Kiss of an Angel

by Janelle Denison

  He chucked her lightly under the chin, an amused glint in his eyes. “If you’ve ever been here before, then it must’ve been in another lifetime. Come on. I smell chicken being barbecued, and I’m starved.”

  He said the last on a playful growl that made Caitlan laugh and forget her worries. Grabbing her hand, J.T. guided her up the walkway and through a side gate, which led to a landscaped backyard and a covered porch, where the family had gathered.

  Determined to enjoy the day, and J.T., Caitlan did her best to forget the strange feelings, although she couldn’t completely diminish her awareness or her sense of familiarity.

  Greetings went around, and Caitlan found herself being embraced by Debbie. “I’m so glad you came. I have to agree with Paula. It is nice having another woman around to talk to.”

  Caitlan held back the urge to remind Debbie that her “visit” was only temporary. “Need any help?”

  “Sure, come on in the house.” Debbie shooed at J.T. with her hand. “You go on and help Kirk barbecue the chicken and ribs.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he drawled, and, after giving Caitlan a look she could only describe as bone-melting, he turned and strolled to a paved area at the end of the yard.

  Caitlan spent the next half hour with Debbie, helping her put the baked beans in a dish, wrapping the corn on the cob in tinfoil, warming the bread and taking those covered dishes to the picnic table on the porch.

  They ate an early afternoon supper. Caitlan found herself seated between Brittany and J.T., compliments of Laura’s sly maneuvering. Ignoring the heat of J.T., and the heady scent of his aftershave, she contributed her share of input to the lively conversation at the table.

  Caitlan loved the closeness this family shared, the way everyone laughed and teased and generally had a good time. Throughout the meal she’d caught J.T. casting subtle glances at her in a way that made her breath catch. Then he’d brush up against her reaching for a dish of food on the table, eliciting a wave of heat lapping along her nerves. All gestures were innocently executed, but her reaction was shockingly arousing.

  She was getting used to her instantaneous response to J.T., and the way he felt like a significant part of her she hadn’t realized was missing until she’d rescued him. The hum of desire invading her body when he touched her was a delicious sensation, and she was becoming increasingly curious to see where it might lead but knew better than to pursue such a brazen impulse. And woven into all these intricate sensations sprang a deeper emotion of caring, that strange link to J.T. nudging gently at her heart and soul, demanding entrance.

  At the end of the meal, Brittany reached across the table for another napkin to wipe her sticky fingers, and as she pulled back, her elbow connected with Caitlan’s full glass of lemonade. The plastic cup tumbled over, the juice splashing onto Caitlan’s lap. With a startled gasp, she stood, but the cold liquid had already seeped into her jeans.

  “Oh, Caitlan, I’m sorry,” Brittany said, pressing the napkin she’d just grabbed to Caitlan’s soaked jeans.

  It’s okay, sweetie,” Caitlan reassured the stricken little girl, dabbing at her thigh with her own napkin. “It was just an accident.”

  “Need some help?” J.T. offered in a low voice laced with a sexy challenge.

  Caitlan shot him a look and couldn’t help but smile when she saw the amusement flickering in his gaze. “I think I can handle this one myself.”

  “Just checking.”

  “Girls,” Debbie began, spurring into action, “clear the table for me, please. Come on, Caitlan. Let’s go find something dry for you to wear.”

  Caitlan followed Debbie into the house. “I shouldn’t have had my glass of lemonade so close to the edge of the table.”

  Turning down the hallway to the back rooms, Debbie waved away Caitlan’s concern. “Spills are pretty common in this household. I remember once when Laura accidentally dropped a platter of pork chops onto Kirk’s lap....”

  While Debbie recited the tale, the sense of familiarity Caitlan had held at bay since first arriving came rushing back to her, stunning in its force. They arrived in Debbie’s bedroom and the sensation grew. Prickles of awareness danced across her skin.

  Debbie opened her closet and searched through her things. “Since the lemonade only spilled on your jeans, I have the skirt that goes with that blouse.” Smiling in satisfaction, she handed Caitlan a blue chambray skirt with a ruffled hem. “It’ll be nice and cool, and I even have a matching petticoat.”

