Kiss of an Angel

by Janelle Denison

  She had eyes like yours, the same deep violet color. And she had a dimple too, like yours. A pressure clamped around Caitlan’s chest, suffocating her. Something taunted her conscience, like an itch she couldn’t quite reach to scratch. Mentally, she searched her own background, desperate for answers, but found that section of her memory was locked from her, as if she suffered from amnesia.

  Frustration coiled through her. Why couldn’t she remember any of her own memories of her past? Determined to learn more about this woman who seemed such an integral part of her visions, Caitlan asked, “What happened to Amanda?” When J.T. glanced at her questioningly she clarified, “I mean, how and when did she die?”

  His mouth tightened with grief, and his eyes flashed with old, harbored anger. Immediately Caitlan knew she’d barged past the boundaries J.T. had constructed around his heart and those painful memories. “I’m sorry, J.T. I didn’t mean—”

  “No, it’s okay.” Heaving a heavy sigh, he pulled a blade of grass from the edge of the blanket and began shredding it. “I’ve never really talked about that night, but ... I want to now.”

  Caitlan propped her chin on her knees and listened attentively as J.T. recited the events of his last night with Amanda, how he’d taken her to the line shack and proposed to her for her eighteenth birthday. He told Caitlan of their hopes and dreams for the future, painting a beautiful picture of two people so deeply in love that their devotion and passion for one another wove through Caitlan like intrinsic ribbons to her soul.

  Then the darker side of the story came, the ending to the beginning of J.T. and Amanda’s life together.

  “We were on our way to tell her parents about our engagement when a drunk driver hit us head on.” J.T.’s voice vibrated with gut-wrenching loss. “Amanda was killed instantly.”

  At that moment Caitlan was thrust into a maelstrom of visions and emotions that echoed through her body and brought on a splitting headache that made her gasp.

  The screech of brakes. The grind of metal against metal. Screams that seemed to rip from her soul. Shattering glass. Horrible, awful pain. Darkness. Then a burst of light at the end of a black corridor, accompanied by a peacefulness as she drifted up and away, toward the sky.

  The medallion burned like fire between Caitlan’s breasts, and she pulled the gold pendant out of her blouse, wanting more than ever to summon her Superiors and ask them what was going on and why she was experiencing such intense recollections that made no sense to her. And why, heaven help her, had she experienced Amanda’s terror and anguish during the car crash?

  “Caitlan? Are you okay?” J.T.’s hand was on her knee, shaking her back into the present.

  Caitlan blinked, and the tears gathered in her eyes rolled down her cheeks. She dropped the hot medallion, deliberately setting it on the outside of her blouse until it completely cooled.

  Hand trembling, she wiped away the moisture on her cheeks, still stunned by her reaction to his tale. Sniffling, she offered J.T. a wobbly smile. “That’s such a sad story.”

  “Don’t cry, Caitlan. It happened sixteen years ago.” J.T. sat up. Caitlan’s tears affected him deeply, because he knew they were genuine and offered in compassion. God, she was so sweet and pure, so unpretentious and giving—the same qualities he’d loved in Amanda and had thought no other woman possessed.

  He thumbed another tear from her cheek, loving the silky texture of her skin. “I’ve learned to live with the loss, but I’d be a liar if I said I’ve never wondered what my life would be like if Amanda hadn’t died. I still think about it. And sometimes I’ve even wished I would have died instead of her.”

  Caitlan’s eyes widened slightly. “No!”

  Her heated protest made him smile. “Yeah, you’re right. Then I never would have had Laura.” Then I never would have met you. Unable to define where that had come from, he mentally shook the thought right out of his head.

  And just as easily another thought took its place. He wanted to kiss her, and the soft, sensual look in her violet eyes said she wanted it too. But he’d tasted her before, and he knew better than to think he’d be able to put her aside after one kiss. No, if his mouth so much as touched hers, he wouldn’t stop until they’d made love—and it would be a long, slow, lazy process because he’d want to taste and explore every inch of her. Even then he couldn’t guarantee that would be enough to satisfy him. Not with her.

