Kiss of an Angel

by Janelle Denison

  Then the fine hairs at the nape of her neck tingled with apprehension.

  “Well, if this isn’t a tender scene.”

  The familiar, insolent voice sent a shiver racing up Caitlan’s spine. Standing, she turned and gave her nemesis a tolerant look. “What do you want, Randal?”

  He pushed off the stall he’d been leaning against and approached her with slow, stalking steps that made Caitlan uneasy. “You know what I want.” Bloodshot eyes raked her from head to toe. “I want some answers.”

  Caitlan didn’t care for the heinous glint in his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She started past him, determined not to get into another confrontation.

  Blocking her path, he shoved his hands hard against her shoulders, and she stumbled back into the wall. Missy, eating by Caitlan’s foot, hunkered down and glared at Randal, her tail swishing in warning.

  Gaining her composure, Caitlan made an attempt to dodge Randal, but the quarters were cramped and his hands shot out and slammed against the wall on either side of her head before she could make a clean getaway.

  His eyes glittered with malevolence. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  She turned her head slightly as his breath, hot and fetid with the odor of liquor, slipped up her nose. Knowing better than to provoke someone who’d been tipping the bottle, she remained calm. “Let me go, Randal.”

  “I want to know what the hell is going on!” he said in a low voice infused with fury. “You being here is just too damned convenient.”

  Lifting a brow, she looked him square in the eye, hoping to intimidate him. “Do you have something to hide, Randal?”

  Panic flashed in his glassy eyes, then was quickly replaced by a challenge of his own. “You tell me.”

  If she informed him she knew he was behind J.T.’s attack, she’d put J.T. and this mission, in jeopardy. She couldn’t say anything. J.T. had to discover Randal’s intentions on his own. So, instead, she gave Randal a noncommittal shrug.

  He looked at her long and hard, the uncertainty in his gaze shifting to an outright leer. Slowly, a crude grin curved his mouth. “I don’t know how you’ve managed it, but you’ve got J.T. wrapped around your finger.” He pressed his body to hers, grinding his hips obscenely against hers. “You must really be something in the sack.”

  A thread of panic stole through Caitlan. Randal was a solidly built man, and she was no match for his strength. She pressed her hands against his chest and pushed, but he didn’t budge. “Let me go, Randal.” Her voice was even, in control. “You don’t want to do this.”

  “Oh, I think I do.” He laughed, the sound full of malice. “The perfect retribution. I think I’d like a piece of J.T.’s woman for myself. J.T. always gets everything, and since he’s taken everything from me, I can show him what it feels like to be betrayed.”

  Caitlan shook her head, seeing a chance to reason with Randal. “J.T. has never betrayed you. He wants to help you, Randal—”

  “What do you know about it?” His hostility lashed out at her like a whip.

  God, there had to be some good in Randal, she thought desperately. A shred of decency somewhere. She tried to tap into some virtuous part of him, wanting so badly to convert him. It’s not your job to redeem Randal, she reminded herself, but she wanted to at least try. For J.T.’s sake. “J.T. is a good man. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

  “Yeah, but it’ll be worth it just to see the look on J.T.’s face when I tell him I’ve had you.” That thought alone seemed to give him great satisfaction, brightening his leering face.

  Ignoring the panic tightening her chest, she thrust up her china a notch. “You touch me and I’ll scream. There’re quite a few people around.”

  He laughed again, seemingly enjoying the game. “And when they come runnin’ I’ll tell them you came on to me. Wouldn’t be the first time J.T. got himself involved with a slut.” He lowered his mouth to her ear. “Besides, you might find you like bein’ with me better than J.T.”

  She shivered in revulsion. Drawing a deep breath, she shoved at Randal with all her might. He grunted at the unexpected move, and as she fought against him, he tried to grab her hands. In the shuffle he kicked the box of kittens, and Missy retaliated.

  With a low-throated growl, Missy clawed at Randal’s leg as if it were a scratching post. Randal let out a howl of pain, then cursed, backing away from Caitlan. Even as Randal shook his leg to dislodge the feline, Missy hung on to his pants, her sharp claws ruthless.

