Hawk's Way

by Joan Johnston

  “I think you’d better put me down, Jesse,” she said.

  Slowly he released her legs so her body slid down across his. She was grateful for the way he held on to her, because her feet weren’t quite steady under her. Her nipples puckered as he slowly rubbed their bodies together.

  “You want me, Honey,” he said in his rusty-gate voice.

  “It would be hard to deny it without sounding like a fool,” she said acerbically.

  His mouth found the juncture between her neck and shoulder and blessed it with tantalizing kisses. Honey gripped his arms to keep from falling down the stairs as his mouth sought out the tender skin at her throat and followed it up to her ear. Her head fell back of its own volition, offering him better access. Her whole body quivered at the sensations he was evoking with mouth and teeth and tongue.

  A hoarse, guttural sound forced its way past Honey’s lips. “Jesse, please.”

  “What, Honey? What do you want?”

  Honey groaned again, and it was as much a sound of pleasure as of despair. “You,” she admitted in a harsh voice. “I want you.”

  Jesse lifted her into his arms and carried her the rest of the way upstairs.

  SEVEN

  Honey felt the heat of the man beside her and reached out to caress the muscular strength of a body she now knew as well as her own. When Jesse stirred, Honey withdrew her hand. She didn’t want to awaken him. Last night had been magical. She didn’t wish to rouse from the night’s dream and face the reality of day.

  Jesse looked younger in the soft dawn light, though still something of a rogue with the stubble of dark beard that shadowed his face. She rubbed her cheek against the pillow, noticing that her skin was tender where his beard had rubbed again—and again. As were her breasts, she realized with chagrin.

  He hadn’t been gentle, but then, neither had she. Their lovemaking had blazed with the feelings of desperation that had followed them upstairs to the bedroom.

  Honey understood her own reasons for feeling that she had to reach for whatever memories she could make with Jesse before he was gone. She had no idea why Jesse had seemed equally desperate. Had he already made up his mind to leave her? Did he already know the day when their brief interlude would come to an end?

  She touched her lower lip, which was tender from the kissing they had done, the love bites he had given her. She must have bitten him, as well. There was a purplish bruise on Jesse’s neck, put there in a moment of passion, she supposed. She didn’t remember doing it, and she was embarrassed to think what he was going to say when he saw it. She hadn’t left such a mark on a man since she’d been a teenager, playing games with Cale.

  Honey winced. She hadn’t thought of Cale once last night. Jesse hadn’t left room for thought. He had spread her legs and thrust inside her, claiming her like some warrior with the spoils of battle. And what had she done? She had allowed it. No, that wasn’t precisely true. She had reveled in his domination of her. She had opened herself to Jesse and allowed him liberties that Cale had never enjoyed.

  And she wasn’t even sorry.

  Honey had never needed a man so much, or felt so much with a man. She didn’t understand it. What made Jesse so different from Adam? Why couldn’t she have chosen a man who would give her the security she needed in her life? Why did she have to love—

  Honey stopped her thoughts in midstream, appalled by the word that had come to mind. Love. Was that why the lovemaking had been so thrilling? Was she in love with Jesse Whitelaw?

  It was unfair to be forced to evaluate her feelings when she was staring at the object of her desire. Because she loved the way Jesse’s raven-black hair fell across his brow. She loved the way his dark lashes feathered onto bronze cheeks. She loved his mouth, with the narrow upper lip and the full lower one, that had brought her so much pleasure.

  She loved the weight of his body on hers when they were caressing each other. She loved the feel of his skin, soft to the touch, and yet hard with corded muscle. She loved the way his flesh heated hers as his callused fingertips sought out her breasts and slid down her belly to the cleft between her thighs.

  She loved the feel of their two bodies when they were joined together as a man and woman were meant to be. She loved his patience as he brought her to fulfillment. She loved the lazy-lidded satisfaction in his eyes when she cried out her pleasure. And she loved the agonized pleasure on his face as he followed her to the pinnacle of desire they had sought together.

  Honey refused to contemplate the other facets of Jesse’s character that appealed to her. They were many and varied. It was painful enough to know that she loved him this way. Because where there was love, there was hope. And Honey was afraid to hope that the drifter would be there in the days to come. She wasn’t sure her memories would be enough when he was gone.

  Honey knew she couldn’t stay in bed any longer without turning to Jesse yet again. Rather than be thought a wanton, she slipped quietly from beneath the covers, grabbed a shirt, jeans, socks and boots and headed downstairs to dress in the kitchen.

  She didn’t make coffee, certain the smell would wake Jesse, and wanting more time alone. Honey headed outside to feed the stock. Maybe she could subdue her unruly libido with hard work. She entered the barn and was immediately assailed with familiar smells that comforted and calmed her. She headed for General’s stall and stopped dead at the sight that greeted her. Or rather, didn’t greet her.

  At first Honey refused to believe her eyes. She gripped the stall where General was supposed to be with white-knuckled hands. Had she left General outside in the corral all night? She was appalled at her thoughtlessness.

  Honey ran back outside, but the bull was nowhere to be seen. She hurried back to examine the stall, thinking he might have broken the latch. But it was still hooked.

