Sorrow and sadness engulfed her, and she swallowed back uncharacteristic tears. There was no future for them. Ever. Once her mission was complete, she would leave J.T. behind to continue her work as a guardian angel. But the memory of the way their bodies had been joined in complete harmony would always remain a part of her, and she didn’t know if she’d survive the sweet, aching memory of it all.
The sound of someone moving around in the room next to hers penetrated the walls and her thoughts. She guessed J.T. was getting ready to start the day, as she should be doing, but she couldn’t drum up the energy to move. Facing him didn’t hold much appeal, especially after the brusque way he’d escorted her to her bedroom and left her there to enter his.
She sighed heavily, reminding herself that no matter what happened between them, she still had a job to do. In a few minutes she’d get up, she told herself, just as soon as the crushing despair lifted from her heart.
* * *
Staring at his freshly shaven face in the bathroom mirror, J.T. berated himself for the hundredth time for being so thoughtless, so utterly careless while making love to Caitlan.
He hadn’t protected her from conceiving a child. The alarming thought had hit him like a two-ton brick while he’d been taking a shower. Unbidden, memories of the tight, hot feel of Caitlan wrapped around him had taunted his mind. Deep inside she’d been silky soft and snug, exquisitely so, and with nothing separating them he’d given her every bit of himself. He’d burned with need, had forgotten everything but the taste and feel of her.
Nothing separating them
. He’d never intended to make love to her when he’d followed her to the barn, but that didn’t excuse his negligence. He knew better than to have unprotected sex.
Shoving away from the sink, he muttered a dark curse and strode into the adjoining bedroom to put on his boots. He jammed a foot into one boot, arranging his jeans over the top, and then the other.
He’d been careless once before, with Stacey, and the result had been less than ideal. Caitlan wasn’t calculating or manipulative, like Stacey had been in her pursuit—quite the opposite, actually—but Caitlan
would
leave to go back to the city, and he didn’t think she’d be too happy being burdened with a child.
His empty stomach churned with anxiety and twisting deeper was regret. He’d marry Caitlan if she turned up pregnant, but he knew she’d grow to resent him and his way of life, and worse, he’d never be able to give her the love she deserved. He just didn’t have it in him. Hadn’t he learned that with his attempt at marriage with Stacey?
And then there was the strange link between him and Caitlan to consider, the way she extracted need and longing from him, and a yearning for something more. That medallion of hers unnerved him, as if it held some kind of power to connect them. Twice he’d been affected by the damned thing when he’d touched the heated gold, experiencing an out-of-body sensation straight out of some sci-fi movie. And, most hauntingly, she’d called him Johnny, when
no one
had called him that since Amanda’s death.
The other experiences could be written off as an active imagination, but how had she known his nickname? Standing, he shook off the niggling doubts settling over him. Maybe he didn’t want to know.
Dressed and ready for the day ahead, J.T. left his bedroom, glancing toward Caitlan’s closed door. A streak of light at the bottom of the door told him she was up, and he walked over and knocked lightly, wanting to get this awkward conversation about protection and pregnancy over with.
“Yes?” she answered softly.
“It’s me. I need to talk to you.” He grimaced at the clipped tone of his voice and deliberately softened it. “Can I come in?”
She didn’t reply. Not that he could blame her. He’d been anything but congenial on the walk back to the house from the barn. Guilt weighed down his conscience when he recalled how cold he’d been, and how he’d all but deserted her at her bedroom door without so much as a good night, an apology, a promise, a curse ... nothing.
“Caitlan?”
“Go away, J.T.,” she said wearily. “I’ll be downstairs in a bit.”
Okay, he deserved that. He almost turned away, but a streak of stubbornness held him there. Testing the knob, he found it unlocked and slowly opened the door and looked inside.
She sat on the bed, knees pulled. up under the covers, drawing on that pad of paper she coveted. Her hand stilled and she glanced up, but she didn’t glare at him as he’d expected her to. Like he wished she would, so he wouldn’t feel like such an ass. No, her features were delicately somber, her violet eyes wide and glossy. The bedside lamp haloed her dark tousled hair, and he detected a faint smudge of weariness beneath her bottom lashes. She looked extremely vulnerable, and achingly beautiful.
