WILD BLOOD

by Naomi Horton

  "Oh, jeez," Jody groaned, flushing with embarrassment. "Not the sex thing again! Dad, I know all that stuff, okay?"

  "Yeah, I know you know it," Jett growled. "Just knowing isn't enough. You think you're cool and in control, and then one day you're with a girl you like a whole lot and you start feeling things, and pretty soon you're kissin', and before you know it, that's all she wrote."

  "Jeez," Jody groaned softly, shoulders hunched, head tucked down so low that all Jett could see were the tops of his ears, glowing bright red.

  Jett took a deep breath. Fifteen. Hard to believe Jody was fifteen already, standing as tall as a man. Last year, the only things on his mind had been horses and rodeo. And now, suddenly, he was thinking about going to dances. Next would come his first pickup truck. Then his first steady girl. Then…

  "Stay right here." Stepping by Jody, Jett headed down the corridor to the big master bedroom at the back of the house. He pulled open the top drawer of his dresser and took out the small box of condoms he'd put there a few months ago for another reason entirely, then walked back to the bathroom.

  Jody took one horrified look at the box and started to back away, ears crimson. "Oh, man!"

  "I'm going to put them here." Jett opened the medicine cabinet door and set the box on the middle shelf. "I'm not going to count them or keep track. But I want you to use them, understand?"

  "But I'm not even—" Jody flushed again, looking as though he wished the floor would swallow him whole. "I mean, I ain't—"

  "You will," Jett said flatly.

  Jody looked so miserable that Jett nearly smiled. "Look," he said more gently, "I'd as soon you waited a few years. Hell, I'd as soon you waited until you're married. But things happen, Jody. I want you to be careful, is all."

  "Yeah, yeah," Jody muttered, starting to turn away. "I gotta go before—"

  "This isn't a joke, damn it." Jett reached out and caught Jody's arm, pulling him around. "Life's tough enough without havin' a kid before you've even grown up properly yourself."

  "Like you did, you mean?" Jody's face was dark with sudden resentment. "That's what you're gettin' at, ain't it? That you don't want me making the same mistake you made."

  Jett went very still. Then, not loosening his grip on Jody's arm, he said with quiet steel, "You were never a mistake, Jody."

  "No?" Jody pulled his arm free. "That's why you quit rodeo, ain't it? Everybody keeps sayin' how good you were, how nothing was going to stop you. And then you just up and quit and never rode again. It was because of me, wasn't it? Because you had a kid to take care of."

  Very carefully, Jett drew a deep breath. "Partly."

  Something bleak crossed Jody's face. Jett swore under his breath and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. "Look, Jody," he said quietly, "I'm not saying things weren't hard. It would have been easier on all of us—you included—if your mother and I hadn't … if we'd waited. I was eighteen and green as grass and never had a thought in my head that wasn't about horses or girls. Then one day I had a son, and things got real in a hurry. I just want you to have some options, that's all."

  "Grandpa was only seventeen when you were born." Jody's eyes were filled with defiance. "He didn't quit rodeo."

  "And he was never any damn good as a father, either," Jett said bitterly. "I lived here with his mom and dad while he went off ridin' rodeo, and I used to see him maybe twice a year, if he was in the neighborhood. Now and again I'd get a birthday card, but mostly I got nothing. You're damn night I quit rodeo when you were born—no kid of mine was going to grow up with no real home or family."

  Jett bit the words off, breathing quickly. Remembering standing in a book-filled room up at The Oaks with Cliff Albright at his side, telling Cliff and Patterson and God Himself that nothing short of a bullet was going to stop him from getting custody of his son. And it hadn't. Not threats from Patterson, not pleas for common sense from Albright, not even the siren lure of the rodeo.

  He realized that Jody was looking at him and forced himself to relax, managing a rough laugh. "Hey, I'm just saying that life's a lot easier when you're making the choices."

  Jody nodded, not saying anything, but looking subdued and thoughtful. He turned to leave, then paused and gave Jett a sly look. "Maybe you should hang on to a couple of those things yourself. That Kathleen Patterson's a mighty pretty lady, and you're lookin' pretty irresistible yourself tonight, with that new shirt and all that cologne you're wearin' and all."

