by Kylie Brant
Stand up straight, Jed…Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to…You may have come from trash, but there’s no need to act like it. His adoptive mother’s strictures floated across his memory like bits of mist. Insubstantial, meaningless. Like the life they’d lived, before Kimberley had finally realized that adopting a son wasn’t going to be enough to glue her crumbling marriage back together. Then she’d left Luther Templeton and dragged Jed with her. He’d often wondered how long it had taken Luther to notice they’d gone.
“Honestly, Julianne, you could have knocked me over with a feather when Mother told me you were here. I just think it’s so brave of you to face all these people, after your…troubles.” The voices were coming from behind some huge potted plants several feet away.
He turned. Apparently, he’d found Julianne, after all. And so had Marianne Craig. His first instinct was to intervene before there was bloodshed. Despite her casual manner, he knew what kind of effort it had taken for Julianne to face a crowd of this size.
The next moment he subsided against the railing. She’d made no secret of what she’d considered his interference. Maybe she was right. Perhaps it was time to let her fight her own battles. How bad could this get, anyway? Julianne had been halfway well behaved this evening and there were no locker rooms in sight.
Her voice sounded then, amused. “Trouble and I are old acquaintances, Marianne. Don’t you remember?”
There was a high, tinkling laugh, reminiscent of breaking glass. Jed got a quick mental memory of a bubbly, airheaded redhead, whose bouncy demeanor hid a malicious streak wide enough to drive a truck through. He hadn’t seen Marianne in years, but from the sound of things, she hadn’t changed much.
“Well, I must say, dear, you look marvelous. Did the government actually let you keep that sweet little dress you’re wearing? I always heard that with drug seizures, they could take absolutely everything you owned.”
“I believe that applies to people who are convicted of criminal behavior, Marianne. Since I was never charged, it would hardly affect me.”
“You were always so clever about extricating yourself from the most suspicious circumstances. So tell me. Did you have to hire a frightfully expensive lawyer to keep them from pressing charges?”
The woman was nothing if not persistent. Julianne’s tone had chilled considerably when she answered, “I didn’t have to hire a lawyer at all. Although I may have need of one if I’m arrested for homicide.”
“Well, I never believed a thing people were saying about you. The media can be so ruthless, can’t they? You were wise to hide out at the ranch until things die down in Florida. I’m sure some other headline will come along to catch people’s interest.” Marianne’s voice was laced with doubt.
“I’m not hiding out, I just came home.”
That high-pitched laugh came again, along with a slight noise Jed fancied was Julianne’s teeth clenching together. He brought the almost-forgotten cigarette to his lips, filled his lungs with smoke and continued eavesdropping unabashedly.
“Oh, I’ve just been feeling so sorry for you! I said as much to my husband. I can’t imagine what amusements you’ll find on the ranch. I’m sure you’re used to much racier pastimes. Though I was…free-spirited…in high school, I’m afraid I just never could get used to that jaded life-style you’ve been leading.”
“Free-spirited?”
Jed straightened abruptly. He recognized the danger in Julianne’s lethal purr. Flicking his cigarette aside, he decided it was time to make his presence known.
“All this time I just thought you were cheap,” Julianne continued. “Obviously that hasn’t changed. Although I must say, that tacky little dress you’re wearing does slightly more for you than the skimpy towel you were wrapped in when we locked you out of the girls changing room in high school.”
There was a shriek, and Jed walked faster.
“That was you! I knew it all along. Your bitchy friend Shelby was probably in on it, too.”
“She provided some of the muscle, but it was my idea.” Jed winced at the satisfaction in Julianne’s voice. “I understand the soccer team still has nightmares about it.”
“You…” He heard the sound of a slap, followed by another shriek. As he rounded the potted plant, he could already imagine the lawsuit to follow. When he caught sight of the two women, Marianne was frantically wiping liquid from the front of her dress, and Julianne was setting her empty glass on a nearby table.
