by Pam Crooks
Had Kullen taught her?
The thought haunted TJ. Yet he gave no consideration to wanting what belonged to another, not when he’d wanted Callie Mae himself for so long.
And she was here, now. Beneath him and in his arms. His head lowered, and he touched his mouth to hers, the fear in him real that he was only imagining this moment, dreaming of it as he had so many times before.
The softness of her lips, their warmth and sweetness, assured him this was no trick of his mind.
His head lifted. Growing lust swirled through him, a need to make the moment last, to take from Callie Mae what he craved and she seemed willing to give.
Sheer control kept him from it.
He wanted too much.
She couldn’t know how much.
Her lashes lifted. She gazed up at him, her scrutiny searching, as if she questioned his restraint.
Then, clearly dismissing it, her arms slid up his shoulders, hooked around his neck, and tugged.
“Another,” she commanded softly.
His control broke. He growled her name and took her mouth with a savagery of unleashed desire, too long held in check while he lived his life in the shadows of her legacy. In her being a Lockett.
It didn’t matter that he was only a cowboy on the sprawling C Bar C, that he’d watched her grow up with scores of others on the ranch, all of them, from the outside looking in. And it didn’t matter how much she’d hated him for what she believed he’d done, that he’d given too many months of his life behind bars.
It didn’t matter. Not anymore.
He was man; she was woman. And they both had this fiery need.
TJ shifted his body, angled his head, fisted his hand in her hair. He deepened the kiss, prolonged it, feeding the need which demanded to be quenched. Her mouth opened, eager and hungry, and their tongues met. Mated, hot and frenzied. Their breaths turned rough, aching—
TJ had always known Callie Mae would be a vibrant, sensual woman, but this, this shattered any control, any shred of restraint he was honor bound to maintain. He hungered for more, to discover every sweet inch of this woman who’d inspired his longings and invaded his every thought for more years than he cared to count. His hand slid over her ribs to take the delectable weight of her breast into his palm.
A purring moan slipped from her throat, and she pressed her hips into his, discovering the thickening evidence of his lust, demanding to be sated.
TJ trailed rasping kisses down her cheek, over her jaw, onto the warm curve of her neck. His fingers parted the buttons of her shirt, spread the fabric wide and bared the rounded globe of flesh that set his blood on fire all over again.
Craving this new taste of her, he closed his lips over one erect nipple and traced its shape with his tongue. He suckled and savored. Her back arched, her fingers spread into his hair, holding him to her—
Suddenly, she stilled.
Then, before he could even think it, her legs flailed, and she cried out in dismay.
“No, no. Get off me!” she gasped and pushed at his shoulders. “Stop kissing me like that. Oh, stop!”
“Callie Mae.” He blinked down at her. His lust-drugged mind scrambled to comprehend her sudden change in thinking. “Darlin’.”
“Don’t ‘darlin” me, TJ Grier. Get off!”
With more agility than he could’ve thought possible, she darted out from beneath him and scurried to her feet, holding the edges of her shirt tightly closed. Sucking in an anguished breath, she whirled away, and in the time it took for him to sit up and rake a frustrated hand through his hair, she turned back, her shirt fastened in an untidy match of buttons to their holes.
She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin. And swallowed.
“Forgive me,” she said, her voice unsteady. “I should never have allowed—such a thing to happen.”
Acutely aware the swelling in his groin remained an ache that needed assuaging, he stood, too. “Don’t make it sound as if we were doing something dirty.”
“It was wrong, TJ.” Pride kept her gaze from wavering. “I’m engaged to be married to Kullen. I shouldn’t have been k-kissing you like I was.”
“You think you betrayed him?”
“I know I did.”
TJ took a step toward her, the need to take her into his arms, make her forget again, consuming.
“And yet what you were feeling, Callie Mae, was passion—for me,” he said softly.
“No.” She took a step back and shook her head. Emphatically. “No, it wasn’t.”
“Don’t deny it.”
His taunt jerked her chin a notch higher. “I’ll not deny I got swept away by the moment. In all the excitement of chasing after Blue and then thinking you were hurt, well, my emotions got—” she hesitated “—mixed up.”
“Mixed up.”
“But I’m thinking more clearly now.”
“Are you?” He dared another step.
She held up a hand to stop him. “You have your horse, TJ. There’s no reason for me to stay with you. I’m going back to Amarillo. This time, you can’t stop me.”
Pivoting, she rushed toward the tethered mounts, and he hurried after her.
“What about Danny, Callie Mae?” he demanded. “Isn’t finding the truth about his death important anymore?”
“I have every intention of discussing it with Kullen.”
He snorted in derision. “You really think he’ll talk?”
She swung toward him in exasperation. “I have to start somewhere, TJ!”
They halted near the horses, and he set his hands on his hips. Given her devotion to the man, TJ understood her determination to see him. How could TJ keep her from leaving? How could he convince her that she needed the truth as much as he did, and that they needed each other to find it?
“I’m going with you,” he said firmly.
“To see Kullen?”
“Yes, to see Kullen,” he snapped. “So I can choke the information out of him if I have to.”
