by Ginna Gray
He muttered a mild curse. Since he was temporarily stumped, anyway, he decided it was as good a time as any to take a break. And to spend some time with Kate while he was at it, he thought with a spurt of pleasure.
Kate was skittish and wary of closeness. And who could blame her, after people she'd known her whole life had turned so thoroughly against her? But he had a plan.
The night before he had immediately begun a subtle but relentless campaign to win her over—touching her frequently, flirting with her, steering their conversation in more intimate directions—all manner of small things that would, he hoped, disarm her and let him sneak in under her guard and ease his way into her life.
J.T. was a patient man. That he would not eventually wear her down never occurred to him.
He suddenly realized that he was ravenous, and a glance at the clock confirmed that he had missed lunch again. Standing, he stretched and rotated his stiff shoulders. After a brief stop by the bathroom, he picked up the carafe and headed for the kitchen.
Whistling a cheery tune, J.T. loped down the stairs, a smile of anticipation on his lips.
His smile faded when he stepped into the kitchen. As always the room was spotless and neat as a pin, but there was no sign of Kate.
He found a plate containing a thick ham sandwich and fruit covered with plastic wrap in the refrigerator. He poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot on the warmer and wolfed down half the sandwich in three bites while standing at the counter. He was working on the second half when a sound from out back caught his attention.
Curious, he finished off his coffee in one gulp and ambled out the back door onto the service porch, munching the sandwich.
He stopped short when he spotted Kate. "What the—"
A mountain of firewood lay smack-dab in the middle of the driveway in front of the garage, blocking the doors. The idiot truck driver had driven around the port cochere, and J.T.'s Jeep, dumped his load and driven off!
To J.T.'s astonishment—and fury—Kate was attempting to move the logs, one wheelbarrow load at a time, to the neatly stacked woodpile at the edge of the terrace.
The unwieldy apparatus wobbled drunkenly from one side of the path to the other while Kate fought to keep it from toppling. At the same time she had to dig in her heels to keep the whole thing from dragging her down the slope.
J.T.'s much-vaunted patience went up in smoke. Stuffing what was left of the sandwich into his mouth, he snatched the man's pea jacket that Kate was so fond of wearing off the hook and slammed out the screen door, thrusting his arms into the sleeves as his long, angry strides carried him across the terrace.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he bellowed, intercepting her halfway up the incline.
Kate started and let out a squeak. She had been concentrating so hard on trying to manhandle the loaded wheelbarrow she hadn't seen J.T. approach. A tiny shiver ran down her spine when she took in his thunderous expression, but she refused to be intimidated.
She dropped the wheelbarrow down on its supports, panting as she wiped snowflakes off her lashes with the back of her gloved hand. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm moving the firewood to the woodpile."
"Isn't the driver supposed to stack it for you? What kind of idiot dumps firewood in a driveway? And why in the name of heaven didn't you call me to help?"
"Yes. An idiot like Lewis Goodman. And I didn't ask you to help because gu—"
"Don't!" He jabbed his forefinger in the air near the end of her nose. "Don't you dare say because guests aren't expected to help out," he warned. "So help me, if you do—"
"If I do, you'll what?" Kate demanded, with a haughty arch of one eyebrow.
J.T.'s eyes narrowed. "Trust me, darlin', you don't want to know." He elbowed her out of the way and grasped the handles of the wheelbarrow. Immediately, Kate tried to take them back.
"No, really, I can manage."
"That's not the point."
"No. J.T., please don't. I can't ask you to do this."
"You didn't ask. I volunteered. And I'm not taking no for an answer. It's one thing when it's gardening, which you obvious love, but I'm not standing by with my hands in my pockets and watch you wrestle with a ton of firewood."
"But—"
"Kate. Kate." He let go of the wheelbarrow with one hand and grasped her chin, bringing his face close to hers. His usual good humor had already reasserted itself, replacing the anger in his eyes. He shook his head and gave her an admonishing look, then followed it up with one of those devastating smiles that temporarily short-circuited her brain.
