by Cait London
After all, he’d removed her bracelet alarm and he was liable to suffer the consequences.
Oh, sure, she loved him. But there were limits to her stability. Her senses were humming on overdrive, wanting Jonah near her, wanting his reassurance and cuddling. This time, a burned peach pie and an adorable kitten would not cut it.
Morning, rosebud. Jonah’s low, sexy Montana drawl swirled around Harmony’s mind.
Her fingers crushed her mail even more as she slowly closed her mailbox. Jonah’s hard body moved against her back and his hands rose to cup her breasts intimately, his thumbs running tantalizingly over the tips.
Surprised as his desire settled intimately against her, his hard thighs thrusting against hers, Harmony stopped breathing. She nestled back against Jonah’s desire and knew that he was tossing an image at her: An irresistible, delectable, body-responding hot, desiring image. She closed her eyes as a wave of pleasure surged over her, the Jonah image cupping her breasts and nuzzling the side of her throat, and pressing intimately against her backside…
She glanced over her shoulder to find Jonah leaning against the wall, several feet away from her, watching her with slumberous, sensual dark blue eyes. She’d been too wrapped in her emotions to sense him near her. Her lips parted with a slight gasp as his image stepped closer and slowly filled her. Jonah’s lips moved against her throat and every one of his loving feelers stroked her from head to toe as she tightened every intimate muscle, welcoming him.
Harmony gripped her mail with one hand as waves of steamy, warm, quaking pleasure burst over her. Jonah’s image made love to her, gently, yet hungrily, and she closed her eyes. She braced herself against the post office wall and absorbed every wave of pleasure within her.
She trembled, pictured his image flushed and intense over her, holding her, their bodies straining, making love without clothing.
Breathing rapidly, Harmony realized that she had been holding her breath as Jonah caressed her, his mouth tantalizing her breasts, nibbling, cherishing.
She clung to him as he lifted her over his hips, joining them.
She was complete then, hot and bursting with each hungry kiss, fighting for the ultimate pleasure as Jonah carried them on.
Then he was soothing her, cradling her near him, murmuring sweet tender thoughts while she lay against him, melted into one warm, drowsy, happy heap.
Harmony swallowed, forced her head to lift and realized that she was flushed and damp and boneless, leaning against the post office wall.
Gathering every bit of her strength, she looked at Jonah. He remained in his corner of the post office, apart from her, fully dressed in his cotton shirt, faded jeans and boots.
His lips pursed to blow her a kiss and then she knew…
“You’ve been practicing, buckaroo,” Harmony managed softly as she straightened away from the wall and smoothed her hair with trembling fingers. She gathered her mail to her aching breasts and walked unsteadily toward him.
Jonah lifted her fingers to his lips and nibbled them. Then he placed her palm over his rapidly beating heart and Harmony knew that he had also felt their passion.
“I miss you, rosebud,” he said huskily, his hand trembling as he smoothed her hair and brought it to his lips.
“I’d prefer the real thing.... There could be psychics out there who are going to get the strangest readings from their mail,” she whispered darkly as Mrs. Jones passed by, eyeing them. “Don’t ever pull that on me again. You no longer have the protection of my bells, you know.”
His fingertip smoothed her hot cheek. “Anytime. Seems fair to me.”
“Nothing is fair. Not when it comes to you.”
“Do you still love me?”
“You know I do. Why? I wonder. Don’t ask me. You keep hoarding yourself over there, doing heaven only knows what, and I may just raid your fort. It’s not cool to sort through your new psychic discoveries without the person who loves you.”
“You’re right and I’m a low-down skunk. Life’s dull on the prairie without my little sweetheart daisy,” Jonah murmured sadly. His tone was at odds with the humor lighting his face.
“I’ll show you ‘sweetheart daisy’ if you pull anything like this again,” she threatened shakily, wanting his arms around her.
Come here, rosebud, Jonah mind-murmured, actually drawing her into his arms and cuddling her.
You are crushing my mail, Harmony protested as she snuggled deep in his arms.
Jonah’s hands stroked her back. I need you here. I’m getting closer to understanding... It’s difficult.
