The Next Mrs. Blackthorne (Bitter Creek Book 6)

by Joan Johnston

  He stood and crossed to the rock where he’d left his clothes, revealing his lean flanks and hard buttocks. Jocelyn felt the ache between her legs at the remembered pleasure of this man inside her, of the feel of his flesh beneath her hands.

  He pulled up his shorts and then his jeans while she stared, unmoving. He glanced at her over his shoulder, scowling.

  She flushed and turned to reach for the thong she’d tucked into her jeans pocket for use after she’d taken off her wet suit. She bent to step into it, wondering how much she was revealing as she felt her shirt slip up over her fanny. Her buttocks remained bare even after she’d pulled the tiny scrap of material into place.

  She reached quickly for her jeans and felt North’s large hands cup her bottom. And then the caress of his callused fingertips. His mouth nuzzled her shirt away from her shoulder so his lips could reach bare skin.

  Here was the tenderness that had been missing during their recent exchange of passion. Here was the show of love that she hadn’t even known she’d been yearning for until he’d offered it.

  She angled her head away to give North greater access to her throat, as he kissed the sensitive skin beneath her ear and then tugged gently on her earlobe with his teeth.

  Then she heard his voice, rough as sandpaper and heavy with need. “I want you again.”

  His hands made short work of the thong, and he unsnapped and unzipped his jeans and freed his arousal. He bent her over the flat rock and thrust himself inside her from behind.

  Jocelyn was shocked. And unbearably aroused.

  Her palms were flat against the hot rock, and she felt North’s hands come around to tease her nipples as his teeth and tongue caught at the skin at her neck, sending shivers through her. His hands slid down until they found the tiny nubbin that ached with want.

  Jocelyn moaned.

  North groaned.

  She felt her body tightening, felt her legs tremble as they threatened to buckle, felt North’s hand flatten against her belly as he held her upright through the tremors that rocked her. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, fighting against letting go, because she was afraid she would lose herself if she gave him what he seemed to be asking for.

  He never asked in words. He only kept up the steady rhythm of his body in hers, driving her toward the precipice, willing her to leap into the chasm. Until finally, there was no escape.

  Jocelyn cried out, and heard North’s guttural shout in her ear, as they leapt into the abyss together.

  She was trembling too much to stand, and for some reason, she was crying in great gulping sobs. North separated their bodies and turned her into his arms and pulled her tight against him, cocooning her against his chest.

  “You see why you have to go,” he said in a harsh voice.

  “No, I don’t see,” Jocelyn sobbed. “I don’t understand any of this.”

  He took a step back, and without his support Jocelyn wavered, before she sank onto her jeans, which were draped over the abrasive rock. She looked up at him, searching for answers to this enigmatic man.

  “I will never love you,” he said brusquely. “I can never love any woman.”

  Suddenly, she understood. He cared for her. Or thought he did. And he didn’t like it one bit.

  “You mean you don’t choose to love me—or any woman,” she countered.

  “Use whatever words you want. It means the same thing. I want you out of my house. Out of my life.”

  “I’ll be glad to leave.”

  She saw the flicker of regret that flashed across his face before she continued, “In September.”

  “Goddammit, Joss. I want you gone today!”

  “That’s too bad,” Jocelyn said. “We have an agreement. I’m not going to let you say I welshed on the deal when I’m not here in September.”

  “I absolve you of any and all—”

  “No need, when I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Goddammit, Joss—”

  “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t swear so much.”

  Jocelyn watched as his lips pressed flat and his eyes narrowed. She stood on wobbly legs and reached for her jeans, putting her buttocks—her very enticing buttocks, she hoped—in North’s way. “You’ll just have to cope,” she said as she pulled on her jeans and zipped them.

  His fisted hands hit his hips and his bare toe tapped as she slowly and carefully sat down on the rock and pulled on her socks and boots.

  At last she stood and said, “I’m ready to go home now.”