"Are we going to stand here arguing and wasting time, or are you going to accept my help graciously?"
He leaned closer, blue eyes twinkling, his handsome face full of friendly mischief. "You're a strong, proud, independent woman, and I admire that. But it's only fair to warn you, Katy, mine, I can be just as stubborn as you any day of the week. I'm Irish, too, you know."
His intimate tone made her heart skip a beat.
The wind tousled his dark hair, and the cold had whipped ruddy color into his tanned face. Already, snowflakes clung to his eyebrows and the ends of his lashes. This close she could smell his scent—soap, shaving cream and maleness mixed with the sharp freshness of the outdoors. The heady combination caused her head to spin.
Kate felt foolish, and she lifted her chin, preparing to stand firm, but the words stuck in her throat as she stared into those sapphire eyes. For all J.T.'s geniality, she could see that he meant what he said: he wasn't going to budge.
Her chin went up another notch. "Very well," she replied with all the haughty dignity she could muster. "There's a wool cap and some work gloves in the pocket of that coat. You'd better put them on."
"’Atta girl." J.T. grinned and winked.
His temper threatened to explode all over again when he hefted the wheelbarrow and started down the path. "Damn, woman, what were you thinking? This thing weighs more than you do."
"I could handle it," she insisted to his broad back as she trailed him down the path. "I've already moved three loads. And I told you, my name is Kate, not Katy!"
As usual, he answered with a chuckle.
They worked steadily for the next three hours, J.T. manning the wheelbarrow and both of them stacking the split logs, but by dusk they had barely cleared half of the pile away from the garage doors.
"We're not going to finish tonight, you know," J.T. said, when he paused to rotate his arms and stretch his tired back muscles. "Why don't we call it a day?"
"Not yet." Kate glanced at the low-hanging snow clouds as she placed another log on the pile. "We can stack another load or two before it's completely dark."
Maintaining a steady rhythm, she grabbed a chunk of wood, swung around, thunked it down on the stack and twisted for another. She had just picked up a piece when a snowball hit her shoulder and shattered over the side of her face and neck.
Stunned, Kate wiped at the slush and looked at J.T. with her mouth agape.
He grinned and scooped up another handful of snow.
"Why you—" She dropped the wood back into the wheelbarrow with a thunk, then grabbed up a double handful of snow, gave it a couple of quick squeezes and let fly. The missile splatted dead center of J.T.'s chest.
A look of surprise came over his face as he stared down at the splatters of snow, and when he looked up again Kate met his gaze with a smug grin.
"You picked on the wrong girl, city boy. I grew up winging snowballs at Zach."
"Hmm. Nice shot, Katy, mine." Nonchalantly, J.T. looked down and flicked a chunk of snow off the pea jacket. "But now you're gonna have to pay."
Kate let out a yell, they both grabbed for snow … and the war was on.
They pelted each other mercilessly, darting and dodging around the small yard outside the terrace, yelling taunts and dire threats, and whooping and laughing like children. Within minutes they were both covered in snow from head to toe.
Kate dodged one of J.T.'s zi
ngers and yelled an insult. While he bent to reload, she ducked down behind the end wall of the terrace and packed a giant ball of her own.
"All right, you coward, where'd you go?"
Peeking over the top of the wall, Kate grinned as she watched J.T. turn in a circle. When he was facing the other way she stood up and fired, catching him squarely in the back of the head.
"Aarrghhh!" J.T. slapped at the ice and snow sliding down the back of his neck, and Kate bent double with laughter.
"Oh, now you really are gonna get it." He dropped the snowball he'd just made and started for her. Kate screamed and took off.
He caught up with her around the corner of the house and brought her down with a flying tackle. Twisting with her, he took the weight of the fall, bringing her down on top of him. Before she could scramble free, he rolled her onto her back, and pinned her with his body.
Breathless and giggling helplessly, Kate pushed at his shoulders, but it was like trying to topple a boulder with your bare hands. Grinning evilly, J.T. scooped up a heaping handful of loose snow, and her eyes widened.