  He turned and headed down the corridor, chuckling to himself, and Jett eyed the box on the medicine cabinet shelf thoughtfully.

  * * *

  "Kinda like old times, huh?" Jett paid for the beer and took the can the bartender handed him with a nod of thanks. He tore the tab off, then tipped it up and took two long swallows, throat muscles rippling, his coppery skin sheened lightly with sweat. Grinning, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and handed the can to Kathleen. "Having a good time?"

  Kathleen nodded and took a grateful sip of the icy beer, still out of breath from a fast Texas two-step. The band had gone straight into a hard-driving boogie that was rattling dust from the rafters, and she grinned, gazing around the huge community hall.

  It had been an old barn once, and little had been done to change its character. The decor was unabashedly Western, from the bales of straw piled around to the saddles and ropes hanging from the walls and peeled pine posts, and there was even a mechanical bull set up in one corner. It was surrounded by a mob of boisterous young men in jeans and denim shirts, all shouting encouragement to the unfortunate kid being flung around like a rag doll to howls of laughter from his compatriots.

  "Going to give it a try?" Kathleen grinned up at Jett.

  "You crazy?" He took another deep swallow of beer. "This tired old body ain't up to that kind of abuse anymore."

  Kathleen pinched his ribs lightly, feeling nothing but muscle and bone, honed lean with hard work. "This tired old body looks pretty good to me."

  Jett gave her a look of mock surprise. "You flirtin' with me, Miss Patterson?"

  Kathleen had to laugh. "Habit. I always did have a hard time keeping my hands off you."

  "Talk like that could get a girl into all sorts of trouble."

  "Oh, I think I can handle it."

  Jett gave a gust of laughter and draped his arm loosely across her shoulders, tugging her closer. "Honey, feel free to handle whatever catches your fancy."

  "That goes past flirting into outright solicitation."

  "I love it when you talk dirty."

  Laughing quietly, Kathleen relaxed into the curve of his arm and watched the crowd ebb and flow around them, happier than she'd been in too long to remember. The place was packed, the dance floor a mass of dizzying colors that swirled and shifted in time to the music blasting out of the big speakers on either side of the raised stage. The band was good, a local group that had a little something to please everyone, from rockabilly to soft rock to hard-core country, with a little old-fashioned fiddle and banjo picking tossed in for good measure.

  Those people not dancing were sitting on straw bales or at tables, shouting themselves hoarse over the music. Kathleen recognized a few people and smiled a greeting now and again when someone caught her eye. It seemed strange, being here. Stranger still being here with Jett. Out of time, almost. Like a dream that was half now and half then, not quite real.

  She glanced up at him to reassure herself that it was real. He grinned easily, as though reading her mind. "Get to many barn dances in Baltimore?"

  "Oh, sure." She grinned back. "If we were in Baltimore right now, you'd be in black tie and we'd be drinking expensive wine and making small talk with eight-hundred-dollar-an-hour attorneys and their mistresses."

  "Sounds boring as hell."

  "It was." Was. Interesting choice of tense, Kathleen thought. Did that mean she'd made up her mind but just hadn't admitted it to herself yet?

  "Kathleen? Kathleen Patterson?"

  The voice came from s
omewhere out of the music and laughter surrounding them, and Kathleen looked around. A tall, good-looking man with nice shoulders and a mop of sandy-brown hair was weaving his way through the crowd toward them, grinning with delight.

  "Who the hell is this guy?" Jett muttered, his expression thunderous.

  "I have no idea, but he's awful cute."

  All she got in reply was a low growl, and she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud as the newcomer got close enough to see who she was with. He paused in midstride, smile faltering as his gaze flickered to Jett, then back to Kathleen.

  "Be gentle with him," she murmured to Jett. Then she let her smile widen welcomingly. "Hi! It's nice to see you again."

  The man's grin clicked confidently back into place, and he shoved his hand toward her. "I heard you were back in town, but I didn't believe it! What's it been? Fifteen years?"