  Caitlan caught on to the woman’s ploy. “Debbie, I don’t need a petticoat—”

  “Oh, come on, Caitlan,” she chided her gently. “All us women like to wear pretty things under our clothes.” Debbie lifted the skirt of her simple green pastel dress to show off the petticoat she wore, a cotton slip edged in a row of lacy feminine ruffles. An impish grin creased Debbie’s mouth. “Kirk thinks they’re sexy.”

  Caitlan truly didn’t need the frilly undergarment, but Debbie was a woman on a mission, and by the gleam in her eyes Caitlan knew this was one argument she would lose. Be honest with yourself Caitlan. You want to look pretty for J.T. You like the thought that he might find you sexy.

  Goodness, when had she become such a brazen angel? And did she have the right to play with the flames J.T. created between them, and possibly kindle an out-of-control bonfire? The emotions stirring within her for J.T. went beyond anything in her experience as a guardian angel, and the urge to follow those intimate feelings overruled her usually good judgment.

  Just for today she’d indulge herself and wear the skirt and petticoat. What harm could there be in that?

  “I know it’s in here somewhere,” Debbie mumbled, pushing past hangers of clothes on the wooden rod.

  As Caitlan watched Debbie, another premonition swept through her, so commanding in its force, she couldn’t ignore the awareness demanding her immediate attention. Surreptitiously, she glanced around the room, searching for a clue to explain her apprehension.

  Her gaze drifted from the king-sized bed covered in a patchwork quilt and then onto an old mahogany armoire against the far wall. A matching vanity and stool occupied the other side of the room. Typical bedroom furnishings.

  A vision whispered at the edge of Caitlan’s consciousness, a pull so undeniable she automatically closed her eyes to bring it into focus. After a few seconds of intense concentration the backside of a young girl appeared, her short height giving the illusion of a six or seven year old. Long blond hair streamed from an elaborate straw hat, and at first Caitlan thought it was Brittany or Alisha. The girl was in this room, playing dress-up in front of a large oval standing mirror, admiring the sophisticated dress overflowing on her tiny body and the too large, wobbly high heels on her feet.

  “Amanda Marie, are you into my things again?” a woman chastised gently, coming into the room.

  The little girl whirled around, smiling sweetly, “Momma, I only want to look as pretty as you when we go to church today.”

  A maelstrom of emotions swelled within Caitlan, strangely enough, for the woman who seemed to be Amanda’s mother. The woman took Amanda into her arms in a loving hug, and the tenderness of the embrace wrapped around Caitlan like a soft, warm blanket.

  “Amanda,” Caitlan murmured, confused by her latest vision.

  The medallion tingled hotly between Caitlan’s breasts, bringing her back to reality. When she opened her eyes she found Debbie looking at her oddly, the petticoat folded over her arm. Oh, goodness, Caitlan thought, how long had Debbie been watching her?

  Debbie tilted her head to the side, scrutinizing her. “J.T. told you about Amanda?”

  The tinge of disbelief Caitlan heard in Debbie’s tone made her wary. “Yes. Why?”

  Debbie gave Caitlan a speculative glance. “I’m just surprised, is all. He hasn’t talked about Amanda since the night she died.”

  Yet he’d told her, a stranger, the whole story. Caitlan shivered slightly when she remembered experiencing the tragic car accident that had c
laimed Amanda’s life. She still didn’t understand the significance of that vision, or any of the others. She seemed to hold a key to J.T.’s past, but why did she have access to J.T.’s history with Amanda? She’d never been able to tap into a ward’s memories before.

  Debbie handed Caitlan the petticoat, her gaze probing and full of questions. “Did J.T. tell you this used to be Amanda’s parents’ house?”

  “No.” Amanda’s house. Another shiver cascaded down Caitlan’s spine. Holding the two skirts close to her chest, she forgot about the dampness of her jeans and that she needed to change. “Why do you and Kirk live here?”

  Debbie sat down on the edge of the bed. “About a year and a half after Amanda’s death her father died of a heart attack, leaving Amanda’s mother all alone. Mrs. Hamilton was so devastated by the loss of Amanda and her husband that she put the place up for sale. She told me the memories were too painful for her to stay, and she wanted to live with her sister in Connecticut.”