"You … wouldn't!" she gasped between giggles.
"Oh, wouldn't I?"
"No … J.T. … don't you dare. Oh, no … please."
The pitiful plea had the desired result. Taking advantage of his hesitation, she shoved his hand upward and buried his face in the snow.
J.T. howled and repaid her in kind, and a wrestling match ensued. They rolled together across the yard in a tangle of arms and legs, shouting and laughing and plastering each other with snow.
When they finally came to a stop at the base of a mountain laurel, J.T. had her pinned beneath him, his legs scissoring hers in place, his hands shackling her wrists deep into the snow on either side of her head. Winded and panting, they laughed helplessly, their vaporized breaths mingling between them.
Then something changed, and their laughter faded.
Awareness shimmered between them like sparkling crystal in the failing light. Everything grew suddenly still, eerily quiet, the only sounds their labored breathing and the thuds of their hearts reverberating in their ears.
Blue eyes gazed into gray with an eloquence that made words unnecessary. All around them, snowflakes floated down in mystic silence.
Caught in the current of their breathing, one flake fluttered between their faces. J.T.'s gaze broke from hers to watch it eddy back and forth, then nestle, light as thistledown, in the corner of Kate's mouth. His gaze flickered to up hers again. Then he lowered his head and lifted the feathery crystal with the tip of his tongue.
A shudder rippled through Kate, and she closed her eyes and moaned. The feel of his warm, wet tongue against her cold skin was the most erotic thing she had ever experienced.
"Kate," he murmured in a raspy voice that wasn't quite steady. Releasing her wrists, he framed her face between his gloved hands. They were coated with snow and ice, but she barely felt the chill as she opened her eyes and looked into the blazing blue of his.
"Kate," he said again as his head began a slow descent. "My beautiful … beautiful … Kate."
Her chest was so tight she could barely breathe, her body so hot she felt as though she was glowing from head to toe, like a fiery ember.
Delicious tingles raced over Kate's skin, and she closed her eyes in anticipation. When his mouth settled on hers, she sighed and wrapped her arms around him.
She needed this, she thought. Oh, yes, she needed this so much. The warmth, the closeness, the intimate touch of another human being. Of this strong, wonderful, sexy man. It had been so long. So long. Her spirit craved this. Her body yearned for it. Her heart wept for it.
The kiss started out soft, a tender seduction, but passion overtook them and it quickly became hungry and forceful, almost fierce. His mouth rocked over hers, taking, demanding, and she met him, need for need, hunger for hunger. Lips rubbed, tongues swirled and tangled, teeth nipped. Hands roamed and clutched and roamed again.
They lay in the snow, as the weak gray light seeped away.
Kate was on fire. She would not have been surprised to discover that all the snow had melted within a three-foot radius of their entwined bodies.
Need grew to a fever pitch. Just when she thought she would surely die from wanting, J.T. broke off the kiss, raised his head and stared down at her. In the waning light she could barely make out his features, but the blaze in those blue eyes was clearly visible.
"We should go inside," he said in a raspy whisper.
Unable to speak, she could only nod.
In one fluid move, J.T. rolled off her and stood up. The sudden loss of his weight and warmth left her feeling so bereft she almost cried out. Then he grasped her hands and pulled her to her feet.
He dusted the snow off her backside, then put his arm around her shoulders, pulled her tight against his side, and they walked back around to the rear of the house. The snow squeaked and crunched beneath their boots, but neither spoke.
By the time they entered the service porch, Kate's ardor had cooled, and doubt and nerves had set in, along with all manner of self-recriminations.
They paused on the porch to shed their coats, caps, gloves and boots and dust the remaining snow off their clothes. Kate couldn't remember ever feeling so awkward and nervous.
