Soul Deep

by Pamela Clare

  “I’m not sure.” Sheriff Rove sounded surprised that Jack would care. “I could have the jail captain call you.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  “You’re the county’s biggest land owner, Mr. West. We want you to know we’re on top of this case.”

  So this call had more to do with the sheriff’s upcoming re-election campaign than it did Kip or Chinook or the law. God, Jack hated politics. “Keep me posted.”

  He turned to find Janet watching him.

  “They won’t turn to the Bureau for the ballistics testing?”

  He shook his head. “Rove is afraid of ruffling feathers at CBI.”

  “That’s absurd.”

  “That’s politics.”

  “It’s kind of you to want to help Kip, considering what he’s done.” She slid her arms around him, rested her head against his chest. “You really are a softie, aren’t you?”

  He held her fast, kissed her damp hair. “Don’t tell anyone.”

  “Your secret is safe with me.”

  # # #

  “It’s beautiful.” Janet could almost feel her soul sigh.

  Snug in her parka, a thick sheepskin on her lap, she looked around her. Tall aspens surrounded the sleigh, their leaves fluttering like so many gold coins in the breeze, their thick white trunks reaching skyward, making her feel as if she were sitting in a golden cathedral, its ceiling the endless blue dome of the sky.

  “You said you wanted to see aspens.” Jack’s voice was soft, as if he, too, were moved by the beauty of this place. “You can see the house down there.”

  Janet shifted slightly in her seat, peered through the trees. “It looks so small. How high up are we?”

  “We’re at about ten thousand feet elevation or so.” He started naming the mountains, pointing to each one, giving her the elevation of each summit. It was clear to Janet that this was a special place for him, someplace he’d been many times before. “I never get tired of this view.”

  “I don’t think I would either.”

  “Good.” He looked over at her, gave her a smile, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses, a black cowboy hat on his head.

  They’d been gone for about an hour now, Jack holding the reins as Buckwheat pulled the sleigh along a gradual incline, the snow now compacted enough for the horse to manage. Janet had never ridden in a sleigh before but found she quite enjoyed it, the bells on Buckwheat’s harness jingling merrily, the scenery rolling slowly by. Jack seemed to have a story for every bend in the road, every stand of trees, every frozen stream—where he’d had a tree fort, where he’d recently seen a mountain lion, where he’d shot his first buck, where his father had taken him to give him the “talk.” And Janet had come to realize that Jack was as much a part of this land as any tree or lake.

  The Cimarron was in his blood.

  “It’s so quiet.”

  Jack began to recite something. “The meadows and far-sheeted streams/Lie still without a sound/Like some soft minister of dreams/The snow-fall hoods me round/In wood and water, earth and air/A silence everywhere.”

  She stared at him, surprised. “Is that a poem?”

  Jack nodded. “Archibald Lampman. I thought he really described what snow does to the landscape better than anyone. Then again, he was Canadian, so I bet he had lots of time to think about it.”

  She laughed. “I thought you needed whiskey for poetry.”

  He leaned over and kissed her. “Sometimes, I just get inspired.”

  He tied off the reins, reached down beneath the seat of the sleigh, and pulled out a thermos. “Hot chocolate?”

  “You think of everything, don’t you?” She’d known it was there—along with a loaded AR-15.

  “I try.” He opened the thermos, poured steaming chocolate into the little stainless steel cup, and handed it to her. “It’s still pretty hot.”

  Janet took a sip, then another. “Mmm. I love chocolate.”

  Jack grinned. “I never met a female of the human variety who didn’t.”

  They stayed a while longer, sharing the hot chocolate and talking about Colorado’s mountains, about the ranch, about their families.

  Janet could get used to this. She could get used to being drenched in the natural beauty of the Cimarron. She could get used to spending time with this rough man who was always surprising her with his humor, his sensuality, his thoughtfulness. She could get used to waking up beside him in the morning, sharing the day with him, and lying beside him at night.

  “What day is it?”

  “Thursday,” he answered.

