by Unknown
Dear God, she was killing him. His heart hammered and he felt as though his breath stuck in his throat. He drew a sharp breath. He saw plainly the rigid crests of her nipples thrusting against the thin material like twin spikes. His mouth went dry as bone dust. He touched her hair, easing a stray curl behind her ear. His gaze honed in and settled on her mouth.
“Like I’m an all day lollipop, and you want to lick me all over,” he drawled hoarsely.
“I do,” she replied thickly. “I told you when I first met you I wanted to taste you all over.” A blush stained her cheeks.
His body jerked at her sexual words. This time, there was no mistaking her meaning.
“Darlin’, I’m not stopping you.”
His gaze snapped to her eyes then back to her mouth where she touched her pink tongue to her lips. A soft groan escaped him. “I’m at your disposal, darlin.’ Anytime.”
He fisted her hair in his hand and drew her close. Today, she’d pulled the heavy tresses to one side and anchored it with identical fan-shaped black combs. There were at least eight rubies on each comb. The gems caught the sunlight and flashed their brilliant red fire at him. Jace drew her toward him by sliding his arms around her slender waist. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered softly, and lowered his mouth to hers.
He took his time, giving her time to retreat.
She didn’t take the chance to escape. Instead, her lips parted willingly. He took possession of her mouth, anchored her snugly against his groin and took his sweet time tasting her lips. Hungry. Demanding. He slid his tongue between the creases of her mouth and took a deeper taste of her. She parted her lips without hesitation. He groaned at her wild response. She tasted hot on his tongue.
He slid his fingers in her thick hair, removed the combs and tucked them in his shirt pocket. Slowly, he cupped her face, and drove his tongue deep, tasting every tiny crevice. She leaned into him, into the kiss, her tongue tangling with his. With exquisite slowness, he raised his mouth from hers. She moaned a protest and clung to him.
“Damn, woman, I think you just shot me down.”
She made a sound deep in her throat. She cleared her throat. “My combs—”
“Come to me tonight. I need you.”
“I can’t. We’re not supposed to be married.”
“We are married, darlin’. But if you’d rather sleep with me not married, I can arrange it.”
She blushed. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You can’t treat me like I’m your wife. No special privileges.”
His jaw tightened. He released her and stepped back. “Don’t wear your hair down when you’re working around the men. And put on a bra. Do I make myself clear?”
She nodded and shifted further away from him. “It was so hot and sticky. The truck has no air conditioning—” she broke off as his furrowed in a deep frown.
“Why didn’t you tell me in Reno? I would have had it repaired.” Better yet, he’d have taken her to buy a new truck if that’s what she preferred.
“I couldn’t let you do that. It wouldn’t be right.”
“You’re my wife, damn it! What wouldn’t be right is your truck broke down in the middle of nowhere and you roasting without an air conditioner!”
She shrugged, as if being his wife wasn’t important to her. He guessed it wasn’t.
“My combs…you keep taking them.”
“Yes.” He searched her eyes. “How many sets do you have?”
“A shoebox full. They’ve been passed down for generations. No one in the family has worn them for years and years. When my grandmother died, they came to me. I’ve chunked them in the trash a dozen times, only to find myself digging them back out and returning them to the shoebox.”
“Jesus. Don’t toss ‘em out.”
“Every time I threw them away, I heard my grandmother saying, ‘Save ‘em for a rainy day, child.’ So I’d gather them up and shove them back in the shoebox. Recently I decided to start wearing them. I want them back.”
“You’ll get them back one day. I promise. Whatever you do, don’t throw any of them in the trash. I want to see the rest of them.”
She nodded. “I brought several sets with me and some are in one of the boxes being shipped here.”
“I want to see them all when they get here. Is your brother with you?”
Her attention focused on the ribbons of perspiration coursing down the thick mat of damp hair on his chest. She licked her lips and eyed the path of an errant bead of moisture easing its way down only to disappear into the waistband of his jeans.
“Baby, stop looking at me like that.”
She lifted her gaze and blinked. “He’s in the truck,” she replied faintly
“Who?”