  Shaking her head, Debbie smoothed her hand over the quilt, a reminiscent smile curving her mouth. “J.T. went a little crazy when he found out Mrs. Hamilton was going to sell the place, since this property adjoins Rafferty land. J.T. said he didn’t want strangers living in Amanda’s house. He was only twenty-one at the time, but he worked out a deal with Mrs. Hamilton, and my father co-signed a loan for him. J.T. bought the place.

  “Funny thing is, J.T. couldn’t bring himself to live here. Even when he married Stacey he still stayed at the main house. When Kirk and I got married he let us take over the payments, and he signed the deed over to us as a wedding gift.”

  The depth of J.T.’s love for Amanda astounded Caitlan. “It doesn’t seem to bother J.T. to come here.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Debbie agreed. “I think he just wanted the house to stay in the family, because Amanda was like a part of our family. We were neighbors all our lives. She was J.T.’s girlfriend for years, and my best friend since we were toddlers.” Debbie’s gaze skimmed over the clothes she’d just given Caitlan, then lifted back up to Caitlan’s face, “We used to wear each other’s clothes all the time, except Amanda was a little shorter and had a cuter shape, much like yourself,” she reflected thoughtfully.

  Caitlan fingered the soft chambray material in her arms. “Well, I appreciate you lending me your clothes.”

  “I’m happy to do it.” Hesitating briefly, Debbie glanced covertly at Caitlan, as if sizing her up. Her speculative smile reached her eyes. “I think you’re good for J.T., Caitlan. I know this is presumptuous of me, considering you’ve only been here a few days, but have you and J.T. ... I mean, are you and J.T. ...” She flushed and pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, never mind!”

  Caitlan laughed softly at Debbie’s apparent embarrassment. “Are you trying to ask if J.T. and I are involved?”

  “I know it’s none of my business,” Debbie rushed on, the color from her cheeks fading. “And you don’t have to answer, but J.T. has changed in the short time you’ve been here.”

  Caitlan couldn’t help wondering about that, even though she had to admit she’d seen a softening in him the last day or so, since the incident at the creek. “In what way?”

  “I noticed the biggest change today.” Debbie shrugged and picked at a piece of lint on the quilt. “It’s the way he watches you. He seems so relaxed and at ease.” She struggled for the right words. “There isn’t that loneliness in his eyes that always makes me ache for him, an emptiness like he’s lost a part of himself he can’t find. Today, his eyes are clear and his smiles are genuine. You’re good for him, Caitlan,” she said softly, earnestly. “I knew that the first time I saw you and him together.”

  Caitlan lifted a brow at Debbie. What was it with his family conspiring to matchmake her and J.T.? “I care for your brother, but I’ll be leaving Idaho soon.” Why did the thought make her feel so forlorn?

  “You can always visit, and you might find you like it here.”

  Not two days ago she’d heard the same lecture from J.T.’s daughter. “Have you been talking to Laura?” she teased.

  Debbie smiled. “No. I just know it takes a special kind of woman to adapt to life in the country, and you fit in well. You seem happy here.”

  “I am happy here.” And content. Caitlan sensed she belonged here in a way she couldn’t fully define. She only knew J.T. was the reason. Then reality put things back into perspective. “But that doesn’t mean I belong here.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Debbie shook her head, an apologetic look crossing her features. Standing, she grabbed Caitlan’s hand and squeezed it affectionately. “I’m sorry, this is really none of my business, but I know J.T. better than anyone, and it’s good to see him so carefree and happy.”

  Caitlan backed away subtly, knowing it was best if they let the subject drop. “Well, I guess I’d better change.”

  “Yeah.” Debbie grinned ruefully. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go on and on. You’re very easy to talk to, just like Amanda was. She’s been gone sixteen years, but I still miss her friendship.”

  Caitlan managed a smile for Debbie’s compliment, but couldn’t shake off the sensation of being suffocated. Disturbing impressions of Amanda crowded in on her until she wanted to run from this room and out of this house. She needed to change and get outside so she could breathe in fresh air and clear her head. “Where can I change?” she asked, startled by the strangled sound of her voice.

  “Go ahead and use my bathroom.” Debbie waved a hand toward a connecting door. “I’ll meet you outside. I’m sure the guys are wondering what happened to us. Maybe if we’re real lucky they cleaned up the kitchen, but I won’t pin my hopes on that too much.”

