by Deb Stover
She...was being ridiculous.
"Cat got your tongue?" he quipped, and his teeth flashed silvery white with his smile.
"I...I was just having what Aunt Pearl would call a 'Come to Jesus' meeting."
"Meeting with who?" He glanced quickly over his shoulder.
"Me, myself, and I."
He sighed and placed both hands on the porch rail. "About my reasons for doing what I did?"
"Um, among other things." She struggled to keep her voice sounding as calm as possible. The last thing she needed was for him to suspect her true feelings. "Are you ready to tell me?"
"I reckon now's as good a time as any." He glanced toward the cabin and Todd, then straightened and took her hand. "Let's walk."
Jackie stared at her hand swallowed by his larger one and barely halted the shudder of longing that began from her very core. "All right."
They stepped off the porch and headed toward the paddock. Stopping at the fence, he turned to face her. She stared up at him, wishing she could see his eyes. Cole had very expressive eyes. Then again, perhaps she was better off not seeing them right now. Considering.
"I'm listening," she said, hoping her voice didn't reflect her state of mind, let alone heart. And why was he still holding her hand? He rubbed the callused pad of his thumb against her knuckles and she shivered.
"You cold?"
"Uh, a little." She tried to smile, but her lips quivered instead.
He released her hand, but just as she started to sigh in relief and regret, he slid his arm around her shoulders. "That better?"
His voice was rich and vibrant in the chilly night air, and the weight of his arm provided welcome and not-so-welcome warmth. She could handle this. Resist temptation. She was a strong woman. Everybody always said so. Everybody except Great-Aunt Pearl. "Thanks," she finally managed.
He absently rubbed her upper arm through her shawl and dress. Didn't he have a clue what he was doing to her? Her insides knotted into a tight fist of longing low in her middle, the pressure and emptiness mounting with every breath she took, every thump of her foolish heart.
He gave her shoulder a squeeze and cleared his throat. "All right, I've been thinking on this, and I decided you have a right to know why I...did what I did."
"Kidnapped me," she corrected.
"Yeah, that." He cleared his throat. "Because you've been so cooperative. Otherwise, I wouldn't feel obliged to tell you."
Somehow, she supposed there was logic in that, but it managed to escape her. "Go on, I'm listening."
"When me and Elizabeth first came to Colorado, we had big plans." He raked his free hand through his hair and stared toward the cabin. "Miners were getting rich all over the place, and we figured we could find enough gold to finance our future. We didn't care much about being rich, but our dream was important."
She sensed his thoughts were on his wife right now, and not on the woman he had his arm around, but that was all right. Elizabeth would always be a part of Cole and Todd, as she should be. Jackie, on the other hand, had no right to that claim at all.
"Tell me about those plans, Cole," she urged. Once upon a time, she'd had plans and dreams herself. Her throat constricted and burned, but she managed to suppress another shudder before it began.
He sighed and looked down at her, then off toward the shadow of the mountains, a dark smudge against the clouds and moonlight. "Oregon. We were going to Oregon once we had enough gold to buy a place."
"But you didn't go."
"Never eked out more than enough low grade ore from that mine to keep food on the table." He made a sound of self-disgust. "Toward the end, when Elizabeth..."
Jackie remained silent, though she wanted to beg him to finish the story. She sensed his pain and hoped this served as a catharsis for him. Cole Morrison had been carrying a mountain of guilt on his shoulders.
"Before Elizabeth died, she asked..." He faced the cabin again. "No, she begged me to take Todd home."
"Home?"
"St. Louis." He shook his head and sighed. "I didn't promise her that, but I did promise I'd take Todd away from here, where he'd have a chance at a decent life and real schooling."
"I see." And she did see. Cole had made a promise he hadn't kept, and that was tearing him apart. "So why don't you just go back to St. Louis?"
He made a snorting sound and dropped his arm. The sudden absence of his warmth left her bereft, emotionally and physically. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he faced her again.