The moment they entered the kitchen she turned to face him with a worried look, her hands unconsciously clasped tight against her midriff. "J.T., I… What happened out there… that is … I should never have let it happen. I'm sorry. It was wrong of me. I'm … I'm just not…"
"You're not ready for an intimate relationship," he finished for her in a low but surprisingly gentle voice.
Kate had expected anger and frustration. Cutting reproach. And she wouldn't have blamed him. She had made no effort to stop what was happening, had, in truth, welcomed it, reveled in it. Any red-blooded male would have interpreted her response as an invitation.
J.T., however, did not appear to be angry. Though his expression was serious, there was only warmth and caring in his eyes.
She wrung her hands and gave him a despairing look. "I'm so sorry, J.T."
"Hey, there's no reason to apologize."
"But—"
Covering the space between them in two long strides, he pulled her into his arms and cradled her close against his chest. "Shh. Shh. It's all right, sweetheart. I'm the one to blame. I knew before I kissed you that you weren't ready for a relationship. I shouldn't have tried to rush you."
Kate was so relieved she let herself relax against him, savoring his solidness, his strength. It felt so good to have someone on whom she could lean, if only for a little while.
Because it did, after a moment she made herself pull away. "You're really not angry?" she asked, looking up at him doubtfully.
"No, I'm not angry." He smiled and smoothed an errant curl back from her temple. "Disappointed. Frustrated as hell. But not angry. But that's okay. When we make love—and trust me, sweetheart, it will happen—I want you to be as sure as I am of the rightness of it."
She searched his handsome face, and her heart squeezed at the warmth she saw there. He'd made the statement with such self-assurance, such absolute certainty, that she could almost believe him. Almost.
The familiar glint entered J.T.'s eyes as his smile turned from tender to flirty. He bent and placed a quick kiss on her mouth, then turned her toward the hall door. "Now then, why don't you run upstairs and thaw out under a hot shower, put on something pretty and I'll take you to dinner at the lodge."
"What?" Kate spun back around, her eyes wide with alarm. "Oh, J.T., that's … that's sweet of you, but I couldn't let you do that."
"Why not?"
"I told you—the people in Gold Fever hate me."
"Hate? Come on, isn't that a little strong?"
"Oh, really? Lewis Goodman didn't dump four cords of firewood in the driveway because he's stupid. He did it to strike out at me. And Cletus and his buddies may have been looking for their money, but they knew
exactly what they were doing when they destroyed my roses.
"If I was foolish enough to go with you to the lodge, I doubt that they would serve me."
"The hell they won't!" J.T. snarled, and Kate blinked, startled by the suddenly hard menace in his face. "We'll just see about that."
His anger on her behalf warmed her, but she had to make him understand. "No, J.T., listen to me. Even if they would, I'd be afraid to eat the food. The cook would probably lace mine with milk of magnesia, or something equally revolting. But most important, you can't afford to be seen with me socially, not if you want the people in town to keep talking to you. And you need them for the research on your book. That's why you're here, remember."
He looked so guilty at that, she rushed forward and placed her hand on his arm. "Oh, please, J.T., don't feel bad on my account. Believe me, I'm used to getting the cold shoulder in town."
If anything, his frown deepened. "You mean you never have an evening out? Or any social contact with your neighbors? You just sit up here all alone, year after year? That's depressing as hell."
Put so bluntly, she had to agree, though she tried never to dwell on the situation. "It's not so bad, really. I have plenty of company during the tourist season, and by the time it's over I look forward to having the house to myself for a while."
He continued to look doubtful but finally he nodded. "All right, we won't go out. But tonight, I'll cook."
"You?"
"Hey! I'll have you know, I cook a mean burger."
Kate's mouth twitched. "Burger, huh? I should've known."
At the door she turned and studied him.
He arched an eyebrow. "What?"
"I was just wondering… Why are you doing this?"
"What do you mean? Doing what?"
"Being so nice to me. This morning with Sheriff Huntsinger. Helping me with the firewood. Cooking dinner for me. It seems an awful lot of trouble just to get me in bed. Especially since I'm quite certain that you could have your pick of women. So why me?"