Of course it is. It’s painful to realize.
Jonah breathed heavily. I don’t want... powers.
She stroked his cheek. I know, but you don’t have to develop them. They don’t have to be the focus of your life. You’ll learn how to control and when to step into them.
Jonah tilted her face up to his. I want you. After harvest, I’ll be coming for you. The choice is yours. I can’t make any promises about... about—
She stared into his dark blue eyes. I come with my powers. Yours are to do with as you wish. And what kind of an invitation is ‘I’ll be coming for you’?
His fingertip traced the contour of her lips. You’ll know what is right. But I want you. You’re my heart, my life… I want to come to you as a man, a complete man.
Great. Fine. Whatever. Just please take care of yourself. Harmony clenched his shirt. I love you, you big muley jerk.
My, my. How you sweet-talk, Jonah teased, his lips curving. Then he stilled and Harmony listened to their hearts beating as one. I’ll come for you after harvest.
~**~
“So he’s coming for you? What does that mean? Marriage?” Pax sat in the kitchen, sipped his herbal tea and watched Harmony pack the dishes that had been handed down from their grandmothers. August had passed, a hot, lonely month without Jonah, and September’s first week had arrived.
Harmony peered out the window for the thousandth time. Harvest was over. September lay in cool nights, and geese were heading south.... Pronghorn antelope blended into the golden fields, their white rumps bounding away when they were frightened.
She carefully wrapped tissue around the old china. She’d been packing for two weeks and still Jonah’s pickup hadn’t come. Harmony knew he’d been busy, hauling lumber and carpenter supplies from town and had ordered wooden spokes for a wagon. He’d gone shopping for new jeans and shirts. Though June was too busy running from Lucky’s pursuit, the Fascinating Homes lady had been circling Jonah.
Harmony ran her fingers over the old crystal that had been her great-great-grandmother’s bridal gift.
“Pax, repairing an old, horse-drawn wagon might be something a man would do in the winter, when there wasn’t any outside work, wouldn’t it?”
She inhaled, holding the crystal to her. Her fears leapt at her. Jonah had changed his mind. He was afraid of her now. He feared her irrational emotions when she was near him, her explosive temper, her Amazon strength and her blazing love of him, let alone her powers.
Jonah was living up to her picture of the unsuitable love mate... She should have stuck to her pre-specifications for an easygoing, rational man. “Pax, there are two people in this relationship and one of them is keeping to himself. Somehow that is not an equal sharing of hearts.”
Today she’d dressed in a worn flannel shirt, jeans and her work boots. Since Jonah had not appeared, she had decided to dress in work clothes. The romantic blouses and skirts she’d been wearing, just for his arrival, slipped off her shoulders and got in the way of welding. They didn’t match her leather apron, and she’d grown tired of lacing and unlacing her work boots to change into slippers. Her new lacy underwear showed wear from daily hand washings.
Pax looked at her. “He’ll come. You look stormy.”
“I love that jerk. He’s stubborn, ornery and absolutely unpredictable. If he waits much longer, I’m starting a mate for Therapy. I’ll have a matching set.”
&nbs
p; Pax raised his hand in a warning gesture. “Now, don’t get too revved up. The world isn’t ready for another Therapy. If Jonah said he will come for you, he’ll come. He’s been working in the wheat harvest. He’s mortgaged his land and is trying hard to get back on his feet. That takes money. A crop failure or hail could take away everything. He is a proud man. He’s probably trying to repair his house. Men like to make their nests cozy for their ladyloves just the way women do.”
Harmony sniffed and shook her head. “That’s old range-cowboy garbage. He knows he doesn’t have to do that. I just want to be with him. According to my sources, he’s fixing some old wagon. He’s painting something red, probably his barn. Red won’t go with my copper cupids. He’s taking time to repair a team-harness rig while I’m wearing come-hither dresses and eating too much. Do you know how hard it is to work with metal and keep your lace from snagging? When I get him in my clutches, he’ll—”
Her senses leaped and Harmony tilted her head. “Pax, do you hear something?”
He held aside the curtain to look out the window and Harmony came to stand beside him.