  On Saturday—Sunday at the latest—she’d have to head back to Denver to face the real world. She needed to get ready to start her new job on Monday. Of course, that didn’t mean she couldn’t come back.

  “I’d like to come here again,” she said.

  “I’m happy to hear that.” Jack took her gloved hand in his. “I want to share this with you, Janet. So, fair warning—I’m going to work hard to convince you that the Cimarron is now your home.”

  Janet wasn’t sure she needed much more convincing.

  # # #

  “Do you know what we’re going to do now?” Jack sat with his back against the edge of the tub, lazily fondling one of Janet’s breasts, empty wine glasses sitting among the candles in the corner, the water growing cool.

  “Get out of the tub?”

  It had been late afternoon by the time they’d gotten back to the house. They’d rubbed down Buckwheat together and settled him in his stall. Then Jack had seen to Chinook before making dinner.

  He chuckled. “We’re going to have dessert—or I should have said I’m going to have dessert.”

  “What about me?”

  “You are dessert.”

  Laughing, she turned in his arms. “What?”

  Jack had been waiting for this moment. “I told you I wanted to taste you, and I wasn’t kidding.”

  He let the water start draining from the tub, stood, and helped Janet to her feet. Then he climbed out of the tub and, ignoring her shriek of surprise, scooped her, slippery and wet, into his arms. “God, I love staring at your naked body. I’ll take it up as a new hobby if you’ll let me.”

  She laughed. “We might be able to work something out.”

  He positioned her on the edge of the bed, pillows beneath her hips, her legs resting over his shoulders. “Now I can see all of you, touch all of you, taste all of you.”

  He inhaled her sweet, musky fragrance, arousal shearing through him. It had been an eternity since he’d savored the scent of a woman.

  “You don’t have to do this.” Her green eyes held uncertainty.

  Did she feel self-conscious being open to him like this?

  He would put an end to that right now.

  “I want to do this.” He teased her inner thighs with his fingertips, kissed and licked that delicate skin, hoping to help her relax. “I wish you could see how beautiful you are to me.”

  “You’re not just saying that?”

  He answered with a long, slow stroke of his tongue, tasting her from her vagina to her clitoris. Sure enough, that ended the discussion. She gasped, her thighs tensing, her fingers sliding into his hair.

  He let himself explore her, drawing her inner lips into his mouth, stroking her clitoris with his tongue, teasing the entrance to her vagina. He went slowly, testing her, discovering what pleased her most, learning to read her sexual responses. Then he drew her clit into his mouth and sucked.

  “Oh!” She gasped, her hips bucking off the bed, her fingers clenched tightly in his hair, her clit swelling as he sucked it, tugged on it with his lips, flicked it with his tongue.

  God, she tasted good—wild and musky and sweet. He could have gone down on her forever. It didn’t matter to him that his knees had begun to protest or that his dick was hard as granite or that his balls were on the brink of exploding. He wanted to give her every bit of pleasure she could take.

  Remembering how sensitive her breasts wer
e, he reached with one hand to palm her nipples, felt her petal-soft areolas pucker beneath his touch.

  Her breathing was ragged now, her soft moans blatantly sexual, her fingers digging almost painfully into his hair.

  He slid a finger inside her, then two, stroking her where she was most sensitive, her vagina slick and hot and tight. He felt those inner muscles tighten and knew she was close to the edge. He sucked a little harder, kept his rhythm steady. Her cries grew more frantic, every muscle in her body now tense.

  Her breath caught and held, her body going stiff as the first tremors of climax washed through her. She exhaled in a shuddering cry, coming against his mouth, her body shaking. He stayed with her, kept his rhythm steady, the moisture of her orgasm drenching his fingers, lips, and tongue.

  God, he loved her.

  He hadn’t been looking for her. He hadn’t planned this. He hadn’t imagined that he’d ever love another woman again. But he did.

  Breathless, she scooted back onto the bed, reached for him. “Fuck me.”

