearing she’d step away. If this was a dream, he was riding it to the end. She wiggled closer, her arms tightening around him. “You’re not going anywhere. You started this and you can finish it.”
“You are a strong woman, Harmony Davis,” he murmured appreciatively, filling his palms with her backside and caressing her. “I suppose if I ran, you might bulldog me like that metal monster.”
“I could desecrate you,” Harmony threatened with a ripple of laughter as she remembered his discomfort. She hadn’t known that a man could look so hungry and desperate when he was watching the flow of her hand on Therapy that day.
Of course, he noticed her hand stroking her monster; the movement had fascinated him and made his body harden. He kissed her palm and Harmony inhaled sharply. Whoever this Mark character was, he wasn’t into the finer points of treating a lady tenderly.
He didn’t want to think about whoever Mark was or what he had done with Harmony; Jonah didn’t want Harmony thinking about anyone but him right now. He suddenly understood that she was scrambling now for what she held dear, logic and illogic. He knew Harmony wanted to tuck her emotions into a neat pocket and button it closed.
“You’re all threats and no action. I’ll be wearing a long beard and cobwebs before you pick through whatever is holding you back. Desecrate away,” Jonah invited as he kissed her cheek and found her lips.