  His eyes slid from her parted lips to the pendant around her neck—the pendant she’d clutched so desperately only minutes before. The gold glowed as if it held a life of its own, just like the first time he’d seen it in the line shack while she’d checked his head injury. This time, he gave into temptation and picked up the medallion. The warm gold tingled in his palm as he examined the swirled design.

  He glanced up at her. A banked wariness lit her eyes, and he noticed she watched him closely. “Where did you get this?” he asked easily.

  J.T. heard the reluctance in her voice when she replied, “Its been in the family for years.”

  “It’s ... different.” The medallion did look like a family heirloom, but there was something else about it that lured and fascinated him. He rubbed his thumb over the surface, and a heat radiated up his arm, tingling along his nerve endings. Then, incredibly, he felt a pull on his senses, like a huge magnet drawing the very life out of him. He was powerless to stop it from happening. In the next instant a part of him seemed to merge with Caitlan, in her mind, in her soul, a union so extraordinary in its power and beauty, he felt intimately joined with her, heart, body and soul. The pendant blazed like fire in his hand and he let it drop back to her blouse.

  The whole exchange had happened so fast, he wondered if he’d only imagined the odd experience. The startled look in Caitlan’s eyes confirmed that something had passed between them, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask and possibly look like a fool for suggesting a psychic encounter had momentarily linked them. The incident had been too weird for his peace of mind, like a quick out-of-body experience.

  Maybe he was losing his mind, he thought.

  Deciding it was time to get back on the trail and put things into proper perspective, he grabbed his hat and jammed it on his head. He stood and extended his hand to her. “It’s getting late. We’d better head back.”

  She nodded her agreement and put her hand in his, allowing him to help her up. “Thank you,” she said softly, her fingers flexing in his palm.

  They stood there, neither one moving, gazes locked. Caitlan’s eyes darkened and her cheeks flushed with awareness. Her tongue darted out to touch her lower lip, as though the lingering effects of their encounter had aroused her. J.T. swore under his breath as a surge of heat sped through his veins. Hell, his own traitorous body throbbed with sexual excitement, demanding satisfaction. For a reckless second J.T. thought about damning consequences and lowering his mouth to hers and letting things proceed from there. Lord knew they both wanted each other, the sexual tension between them so palpable nothing but a physical joining could ease it.

  Knowing nothing could come of them making love, despite the closeness they’d established this afternoon, J.T. summoned every source of willpower he possessed. He tried to convince himself that Caitlan would be grateful he hadn’t taken advantage of the situation once she was back in the city, where she belonged, heart intact.

  Distance, Rafferty, you need to put distance between you. Letting go of her hand, he stepped away. “You fold the blanket and I’ll get the horses,” he said in a rough voice. He headed toward Quinn and Blaze, hating the glimpse of hurt he’d seen in Caitlan’s gaze. He swore again. Didn’t she know how difficult it was to walk away from the sweet promise in her eyes?

  Once they were packed up and mounted, J.T. spurred Quinn into a heavy gallop, as much to work off his frustration as to get back to the house and around people so Caitlan wouldn’t be such a temptation. He made sure Blaze kept up, but left enough distance between himself and Caitlan so that conversation was impossible.
>
  Coming up the last hundred yards, J.T. slowed Quinn. Looking ahead, he noticed a cluster of people standing around the barn—a few hands, Frank, Kirk, and Randal. Off to the side, Paula embraced Laura in a hug, his daughter’s face buried in the woman’s shoulder. Laura’s friend, Karen, stood beside them, looking as though she’d been crying.

  A sense of foreboding twisted in J.T.’s gut. Bringing Quinn to an abrupt halt, he jumped off the horse, tossed the reins to a nearby hand, and strode toward Frank, Kirk, and Randal.

  Just as he reached the trio, Laura broke away from Paula and ran toward him. “Dad!” she wailed, tears streaming down her face.

  J.T. caught his daughter in his arms. She bawled against his chest, her body trembling violently as she clung to him. Momentarily stunned, he tried to console and calm her with words and gentle caresses, but she only cried harder. The words she spoke were unintelligible, garbled by her sobs and tears.