Two heavily built workhorses were pulling an old-fashioned wooden hauling wagon toward her house. Easily recognizable in his western hat, Jonah sat in the driver’s seat, holding the reins. A colorful array of balloons clung to the wagon and ribbon streamers circled it.
Harmony blinked, noting the way the horses manes and tails were braided and decorated with big ribbons and bows. “Now? Now he’s coming in that?”
Pax’s roaring laughter followed her out the door. She ran toward Jonah, aware of only him and the happiness swirling in her.
He stopped the wagon and walked quickly toward her, carrying a big bouquet of wildflowers and wheat.
They met in a flurry of hungry kisses and promises. Jonah lifted and whirled her around him as they laughed, crushing the huge bouquet and kissing each other over it.
He was still holding her off the ground when Pax walked toward them, carrying a packed box. “She’s been wearing off-the-shoulder, frilly dresses every day until today. You’re going to pay for making her wait, my friend,” he said to Jonah who was grinning as Harmony placed another flurry of kisses across his face.
“Maybe she’ll let me live. Look,” Jonah said, turning her toward the wagon.
She grabbed his head and whispered urgently into his ear, “Jonah, don’t image anything... anything too intimate. Pax can read.”
Jonah slowly looked at Pax, who was grinning widely. “He’d better not be able to read long-distance, because I have big plans and they don’t include him,” Jonah muttered.
She laughed, happiness bubbling out of her into the September sunshine. “What did you want to show me?”
Jonah continued to hold her off the ground and to study Pax. “You, too?”
“All my life. I haven’t used my powers until Harmony arrived and then just to tease her. They are weaker than my sister’s. Somehow I’ve managed to keep a balanced life. A good life. My son is displaying ability now. Janice is terrified, but trying to understand.”
Jonah inhaled unsteadily and Harmony held him close. “That was one of the reasons Pax wanted to move here, to work out his problems and help Janice understand. He felt they needed space from other people as their children developed. For some reason— we think she was terrified— our mother forced her powers away, and hated ours when they began to emerge. It was painful for us as children. Pax wants space and the friendliness of this community to raise his children.”
She stroked the taut muscles in Jonah’s neck and ached for him. His eyes were sky-blue bright as they pierced hers. “I’ve brought you Fargo wheat. It’s the customary bridal gift, and that bouquet is all I’ve got to offer now. Our life will be good, I promise.”
Harmony lovingly stroked the dry wheat stalks. “I know. I saw what you imagined while you were driving this wagon. You saw the men in your family going after their brides, claiming them forever. Is that how you see me, as your sweet little rosebud bride, fresher than cow’s milk steaming in the bucket?”
Jonah blushed, his skin heating beneath her fingertips. “I just might have a disgusting romantic streak. It’s too early to tell. It might be just another ability,” he admitted in a low disgusted grumble. “I should have left off the cow’s milk remark, right? This thinking-telepathy sweet talk isn’t easy, you know. I was practicing and my concentration ricocheted straight into that city woman. I had to hide on the roof beside one of your cupids until she left.”
“Poor little cowboy. I’ll protect you from now on. I’ll capture every little loving thought you have and hold it close to my heart. Show me what you wanted to earlier, love.” Harmony knew she’d enjoy exploring Jonah’s romantic nature. He’d proven to be very gallant, old-fashioned and cherishing. Add a dash of teasing, boyish play and rock and roll, and the whole lanky cowboy package was pretty fascinating.
On the side of the wagon he had painted a big, red I Love You.
“It’s a hard thing to say: those three words,” Jonah stated in his wise, western cowboy tone. “Must take practice. Lucky saw me practicing it. I didn’t know he could run like that.”
When Harmony began to cry, curling against him, Jonah kissed her cheek and carried her to the other side of the wagon. There on the wooden boards was another red message. Will You Marry Me?
I love you, Harmony. Will you marry me? Jonah was asking silently, his eyes bright with emotion.
“Oh, yes,” she answered. “Yes, yes, yes!”
Her fingers trembled, running over the smoothly shaven contours of his cheeks, his jaw, testing the mustache and trailing across his lips. He kissed her fingertips. I accept what I am. What we are, my love.