"Elizabeth's father owns a mercantile there," he continued, his voice quiet and edged with bitterness. "He wanted to pay me and Todd's way back after Elizabeth died, and offered me a job. Hell, a partnership."
Jackie couldn't imagine Cole Morrison taking charity from anyone, and she certainly couldn't picture him working in a store the rest of his life, partner or not. "So why didn't you go?" He needed to say the words so he could forgive himself.
"I took Todd back there to visit, and I seriously considered it, but..." He jammed his fingers through his hair and turned away again. "I just couldn't give up on our dream. Mine and Elizabeth's. I figured I could keep digging, and sooner or later the gold would come." He dropped his hands to his sides. "But it didn't. And now I know it won't."
"Then Merriweather came along and offered you gold to take Lolita Belle to the Silver Spur." So Cole can have his dream. Jackie drew a shaky breath. If anybody discovered she wasn't the real Lolita, Cole would never have his gold or his dream.
"That's it. The whole pitiful story." He held his hands out to his sides, palms turned up. "I'm a failure, Jackie. There you have it. I saw this as my last chance to take Todd to Oregon instead of back to St. Louis with my tail between my legs. Foolish pride, I suppose."
She remained silent for several moments, pondering the irony of the entire situation. Cole had done something that violated his personal code of honor by kidnapping Lolita. But fate had chosen this particular time and place to throw Jackie into his path instead. Why? Was she here for a reason?
Get over it, Clarke. She knew better than to paint such grandiose schemes for herself. This, like most of her life, had been just one more piece of rotten luck.
Yet how could she call it rotten luck to land right here and now with the man she loved? Really loved? This wasn't puppy love like she'd had with her ex-husband, or a foolish fling like Blade. This was real, genuine, to-die-for love. And right now, the man she loved was in pain.
Slowly, she raised her trembling hand and touched his cheek. The initial contact of her sensitive palm with his rough whiskers sent a jolt of longing through her. She squeezed her eyes closed and bit her lower lip. Why did love have to hurt?
He covered her hand with his, holding it pressed against his cheek. After a moment, he turned and planted a kiss in her palm, then squeezed her hand and drew it down in front of him. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this mess."
"Don't be sorry," she said. "There's no need." Now he'd want to know why she insisted she wasn't Lolita, but telling him would sentence Cole to never having his dream. But if she didn't tell him, he'd go on believing she was a notorious saloon singer.
Jackie had to sacrifice herself for the sake of Cole's dream. If at all possible, the portrait would return her to her own time, then all this would become nothing but a memory. She'd return to her work, her salon...and Great-Aunt Pearl.
"Now it's your turn. Tell me about your, uh, spaceship." His lips twitched in the moonlight.
"I..." She pulled her hand free and turned her back on him. "I was just pulling your leg, Cole. Didn't you realize that?" She gave a nervous laugh that died on a stiff, chilly breeze.
He put his hands on her shoulders and she ached to turn into his embrace, to bury her face against his shoulder, to hold him so close she could feel their two hearts beat as one. But she didn't.
"Jackie, you promised." He massaged her shoulders. "I get the feeling something's changed," he said. "Do you hate me for what I did to you?"
She whirled around and stared up at him, her mouth agape. "No, not that. It's me, you big oaf. Me."
"What about you?" His voice was surprisingly calm. "Tell me, Jackie. Trust me."
Trust me.
She hadn't trusted anyone since her mother. And her mother had died and left Jackie. Releasing a long slow breath, she said, "I want to trust you, Cole. But it isn't that simple."
"You told me you aren't Lolita." He tilted his head to one side. "Are you saying now that you are?"
Jackie's heart slammed into her ribs. Pressure built in her throat and she tried to speak and failed. Tell him you're Lolita. She tried again.
She couldn't.
"Are you Lolita Belle?"
She clenched her teeth, struggled to form the words....
"Jackie?" He sounded worried now. "Are you feeling all right?"
She shook her head.
"Are you cold?"
She shook her head again.