  Fearing something had happened to jeopardize his daughter’s life, he glanced up at his men, vaguely aware that Caitlan had come up beside him and was attempting to pacify Laura.

  “What’s going on?” he demanded.

  The three men looked at him uneasily. Kirk spoke, his tone as grim as his expression. “Someone put Missy’s kittens into King’s stall.”

  Caitlan gasped audibly, and Laura’s sobs increased.

  “What?” J.T.’s fear of seconds before liquified to white-hot outrage.

  “It’s true.” Frank shifted on his feet, glancing from Caitlan to Laura, and then back to J.T. again. “King, uh, trampled them to death.”

  J.T. let out a string of swear words he’d never used in the presence of ladies before, but anger overruled his manners. “Who the hell would do such a thing?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Randal said, averting his gaze to the entrance of the barn.

  J.T. glanced around for Mike. Just before leaving with Caitlan today he’d issued the man a slight reprimand. Would he be spiteful enough to kill innocent kittens? And was this incident at all related to what had happened to him at the creek? Or was this a warning of some sort from the sick person stalking him? Damn, he didn’t like not being able to trust his own hands.

  “Who found the kittens?” he asked.

  Kirk cast a sympathetic look at Laura. “Laura and Karen found them about fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Ah, Smidget,” J.T. murmured, rocking her gently, his heart breaking for her. “I’m so sorry.”

  Laura looked up at him, her eyes puffy from the tears she’d shed, misery in their depths. “They’re ... they’re all dead.” She gulped in a breath, then another sob broke from her.

  “Shhh.” J.T. comforted Laura for a moment longer, then gently extricated her from his arms, anxious to do some investigating. Wanting to separate Laura from the situation, he glanced at Caitlan beside him, grateful for her presence.

  Except she seemed preoccupied. A troubling frown marred her brow and suspicion colored her eyes as she glared at Randal. Hell, was the woman still holding a grudge against Randal for his behavior the other night?

  Might as well kill two birds with one stone, he thought. “Caitlan, would you please take Laura up to the house?”

  She pulled her gaze from Randal and glanced at Laura, her features softening with concern and compassion. “Of course.”

  Laura shook her head wildly at J.T., on the verge of hysterics. “Who’s gonna get the kittens?” she asked around a fresh wave of tears, sobs, and convulsive shudders.

  “I’ll take care of it,” he promised, handing her over to Caitlan. “Go with Caitlan. I’ll be up in a bit.”

  “Come on, honey.” Caitlan wrapped her arm around Laura’s shoulder and guided her toward the walkway leading to the main house. As Paula and Karen joined her, Caitlan glanced over her shoulder at Randal.

  Randal met her gaze, a self-satisfied smirk curling the corners of his mouth. Then he turned and followed the other men into the barn.

  The import of Randal’s silent goad made Caitlan so physically ill, she thought she’d lose her lunch.

  Paula shook her head, her lips pursed in disgust as she looked off into the distance. “I just don’t understand who would do such a thing to those poor, helpless kittens.”

  The answer came all too easily to Caitlan ... Randal.

  * * *

  Traumatized by what she’d witnessed, Laura lay on the couch in the living room, hugging a throw pillow to her chest, her body curled into a fetal position. Her head rested in Caitlan’s lap, and Caitlan offered whatever comfort she could to the young girl while Paula called Karen’s mother to pick up her daughter.

  After all Laura’s tears had been shed she stared into space, her body shuddering with an occasional sigh or hiccup. Caitlan rubbed Laura’s back and played with her hair, granting the girl time to grieve for her precious kittens.

  Laura refused to eat dinner. A little after seven, weary and exhausted, Laura fought her body’s natural reaction to fall into slumber. Caitlan, seeing Laura’s struggle with the inevitable, accompanied her upstairs to her room, helped her into a fresh nightgown, and pulled down the bedcovers.

  Laura looked from the bed to Caitlan, her bottom lip trembling. “I don’t want to be alone, Caitlan. Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

  Caitlan realized she’d do anything for this sweet girl. Keeping her company, and keeping the terrible memories of what she’d experienced at bay, was so little to ask. “Sure, honey. Come on. Get into bed.”