We are one, my heart.
~**~
Three weeks before Christmas, Jonah stopped on the street and let his senses open to the little girl and her unhappy mother.
The six-year-old girl, Mary, stood with her face pressed against the store window, wishing for her Christmas doll. Beside her, her mother wished she could give her daughter a special gift— they had so little. With the scraps and lace she’d been saving, she could sew dresses and a blanket for a doll. But Mary’s beautiful doll would have to wait until a better time, another Christmas.
Jonah fought the familiar clenching of his heart, the ache that had gentled with his understanding that he had to let Grace go...
He’d mourned too long, cradling his pain and fighting his abilities. With Harmony’s help, he understood that he could balance his life, and yet that he had inherited a special gift. A newly married man who was loved and loved back didn’t have much heart room for aching, doubts and loneliness.
He still awoke to the child crying, though not often now. There was an easing in him, love replacing the sadness, the bitter frustration and guilt. When the shadows came, gentle images of Harmony soothed him and he wrapped them around him.
Excitement raced through their marriage, his love and fascination for Harmony growing each day. He loved to tease her, to catch her close and reveal his heart. Their lives were busy, happy and sweet. Their loving times were tender, fiery and frequent. Harmony worked by his side, never doubting that he would keep Fargo land safe, that the first crop would be magnificent. She didn’t need psychic powers to know that, she’d said with a toss of her head. She just knew her husband.
Later that night, Jonah carried Grace’s doll to the girl’s house. When he gave the doll to the woman, she began to cry quietly. She clutched his gift and managed a tearful thank-you.
After he arrived at the home he shared with his wife, Jonah sat in his pickup for several minutes. He’d wondered how many more times Harmony would watch him focus on the child’s crying? How much more of his unsettled past would she feel before leaving him?
But understanding and love swirled around him each time Jonah doubted himself, each time he awoke to the nightmare or caught the sound in the wind.
He listened to the winter wind outside h
is pickup, listened to the echoes in the shadows of the snow-covered plains. The sounds were that of his heart opening, of the past’s pain easing. He focused on the sounds, listening with the powers that he had accepted as a part of his life. The sweeping wind cleansed and nourished and the crying had stopped.
“Goodbye for now, Grace. I’ll always love you, honey,” he murmured to the wind. “See you.”
Jonah? Oh, you’re here! How I’ve waited... how I love you, Harmony’s tender thoughts leapt into his mind and he turned slowly to see her outlined in the doorway— his future, his love, his life.
Impulsive, emotional, Harmony ran into the slicing wind. She ran to him, dressed in her boots, jeans and his shirt. Jonah smiled briefly as her warmth wrapped around him; he was home.
Across the Fargo rooftops, the copper cupids and weather vane wore twinkle lights and the cupid wind chimes created unlikely Christmas carols. He wasn’t certain if he could tolerate the new Therapy she’d been working on while giving him space to make his decisions.
They met in a gust of snowflakes and Jonah scooped her up to his chest. Harmony’s familiar scents enclosed him. He tucked his face in her hair and picked through her Christmas baking, her flowery intimate scents to the one that he knew well— his other half, his heart and soul.
Filled with emotion, Harmony’s mind swirled around him, over him, too busy to know he was treasuring each loving thought. Along the way, she was thinking that he was ornery, leaving her to worry about him. She just might not tell him about the peach pie she’d baked, or the cupid she’d welded to Therapy’s tail while she was waiting. She never, never wanted to be parted from him again. What if something had happened to him?
Jonah’s smile slid into a grin. I’m just fine, rosebud. Slow down. You’re getting yourself worked up to explode.
She frowned up at him, her thoughts lashing at him: You big, infuriating, low-down yahoo. Of course I’m upset. You just decide to do things... no warning at all. You just don’t schedule one thing in our entire lives. I was worried about you. Do you know how hard it is to shop for a reasonable, companionable man? Then come up with someone as unpredictable as you are? Do you know how hard it is to find a heart mate, the other part of my life, my mind, my soul? I’m certain that there are enough frozen cavemen already without adding you to their number.