He stepped toward Blue to take hold of his rope, and if Callie Mae protested his intentions, sheer horror kept him from hearing the words.
Blood seeped from an ugly slash across Blue’s belly, and TJ realized he wasn’t going anywhere soon.
Emmett Ralston stared hard at the coffeepot.
Strange how it lay there, knocked over like it was. As if someone had thrown it—or kicked it—even though it looked plain as day that they intended to make some brew. An open tin of Arbuckles lay right there by the fire, which had long since died out.
His gaze shifted to the pair of bedrolls, laying side by side, all rumpled. The two Stetsons, one smaller than the other, lying near saddlebags.
No one would leave their hats behind, unless they left in one hell of a hurry.
He dismounted, squatted next to the saddlebags and dumped out their contents. Among them, a small purse, brown velvet with a gold chain. On the outside, monogrammed in gold thread, was a likeness of the C Bar C brand.
He grunted at the discovery, opened the purse and found a small roll of bills. Quickly, he stuffed the wad into his shirt pocket and tossed the velvet bag aside. The rest of the supplies held no interest.
Rising again, he swept a glance around him. Far as he could tell, there was no sign of an ambush, but it was clear he’d found Grier’s camp and that the Lockett woman had been with him.
Maybe their leaving had something to do with Blue Whistler. Then again, maybe not. Either way, by the looks of that cold fire, they’d been gone a while.
Emmett squinted an eye toward the sky. A few more hours and it’d be dark. He could either keep searching for them or he could stay and wait for them to return.
Gut instinct told him they’d be back. Only fools would roam the range without supplies to sustain them.
And TJ Grier was no fool.
He knew something about the night Danny died. Emmett didn’t know what, or how much, but TJ had hired a big-city agent to investigate the boy’s death and help Grier c
lear his name. Emmett knew it for sure; he’d overheard Boomer and Grier talking back at the Preston stables when they didn’t know he was around.
Which was why Kullen needed Grier dead in a hurry.
They both did.
To stop him—and the Lockett woman—from learning the truth.
Kullen had been as mad as a cut cat when he found out Callie Mae’s brother was killed. It hadn’t been part of their plan for him to die. Emmett’s job had been to kidnap him, that’s all. Use him for a healthy ransom as part of their plan for revenge against Penn McClure.
Emmett had to talk fast to convince Kullen it wasn’t his fault the kid died. That that crazy drunk was responsible, but when he up and disappeared, and Grier claimed to kill the boy by accident, well, things got easier and Kullen felt a whole lot better.
Happy, as a matter of fact.
Kullen Brockway—Brosius, Emmett corrected himself—was as fine a lawyer as could be found. Shrewd and calculated, just like one should be. If anyone could get back at Penn McClure for what he’d done, killing Kullen’s old man, Kullen could.
He deserved as much C Bar C money as he could get for all he’d lost and marrying Callie Mae Lockett would get him plenty. Once them two got married, Emmett would be set for life. Kullen had promised, and Emmett could hardly wait to head south across the border and find himself a little Mexican beauty…
Except Kullen being crippled changed things, and now it was up to Emmett to see their plan through. Kill TJ Grier and bring Callie Mae back to Kullen where she belonged.
Emmett mounted up and headed toward a stand of junipers where he could keep an eye on the camp without Grier knowing it.
Then, when the time was right, he’d make his move.
Chapter Eleven
Every bone, every muscle in Callie Mae’s body ached.
After leaving the box canyon, they’d ridden slowly back to the stream where the herd had earlier stopped to water. TJ had submerged the stallion in the stream’s cold depths to stop the belly wound’s bleeding. With nothing to suture the gash, they’d been forced to return to camp at a careful walk.
Made a long day even longer, for sure. Worse, she had too much time to think.
About TJ.
About the kisses they’d shared.
About the words pounding over and over in her head: What you were feeling, Callie Mae, was passion—for me.
TJ had been wrong, of course. She was young, healthy, female. What he’d made her feel was merely lust at its most basic level.
Nothing personal involved.
She blamed it on the thrill of infiltrating the wild horses with him. When before had she had such an opportunity? TJ’s mastery over the herd had seemed effortless, and the way he flaunted the danger, well, the experience was as far-flung from the sedate life she normally led as could be, that’s all. When TJ had fallen and scared her, then held her in his arms…
His kisses had proved his expertise in seducing a woman, and like a fool, she’d fallen beneath his spell. How could she have allowed herself? How could she have completely forgotten she belonged to another man?
Her behavior had been inexcusable.
Well, it wouldn’t happen again.
Ever.
But she could feel TJ’s gaze on her often during the day’s ride, and it was all she could do to keep from meeting those dark eyes. His silence, her own troubled thoughts, made the hours interminable.
Why she didn’t just up and leave him and follow through on her threat to return to Amarillo, she couldn’t fathom. Something held her back. Something that had to do with him fending for himself with an injured horse in tow… and his desperate need to find the truth in Danny’s death.
A need that equaled hers.
I’m going with you.
I’ll choke the information out of him if I have to.
TJ’s continual insistence that the man she planned to marry was involved sent confusion throbbing inside Callie Mae’s head.