  Caitlan forced a light laugh and agreed, even though everything in her coiled up as tight as a spring, ready to snap at any given moment. Once Caitlan stepped inside the bathroom, she closed the door and leaned against it, willing her taut body to relax and the images taunting her mind to cease. Gradually, with each slow breath she drew, her throbbing head began to ease.

  Pushing off her damp jeans, Caitlan slipped on first the petticoat, and then the matching chambray skirt, vowing that this niggling feeling of hers wouldn’t ruin her day.

  * * *

  For the tenth time in the past twenty minutes J.T. glanced toward the slider leading into the house, looking for a sign of Caitlan. Shifting in his plastic lawn chair, he spared a brief look at his watch, then glanced back at the door. He perked up when Debbie passed the window, waved, and mouthed, “I’ll be out in a sec,” then moved on to the kitchen. J.T. waited for a glimpse of Caitlan ... and waited and waited. Had he missed her when she’d walked by?

  “You lookin’ for someone?” Kirk asked from the chair beside him, his tone filled with goading humor.

  J.T. pinned him with a quelling look, then turned his attention to the girls playing jump rope over on the slab of pavement. “Just wondering where the women are.”

  Kirk grinned. “ ‘Fraid they’re talking about you?”

  “I’m sure Debbie is. We all know how she loves to gab about my lack of a love life. It’s her favorite pastime for anyone who’ll listen.”

  Kirk stretched lazily and clasped his hands behind his head. “Well, I do believe they’ve spent enough time together for Debbie to convince Caitlan she’s the perfect woman for you. They should be planning a wedding right about now.”

  J.T. scowled, declining to comment.

  “So, what is going on between you and Caitlan?”

  J.T. wanted to ask his brother-in-law to define “going on.” Physically, nothing was happening between him and Caitlan—at least not what he’d like to be doing. Making slow, deep love to her, losing himself in her gentleness and warmth. Emotionally? Well, that was something he’d rather not discuss. Even he didn’t understand the feelings Caitlan evoked in him. He wrote off the chaotic emotions to lust, because wanting Caitlan, naked and in his bed, was becoming a consuming need, blending in with passion and desire
.

  “Nothing’s going on,” J.T. replied, slouching in his chair and squaring an ankle over the opposite knee. “She’ll be going back to Parson’s soon. From what I hear, the bridge should be fully repaired by the end of the week.”

  Kirk slanted a look J.T.’s way. You know, you could always drive her to the airport and put her on the first flight back to Chicago. She’d be out of your hair within three hours.”

  “And ruin her lovely vacation in paradise?” J.T. said dryly.

  Kirk laughed, a deep masculine chuckle. Standing, he slapped J.T. on the back. “Man, you’ve got it bad for her.”

  Watching Kirk walk toward the slider, J.T. searched for a retort to his comment but couldn’t come up with anything appropriate. What could he say to something that held too much truth? Caitlan was becoming a fever in his blood.

  J.T. mused over Kirk’s comment about taking Caitlan to the airport. He’d thought about doing exactly that the first night she’d stayed at the ranch, but something had held him back. He’d told himself this was her vacation, and as long as she stayed out of his way he’d let her remain. Thinking back, he realized she hadn’t been any trouble, but everywhere he turned she’d been there, with her violet eyes and soft smiles. Hell, he’d even spent the day with her yesterday, pouring out all his secrets and heartaches—to a woman he barely knew.

  Maybe he should’ve given Caitlan the option of flying back to Chicago. Maybe she would have wanted to go home rather than wait at his ranch for the bridge to be repaired. He hadn’t asked, and she hadn’t mentioned it. For the most part she seemed perfectly satisfied at the Circle R.

  “Maybe she hasn’t asked you to take her to the airport because you were such a bastard about the whole situation her first day at the ranch,” he mumbled to himself, remembering how abrupt and harsh he’d been with her, how he’d wanted nothing more than to send her on her way to wherever she belonged.

  Now he wasn’t sure he wanted her to go, which was ridiculous considering the havoc she played with his body, and the delicate way she threatened the barriers he’d built around his heart. But eventually she’d go back to Chicago, and ultimately that thought kept his emotions locked up, safe and secure.