  “You won’t leave?” he said.

  “Not until September.”

  “I’ll transfer the damned stock today. Will that satisfy you?”

  “Do whatever you want,” she shot back. “The deal was, I’d stay till September. So I’m staying!”

  He grabbed his boots and socks and stalked away toward the horses, leaving her behind. She stared after him with a furrow of worry between her eyes. Why hadn’t she taken advantage of the opportunity to be free? Why hadn’t she rushed back to Clay’s waiting embrace? North clearly didn’t want anything to do with her. He’d admitted he was incapable of loving anyone. What was wrong with her?

  “Oh, God,” she whispered.

  There was a very good reason why she didn’t want to leave North Grayhawk. She was in love with him.

  North had ridden back to the house with Joss, but he’d driven away immediately afterward in his Dodge Ram without giving her any explanation where he was going or when he’d be back. He’d needed time to think. Time to figure out what he was going to do about her. Because somehow she’d gotten under his skin. Maybe even burrowed her way into his heart. Like a virus. Or a tapeworm. Something that had to be gotten over. Or gotten out.

  He didn’t trust love. It had made his father a miserable man when the woman he loved had chosen someone else. King had made the four women he’d subsequently taken as wives equally miserable when he wasn’t able to give them the love he was squandering on another man’s wife.

  North could see a horrible symmetry in his infatuation—that’s all it could be—with Jocelyn Montrose. She’d been engaged to another man when she’d come to him. Under the terms of their agreement she was going to leave him in September. Only a fool would fall in love with a woman under those circumstances.

  North was no fool.

  He’d meant it when he’d told Joss he wanted her out of the house. Frankly, he’d been surprised that she hadn’t grabbed at the opportunity to leave. But that could be corrected. He could be a mean sonofabitch. He was sure he could drive her away.

  It wouldn’t be easy. He was vulnerable to her tears. Hell, it wouldn’t even take tears. His gut wrenched whenever she was unhappy or uncomfortable. He’d found himself moving heaven and earth to please her, and her smile made him feel good inside.

  North grimaced at the realization that he’d run away from his own home this afternoon because he was afraid to face a slip of a woman to whom he owed nothing. How had she stolen past his defenses? What was it about this woman that made him think about her even when she wasn’t around? What made him want her even after he’d just made love to her? What made him wonder what she was thinking, and lie in bed in the dark listening as each slow and steady breath left her body, thinking of ways to please her?

  He felt a sense of dread at the thought of what the rest of his life would be like without her. And a sense of doom when he thought of how vulnerable he would be if he let her under his guard. If he let himself love her.

  How many times had he heard his father say, Women never stick around for long. They love money, not men. They’re only good for two things: sex and sons.

  Rationally, he knew his father’s attitude toward women was chauvinistic, to say the least. But he had his own experience with his mother, and a series of stepmothers who’d come and gone in his life, who’d seemed to care more about their divorce settlements than about their children, whom they’d happily abandoned in his father’s home to yet another stepmother.
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  Except for Breed, of course, who’d gone with Sassy.

  He saw a light on in the barn and remembered the boy was there. He felt a spurt of guilt that he hadn’t let the kid into the house. But he hadn’t wanted Breed to see him touching and kissing Joss, as he often did when the mood struck him. He had no intention of curbing his behavior. And he didn’t want to have to worry about sounds carrying from the bedroom.

  That room in the barn hadn’t been used for a while, and North remembered it had been in pretty bad shape. He stopped his truck. He might as well make sure the kid was okay.

  North’s eyebrows rose when he stepped inside the room he’d offered to Breed. It had looked nothing like this a month ago when the boy had moved in. He knew better than to remark on the changes. The kid was sitting up in bed on top of the covers with two pillows arranged behind him, wearing a T-shirt and print boxer shorts, reading a fantasy novel with a buxom woman on the cover holding off a dragon with a sword.

  “You okay?” North asked.