She swallowed a miserable groan. Handsome, intelligent Kullen. It didn’t seem possible he could be capable of a crime as terrible as scheming to hurt a child, and yet… yet his startling behavior at Preston Farm had been most vindictive.
Was TJ correct in his suspicions?
She had no choice but to concede TJ accompanying her to see Kullen was the smart thing to do. If TJ managed to wreak any kind of admission out of Kullen, Callie Mae had to be there to hear it—for Danny’s sake.
Mother would expect it of her, besides.
And that thought had her thinking of her meeting with the entrepreneurs and how everything took a tailspin turn for the worse as soon as she left the Amarillo Hotel. How was she going to prove herself to her parents if she was out here on the Texas range, chasing mustangs and rescuing an injured racehorse with TJ Grier of all people?
“Hell of a frown you’re wearing, Callie Mae,” he said.
Her ruminating ended with a start, and she realized they’d reached their camp. She pulled up, refusing to look at him.
“Yes, well, I have a lot on my mind.”
“We both do.” He dismounted. “Want to talk about it?”
“Not particularly.” She looped the reins around the saddle horn and swung off her mount, taking a moment to allow her stiff muscles to loosen. By the time they did, TJ had moved to her side, crowding her between the span of their horses.
“Listen, Callie Mae,” he said in a low voice. “What happened back there between us—”
“Should never have happened,” she snapped and angled her body to escape him.
But his hand clasped her elbow, stopping her, making her aware of the warm strength in his grip.
“Well, it did, and now it’s scaring you,” he said. “Because I made you feel something you’re not used to feeling. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes!” She steeled herself against how ruthless he looked with his cheeks roughened by the day’s stubble, his expression dark and fierce. “You made me feel guilt, TJ, for allowing you privileges that no—that I’ve never given—”
His brow shot up. “No one?”
Her breasts tingled at the memory of his kisses; their dusky tips relived the feel of his hot, wet tongue over them, and damn it, she hated to admit he’d been the first to kiss her like that. Gritting her teeth, she angled her face away.
“No,” she said.
A moment passed. Then, lean fingers cupped her chin and turned her back to face him.
“How could he keep his hands off you, Callie Mae?” he demanded, his tone husky. “He must have ice in his veins.”
Kullen’s reserved manner had troubled her at times, but she’d always found an excuse for it, telling herself some men were more adept at showing their affections than others. Once they were married, he’d change. She’d show him how desirable she could be in their marital bed, and he’d be happy to have her as his wife.
“Kullen is a gentleman,” she grated. “He’s never stepped across the bounds of propriety. He loves and respects me too much.”
TJ snorted in derision. “I told you, he loves and respects your money more.”
She stiffened against the slur and the unexpected sting of tears which followed. TJ’s contempt had turned wearing; if she wasn’t careful, she might find herself believing all the hateful things he said about Kullen.
“I’m going to make some coffee. Excuse me,” she said, pushing past him.
He let her go, and grateful, she busied herself building a fire. She took comfort from the task and tried hard to keep from giving TJ’s comments further thought. Even though she made a steadfast attempt to ignore him, her ear kept tuned to his movements behind her and the low croon of his voice as he unsaddled the horses and hobbled them.
With the flames blazing, she rose to retrieve the coffeepot and fill it with water. Only then, did she notice the items scattered over the ground, dumped out of the saddlebags.
Her attention snagged on her brown velvet purse with its gold chain. Callie M
ae hadn’t touched the little bag since leaving Stinky Dale’s last night. A quick check revealed the money inside gone, and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled.
“Someone’s been here, TJ,” she said, turning to him.
“What?” He straightened from examining Blue’s injury and cast her a distracted glance.
“While we were gone, someone rode into our camp and rummaged through our things.” She held up the purse. “He stole my money.”
TJ scowled, and he joined her. “Anything else missing?”
She ran a mental check over the supplies Stinky Dale had given them. Tins of beans, sardines, hardtack. The tin of Arbuckles hadn’t been touched. Neither had their bedrolls or even their Stetsons.
“I don’t think so,” she said, annoyance building that the stranger had left her penniless. Now she’d have to make time for a trip to the bank in Amarillo to replenish the funds. “Who do you suppose it was?”
“No way to know for sure.” TJ squatted and dipped his fingers into markings in the dirt. “The tracks aren’t very old. One horse, one rider, though.” Rising, he examined the ground around them.
“A drifter, maybe?”
“I doubt it. He would’ve helped himself to our food and whatever else he could find, besides your money.” He met her gaze. “Whoever he was, he took the time to cover his tracks out of here so we couldn’t follow him.”
The troubled light in his leather-brown eyes worried her.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, fighting alarm.
“I’m thinking that little frippery you got there told the rider what he wanted to know.”
Her glance dropped to her purse, then lifted again. Understanding dawned, but she hoped she was wrong. “Meaning?”
“Meaning your brand sewn real pretty on that velvet made it clear who owned it.”
By now, gossip would be rampant in Amarillo—and beyond—about what happened at Preston Farm. Folks would know TJ had put a gun to her head and forced her to run with him to chase down Blue. They might even have sympathy for Kullen and the way he acted, thinking he tried to defend her.