  "About that." Kathleen shook his hand, frantically rummaging through her memories for a name. Glasses. He wore heavy glasses back then. And acne. Ken Mitchell? Kathleen blinked in surprise. "How are you, Ken? You're looking great!"

  He gave an aw-shucks grin and shoved his hands into his pockets, doing everything but scuffing at the dirt with his toe. "Yeah, well, I started working out and got contacts and—" He blushed suddenly, as though aware he was babbling. "If, um … if you're going to be in town for a while, maybe we—"

  "She's going to be busy," Jett interrupted impatiently. "Nice talkin' to you." He slipped a proprietorial arm around Kathleen's waist and swung her out onto the dance floor.

  "For heaven's sake," Kathleen protested with a sputter of laughter. "The poor man was only trying to—"

  "I know what he was tryin' to do," Jett growled, spinning her into his arms expertly. "He was tryin' to steal my woman."

  My woman. There was something about the words, or maybe just the possessive little growl in his voice as he said them, that sent a tiny shiver down Kathleen's spine. She laughed softly, trying to ignore it. "Competition got you jumpy, Sundance?"

  "Hell, no." He laughed close to her ear, the warmth of his breath making her giddy. "None of 'em has a chance while I'm in the picture."

  "Oh?" She arched one eyebrow and looked up at him, still laughing. "You sure about that?"

  Jett's smile was slow and lazy, and his gaze held hers for a long heartbeat. "Dead sure," he murmured, his breath caressing her mouth.

  And then he tightened his arm around her and spun them out among the dancers, and it was too late to tell him he was wrong.

  The music was something fast and hard-driving, and Kathleen caught the beat instinctively, the hem of her flounced denim skirt swirling at mid-thigh as Jett spun her around expertly. Then he pulled her close against him again, teeth glinting in an easy grin as they moved with the surge and flow of the other dancers.

  It was exhilarating and magical, like being caught up in a kaleidoscope, the beat of the music coming up through the plank floor and reverberating through her entire body. Laughing faces swirled around them in a mélange of denim and fringe and Navaho prints, and Kathleen laughed again, joy bubbling up through her like fine champagne.

  "Jett, you old hound dog," some man shouted at them, swinging his redheaded partner in close. "It's been a long time, old buddy!" He looked at Kathleen and winked. "Glad to see he's still got some life in him."

  The redhead glared at the man as they swung away again. Kathleen could see her say something to him, and he gave Kathleen a startled look, obviously not having recognized her.

  It made her smile. People had been giving her curious glances all evening, some looking mildly amused at seeing her with Jett, others registering outright surprise as word spread that Judge Nelson Patterson's daughter was back.

  "People are going to start talking about us," she said, breathless with laughter.

  "People started talking about us the minute I walked through that door with you on my arm." He pulled her tight against him and grinned down at her. "Just like old times."

  "Except this time you don't have to worry that someone's called Dad and you're going to take me home and find him waiting for us with a deputy and a twelve-gauge pump action."

  "Who said I was planning on taking you home?"

  There was something in his eyes—something hot and male and more than a little dangerous—that made Kathleen's heart do a somersault. "Aren't you moving a little fast, Sundance?"

  Jett's dark gaze held hers, glittering slightly. "If I was moving fast," he said in a husky undertone that made her toes curl, "I'd already have you in the truck on some back road, so deep inside you it'd take us a week just to catch our breath."

  Kathleen's knees went weak, and she closed her eyes, having trouble catching her breath right there. "Jett, this is … crazy. What are we doing?"

  "What I've wanted to do every day for the past sixteen years," Jett growled, not even knowing he was thinking it until he heard the words tumble out of his own mouth.

  In truth, he didn't have the damnedest idea what he was doing. But it had been like that with her the first time, too. No time for thought, for reason, for playing it safe. He'd taken one look at her and known he wanted her. And it was no different this time.

  He could feel her moist breath curling under his collar and around his throat, and he could imagine her mouth against him, kissing, teasing, the delicate touch of her tongue. Could feel the soft pressure of her breasts against his chest and knew exactly and vividly what it would be like to have them spill into his hands, soft and velvet-tipped. Could remember every detail of what it had been like making love with her, every whisper and sigh and indrawn breath. Could almost feel the silken heat of her and taste the perfumed nectar of her skin…

  Not unexpectedly, his body responded as enthusiastically as it always had, and Jett groaned, having to laugh. "Things are getting a little out of hand, darlin'."