  If he’d spoken that way to Theresa, even during sex, she’d have threatened to wash his mouth out with soap. Jack had been surprised when Janet had used these same words this morning. Now, her words sent a jagged bolt of lust blazing through him.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Hard to the point of aching, Jack rose, stretched out on the bed, drew her beneath him, and settled himself between her thighs, taking time to tuck a pillow beneath her left knee.

  She took his hands in hers, stretched her arms over her head, then released his fingers, leaving him holding her wrists. And he got it.

  She wanted him to pin her arms above her head.

  So his Janet liked a little domination.

  Well, wasn’t that just perfect?

  Jack had always had to curb that urge in himself for Theresa’s sake. Now, he let himself go, tightening his grip on her wrists, pinning her hard against her pillow, letting her feel his strength.

  She gave a little sigh of satisfaction, wiggling beneath him, her nipples puckering, her legs spreading wider.

  He entered her with a single, slow thrust, stopping when she winced, then sliding deeper when he felt her muscles relax. She was slippery wet from her orgasm and as tight as a fist, and he found himself fighting to hold on. But he wanted to give her time, wanted her to enjoy this, too.

  He willed himself to focus on her, on the physical act of making love to her, holding himself still inside her and grinding his pubic bone against hers. Her beautiful eyes were closed now, her lips parted, her body arching beneath his as the pleasure began to build for her once more. This time when she came, he went with her, the two of them soaring into oblivion together, lost in each other and the hot rush of orgasm.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Janet brushed Chipeta down, the docile mare watching her with a soft, dark eye. Jack was tied up on the phone in his office speaking with his attorney and bank, trying to arrange to put money in Kip’s jail account, so she’d decided to make herself useful and had come out to the stables on her own to exercise the mares. One by one, she’d taken them out of their stalls, walked them to the riding barn, and let them run.

  Baby Doe, Isabella Bird, and the feisty yearling Clara Brown had seized their moment of freedom, loping and galloping around the barn, then walking over to her when they’d had their fill. Molly Brown and Chipeta had been a little on the lazy side. They’d needed some urging with the wave of a lunge whip.

  Not only had Janet enjoyed spending time with the horses, but she’d been pleased that she’d managed to exercise the five mares by herself. She was excited for Jack to find out what she’d done. He would understand what it meant to her.

  God, it was going to be hard to leave the Cimarron. She knew she could come back on the weekends and find a warm welcome anytime. Jack had made that abundantly clear. But the idea of heading back to the hustle of Denver so that she could sit in meetings and occupy a desk now held absolutely no appeal to her. Still, she couldn’t walk away from her career. She’d fought so hard to get where she was.

  You’re not where you were—not now, not anymore.

  Last week, that realization would have left her feeling desolate. But now...

  I’ve been thinking life just might have a few surprises left for me.

  Life apparently held some surprises for her, too.

  If someone had told her nine months ago that she’d have the best sex of her life with Jack West, she’d have thought they were insane, but it was true. He was an incredible lover, attentive and unselfish. She had no doubt that the two of them were sexually compatible in the long run. He read her cues the way he read the motions of a horse he was riding. She’d never experienced that kind of thoughtfulness from a man before, that depth of connection.

  Was he in love with her? Did he hope to marry her one day?

  He’d hinted that he might, but he hadn’t come right out and said so. She didn’t want to read too much into his words. But it didn’t hurt to dream a little. When she’d been watching the mares lope and stomp around the riding barn, she’d spent more than a few minutes fantasizing about what it would be like to be Jack’s wife, to share meals with him, to go to bed with him every night, to make the Cimarron her home.

  She’d liked the way it made her feel. But after twenty years, could she just turn in her badge, collect her pension, and walk away?

  “Are you really an FBI agent?”

  Janet nearly jumped out of her skin. “Luke! I didn’t hear you come in.”

  The young man blushed, shrugged. “Sorry.”

  “Yes, I am.” She was—for the moment, anyway. “Are you really a cowboy?”