“Ladies.” He forced a falsely genial tone in his voice, and purposely stepped between them. “Marianne Craig. What a nice surprise. Your mother said you were here.” He reached in his pocket and withdrew his handkerchief, offering it to her. She snatched it from him and dabbed at her dress.
With his free hand he reached for Julianne’s arm and gripped it tightly. “I hope you’ll excuse us, Marianne. I need to steal Julianne for a moment.” He turned and, ignoring the resistance in her body, propelled her away.
“You can pitch her over the side of the balcony for all I care. Oh, my dress is ruined!” Marianne’s voice ended on a wail, which followed them around the corner.
Jed didn’t stop until they were on the opposite side of the terrace, isolated from any interested observers. Then, because he couldn’t be sure of his temper, he forced himself to let go of Julianne.
“God almighty, Buchanan, can’t you behave for five minutes? Another few minutes and they’d have had to call in a SWAT team.”
She strolled away from him and relaxed against the balcony railing. “Another five minutes and they’d have had to scrape her remains off the tiles. I was never too good at tolerating Marianne Pooler, and age and marriage hasn’t cured her bitchiness.”
“Just tell me if I’m going to have to bail you out of jail for assault charges.”
Her shrug had the sequins in her dress shimmering in the darkness. “She took the swing at me, which naturally upset my hand carrying the full glass.” He heard, rather than saw, the pout. “A waste of good chardonnay, too.”
Irritation still riding him, he snapped, “Well, you’re just going to have to develop some tolerance. Dammit, Julianne, you’re not a kid anymore. You can’t act on every impulse you have.”
“So tell me what you would have done after another guy belted you? Turned the other cheek?”
He ignored the question. They weren’t talking about him, at any rate. “You know what she’s like. It’s not like you to let someone like Marianne make you lose your temper.”
She turned away from him to lean over the balcony. She was silent for a long time. When she did speak, it was so quietly he had to move closer in order to make out her words. “She didn’t say anything you haven’t said. But regardless of what you both think, I didn’t come back to the ranch to lick my wounds.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Whatever happened in Florida is history. You deserve a chance to get on with your life. It’s nobody’s business where you choose to do it.”
She didn’t look at him. Her gaze was trained on something in the darkness. “Tell me something, Jed. Did you go charging to my rescue in Florida because you thought I was too brainless to smooth things out myself?”
The pensive wistfulness that traced through her words elicited an answering, unfamiliar emotion. Julianne could move something inside him at the most unexpected times. Something he was unwilling to identify. He drank from his glass, welcomed the scalding slide of liquor as he swallowed.
“I’ve never thought you were brainless,” he said finally.
Impulsive, certainly. Given to wild whims and high spirits that he’d never really understood. She had a tendency to lead with her heart, and it had taken a battering more than once. He wondered if the divorce had done some permanent damage to it, and the notion caused a quick, savage twist in his gut.
She looked at him, unwilling to let the subject die. “But you didn’t think I could handle the situation on my own?”
He gave an uncomfortable shrug. With more care th
an the act required, he set his empty glass on the railing. He hadn’t spent a great deal of time examining the rage that had filled him when he’d found out just how much trouble she’d been in. Rage that stemmed from the knowledge that she was alone, immersed in what was easily the toughest situation of her life. “What does it matter how the issue was resolved? The important thing is that the press and the authorities quit bothering you.”
“Oh, it matters,” she said softly. She turned away again, and her voice trailed off. He had to strain to hear it. “You can’t know how much.” A strand of blond hair that had worked loose from the knot she wore framed her profile softly. Because he had a sudden, uncustomary urge to push it away, he jammed his hands into his pockets.
“You’ve never failed at anything, have you, Jed?” The question hung suspended in the air between them. Shrouded by the darkness, the voices and music seemed a very long way off. It was easy to blank those sounds out; to pretend that they were alone together. To pretend that Julianne hadn’t just asked a question he had no interest in answering. The trouble with poking at old ghosts, he’d found, was that they had a way of rising up to haunt at the oddest times. Better to let them be.