  She was laughing, too, thank heaven, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "What were you saying about it being like old times?"

  Jett tugged her a little closer. Or tried to. She pulled back slightly, holding him firmly at bay, and he grinned. "Shy?"

  "Just not the pushover I used to be."

  "Sixteen years ago I'd have taken that as a challenge."

  "Sixteen years ago, it was."

  "And now?" Jett let his hand slide down Kathleen's back so his fingers rested lightly on the upper swell of her bottom. Gently, ever so gently, he pressed her closer to him. And slowly, ever so slowly, she responded.

  She looked up at him from under her lashes. "I'll take it under deliberation."

  "You're givin' me some seriously bad thoughts here, lady."

  "So what else is new?"

  The music changed into something slow and romantic without so much as missing a beat, and Kathleen smiled, letting herself relax into the familiar warmth of Jett's embrace. He'd always been a good dancer, moving with a natural grace and rhythm she'd found irresistible, and it was no different tonight. Someone had dimmed the lights, and Jett smiled down at her, saying nothing, then dropped both arms around her and pulled her close, moving slowly to the music, his cheek against her hair.

  Kathleen slipped both arms around his neck, breathing in the faint, spicy scent of his aftershave and loving the silken feel of his cleanly shaven cheek, the warmth of his body moving against hers, the undemanding intimacy of his hands on her lower back. It had been a long time, she thought drowsily. A long time indeed…

  "You're still one of the best dancers around," she murmured.

  "Rusty as hell." He nuzzled her ear. "Couldn't tell you the last time I've gone dancin'."

  "Me, neither. For fun, anyway. There was a charity ball last year, but it was work. Half the people there were clients, or people we were wooing as clients. I smiled so much my face hurt."

  "You need a different line of work."

  "You need to get out more." She smiled against his throat, wondering if she should tell him about Gordie's job offer. About how tempting it was. Especi
ally now. Maybe too tempting…

  "When you were out here for your old man's funeral, people said you were with someone," he said very casually. "Slick city lawyer with expensive threads, a hundred dollar haircut and plenty of attitude. He, uh, anyone important?"

  "In what way?" she asked, just as casually.

  "In the usual way," he replied dryly.

  "Do you mean, are we romantically involved?"

  "I guess that's one way of putting it."

  "Would it matter if we were?"

  "Considering I'm dancing with his woman, it might." He tightened his arms slightly, and his breath warmed her ear. "Considering the only thing I've been able to think about for the past hour is getting her naked and making love to her until we're both beggin' for mercy—yeah, I'd say it matters."

  Kathleen gave a gasp of laughter, trying to ignore the erotic tingle that his words sent through her. Trying not to think of what it would be like to let him peel her delicately out of her clothes and set about finding all those magical places he'd once found with such ease, his hands and fingers and tongue driving her insane until— "You need to put a lid on that imagination of yours, Sundance. But no, we're not involved."

  "But you were."

  Kathleen hesitated. Then she just nodded.

  "And you never got married? In all those years?"

  Again she hesitated. "The opportunity never seemed to present itself." She listened to the lie dispassionately, then found herself wondering if it was a lie. There had been Brice, of course. And a couple of others over the years, nice, steady, serious men with impeccable backgrounds and good prospects. And all of them as appealing as week-old mashed potatoes.

  "I figured you'd have found yourself a rich, smooth-talking city boy by now and be livin' in a mansion with twin Porsches in the garage and a couple of kids in private school."

  Kathleen stiffened. "Is that the kind of man you think I'm looking for? The kind of life I'm looking for? A smooth-talking, rich, city lawyer with a Porsche and a—" She bit the sentence off cleanly, flushing. "Buttons," she muttered. "You just pushed a couple of buttons. Sorry."

  The smile lifted a corner of Jett's mouth. "So what was his name? This slick city lawyer with the Porsche?"