“My brother. Yo–you asked if my brother is with me.”
“Oh. Right.”
He allowed his gaze to travel past the candy-pink tank top, to the clinging white jeans hugging her slender legs, down to the delicate white sandals on her feet, where flirty, pink polish splashed across her toenails. Impractical, pink polish, which had some type of design airbrushed across each big toenail. Tiny, dancing red hearts, holding hands, two apiece on each big toe nail, winked back at him. Silly. Romantic. Feminine stuff. Sexy as hell.
He grinned. He was damned certain it was a sappy grin, too. God, he was such a goner. How the hell could a man fall in love with his wife’s damned toenails? He made a sound deep in his throat, then turned and walked away.
What was wrong now? Kaycee wondered. Why had he made that growling sound? Was he mad at her about something? Why the hell had he been staring at her feet? She glanced down at her feet. Nothing unusual. Just four tiny hearts winking back at her.
Nothing to growl about.
Although Jace moved in a slow, lazy walk that reminded her of a sleek panther, she found she had to hurry to keep up with his long-legged strides. She wondered what he would think of Taylor and couldn’t stop the agitated twisting of her hands as she followed him.
“Relax, honey. I quit gobbling up little girls like you a long time ago.”
“Bullshit! That’s a crock, and you know it.”
He laughed, his lips parting in surprise. “I don’t think I’ve even heard you say damn.”
“I grew up on a ranch around hard cussing cowboys who didn’t always mind their tongues because a female happened to standing nearby. I’ve heard and said it all.”
“I bet you have. Well, I guess I do like nibbling on you. You have the sweetest places to taste.”
She felt heat stain her cheeks. She ignored his soft laughter and watched him focus his attention on her brother waiting in the cab of the truck. Before they could move any closer, the woman who’d so brazenly kissed her husband approached them.
She looked stunning, beautiful, petite and slender, with full, ripe breasts that swayed invitingly when she walked. Midnight black hair fell to her shoulders in a tangle of wild curls. Dark Spanish eyes slid over her with scorn and dismissed her as unimportant.
Kaycee’s chin shot up. She glared back at the woman.
“Darling,” the woman purred and placed a possessive hand on Jace’s bare arm. She pressed her full breasts against his chest. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your little hired hand?”
Kaycee winced. The woman made ‘hired hand’ sound like a dirty word. And for the first time in her life, she felt inferior. She opened her mouth to reply then caught the anger in Jace’s dark eyes. He was furious. But at who?
She hesitated, watching in mild surprise as Jace pried the woman’s hand from around his arm. He pulled Kaycee close, leaned down, and kissed her. His decadent mouth lingered on hers, hot, warm and lusty. She gasped, opening her mouth to receive the slight touch of his tongue, before he raised his head, and turned cold eyes on the woman.
“Jillian Remington,” he said with deadly quietness, “Kaycee Remington, my wife.”
Kaycee heard the woman’s sharp intake of breath, saw the look of startled surprise sh
e turned on Jace. Her face turned deathly white. Hatred flared to life in the dark eyes she turned on Kaycee, but her words were directed to Jace.
“You’re married?” Her voice sounded like rough gravel, accusatory and filled with disbelief. “You bastard!”
Kaycee felt the hot barbs of the woman’s black gaze stabbing up and down her. The smirk on her face said clearly she found her lacking.
“You’re married to this wilted little cunt?”
She gasped at the woman’s deliberate slur.
“Careful, Jillian, Kaycee’s my wife,” Jace said quietly. “Tread lightly.”
There must have been something in Jace’s voice which warned the older woman she’d pushed her limit with him, because what color was left in her face drained away. Her beautiful mouth twisted into something ugly. “Don’t think this makes you the winner, Jace. I have ways of knocking you to your knees. You’re mine. You’ve been mine right from the beginning. And I keep what I own until I no longer want it. Get her out of your life or I will.”