  Blessing Missy’s interference, Caitlan feinted around Randal and ran to the entrance. Slipping outside, she glanced back to make sure Randal wasn’t in pursuit ... and slammed into a solid wall of flannel-covered muscle.

  J.T. caught her arm before she would have bounced back and fallen on her bottom in the dirt. “Damn, Caitlan. Watch where you’re going.”

  Caitlan had never been so relieved to see anyone in all her guardian days. Pressing a hand to her galloping heart, she caught her breath and glanced up into J.T.’s face, shadowed by his hat. “I’m sorry.”

  “What’s the matter with you?” His lips compressed into a thin line and his eyes narrowed. “You weren’t with King again, were you?”

  She groped for the truth, unsure if she wanted to tell J.T. about her run-in with Randal, and risk a potentially explosive confrontation between cousins. In Randal’s state of mind, which was precarious at best, Caitlan feared for J.T.’s safety. “No, I, uh, was with Missy and her kittens.” She smiled up at him as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “Did you need me for something?”

  Frowning, he stared at her for a long moment, suspicion coloring his eyes. Finally he let go of her arm. “I was just going to do some spot-checking around the ranch.” Glancing over her shoulder, he shifted restlessly on his feet. He cleared his throat. “Laura mentioned you might like to see the spread.”

  Despite the underhanded way he’d delivered his invitation, Caitlan couldn’t stem the thrill of pleasure racing through her. “I’d love to.”

  “Go on up to the house and get a jacket,” he said, nodding in that general direction. “I’ll saddle up the horses.”

  J.T. stared after Caitlan as she made her way to the main house, wondering why he felt like a gawky adolescent again, like the first awkward time he’d asked Amanda to go riding with him with the intentions of stealing a kiss from her. He’d been thirteen, and J.T. could still remember the rapid hormonal awakening that had made him see Amanda for more than just a “buddy,” had made him want to kiss her and touch her in more than a brotherly manner.

  The first time he’d attempted to kiss Amanda she’d socked him in the arm. She’d been spitting mad, and confused. He’d seen the conflicting emotions in her eyes, and when he’d tried to apologize, she’d charged after him, knocking him to the ground. A skirmish ensued, but he came out the victor. He had kissed her again, gently, softly, and when her lips parted on a gasp, he’d introduced them both to their first deep kiss. Seconds later she had melted beneath him, warm and receptive to his exploration. And J.T. knew he was in love.

  The sweet memory drifted through J.T., leaving him achy and empty inside. Why had he thought of that now? Shaking off the sensation of loss, he walked inside the barn, searching for a clue as to what Caitlan had been running from. And she had been running from something. He’d felt her tremble when he’d caught her arm, like she’d been spooked.

  The horses in their stalls seemed calm, King included. He passed Missy, who shot him a disgruntled look before tending to her kittens. J.T. was on the verge of dismissing his concern when he saw his newest hand, Mike, in the tack room. Had the man said or done something to frighten Caitlan? Mike was moody, but he didn’t seem the surly type.

  Mike turned, a curry comb in his hand and a cigarette dangling from his lips. He gave J.T. a curt nod, but before he could escape out the back door to the adjoining paddock, J.T. stopped him.

  “You know the rules, Mike. No smoking in or around the barn.�
�

  Mike squinted as plumes of smoke curled from the tip of his cigarette. “I was just getting a comb for—”

  “No exceptions,” he said, watching as the other man’s jaw hardened.

  “Sorry, boss,” Mike murmured, pulling the cigarette from his mouth. “It won’t happen again.”

  “Make sure that it doesn’t.” With a curt nod J.T. dismissed the hand, then went to saddle up the horses.

  Chapter Seven

  An hour and a half later, after checking the west fences and the creek for any problems and finding none, J.T. reined Quinn to a stop in a meadow brimming with wildflowers. Caitlan’s mare, Blaze, automatically halted beside him. The creek cut a path through the meadow, and a huge apple tree, veiled with green leaves and white blossoms, dominated the area, its branches extending to form a shady canopy. Two elk sprinted into a nearby copse of brush and trees, followed by a scampering ground squirrel.

