"But how are Wendy and I supposed to get any sleep?"
"I don't mind him being here,” Wendy added helpfully. “I can sleep through fireworks on the Fourth of July."
“I wish I had that talent.” Jessica glanced at Truman's long muscled legs as he lounged back in the chair and felt another fiery stirring of attraction that she couldn’t possibly ignore. "I think maybe I'll stay up for a while."
"Suit yourself." Wendy pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. "You don't mind if I..."
"Not at all," Jessica answered.
For the next half hour, Jessica sat in the rocking chair without uttering a word while Truman read the dime-novel, then she finally tipped her head back and closed her eyes.
She opened them, however, when Truman rose and stretched his arms over his head. While he stood with his back to her, she let her eyes roam appreciatively down the length of his finely sculpted body, from his broad shoulders down to the gun belt buckled around those beautiful hips, then farther south to his muscular backside beneath the worn black trousers.
The sight of him in all his rugged, manly glory burned into her consciousness and robbed her of any hope of sleep. She simply couldn’t take her eyes off him.
All at once, a rush of relief passed through her—relief that he had returned safely.
When he turned around, she met his gaze.
"I thought you'd be asleep," he whispered.
"I'm a little on edge."
For more reasons than one.
"No need to be,” he replied. “You’re safe for tonight." He strode to the window and looked out.
"How can you be sure?" Jessica found herself trying to memorize every contour of his body in the moonlight, so that when she returned to her own time—if she ever returned—she would be able to recollect every detail.
"Because I’m here," he replied. "Besides, Dempsey would be back in a flash if the gang left the ranch."
"I suppose." A cool evening breeze blew in through the open window, and Jessica closed her eyes, breathing in the distinct cow-scented aroma of the Kansas prairie.
She tried to imagine lying in her own bed back home with her dog George at her feet and nothing to worry about but waking up the next morning to make coffee and come up with a new column idea.…
"You married, Miss Delaney?"
Her eyes flew open. “You’re supposed to call me Jessica,” she reminded him, not unconscious of the fact that it was the first time he had asked her anything personal without sounding like a prosecutor. "And no, I'm not. I was engaged once, though."
Leaning back against the windowsill, he crossed one booted ankle over the other and tucked a thumb into his belt. "What happened?"
It wasn’t something she enjoyed talking about, because she was embarrassed to describe her stupidity, but for some reason, she wanted Truman to know. "I broke it off. I realized he wasn’t the kind of man I wanted to marry.”
“What kind of man was he?”
Coming up with the right words took a little thought. “He lacked integrity,” she said. “He was very self-absorbed and didn’t care if he stepped on people and crushed them while he tried to get ahead."
Jessica glanced down at her hands clasped together in her lap, remembering her decision to break off the engagement. It had been difficult back then to admit to herself, and everyone else, that she’d made a mistake by letting things go so far with Liam—that she hadn’t been able to see what kind of man he was beneath all the charm and success.
To make matters worse, after they broke up, she learned that all her friends and family had seen it, but no one wanted to say anything. They all just kept waiting and hoping she would come around on her own. Which she did, thank God.
Her self-confidence hadn’t recovered from it, however. When it came to men, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to trust her judgment again.
“Was he an outlaw?” Truman asked, and the question seemed almost comical.
Jessica looked down and smiled. "No, he worked for a collections agency. He threatened businesses with lawsuits and usually pushed them into bankruptcy. The problem was, he enjoyed it too much. It was like a competition for him. Eventually I began to see that aspect of his personality in other things, too. Bringing someone else down made him feel good. Even if it was me." She glanced up at Truman. "It was a mistake to fall in love with him. I still don’t know how I could have been so blind."
“You weren’t blind,” Truman said. “You had the sense to end it before you spoke your vows.”
“I suppose. I just wish I’d discovered that sense sooner, instead of spending two years of my life believing he was the one.”
Truman narrowed his eyes. “I’ll wager he was on his best behavior for at least the first full year. There was no way you could have seen what he was until he let down his guard, and that just took some time. You did the right thing in the end. That’s what counts.”
Jessica nodded, because he was right. Liam was perfectly charming in the beginning. He was handsome and successful. Superficially speaking, he was any woman’s dream come true. She thought she’d won the lottery to be dating him, and her parents liked him—at first.
Truman turned to look out the window. A dog barked somewhere far away.
Jessica stood up to join him. “What about your wife?” she asked. “Where is she?”
He continued to look out at the quiet street and spoke in a voice that betrayed almost no emotion. “She died a few years back.”
"I’m very sorry to hear that."
He met her gaze with an intensity that nearly knocked her over. “I’ve been alone ever since.”
A sudden rush of empathy, mixed equally with attraction, ignited within her. She wanted to touch him and pull him close, to tell him again how sorry she was. Then she would touch her lips to his and offer a very different sort of comfort.…
She fought the urge, however, because she was unsure of so many things – like how long she would be stuck in this century. Kissing Truman Wade would be a very dangerous game to play.
But Truman had different ideas, and she nearly lost her breath when he pushed a lock of her hair away from her face. Within seconds, his intentions became clear as he ran a thumb across her cheek, then slowly lowered his mouth to hers.