She seemed to take his silence for agreement. “Well, I’m here to tell you, it sucks. Not to mention the bite it takes out of your self-esteem. It makes me wonder if I can ever trust my own judgment again.”
Assuming she was talking about that loser she’d married, he’d have to agree about the error in judgment. But he didn’t like to see her like this, pensive and depressed. Julianne was normally too vibrant, too full of life for him not to be concerned with this current mood of hers. In an uncharacteristic effort to soothe, he said gruffly, “Put it behind you. We all make mistakes. The trick is not making the same one twice.”
“In this case I think I can agree that once was certainly enough.”
Because he was uncomfortable lingering over old regrets, he strove to lighten the mood. “You made another one tonight, you know.”
She sent him a quizzical glance, and he explained, “Marianne. I’ll bet you never figured she’d attack you like that.”
Her lips curved. He was close enough to make out the disdain on her face, even before he heard it reflected in her voice. “That little tap? Marianne was always a wimp. That’s not why I doused her with wine, you know.”
He leaned his weight against the railing, facing her. “It isn’t?”
She shook her head. “Heck, no. It was having her say she felt sorry for me that had me seeing red. I was obliged to soak her for the insult.”
“So it’s only expressions of sympathy that release your savage impulses.” He nodded soberly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“False sympathy,” she corrected him. “And I can’t think of a reason for you to worry about that. You’re about the least empathetic person I know.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “What do you want me to do? Kiss your boo-boo and make it all better?”
Impudently, she offered her cheek. “Would you? It does sting a little.”
Maybe it was the hint of dare in her voice, layered over the humor. Maybe it was the need to shake some of that certainty of hers; she was so sure she had him pegged. He had no desire to bare his soul to her, but that didn’t mean he was comfortable with the niche in which she’d placed him. Whatever it was had him leaning forward and brushing his lips over the softness of her cheek, inhaling the fragrance that was uniquely Julianne.
It was only for an instant, but he heard the catch in her breath at the contact, saw her eyes widen. For a moment he felt cool amusement that he’d managed to surprise her, and then his gaze fell to her mouth, slightly parted in surprise. Need razored into him, jagged and edgy. He’d seen those lips countless times, laughing, pouting, snarling. He’d never before experienced this fierce urge to cover them with his own. He’d never allowed himself to feel it. Without stopping to think, he did the very thing he’d been warning her against.
He gave in to impulse.
His hand came up to cup around her throat and he lowered his mouth to hers. Her taste was fresh, sweetly intoxicating. His lips pressed hers apart, and her flavor fired through his system. His mind went blank in a brilliant explosion of light, and then sensation crowded in, slapping at heightened nerve endings.
Closer. He was aware of the demand, if not the action that followed it. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. He wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t feel her arms slide around his neck, her fingers twist in his hair.
Deeper now. Faster, hotter, more urgent. Her sigh only intensified his greed. He should have known that she’d be pure energy in his arms, lightning and heat flashing and strobing around him. His mouth ate at hers, savagely hungry, as if this moment had been a promise long denied. She returned his kiss with all the inner fire that burned so brightly in her, all but singeing him.
He buried his face at the smooth skin of her neck and fought for reason. He’d never known need to be so quick, so violent. He was a man who prized control above all else. And yet it wasn’t control he thought of when his hand went to her breast. It wasn’t control he fought for when she pressed against his palm in an unspoken plea for more. His lips streaked back to seal her mouth with his, as if he could get his fill with just one more taste, desperately certain that he could never get enough.
Laughter sounded nearby, close enough to intrude. He lifted his mouth a fraction from hers and looked down into her face. Her eyelids lifted slowly, and she gazed at him, stunned bewilderment giving way to shock. They drew apart with a haste that would have been amusing under other circumstances. Right now, though, the situation seemed serious as hell.