He grabbed her and gave her a gentle shake. "Damnation, woman, will you just tell me the truth? You're making me crazy."
"You make me crazy, too," she finally said. She couldn't tell him she was Lolita, but she wouldn't tell him who she was or where she was from either. A lie of omission only–like that made it all right. "You make me crazy, Cole, because I want you." Because I love you.
"Jackie..." His voice held a note of warning.
"When I saw you naked down by that waterfall, I thought I was going to die if I couldn't touch you. Kiss you. Have you..."
"Don't." He sounded hoarse, as if struggling to keep himself under control.
"I behaved horribly–playing the tease and all. I'm sorry for that." She forced herself to breathe slowly, steadily. "So sorry."
That was the secret. She had to revert to her original plan to seduce him, then tell him about Goodfellow's counter offer–let him have his gold and his dream, then send him on his way. Perfect solution.
And this way, only her heart would get broken.
But she would have this one night with Cole. This one memory of making love–real love–to cherish in whichever century she spent the rest of her life.
He'd be free and she could give him his dream. Great sex and a dream. He'd be fine.
And so would she.
Chapter 12
With a groan, he claimed her mouth, and a torrent of yearning seized her.
Her response and redirection were astonishing, considering how confused she'd been only a moment ago. His lips were blistering yet pleasing. Velvet yet strong. Tender yet wild.
And exactly what she needed right now. Glorying in the power of his kiss, she threw her arms around his neck and clung to him, returning his kiss with equal fervor. He was hers.
For tonight.
He hauled her in closer and the heat of his desire scorched her through the worn fabric of her Little Women dress. Her shawl fell open, no longer needed as a new and insistent warmth took control.
She whimpered–an alien sound Jackie was certain she'd never made before–a faint echo of the low growl that rumbled through him.
All the "I am Woman, Hear Me Roar" lessons her mother had shared during those early years fell aside like ashes in the wind. Jackie's senses emerged screaming from the dark place where she'd hidden them, unveiling her mind and soul and–God help her–her heart. Just when she thought she was safe–that her caring torpedoes had done their job at last and that she had all this in perfect perspective–hormonal hell broke loose.
He ravished and claimed, and she imagined herself standing on a rocky, mist-shrouded cliff in Scotland, overlooking a stormy sea. A castle loomed in the distance, a ship on the horizon, and she was a damsel in distress being rescued by her handsome and oh-so-virile knight in shining armor. Or maybe a kilt.
She was, simply, losing it.
He fueled her senses with his unique musky man scent. No Ralph Lauren Polo for this guy. The coarse grain of his stubbled chin abraded her face, but she didn't care. She only feared that he might stop, leaving her breathless and empty and alone again.
His arms were like steel around her and he lifted her upward, tugging her hard against his full, magnificent length. His mouth never left hers as another beastly rumble left him and filled her with an unbearable ache. She'd never known such longing. Such need.
Jackie Clarke had met her match in Cole Morrison. He was too much man for her to control with her feminine wiles, such as they were. He was infinitely more dangerous than any con artist could ever be....
Because he was real. Vulnerable. Honest.
And because she loved him with all her heart.
It didn't help matters that he was the sexiest hunk of male flesh she'd ever encountered or hoped to encounter again in any century. He provoked within her a starving demand that exceeded any tangible, logical need she'd ever known. She would drop dead on the spot if he stopped. Even more terrifying–without him, she feared she would never be whole again.
He wove his fingers through her hair and tilted his head, his mouth insatiable, granting and demanding more with every desperate breath they shared. She slumped against him, incapable of supporting her own weight, her legs disintegrating beneath her like the Wicked Witch of the West after the proverbial bucket of water.
Yes, she was melting, melting–her body into his. Her breasts swelled and flowed against the hard planes and muscles of his chest, throbbing from the gentle massage of her clothing, the rough texture of his shirt. Her nipples thrust forward, hardening, dragging a muffled sob of need from her throat.