The kiss was reserved at first, experimental, and she knew that if she wanted to stop it, she would have to do it now. But his mouth – so soft and delicious and warm upon hers – obliterated all her prudent thoughts. He was so impossibly gorgeous. She couldn’t resist the need to part her lips and let her tongue mingle wetly with his.
A tiny moan escaped her, and she slid her hands up over the tops of his shoulders to the back of his neck, where she ran her fingers through the warm locks of his thick, dark hair. The lush heat of his mouth caused a flame of arousal deep in her core, and she trembled with impulsive desire.
How long had it been since she’d been kissed like this? She couldn’t quite recall....
His chest, tight and warm against her breasts, heaved in a steady rhythm; the buckle at his belt pressed against her belly.
Wendy stirred, but Jessica was too overcome by her passions to even worry about that. Truman's hands opened and closed over the fabric of her dress, stroked her back, and his inquisitive mouth explored the open warmth of hers. His breathing quickened. Jessica buried her hands deeper into the hair at his nape.
It was all too wonderful, but foolish at the same time. Jessica wasn’t supposed to be here. She didn’t belong here. She didn’t want to become a permanent part of this place.
"I don’t think this is a good idea," she whispered in his ear as she dragged her mouth from his, and he kissed down the side of her neck.
She didn’t want to stop, but there were a hundred reasons why she shouldn’t be kissing him.
“You’re right,” he replied, laying more kisses across her shoulder. “I’m supposed to be protecting you.”
Truth be told, that was the last thing on her mind.
Truman held her close for another shuddering moment before he finally stepped back. "I told you I was a gentleman, didn’t I?”
“Yes, and you are.”
“This was my fault."
“No, it was mine,” she argued.
And it was. She had wanted this. Desperately.
Then why did she stop? Was it good sense or fear?
"Get some sleep," he said, moving to the corner of the bed to pull on his coat. “I’ll keep guard from the window in the hall.”
“You don’t need to leave.”
“Oh, yes I surely do.” He donned his hat and walked out.
Jessica sucked in a quick breath and sank down onto the rocking chair. She tried to remember how she felt with Liam in the beginning when he’d first kissed her. It was exciting, but not quite like this. There had never been anything forbidden about Liam. He’d seemed perfect on the surface, and she had let herself tumble willingly into the courtship, only to find out later that he was not what he seemed, that she’d made a terrible mistake.
Hadn’t she learned anything from all that? If she had, what was she doing kissing a former bounty hunter who had killed six men?
Chapter Ten
The early sunlight beamed into Wendy's boarding house room and woke Jessica from her slumber. The first thing she saw was Truman sitting at the desk with his back to her, reading the morning paper.
She watched him for a moment and wondered what they would say to each other after what happened last night. Would there be an unspoken intimacy between them now? Or would they pretend the kiss never happened?
Jessica sat up on the bed and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands.
"Morning," Truman said without turning around.
"Good morning. Where's Wendy?"
"She went downstairs to fetch some breakfast."
Jessica tried to gauge his mood. "Did you sleep at all?"
"Not a wink."
She presumed, based on his aloof tone, that he wanted to forget about their smokin’ hot kiss, which was probably best.
But hadn’t she already resigned herself to the fact that when it came to Truman Wade, she was an incorrigible slut? Maybe she should just hop into his lap, rip his clothes off, and be done with it.
"I take it nothing went wrong, then?" she asked.
"You take it right."
Oh… these nineteenth century manners. It was going to take some getting used to.
She stretched her arms over her head and let out an operatic yawn. Truman gave her a strange look.
"Sorry," she said, dropping her arms to her sides. “Always was a loud yawner.”
Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Truman stood up, moved to stand beside it, and cocked his weapon. "Who’s there?"
"It's Wendy, and Deputy Dempsey is with me."
Truman lowered his gun and let them in.
Wendy brought in a tray of fragrant warm bread, eggs, sausages, and a pot of coffee. "I hope this will be enough for everyone."
It smelled good enough to kill for.
Truman turned to Dempsey. "What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be keeping an eye on Lou’s gang."
"I watched them ride out of town this morning," he explained.
"Are you sure they’re gone? All of them?"
"Positive. I followed them for more than an hour."
Truman holstered his gun and glanced at Jessica with a word of warning. "That sounds reassuring,” he said, “but I wouldn’t relax just yet if I were you. They’re a slippery bunch.”
* * *
Truman walked Jessica as far as the Front Street intersection, but stopped abruptly when she touched his arm and gave him a flirtatious look.
"You don’t need to walk me home,” she said sweetly. “Deputy Dempsey said the gang rode out of town, so I’m sure I’ll be fine. Besides, I have a few errands to run in town."
She gazed up at him with those bewitching green eyes, and he knew something was up.
Jessica stuck out her hand. "Thank you, Truman. It was a pleasure.” She paused. “Well, some of it was, and I’m sure you know which part I’m talking about.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle. Dang, she was a sexy piece of work. Of course, he knew what she was referring to, and her provocative words cost him a fresh rush of exhilaration.