“God,” Julianne said shakily, one hand pressed to her stomach. She moistened her lips, and Jed gritted his teeth against the sudden, vicious ache that bloomed low in his belly at her action. She took a stumbling step backward from him, and then another.
“God,” she said again, and shuddered out a breath.
“Maybe you were right. Some impulses can be downright dangerous.”
Chapter 6
It didn’t rank right up there as the biggest mistake in her life, but there was no denying that kissing Jed Sullivan wasn’t one of her wiser decisions.
Julianne pressed her knees into the mare’s sides, urging her to a faster pace. It was enough encouragement for the horse to break into a gallop. She’d been bred for speed and loved to run. That’s what Gabe had told her when she’d asked for a mount. And that had sounded exactly like what she’d been looking for.
She ignored the shouted greetings of the men working fence as she passed by them, and leaned low over the mare’s neck, letting her jump the stream in a powerful forward movement. She tried to focus on the lush green pastureland she was riding over, the majesty of the mountains in the distance, the sound of the stream thrashing and humming as it wound its way from the Missouri River in a path across the H/B Ranch. Her concentration, however, was shot. She was more than willing to blame Jed for that, as well.
When it became apparent that the horse was tiring, Julianne reluctantly straightened in the saddle, a gentle pressure on the reins signaling the mare to slow. She’d missed this, for so long. When she’d lived at the ranch, she’d ridden every day, but there had been very little opportunity in Florida. And after the first disastrous visit to the ranch during her marriage, she’d never attempted another. So many pleasures she’d denied herself.
So many years wasted.
The horse slowed to a walk, and her mind crowded again with the troublesome thoughts that had only been swept away momentarily. The uppermost being Jed Sullivan.
Just the thought of him made her wince, and a flush warmed her cheeks. There was no use questioning why that kiss had ever been allowed to happen. She’d asked herself the question a thousand times already and had come up with no logical answer. Oh, it was easy enough to explain away the quick explosion of pleasure she’d experienced at his kiss. She would
have to be dead not to respond to him. A few moments in Jed’s arms had proved that her pulse was, indeed, thumping right along.
Julianne swung off the horse’s back and let the mare graze. Dropping down in the new summer grass, she stretched out on her back and contemplated the clouds skudding across the sky.
Admittedly, there had been a brief period as a schoolgirl when she’d harbored secret, guilty dreams about Jed. Those dreams had withered under the reality of living day-in and day-out with the man. It was hard to maintain fantasies about someone who hadn’t thought twice about publicly humiliating her when he’d disapproved of her actions. She’d been about sixteen the time he’d seen her in town and hauled her back to the house to change out of the tube top and miniskirt she’d been wearing. Her lip curled as she remembered her mortification. She’d been ready to kill him that night. And he’d been less than tactful with his opinions, as well. Her stinging assessment of his high-handed actions hadn’t discouraged him. Later that same summer he’d bloodied Davy Stoner’s lip for bringing her home two hours past curfew.
Her eyes closed and she folded her arms over her face to block the sun. How could she have kissed Jed? Jed, who had been ordering her around since the first day he stepped foot on the ranch, who had taught her to drive and bought her her first car. Jed, who had sneered at her crushes on teen stars and rock singers, then bought her tickets to the concert of the year. Jed, who’d always been there in the background, sometimes hassling her to the brink of madness. And other times stepping in to soothe the hurts her father’s broken promises had caused.
It should have been like kissing someone familiar. They were almost family, for heaven’s sake. But there had been nothing in the least bit sisterly in the feelings his kiss had elicited. His lips had been hard, insistent, and she imagined she could still feel the shock waves of pleasure that had eddied inside her. She’d heard the rumors when she was growing up; had, in fact, taken great pleasure in taunting him about his reputation. Finding out for herself that for once the gossip had been understated had been a fascinating revelation.