  Staring didn’t make the bull appear. He was gone. Stolen!

  Honey felt despair, followed by rage at the one suspect for the theft who was still within her reach. Purely by instinct, she grabbed two items from the barn as she raced back to the house. She made a brief stop in the kitchen before marching determinedly up the stairs.

  * * *

  Jesse came roaring to life, drenched by the bucket of icy water Honey had thrown on him. “What the hell are you doing, woman?”

  He leapt out of bed like a lion from its den, roaring with anger. He was naked, and she had never seen him look so powerful. Or so seductive to her senses.

  He grabbed for her and she stepped out of his way. “You bastard!” she hissed.

  “Honey, what the hell—”

  “Don’t come any closer.” She held up the buggy whip she had found in the barn, a relic of days gone by. “I’ll use this,” she threatened.

  “What’s going on here?” Jesse demanded. “It’s a little late for outraged virtue.”

  “Outraged virtue! You low-down mealy-mouthed skunk!” she raged. “You stole my bull!”

  She wanted him to deny it. With all her heart she yearned for him to say he was innocent. But the dark flush she could plainly see working its way up his naked flesh from his powerful shoulders, to his love-bruised neck, landing finally on his strong cheekbones, was as blatant a statement of guilt as she had ever heard.

  “How could you?” she breathed, more hurt now than angry. “I trusted you.” Then the anger was back, and she wielded the whip with all the fury of humiliation and pain she felt at his betrayal. “I trusted you!”

  The whip landed once across his shoulders before he reached out and jerked it from her hands. He threw it across the room and pulled her into his arms.

  Honey fought him, beating at him with her fists and kicking at him with her feet until he threw her down on the soaking-wet bed where he subdued her with his weight.

  “Stop it, Honey! That’s enough!”

  “I hate you!” she cried. “I hate you! I hate you!”

  She burst into gasping sobs and turned her head away so he wouldn’t see the tears she cried over him. She lay still,
emotionally devastated, as he kissed them away.

  “Honey.” His voice sounded like gravel. “I’m sorry.”

  “Where’s—my—bull?” she gritted out between clenched teeth.

  “In a safe place,” he said.

  Honey moaned. His words were final confirmation that he had used her, lied to her, stolen from her.

  “It’s not what you think,” he began.

  She turned to face him, eyes blazing. “Can you deny that you lied to me?”

  “No, but—”

  “That you stole General?”

  “I did, but—”

  She growled deep in her throat and bucked against him.

  “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll lie still,” Jesse warned.

  Honey froze, suddenly aware of the fact he was naked, and they were in bed. “Don’t you dare touch me. I’ll fight you. I’ll kick and scratch and—”

  “If you’ll just shut up for a minute, I can explain everything.”

  “I don’t want to hear your excuses, you bastard. I—”

  He kissed her to shut her up.

  Honey felt the punishment in his kiss, and it was easy to fight his anger with her own, to arch her body against the weight of his, to grip the male fingers threaded through her own and struggle against his domination.

  The more she fought, the more her body responded to the provocation of his. He insinuated his thigh between her legs knowing it would excite her. At the same time his mouth gentled and his lips and tongue came seeking the taste of her, dark like honey, rich and full. She fought his strength, but his hands held hers captive on either side of her head while he ravished her.

  “Don’t,” she pleaded, aware she was succumbing to the desire that had never been far below the surface. “Don’t.”

  She was helpless to deny him. He was stronger than she. To her surprise, he stopped kissing her and raised himself on his elbows so he could look at her.

  “Are you ready to listen now?”

  She turned her head away and closed her eyes.

  He shoved one of her hands back behind her and held it there with the weight of his body while he grabbed her chin with his now-free hand and forced her to look at him.

  “Open your eyes and look at me,” he commanded.

  When she didn’t, his mouth came down hard on hers. “Open your eyes, Honey. I’m going to keep kissing you until you do.”

  Faced with that threat, her eyes flashed open and she glared at him.

  His dark eyes burned with fury. His mouth was taut. A muscle jerked in his cheek. “There is an explanation for everything,” he gritted out.

  “I’ll bet!” she retorted.

  “Shut up and listen!”

  She snorted. But she stayed mute.

  He opened his mouth and closed it several times. Searching for more lies, Honey thought. He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, she saw regret.

  “I don’t know how to say this except to say it,” he began.

  She waited, wondering how she could bear to hear that the man she had spent the night making love to, the man she had begun to think herself in love with, was part of a gang of murdering rustlers.

  He took a deep breath and said, “I’m a Texas Ranger. I’m working undercover to catch the leader of the gang of rustlers that’s been stealing from ranches in this area.”

  Honey couldn’t believe her ears. Her first reaction was relief. Jesse wasn’t a thief! The very next was anger—make that fury. He had lied to her! It was a lie of omission, but a lie all the same to keep her ignorant of his true identity. Finally there was hopelessness. Which was foolish because she had never really had much hope that the drifter would settle down. Now that she knew Jesse was a Texas Ranger, the situation was clear. He would leave her when his job was done. Not that it really mattered. She would never repeat the mistake she had made with Cale.