  Caitlan’s gaze encompassed the daisies, primrose, and wild yellow plum blooming in riots of color around them. This place is beautiful,” she said softly.

  “Yeah!” J.T. didn’t know what, exactly, had drawn him here, especially since it had been years since he’d come to this spot. So many memories of Amanda lived here, of their childhood together, that he reconsidered the wisdom of bringing Caitlan to a place he almost thought of as sacred.

  Strangely, the grief and pain he used to feel when visiting this meadow was now only a dull, distant sorrow. Maybe coming here was a good thing, he decided. Maybe it was time to face old memories, then pack them away for good.

  J.T. dismounted Quinn in a fluid motion. “Ready for lunch?”

  Smiling, Caitlan slid off Blaze and removed her jacket, hooking it on the saddle. “Sounds great. I’m starved.”

  He grinned back. “Good. Laura packed plenty of food.” He handed her the knapsack and blanket he’d brought along. Taking her mare’s reins, and Quinn’s, he led the horses to the creek and left them there to graze.

  “Will they be okay like that?” Squinting against the sunshine, Caitlan watched J.T. approach her again.

  “Unless something spooks them they’ll be content to graze on the grass.” Grabbing the blanket from her, he snapped it out under the tree. Tossing his hat to the corner of the blanket, he ran his fingers through his hair and gestured with his other hand for Caitlan to sit down. He joined her and divvied up the food.

  They ate in companionable silence, punctuated by an occasional comment about the ranch and its operation, or something equally mundane. The light scent of apple blossoms curled around them, and the faint hum of bees in the trees served as a relaxing symphony.

  Caitlan finished her sandwich and potato salad and put away the remnants of her lunch. She licked a smear of mayonnaise from her thumb. “I do have to say, Laura puts together a terrific meal.”

  “It wasn’t half bad.” J.T. reclined lazily on the blanket. “Apple?” he offered, then crunched into his own.

  She shook her head. “Maybe later. I think I’ll go rinse my hands in the creek.”

  Away from J.T., Caitlan absorbed her surroundings, searching beyond the beauty of the land to tap into something more profound. Since the moment they’d arrived at this meadow, peculiar sensations had taken up residence in her. As if she’d been here before with J.T. But how could that be?

  Dipping her hands into the creek, the water sparkled from the sun as it rippled away from her and over the smooth rocks. Glancing downstream, she saw places where the creek was shallow, where a person could easily walk across, and other areas too deep to detect anything but a bottomless, black pit. A chill swept through her, despite the pleasant warmth of the spring day, and she straightened, backing away from the swirling water. In her mind’s eyes she saw the water churning and a little girl struggling to keep her head above the surface and slowly losing the battle.

  Heart pounding, Caitlan turned away from the creek and banished the oppressive image. Where had that vision come from? she wondered, still a little shaken, as if she’d been the little girl on the verge of drowning.

  Dismissing her unease, she started back toward J.T., smiling at his relaxed pose. He lay on his back, hands stacked beneath his head, eyes closed. His chest rose and fell in slow, even breaths. She stole a few moments to admire his lean form, and the way denim and flannel fit his muscular build to perfection.

  Not wanting to disturb him, she strolled to the base of the tree, compelled by forces she didn’t understand. A familiarity ribboned around her, like invisible strings pulling her closer to a precipice. A deeply etched carving in the trunk of the tree caught Caitlan’s attention, a heart with an inscription of some sort, she noticed. She smiled at the sweet sentiment, until she stood close enough to recognize the names engraved in the center of the heart. J.T. loves Amanda.

  Tentatively touching her finger to the smooth engraving, Caitlan traced the letters, feeling as though this was somehow a part of her. Deeply and widely sculpted, the declaration would remain for decades in the tree. Warmth rushed through her veins, and images flashed in her mind.

  Young J.T. held the blond-haired girl’s hand, pulling her toward the large tree by the creek.

  “I’ve got a surprise for you, Mandy. Look.”