Kaycee stiffened. God, the woman sounded like a female Smitt Davis. “You know, I know a man I think is related to you, a brother or perhaps your son? Or maybe you’re related to something a little lower to the ground that has a few more scales, a forked tongue and slithers on its belly.”
She saw Jace’s lips twitch. He cleared his throat and focused on something over the top of her head, but she refused to stand there while they discussed her as if she didn’t exist.
“You think you’re smart,” the older woman said, glaring daggers at her.
Kaycee stepped boldly between Jace and the woman. “I think this man is my husband and you have no claim on him. My advice is for you to keep your goddamn hands off him! And just so you know, I’m not going anywhere. I don’t know who you are, but I know who Jace belongs to, and it isn’t you.”
The woman edged back. “He’ll be yours over my dead body.”
“That can be arranged!”
The woman puffed out a short breath, whirled, and stomped away in a snit. Kaycee turned to face Jace, surprised to see amusement crinkling his eyes. “Who is she?”
“That, darlin’, is my stepmother, Jillian. Stay far away from her. She makes a wicked enemy.”
Kaycee glared at the woman’s retreating back. “You stay away from her. She might be your stepmother, but the woman’s a viper.”
“You have no idea, darlin’.”
“She’s young to be your stepmother.”
The woman didn’t yet look forty.
“She was eighteen when Dad married her.”
She heard something in his voice, something hard and cold, but at the same time, something very private. “And you?”
“I was fourteen.”
“You’re in love with her.”
“Kaycee. No. I swear to you, I’ve never in my life loved Jillian.”
She narrowed her eyes, considering. No. She couldn’t give it up. There was something between her husband and the woman, and it wasn’t nice. It might not be love, but it was very cozy. And she’d be damned if she’d play the role of the unknowing wife.
“Step-mother, my ass,” she snapped. “Maybe you don’t love her, but you’re lovers.” She said it quietly, matter of fact, no doubt in her voice. She turned her face up to his and searched for the truth in his eyes.
“I don’t want to have this discussion with you. Not now. Not ever. Jillian’s in the past, and that’s where she’s staying.”
“You don’t have to discuss anything with me,” she said softly. “I can read between the lines. It’s pretty obvious I’m right. And I don’t think she’s in the past. I think she’s very much in the present. Are you sleeping with her?”
“Hell, no!”
“I don’t believe you.”
He lifted a hand then slowly dropped it. “I won’t lie to you, Kaycee, ever. Yes, we were lovers. Were. It’s in the past. I didn’t love her. Ever. Maybe I was infatuated with her, once, but understand, it is years in the past. The relationship we shared was never by mutual consent. I haven’t touched her since I was eighteen. I’ll never touch her again. I don’t know what else to say other than I hate the ground she walks on.”
She frowned. Of all the things he could have said, this didn’t make sense. Never by mutual consent? What did that mean? “It doesn’t matter. It’s really none of my business.
I shouldn’t have said anything.”
He stopped walking, gripped her shoulders, and swung her around to face him. “Listen to me, it does matter. I admit I’ve done things with Jillian I’m not very proud of. I can’t undo them. I allowed her to get by with things, but I’m telling you the truth. I don’t love her, I never have.”
“I told you, it’s really not my concern, not my business.”
“It is your business. I expect to be your business. I swear to you, you’re the only woman I want.”
“I think Jillian might have a problem with that, Jace.”
“I’ll never be unfaithful to you. You have my word. Darlin’, you have no worries about Jillian. She’s my concern. Not yours.”
He flung a careless arm around her shoulders and pulled her close against his side. “Come on. Introduce me to your brother.”
She caught a glimpse of Jillian watching them from the corral and a shiver trickled down her spine. A dangerous glint sparkled in the older woman’s dark eyes.
No worries? Hah!
She saw the way Jillian’s dark gaze dropped to Jace’s crotch and the way she licked her crimson-colored lips.
Oh yeah. Trouble brewed on the horizon. And it wasn’t going to be pretty.
Chapter Fifteen
Nothing’s so sacred as honor and nothing’s so loyal as love
~Wyatt and Josephine Earp
Dancing Star Ranch
Monday 2:20 p.m.