  He grinned, adjusted the hat on his head. “I guess I am.”

  “How’s your arm?”

  He reached over, rubbed it. “It’s healing. Still hurts some, though.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “Did the boss send you out here to tend the mares, because I told him I can handle it with Mr. Nate away, even with my arm.”

  “No, he didn’t. He’s busy, so I thought I’d make myself useful.”

  “And it’s about damned time.” Jack came around the corner, walked over to her, kissed her on the cheek. “I can’t have you eating me out of house and home and doing nothing all day.”

  “I’ve exercised Chipeta, Baby Doe, Isabella Bird, and Molly and Clara Brown, and I did it by myself.”

  Jack’s handsome face split in a broad grin, his gaze warm. “Did you now?”

  “How did it go on your end?”

  “I transferred a hundred dollars into Kip’s commissary account via his attorney. It’s not much, but it will make life a little more bearable. He’s going to be behind bars for a very long time.”

  She smiled. “I admire your compassion.”

  “You’re giving him money after what he did to me and Chinook?” Luke asked.

  Janet had forgotten he was standing there.

  “Have you ever been in jail, son? It’s not an easy time. I’m doing for him what I hope someone would do for me in his shoes. I’d do it for you, too.”

  Luke looked at his feet.

  “I’m glad you’re here. I just got a call from Detective Sergeant Taylor. He said he has more questions for you and asked if he could come by this afternoon. He’ll be at the house by one, so meet us there. In the meantime, check in with Chuck. I’m sending a group of men to shovel out Ms. Killeen’s vehicle and tow it here. If you’re up to it, I’m sure they could use your help.”

  “Yes, boss.” Luke turned and walked away.

  “He doesn’t seem happy.”

  “He doesn’t like doing anything that doesn’t involve the horses. I told him when I hired him that he needed to be willing to do whatever job needed doing, but he seems to have forgotten that part.”

  “He’s very young.” Janet finished brushing down Chipeta, unhooked her cross ties, and led her toward her stall.

  “Hell, they all seem young to me.”

  “Oh,
stop! You’ve got more going on than any man in his twenties.”

  “Is that right?” He waited while she led Chipeta into her stall, then closed the stall door when the mare was safely inside. “What do you say that you and I go inside? I’d like to spend the next hour or so taking full advantage of the fact that I’m a man and you’re a woman.”

  Janet looked into his eyes, felt that hitch in her chest again.

  Oh, God!

  She was in love with him.

  # # #

  Jack was in the middle of a conversation with Taylor when a knock came at his office door. “Come in.”

  It wasn’t Luke who appeared, but Janet.

  Jack motioned her toward a seat on the black leather sofa beside him. “Ms. Killeen has twenty years’ experience with the FBI. Do you mind if she joins us?”

  “I don’t mind at all. I’d appreciate your perspective, SA Killeen.” Det. Sgt. Taylor sat across from Jack wearing khaki uniform trousers and a dark brown fleece pullover with a star-shaped patch that read “Forest County Sheriff’s Office” in place of a badge.

  She handed him some pages from a notepad. “I asked Luke a few questions just after he was shot. These are my notes. Old habits die hard, I guess.”

  “Thanks.” Taylor took her notes, glanced through them, his brow furrowed with concentration.

  Jack turned to her. “He was just telling me that the Kimber they found in Kip’s possession had a different serial number and was a different model than the one that was reported stolen.”

  Taylor looked up from Janet’s notes. “That doesn’t mean anything when it comes to confirming or disproving his guilt. We don’t know that the stolen Kimber played any role in the shootings. Kip could have used any one of the forty-fives he owns. We won’t know until the ballistics come back.”

  “I offered to expedite that,” Janet said. “I’d be happy to get the evidence transferred to the Bureau and have it processed through us. You’d have it back in a matter of weeks.”

  Taylor gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m not the one you need to convince.”

  Jack couldn’t understand what Rove’s problem was. “It seems to me we ought to have proof positive that Kip fired those shots before we condemn him to years in prison.”