  The girl’s breath caught when she saw the heart carved in the tree. Then her face reflected the love he’d inscribed for her there.

  “I did it so everyone will know how much I love you,” he said.

  “Amanda,” Caitlan whispered, the name thick in her throat. Amanda, the girl in her visions with J.T. Caitlan frowned. Why did she share such a strong and powerful link to these two people, that she could tap into their past and see it so clearly? Heaven help her, what was the significance of these visions?

  She glanced over her shoulder at J.T. Eyes open, he regarded her pensively, as if he too was remembering the day he’d shown Amanda the carved heart.

  “Is she the one who died?” Caitlan knew before he answered that Amanda was the woman he’d loved and lost—his eternal soulmate.

  “Yes.” A sad smile brushed his mouth. “This was our special place. I think we christened it our meadow the day she fell into the creek.”

  “What happened?”

  He hesitated, as if debating whether or not to share the memories with her. After a moment he propped himself up on his side, a reminiscent smile curving his mouth. “Amanda was seven, and she and my sister had come here to play with their dolls. I just happened to ride by on my mare, with the intention of antagonizing them, as all good brothers do to their little sisters and their friends. I saw Amanda slip and fall into one of the deepest parts of the creek. She couldn’t swim, so I dove in and saved her from drowning.”

  That explained her earlier vision of the little girl struggling in the creek, Caitlan thought, but it didn’t unravel the mystery of why she had experienced those momentary flashes of fear, as if she was the one drowning.

  She went back to the blanket and sat cross-legged a few feet away from J.T. “I take it you became her hero?” she prompted, wanting to know more about this illusive child-woman who’d captured his heart.

  “Yeah. After that day she was a complete nuisance, always following me around like a devoted puppy. We played together, but I remember wondering if Amanda would always be my shadow.” Shaking his head, he chuckled softly. His eyes sparkled with a mischievous light. “Then I grew up and discovered why boys like girls so much. I started looking at Amanda differently, started noticing she had nice breasts and long legs. And whenever I got too close to her or she’d accidentally brush up against me, I’d feel warm and anxious ... and aroused. Typical male hormones running rampant,” he said with a grin. Then his humor fled, his expression touched with melancholy. “It only took a kiss, a very reluctant kiss from her,” he admitted, “to know we were made for each other.”

  “Childhood sweethearts.” Caitlan pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs.

  “Yeah.” His finger drew lazy patterns o
n the red-and-black-checkered squares on the blanket. “We grew up together. Our families had been neighbors all our lives, so it seemed only natural that the two of us get together. I don’t think either of our parents ‘expected it to last, but I knew Amanda was the only one for me. I knew we’d get married someday....” His voice trailed off, his eyes filling with a tangible pain.

  Caitlan watched him struggle with an internal anguish, his torment becoming her own. His loss and pain weighed heavily on her, making her heart ache. Unexplainable emotions crowded her throat, and she resisted the urge to touch him and chase away his misery.

  He took a deep breath and forged on, as if wanting to purge himself of all his haunting memories. “Remember in the line shack when was dreaming?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was dreaming of Amanda, and when I started to wake up I thought you were her.” An abrupt, harsh laugh escaped him. “I actually thought Amanda hadn’t died, and I was so disappointed to find it was all just a dream. She was my life, Caitlan.”

  He stared at her for long moments, then reached up and ran the back of his knuckles down Caitlan’s cheek, a feather touch so gentle it made her breath catch. A distinct tingle shot through her as their gazes locked. Very softly he said, “You remind me a lot of her.”

  An illusion of intimacy shimmered around Caitlan, and something else, a nagging familiarity that tugged at the edges of her consciousness. You remind me a lot of her. Could that explain the bond to him, and Amanda? And what, exactly, was her resemblance to Amanda?

  ‘Do I … look like her?” Caitlan asked, needing to find answers to all the confusing emotions and visions plaguing her on this mission.

  A lazy smile eased up the corner of his mouth.

  “She had eyes like yours, the same deep violet color. And she had a dimple too, like yours.” His finger brushed over the crease in her cheek before falling away. “But that’s where the physical similarities end. She had blond hair.”