  “What do you think?” Breed swept his arm around the room, forcing North to focus on the clean, shiny wooden floors, the cowhide decorating the area beside the iron bed, the clean white sheets and pillow-cases, and a colorful patchwork quilt he recognized from his own bedroom. The antler lamp beside the bed had been in the living room of the house. He saw a painting of a nineteenth-century cattle drive on the wall that he knew had been in the guest room.

  North realized who was responsible for the transformation when he saw the bowl of Indian paintbrush and black-eyed Susans on the chest of drawers. She’d done the same damn thing to his house. Put flowers all over. Added little feminine touches that neither his housekeeper nor his cook had ever suggested.

  “I see Joss’s hand here,” North said.

  “I told her there was no need, that I was used to a lot worse,” Breed said. He grinned, one man to another, and added, “She was horrified.”

  North found himself grinning back. “You watch out, or she’ll have you putting down the toilet seat and squeezing the toothpaste tube from the bottom instead of the middle.”

  Breed laughed. “Sounds like she’s got you hog-tied.”

  North sobered. “No woman’s gonna throw a lasso on me. Ever.”

  Breed set down his book and dropped his feet over the edge of the bed. “She’s nice, North. She’s not like Sassy.”

  North snorted. “That’s for sure.”

  “She cares,” Breed continued. “And she doesn’t know me from Adam.”

  North had noticed the same thing. Joss had a heart that was wide open to any and everybody. She’d given the cook the week off when the woman had given her some sob story about a niece who needed help with her new baby, and ended up having to do the cooking, along with all the other work she did with North.

  He’d been surprised and pleased when Joss had turned out to be some sort of gourmet. Apparently, she’d taken cooking classes in France when her father was ambassador. North had eaten in five-star restaurants where the food wasn’t as good as the meals Joss had prepared.

  “I’ll admit Joss grows on you,” North said.

  “You should marry her.”

  North snorted again. “Why would I want to do that?”

  “She’d be a great mother.”

  North looked at the youth who’d spent his life doing more caring for Sassy than the other way around. “Fortunately,” North said, “I don’t need a mother.”

  Breed flushed. “I mean for your kids.”

  North opened his mouth to say he wasn’t having any kids and shut it again. The truth was, he wanted kids. And they were going to need a mother. He’d planned to marry someday. He just hadn’t planned to love the woman. He’d intended to choose a wife with his mind, not his heart.

  He imagined Joss with his child at her breast. The image made his breath catch and brought a lump to his throat. He focused on the cattle drive on the wall until he could speak again. “Joss is leaving.”

  Breed was instantly on his feet confronting North. “Don’t you chase her away!”

  He was surprised by the boy’s vehemence and felt his neck hairs hackle when he realized the kid was probably half in love with her himself. “What I do with Joss is my business.”

  “You made her cry.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I saw her in the kitchen window when she was washing dishes tonight. There were tears on her face. You put them there.”

  The accusation stung. “Joss doesn’t need you for a champion. She can take care of herself.”

  “But you made her cry,” Breed persisted.

  “What happens between a man and a woman—”

  “You know you can be mean, North. I’ve seen you do it when you don’t like someone. When you want your way. Like King.”

  North was pretty sure that was about the worst insult Breed knew to hurl at him. Breed despised King. Equating North with King was like comparing him to slime.

  “You don’t always act like King,” Breed conceded when North stared at the boy, daring him to say more. To say worse.

  In the end, Breed’s chin came up and he added, “But sometimes you do. Joss isn’t as strong as you or me. Don’t hurt her.”

  There was more demand than plea in what the boy said. But North wasn’t about to explain or excuse himself to his maybe-brother, who was here only because he didn’t have anywhere else to go. He didn’t need a conscience. He wasn’t going to let this boy be one. Tomorrow, next week, whenever Sassy gave up on rehab and found another man to support her, Breed would be gone. He didn’t owe the boy an answer. He didn’t owe the kid a thing.