Jace turned his attention to the man in the truck. He saw a thin man, early thirties, sullen, and obviously impatient, if one took the way he drummed his fingers on the side of the truck in a steady tattoo as a sign of irritation.
He got the feeling Kaycee’s brother was mad at the world and was about as friendly as a riled hornet in a hay meadow.
Taylor Spencer didn’t look the least like his sister. Kaycee was fair and cool as a frosty morning. Taylor was the polar opposite. Thick, dark hair lay long on his collar, a little shaggy, as if he didn’t give a shit if he ever got a haircut again. A ledge of thick, dark brows lay over deep-set eyes intensely blue and broody.
Dark olive skin and a five o’clock shadow darkened a firm jaw line. His firm lips were tight. Yep, the man was angry with God and everyone around him.
Jace rolled the man’s looks around in his mind. He reminded him of the Broadway star and male actor, Robbie Benson, who played the lead in the movie Ode to Billy Joe. Yeah, Taylor Spencer reminded him of how Robbie Benson looked, except a younger version.
He nodded a greeting and extended his hand toward Taylor in welcome. It was obvious the younger man was not in a friendly mood. Hostility etched his face. He ignored Jace’s outstretched hand and flung open the truck door.
Jace shot Kaycee a questioning look at Taylor’s snarled words, “I will not shake hands with a man who beats women.”
“Taylor,” Kaycee snapped.
Jace narrowed his eyes. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m sure you do. A real man doesn’t have to hit women to prove he’s a man.”
Kaycee gently squeezed Jace’s arm in silent warning.
Jace shot her a look. “I see,” he replied and recalled the tiny bruise that had been just beneath Kaycee’s eye the first time he saw her. He arched a brow in her direction because he also remember she’d told him her brother hit her there with his elbow and it hadn’t been an accident.
He sucked in a deep breath and held his temper. Kaycee had some explaining to do.
He dropped his hand to his side. This was just perfect. Kaycee’s brother already ha
ted him and he’d only just met the man.
What could possibly happen next?
Chills slid down his spine as a dark premonition crept over him. Yeah, things could always get worse. Hell, with Jillian slithering about, things were guaranteed to worsen. There was no telling what could or would happen. He needed to be prepared for the worst, but hell, he had no idea what the worst was going to be.
“If it isn’t too much trouble, you can help me get out of this damn hot truck.” Taylor spoke to Kaycee in a frozen, robotic manner.
Jace didn’t like the tone of voice Taylor used with her. He turned a look of disapproval on the man, but he wouldn’t say anything to him—yet.
“I don’t have much time,” he said, “but I’ll show you your quarters. You have the weekend to settle in, report at the house Monday morning at six sharp. I’ll tell you both then what’s expected.”
Taylor gave him a mocking salute.
Jace frowned. He didn’t like the man’s hostility. He didn’t like it one damn bit. How did one fight with a cripple? Easy. One didn’t and remain honorable. He glanced at his wife and saw she was wringing her hands and chewing on her bottom lip. He took her hands in his. “Stop it,” he said gruffly. “I haven’t punched anyone’s lights out in several years.”
She flashed him a timid smile. “He is trying.”
“Uh-huh. I can see that.”
She flashed a worried look at her brother.
Jace pulled her toward the back of the truck. He jerked the snaps loose securing the canvas tarp across the truck bed. “I don’t think Taylor is putting a whole lot of effort into trying, honey. I think he’s left all the trying up to you. What is his problem with me?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Uh-huh.”
She shrugged. “He needs time to adjust. This is a big move for him.”
“It’s a bigger move for you. With his attitude, he’ll never adjust.”
“I’m sitting right here. I’m not deaf,” Taylor snapped.
Kaycee winced, ignored her brother, and flashed Jace a weak smile. She watched him carelessly unload their battered suitcases and boxes. She darted a glance at Taylor and saw his face tighten with frustration and anger. She knew Taylor’s moods well. He was tired, worried, and he didn’t like Jace. Great! What a pleasant way to start a new life.