A sudden emptiness consumed him, leaving him emptier and more desolate than ever. As he held Caitlan’s gaze, something elemental shifted within him, making him too susceptible to this woman who’d intrigued him from the very first. He denied his growing feelings for Caitlan, that he was coming to care for her in a way that he hadn’t cared for anyone in a long time. She made him
feel
, and he couldn’t afford to. Besides, she’d only get hurt.
Pushing aside the tenderness and warmth crowding their way into his heart, he stepped inside her room without an invitation and shut the door quietly, wanting privacy for their discussion.
She returned her attention back to her drawing, the tip of her pencil scratching across the paper. “What do you want, J.T.?”
You
. The word came without provocation, and it was the absolute truth. All he wanted at that moment was to strip off his clothes and hers, push her back on the bed, and sink deep inside her, losing himself in her damp softness and heat. He wanted to see passion and desire flare in her eyes, wanted to experience again those ripples of pleasure that clutched him when she reached that crest.
He’d been right. Once with her wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. God, he hated this weakness he had for her.
Business, Rafferty
, he reminded himself. Walking to the side of her bed, he braced his shoulder against the wall, silently vowing he wouldn’t touch her again.
He cleared his throat of the thick need gathering there. “We need to talk about what happened earlier.”
She tensed but didn’t look up at him. Instead, her pencil increased in tempo—quick, short, abrupt strokes slashing across the page. “I’d rather not.”
He leaned forward slightly to get a look at what she was drawing but she held the pad at such an angle that he couldn’t make out the sketch. “I’m not giving you a choice, Caitlan. I didn’t protect you.”
Finally, she glanced at him, confusion darkening her eyes. “Protect me?”
Damn. She couldn’t be that innocent! “Yeah, I didn’t use a condom, so what I want to know is if you’re on some kind of birth control. The last thing I want is for you to end up pregnant. I don’t think you’d want that either.”
She blushed at his bluntness and averted her gaze back to her pad. “Don’t worry about it, J.T.,” she said quietly.
A shaft of white-hot jealousy lanced through him when he thought of her on contraceptives for some other man. He should have let the subject drop, but a possessiveness he had no right to feel provoked him into pressing for more answers. “So you’re on some form of birth control then?”
His tenacity earned him a sharp look from her. Then a raw pain flickered in the depth of her eyes. “No. I can’t get pregnant.”
Shock rippled through J.T. Her confession momentarily stunned him speechless. When he recovered he silently berated himself for being so callous. “I’m sorry, Caitlan. I didn’t mean to be so insensitive. It’s just that ...” He shoved his fingers through his shower-damp hair, now wishing he’d never broached this subject with her. “It’s just that after what happened with Stacey I don’t care to make the same mistake twice.”
“I understand,” she said softly, flipping her sketch pad closed. “But there’s nothing for you to worry about.”
He should have been relieved by her reassurance, but the sadness lingering in her gaze touched a chord within him. She wanted children, he realized, but for some reason couldn’t have them. The thought made him ache for her.
She opened the nightstand drawer and put her pencil and pad inside. “If you’re done, I’d like you to leave so I can get dressed.”
No, he wasn’t done. He didn’t like being dismissed, and he liked even less the sensation of something still unresolved between them. Unable to get a firm grasp on what that something was, he gave her a curt nod and crossed to the door, then let himself out of her bedroom.
As soon as J.T. left, Caitlan sagged against her pillow and closed her eyes, willing away the dull twinge in her chest. Her hand absently strayed to her flat abdomen. A baby. J.T.’s baby. The thought filled her with such a sweet sorrow she wanted to weep for all the things that could never be. Where had all this longing come from?
The answer eluded her.