  “We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow. Don’t read all night,” he said.

  Then he turned on his heel and left.

  The house was dark and quiet when he let himself into the kitchen. He flipped on a light and felt his throat tighten when he saw the note from Joss on the table telling him his dinner was in the fridge and giving him instructions how to warm it.

  He wasn’t hungry. At least for food. He wanted Joss.

  He felt a gnawing fear that she wasn’t in the house, that she’d cooked him one last supper and disappeared, that his “meanness,” as Breed had described it, had driven her away.

  He headed down the hall to his bedroom, not just wanting but needing to hold her in his arms, needing to smell the flowery shampoo she used in her hair, needing to feel her warm breath against his throat.

  No light showed under the bedroom door. He hesitated, his heart pounding, as he reached for the knob and quietly eased the door open. He could see her figure in the moonlight and exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

  She was wearing a short white cotton sleeveless nightgown. It was his favorite. It had a little pink bow in front that was all that held the top together. One tug and the material fell away to reveal tempting flesh. She was lying on her side, one knee drawn up, her long, silky hair spread across her pillow.

  North fought against the raging desire that had made him rock hard, fought against wanting—against needing, like he needed air to live—the woman lying in his bed in the dark.

  And lost.

  11

  North woke suddenly, aware something was wrong. He groaned when he saw daylight through the window and rubbed his eyes. He rarely overslept. But he’d kept Joss awake half the night, and been awake himself, making love to her, dozing lightly before reaching for her again. He’d recognized his desperation for what it was, but he’d been unable to stop himself.

  He knew before he looked that Joss wasn’t in bed beside him. The room felt empty. He felt bereft. He hated admitting, even to himself, the effect she had on him. But the plain truth was, the sky was bluer when she was near, and even a sunny day didn’t feel as bright when she wasn’t.

  He could smell coffee. She was probably in the kitchen making breakfast. He couldn’t believe he’d slept through her shower. He felt like he was moving through deep water as he ros
e from the bed and headed for the shower himself.

  Ten minutes later, North stopped cold in the kitchen doorway and stared. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

  “Waiting for you to wake up,” Breed said. “I made coffee.”

  “Where’s Joss?”

  “She left.”

  North felt his stomach flip-flop. He kept his voice even as he asked, “When did she leave? Where did she go?”

  Breed rose and crossed to the coffeemaker, poured North a cup of coffee and shoved it into his hands. “She drove to Austin. Said she had to see someone.”

  “Did she say if—when—she’ll be back?”

  “You want her back?” Breed asked angrily. “You’d never know it from the way you treat her. She left in one damned big hurry this morning. What did you do to her?”

  North slammed the coffee cup on the counter and jerked back when hot coffee splashed his blue chambray western shirt. He walked out without another word.

  Breed ran along beside him, pestering him with questions for which North had no answers. He had no idea why Joss had left. Unless it had something to do with what had happened between them last night. But she’d never turned him away. And she’d enjoyed the slow and tender lovemaking the third time as much as she’d participated in the hunger of the first and the passion of the second.

  “Where are you going?” Breed asked when North pulled open the door to his pickup.

  “You’ve got chores to do,” North said. “Get to them.”

  “Bring her back,” Breed shouted after him, as North gunned the engine. “Bring her back!”

  North tried to imagine who Joss might need to see in Austin. Only one name came to mind.

  “He’s not getting her back,” North vowed. “He had his chance and he didn’t fight for her. I’d never let a woman I loved give herself to another man.”

  North realized what he’d said and made a growling sound in his throat. I don’t love her. But she’s mine until September. And I keep what’s mine.

  He went straight to the federal courthouse in Austin, because that’s where he thought Joss would have the best chance of finding Clay Blackthorne. He sat in the back of the courtroom and listened to some expert testifying about the sophistication of the bomb that had been used to destroy the federal courthouse in Houston.