  “Honey? Say something?”

  “Let me up.”

  “Not until I explain.”

  “You’ve said enough.”

  “I didn’t want to lie to you, but Dallas—”

  “Dallas was in on this? I’ll kill him,” Honey muttered.

  Jesse was pleased by the fire in her eyes after the awful dullness he had seen when he had told her the truth. Or at least as much of the truth as he could tell her.

  “Dallas was under orders, too,” Jesse continued. “The Captain thought it would be better if you were kept in the dark. Because of…” His voice trailed off as he realized he couldn’t tell her the rest of it. “I mean…I guess he thought you would understand, having been the wife of a Texas Ranger, why it was necessary.”

  “I understand, all right,” Honey said heatedly. “You used me without a thought to the pain and anguish it would cause.”

  “How much of what you’re feeling is the result of losing General and how much the result of my deceiving you?” Jesse asked in a quiet voice. “General would have been returned within a day or so at the most and no harm done. I hadn’t counted on what happened between us, Honey.”

  “You never should have touched me.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “You should have left me completely alone.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Because I couldn’t. I didn’t know I would find the other half of myself here, now, under these circumstances.”

  Honey swallowed over the lump that had suddenly risen in her throat. She closed her eyes to shut out the tenderness in his dark-eyed gaze.

  “I love you, Honey.”

  When her eyes opened they revealed an agony she hadn’t ever wanted to feel again. “Don’t! Don’t say things you don’t mean!”

  “I’ve never meant anything more in my life.”

  “Well, I don’t love you!” she retorted.

  “Who’s lying now, Honey?”

  “This can never work, Jesse. Even if you could settle down, and I’m not sure you can, you’re a Texas Ranger.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “I don’t want to spend my life worrying about whether you’re going to come home to me at the end of the day. I had no choice with Cale. But I have one now. And I choose not to live my life like that.”

  “I can’t—won’t—change my life for you,” Jesse said, disturbed by the narrow lines she was drawing.

  “I’m not asking you to,” Honey said.

  “Where does that leave us?”

  “You’ve got a job to finish. I assume you’re going to meet with the rustlers and exchange General for a great deal of money?”

  He grinned crookedly. “That was the plan.”

  “Then I suggest you go to work.”

  Jesse sobered for a moment. “Things aren’t over between us.”

  She didn’t argue with him. There was no sense in it. As soon as his job was done he would be leaving. She felt the pain of loss already. Even if he had been the drifter he first professed to be, he would have been moving on sooner or later. She had always known Jesse wouldn’t be hanging around. Only now his leaving had a certainty that allowed her to begin accepting—and grieving—his loss.

  She searched his features, absorbing them, cataloguing them so she would remember them. Her eyes skipped to the body she had adored last night, and she noticed a huge red welt on his right shoulder that had previously been hidden by the pillow.

  “Oh, my God, Jesse. Look what I’ve done to you!”

  Jesse gasped as she reached out and touched the spot where the horsewhip had cut into his flesh.

  She pushed at his chest. “Let me up, Jesse. I need to get some salve for that before it gets any worse than it is.”

  Honey didn’t know what she would have done if he hadn’t let her up just then. She was feeling so many things—remorse and embarrassment and love. And the love seemed to be winning out. She didn’t want to care for this man. It would only hurt worse when he left.

  Jesse took advan
tage of the time Honey was out of the room to put on his pants and boots. When she came back he was sitting on the edge of the bed shirtless, waiting for her.

  Honey laid the things she had brought back with her on the end table beside the bed, then sat down beside Jesse to minister to the wound.

  He hissed in a breath of air when she began dabbing at the raw flesh with warm water. “I know this must hurt,” she soothed.

  As she worked, Jesse wasn’t nearly so aware of the pain as he was of the care she was taking of him. It had been years and years since there had been a woman in his life to care for him. His mother had died when his sister, Tate, was born, leaving Tate to be raised by a father and three older brothers. He had been how old? No more than eleven or twelve.

  He luxuriated in the concern Honey showed with every gesture, every touch. She cared for him. He felt sure of it. Even though she denied him in words, her gentleness, her obvious distress over his injury, gave her away. He meant to have her—despite the reservations she had voiced.

  It had never occurred to him that she would demand that he leave the Rangers. He relished the danger and excitement of the job. There must be a way he could have Honey and the Texas Rangers, too. He would just have to find it.

  “When are you going to meet with the rustlers?” Honey asked.

  “Sometime tonight.”

  Honey bit her lip to keep from begging him not to go. She had learned her lessons with Cale. Her pleas would be useless. Instead she said, “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  He took her hand from his shoulder and held it between both of his. “Don’t worry about me, Honey.” He flashed her a grin. “I’ve been doing this a long time. I know how to take care of myself. Besides, I’m not about to get myself killed when I’ve got you to come back to.”

  “Jesse…”

  He reached up and caught her chin in his fingertips, drawing her lips toward his. “Honey…”

  Warm. Wet. Tender. His mouth seduced her to his will. His hand curled around her nape and slid up into her hair. Suddenly she was sitting in his lap, her hands circling his neck, and his mouth was nuzzling her throat.