* * *
Freshly showered and changed into a pair of jeans and a pink sweatshirt, Caitlan went downstairs to the kitchen, prepared to face J.T. again. Except he wasn’t sitting at his usual spot, eating breakfast and drinking coffee. Dirty breakfast dishes were stacked by the side of the sink, along with a platter of leftover scrambled eggs, sausage, and pancakes. Paula stood by the counter next to the sink tenderizing a roast, engrossed in her task. The clock above the kitchen window read five-thirty in the morning. Where were the men?
Drawing a deep breath for calm, Caitlan pasted on her best smile. “Good morning, Paula.” Stopping at the coffeepot, she reached into the cupboard and brought down a mug, then filled it with the steaming brew. This morning a double shot of caffeine would be just the ticket.
Paula glanced over her shoulder, smiling brightly. “Oh, good morning, Caitlan. I didn’t hear you come in.” She gave the meat a few more whacks with the mallet. “J.T. mentioned you were awake and would be down shortly. You’re quite an early riser.”
Caitlan shrugged, aware of the other woman’s scrutiny. “Habit, I guess.”
Paula nodded. “I know how that is. My body has its own natural alarm clock built in too.” She placed the meat into a roasting pan and added peeled carrots and potatoes. “Sleep well?”
Startled by the question, Caitlan slopped a dollop of cream over the rim of her mug. Grabbing a paper towel, she soaked up the mess. “Uh, yes. Just fine.” She hadn’t slept a wink.
“Didn’t seem like J.T. did,” Paula commented, her lips pursed in disapproval. “That man had the temperament of a provoked bear this morning. Even his usual cup of coffee didn’t help.”
Smiling blandly, Caitlan leaned her hip against the counter and took a sip of coffee.
I guess I bring out the best in him,
she wanted to reply sarcastically but kept her thoughts private.
“We had a long day at Debbie’s yesterday, and he was up late last night,” she said as an excuse. Both accounts were true, the latter most likely being J.T.’s reason for being so grouchy. But he’d been the one to follow her into the barn, then seduce her in the early hours of the morning....
And you welcomed every one of his kisses and heated caresses
.
“Did you have a nice time?”
Jarred from her intimate thoughts by Paula’s question, Caitlan stared at the older woman, wondering if she somehow knew what had transpired between her and J.T. “You mean at Debbie’s?”
“Of course.” Paula frowned at her as she rolled out a slab of dough for biscuits. “What did you think I meant? Did you go somewhere else I don’t know about?”
Just paradise, Caitlan thought. Sheer, unadulterated paradise. But she wasn’t about to divulge that information to Paula. “No, we didn’t go anywhere else, and yes, we had a nice time.” Before she could put her foot in her mouth any further, she asked, “Where’s J.T.?”
Paula dusted flour on the rolling pin and continued spreading the dough. “He left about fifteen minutes ago. You just missed him.”
“He left?” Caitlan echoed. A frisson or alarm shot through her. “Where did he go?”
Cutting out round discs of dough, Paula placed them on a baking sheet. “He said he had some things to take care of in town and that he wouldn’t be back until this afternoon.”
Caitlan silently reprimanded herself for allowing her emotions to make her remiss in her duties to J.T. While she’d been wallowing in sorrow he’d left. Without her to protect him. “Did he go by himself?” Urgency tinged her voice, but she couldn’t help it.
“He took Kirk with him.” Paula sent her a curious glance. “You should have told him you wanted to go with him. He probably thought you’d be bored.”
More likely he left without telling me so he wouldn’t have to deal with me as a tagalong
. Taking a swallow of coffee, she glanced out the window above the sink. A gray dawn was just breaking, and Caitlan could see the bustle of the hands down at the barn as they prepared for the day. She searched for her nemesis but couldn’t find him. “Have you seen Randal this morning?” she asked in a neutral tone.
“No. I usually don’t.” Finished with her biscuits, Paula washed her hands and dried them on a terry towel, giving Caitlan a shrewd look. “Just a word of advice, Caitlan. Stay away from Randal. I don’t know what’s gotten into that boy lately, but he’s a fuse just waiting to be lit.”