He stopped, tearing his mouth from hers, observing her with gleaming, feral, passion-lit eyes. Their mutual raspy panting reverberated like thunder in the moonlight. She curled her fingers into his shirt, her grasp fierce. He wouldn't end this here. She couldn't bear it. She'd rather die. Tonight was all she had....
"Love me, Cole," she whispered. "Just for tonight."
Then, suddenly, their mouths fused together again, breaths, longing, need merging, uniting as one. She clutched him to her frantically and his fingers tangled through her hair, increasing the insistence of his kiss, urging her to open to him.
She parted her lips, inviting his thrusting, seeking tongue into the warmth of her mouth. Renewed longing ricocheted through her body, tightening every muscle like a ponytail holder about to snap.
A groan reverberated through him, feeding her, driving her mad with the wanting. She echoed the sound as he deepened the kiss. His tongue slid over hers, surveying, raiding with sleek strokes that left her trembling. She needed another part of his body inside her, mimicking these same movements. She wanted to hold him fast and tight and deep.
Pretend this could last forever...
She savored the molten heat of his kiss. Nothing else mattered but him holding her, kissing her, wanting her. Nothing. She wouldn't let anything else matter.
There was only this moment in time. Only this night. Only this man who held her as if his life depended on it. Only this...
Persistent warmth gathered low in her belly, insisting that she see this through. Tonight.
He dragged his mouth from hers and she gasped in protest. "No, please," she whispered, trying to summon some of the teasing persona she'd portrayed so well earlier. "We aren't finished yet, big guy."
"This will never be finished, because I can never have enough of you." Voraciously, he blazed a trail of kisses down the side of her neck to the curve of her shoulder, easing his hand between their bodies to cup her breast. She smiled, urging him to do more. Much more.
Lowering his head, he covered her nipple with his lips. The layers of fabric separating them seemed to melt away beneath the sudden heat of his mouth. Her breath caught and her head rolled backward. The clouds parted and she saw stars–both real and surreal.
Through her thin gown, he drew her nipple into his mouth. A low, fierce tone tore from her. He leaned her back against his strong arm, lifting her upward to meet his ravenous lips.
He held her fast with mouth and arms
as he teased and tantalized her erect and sensitized nipples, soaking the fabric and brushing over it again and again. A river of lust flowed through her.
"Cole," she whispered breathlessly, clutching him to her. "I want you."
He released the buttons at the front of her dress, then shoved the layers of damp fabric aside, baring her to the cool night air and to his red hot kisses.
"I want you," he murmured, alternating between murmured words and hot, wet strokes of his tongue. "You're so beautiful. So perfect."
Jackie sobbed with longing as he drew her deeply into his mouth. A shudder rippled through her and she pressed herself greedily against him. "I need you now, Cole." She could make love with him on the ground, if necessary. Nothing mattered but having him.
All of him.
Wordlessly, he swept her into his arms and kicked open the paddock gate, allowing it to swing shut behind them. He ducked as he entered the stable. The scents of hay, horse, and leather surrounded them as he found his way through the darkness. He eased Jackie to her feet and slipped the shawl from her shoulders, spreading it across a pile of clean straw in the corner.
Moonlight filled the small shelter, bathing Cole in silver. Jackie's breath caught as she saw the eager expression in his eyes. "I want you, Cole. Now."
He put his arms on her shoulders and peered intently into her eyes. "Be sure, because," he drew a ragged breath, "I can't stand not having you another minute."
"Thank God." She gave him a shaky smile and eased her open dress and chemise from her shoulders, allowing the garments to puddle at her feet. His eyes widened and he reached for her.
"Patience." She grinned more openly now and bit her lower lip, bending over to untie her hiking boots and kick them off. She eased her Scarlett O'Hara underwear over her hips and kicked them aside, so turned on it was a miracle she didn't fall on her face. Holding her hands out to her sides, she said, "All right, I'm all yours, big guy."
He sucked in a breath. "Do that again."
She laughed. "Undress?"
"No, the bending over part."
She laughed and moved closer. "Are you a butt man, Cole Morrison?"