  Laura climbed up on the frilly canopied bed and snuggled under the covers. Caitlan turned off the light and joined her, lying on top of the bedspread. Within minutes of Caitlan stroking Laura’s hair, the young girl had fallen asleep, her breathing deep and even. Still, Caitlan threaded the silky strands of Laura’s hair though her fingers, reluctant to leave her.

  A shaft of light from the hallway illuminated the room in a soft glow and enabled her to see Laura’s puffy eyes, red nose, and swollen lips. Her features, although softened in repose, still held traces of the tragedy she’d suffered. And what about the emotional scars that would remain forever?

  Fierce anger and protectiveness welled in Caitlan. Laura was an innocent person in this whole ordeal, and Caitlan resented that the ugliness had touched her. How far would Randal go in his quest for vengeance?

  The sound of someone climbing the stairs brought Caitlan out of her musings. Recognizing J.T.’s lazy, booted stride, anticipation fluttered in her stomach. A moment later he filled Laura’s doorway. Tiredly, he leaned his shoulder against the jamb, hip cocked, and crossed his arms over his chest. Silently, he stared toward the bed, his gaze drifting over Laura’s prone form.

  The hallway light silhouetted his large build, accentuating the width of his shoulders and the leanness of his waist and hips. There was a quiet strength about him that made Caitlan want to slip into his embrace for warmth and comfort. At the same time she had the undeniable urge to touch her mouth to his and soften the hardness there, wanted to caress her thumb over the frown creasing his brow.

  His eyes moved from his daughter to her. Their gazes connected in the dimness. An incredible awareness, as hot and vital as flame, replaced the worry she’d detected moments before. Boldly, his smoky gaze traveled the length of her, undressing her with his eyes. Seeing the sensual heat in his gaze, the sudden carnal desire, she knew he was imagining her lying in his bed, naked, waiting for him. She shamelessly wished she were.

  Desire danced through her, a wanting so explicit and urgent it should have shocked her but no longer did. This smoldering hunger was a remnant of the heat he’d generated during their picnic but hadn’t had the courtesy to extinguish. Desire and need mingled as one, a yearning so powerful that a delicious warmth cascaded through her veins.

  She searched for something appropriate to say to break the spell and managed a whispery, “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Wrapped in the shadows of the room, his voice was rough, gravelly, and sexy,
sliding over all those warm, secret places that responded so effortlessly to him.

  Pushing off the doorjamb, he slowly crossed to the bed and ran his knuckles down Laura’s cheek, then smoothed his large hand gently over her head. A shuddering sigh escaped Laura, and she snuggled deeper into her pillow, murmuring incoherent words. Straightening, he glanced at Caitlan, and she saw the true weariness in his eyes.

  J.T. jammed his hands on his hips, his expression taking on a protective edge. “How is she?”

  “Emotionally exhausted, but I think she’ll be fine.” Caitlan came up on her elbow, a little self-conscious about being with Laura, as if J.T. might think she was trying to horn in where she really didn’t belong. “She didn’t want to be alone. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Mind what?” A wry, private smile touched his lips. “You being a surrogate mom?”

  “If that’s what you want to call it.” She shrugged lightly and glanced at Laura’s pretty face, knowing once her mission ended that this child would still be special to her. “She needed someone to be with her. I’m just glad I was around to help.”

  J.T. rubbed the muscles at the back of his neck. “I should have been with her,” he said in a low voice filled with self-recrimination. “But I needed to get to the bottom of this incident with the kittens.”

  “I understand,” she reassured him softly. “And I think Laura understands too.”

  Their eyes met and held for endless seconds.

  Then J.T. expelled a deep, resigned breath. “Thank you, Caitlan. For everything.”

  “You’re welcome.” She couldn’t help the smile lifting her lips, inordinately pleased that he actually appreciated her and had swallowed his pride enough to admit it. Then her thoughts detoured to more important matters. “Did you find out who’s responsible for killing the kittens?”

  Laura stirred, shifting onto her back, mumbling something about Tommy pulling on her hair.