He took hold of her hand and shook it. “I believe I do.”
The air between them sparked with attraction, then she grinned mischievously and walked off toward the hardware store, wiggling her cute little bottom as she went.
He struggled to maintain an appearance of casual disinterest as he watched her turn into Zimmerman’s. People passed him on the boardwalk, saying hello, bumping elbows with him. He nodded in return, barely aware of who he was acknowledging, and knew full well that he should be at the city clerk’s office by now, but he needed to keep an eye on Jessica.
Besides, last night's kiss was still clanging like an alarm bell in his head, and he couldn’t seem to silence it.
Ever since Dorothy was taken from him, he hadn’t felt much need for a woman. Not until Jessica came to town. And last night she had looked up at him with those alluring green eyes, and he experienced a shock of arousal from his head to his nether regions that still had him reeling with desire this morning. All he wanted to do was follow her home, carry her upstairs to a bed – any bed would do—and plant himself firmly and snugly between her thighs. Over and over and over.
With a frustrated shake of his head, he leaned against a post and watched the goings-on in the street, while he kept an eye on Zimmerman’s.
A few minutes later, Jessica walked out and started up the boardwalk again in the other direction. He expected her to turn up the street toward Maxwell’s place, but instead, she turned down Second Avenue toward the bridge and disappeared.
Wondering where she was going, Truman went into Zimmerman’s and approached the counter.
"Morning Sheriff,” Fred said. “Beautiful day."
"Yep, it’s something else. Tell me, did you just wait on a young woman, about so high with dark, reddish hair?"
"Sounds like you’re referring to Junebug Jess. Pretty little thing, ain’t she? I don’t believe a word of what the papers say. That girl wouldn’t hurt a fly."
"Yeah...well. What did she buy?"
"Nothing. She sold me something."
Truman’s eyebrows pulled together in a frown. "What was it?"
Fred reached into the glass display case and withdrew a necklace. "I don't usually deal in this type of thing, but I couldn't pass it up. Look at the size of that diamond, and she sold it for a song."
Truman examined the silver chain and single sparkling stone. It was the biggest diamond he’d ever seen in his life, at least half an inch in diameter. It was no small trinket. Why was Jessica selling this? Something worth that much money would have to be a family heirloom. Unless, of course, it was stolen. Maybe this was what the gang wanted from her.
Had she lied about that after all? Something tugged hard in his gut, and he wished he’d never kissed her. It was only going to complicate things, because he still wanted to do it again.
"Thanks, Fred." Truman walked out of the store and crossed the street.
He spotted Jessica at a distance, crossing the bridge and heading onto the open prairie where the herds were grazing. Without a horse or buggy, she wasn't going to get too far. There wasn't much out there except for grass.
Maybe she was going to meet someone.
Truman decided to follow. He fetched his binoculars from his saddlebag, left Thunder tethered at the water trough, then crossed the bridge, maintaining a safe distance behind Jessica and crouching down in the tall grass.
About a mile outside of town, she stopped and moved to the edge of the road. Truman scanned the horizon for company, but saw no one, so he hunkered down behind an old upturned wagon to keep watch.
From where he was kneeling, he could see her quite clearly through the binoculars. She pace
d back and forth on the road, as if searching for something. Truman lowered the binoculars and squinted through the summer haze while insects buzzed all around him.
After a moment, Jessica trudged down a grassy bank into an irrigation ditch, then stretched her arms out to the side and began to spin around. She ran in circles, flapping her arms like a bird attempting to fly.
“What the devil…?” Truman raised the binoculars and watched her whirl and dance around. She pulled her skirts up over her knees – she wasn’t wearing any stockings—and hopped up and down like she was plum out of her mind.
Refocusing the lenses on those suntanned, smoothly muscled legs, Truman’s hands turned clumsy and he dropped the binoculars. Jessica continued to spin and jump, and all he could do was stare.
Just then, she stopped spinning and staggered sideways. She toppled over and fell into the grass.
Truman quickly stood. He remembered Dorothy collapsing....
Gathering up his binoculars, he took off in a full run across the prairie to reach her.
* * *
Jessica lay flat on her back, blinking up at the sky.
Why hadn't it worked? All she'd managed to do was make herself dizzy and give herself another headache.
She pressed her palm to her forehead and tried to shut out the world, which was still spinning around and around.
What would it take? If only she could remember all the details of the experience.
Gazing up at the topsy-turvy sky, she pondered the fact that the fluffy white clouds were no different from the clouds back in the twenty-first century. She could be home for all she knew.
But it wasn’t likely. She couldn't hear any traffic, only the gentle whisper of the wind through the tall prairie grasses and the sounds of grasshoppers and bees.
She sat up and wondered if a rainy day would do the trick. Maybe it was the lightning.
Suddenly she heard someone call her name. She glanced toward town and saw Truman running toward her. Thank God it was him, but how long had he been watching her?
She collapsed onto her back again, relieved and mortified at the same time. He had seen her, she knew it, and any moment now, he was going to arrive and ask her if she’d taken leave of her senses.
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