Taming of Jessi Rose (8 page)

She'd never had a man touch her mouth so intimately before. Her lips, full from his kisses, felt as if they'd been infused with the sparkles of the starlight. The woman in her wanted more. “Kiss me again,” she heard herself say softly.

He whispered his reply, “You're the boss…”

This kiss held more fire, more power. Jessi knew she was in the web of a man so expert he could make his living doing this, but she didn't care. She wanted to be filled by his light, be warmed by his lips moving so sensually over her own. He seemed reluctant to release her because he kept returning to steal slow, tender snatches from her lips.

“Is this enough?” he husked out, even as he brushed another series of kisses over her brow and her cheekbone.

Jessi's knees seemed to have melted away. All of her inner strength and good sense had been seared to ash by his overwhelming brilliance. Granted, calling a halt was not what she really wanted, but she had to reclaim herself or succumb totally. “Yes. I think we should stop…”

In reply to her soft words, he eased away and took a small step back.

Jessi had no idea what she was supposed to do with the yearning throbbing so heatedly inside herself, making her want more. Jessi knew she had to get off this porch or she would start begging for more. She forced herself to head toward the door. “Good night, Mr. Blake. Sleep well.”

“You too.”

As soon as she was inside, Griff put his head in his hands and asked himself, “
What the hell are you doing
?” Even though he knew he had absolutely no business pursuing Jessi Clayton, his manhood was hard as a length of railroad track, and it took all he had not to follow her inside and make love to her until they were both too sated to move. Nothing else mattered right now; not Reed Darcy, not Dixon Wildhorse, or the seven years awaiting him back at the Kansas State Penitentiary. What he and his body wanted revolved solely around the most tempting boss he'd ever worked for in his life.

He could hear her moving around inside the house as she prepared for bed. For a woman who was supposed to be both whore and widow, she kissed with all the experience of a virgin bride. He'd tasted a deep well of passion in the kisses she'd shared with him, but he'd also tasted an innocence he hadn't expected. In the past he'd always been very cavalier in his treatment of the women who attracted his attention, but he instinctively knew that Jessi Clayton was not the type of woman a man could simply love and leave; she would linger in a man's mind for a while, maybe for a lifetime. He'd always preferred cathouse ladies—memorable while they were under or atop you, but not for a lifetime. The only woman he carried constantly in his memory was the one he had buried when he was ten years old.

So what was he doing talking about courting Jessi
Clayton? Common sense dictated that he forget about wanting her and concentrate on what he'd come to Texas to do. But sometimes Griff chose not to pay attention to common sense, and now appeared to be one of those times.

As Jessi lay in bed, she spent a long time thinking back on Griffin Blake's kisses. They'd sent her soaring like a heroine in the pulp novels her friend Paris LaMarr had been so fond of. Although Paris had insisted that kisses from the right man could send you flying as high as an eagle, that had not been Jessi's experience—until now. Evan's kisses had been chaste and gentle. The few times they'd been intimate, he had been patient and respectful and made sure she didn't have to endure his needs any longer than necessary, because he knew she didn't enjoy the marriage bed.

Something told her it might be different with Griffin Blake. It was truly a scandalous thought, she admitted. Just being near him seemed to give birth to feelings she wasn't sure properly raised women were supposed to have. Her memories of the strength and beauty of his body had not dimmed, either. Thinking back on that sight in conjunction with his potent kisses made her dizzy.
What would it be like to lie with a man who enjoyed women
? she asked herself. Her lips still felt kiss-swollen, and the throbbing in her blood, although lessened, continued to echo like a faint drumbeat. The no-nonsense woman who usually directed her life scolded her for her musings and thought it better to dwell on a less volatile subject, and Jessi agreed.

Turning her pillow over in an effort to get more comfortable, Jessi found her thoughts turning to her father. What would he say about a man like Blake? She'd no idea if he was in heaven or hell, but she wondered what he would say about her battle to hold on to the land. In her heart, she knew none of her efforts would matter or
be good enough. Even though she'd given everything to the land except her life, his will had declared Joth the sole heir. Not that she minded—she loved Joth very much. Jessi had been named her nephew's guardian and instructed to turn over the reins when the boy reached legal age. In exchange, she would be allowed to live out her life on the ranch if she chose, but he'd willed her nothing more.

Frankly, she hadn't even expected that; her father's opinion of her had been no secret. The pain associated with that realization flared once more. When she was younger, the knowledge that her father hadn't loved her had pierced her heart so badly she'd cried herself to sleep more nights than she cared to remember, but over the years the sharp edges had dulled. Now that hurt was just a dull ache sharing space with all the other heartaches she'd known.

The clock on her nightstand had once belonged to her late mother Violet, and it showed it to be almost 2
A.M
., far past the time when she should've been asleep, but her thoughts kept swinging back to Blake. Having an extra set of eyes and hands on the place did make breathing a bit easier, even though he hadn't as yet done anything even resembling work. A voice in her head reminded her that he had run Darcy off her land yesterday, and that in itself should've earned him a bonus. She supposed she agreed with the assessment, but she refused to dwell any longer on his kisses. Her own uncharacteristic actions on the porch notwithstanding, Jessi was realistic: she was no more than a diversion for him. When he was done here, he'd ride out of her life and be gone like yesterday's sunrise.

T
he next morning, Jessi awakened to what sounded like someone walking on the roof. To make certain it hadn't just been her imagination, she sat up in bed and paused to listen. When the steps echoed again, she got up to investigate. Just in case the steps belonged to a trespasser, she grabbed her Winchester.

Dressed in the faded blue wrapper she'd pulled on over her thin cotton nightgown, she first went down the hall to check on Joth. His room was early morning silent and dappled by fingers of the dawn's faint light. He lay fast asleep, so she closed his door and withdrew quietly. She next stopped at Blake's door. When her soft knocks went unanswered, she gently turned the knob and peeked in. The silence of the room mirrored Joth's, but Blake's bed was empty.

Closing the door, Jessi assumed the footsteps on the roof were his, but she couldn't imagine what he could be doing up there, especially at this time of morning.

She climbed the ladder in the kitchen and found him seated with his back resting against the old chimney. His arms were folded across his plaid-shirted chest, and his eyes were focused out on the pink and gray sky of what promised to be a spectacular sunrise.

Upon seeing her, he gave her a smile any woman
would love having turned her way. It made Jessi remember last night's encounter all over again.

“Morning,” he said in greeting.

“Good morning. What are you doing up here?”

The flat roof made it easy to maneuver, so she had no trouble walking. The early morning breeze gently teased the hems of her wrapper and gown, exposing the well-worn boots on her feet

“Watching the sky. I didn't get to see too many sunrises in the penitentiary.”

“What's it like there?”

“Hellish. You break rocks from dawn to dusk, eat rancid army rations, and hope nobody kills you in the night.”

Jessi could hear the bitterness in his tone.

“Coffee?” he asked, indicating the battered pot at his side.

Once she took a seat and settled her gown over her knees, she nodded and took the offered pot and a cup. She had a feeling he'd changed the subject purposefully. She didn't much blame him; after all, prison couldn't've been pleasant, but she
did
blame herself for making him dredge up such obviously garish memories.

“Sleep well?” he asked.

“Surprisingly, yes,” she offered, as she sipped her coffee and gave thanks for a man who could brew a decent pot.

“Why surprisingly?”

“It took me a long time to fall asleep.”

This time his smile was filled with mischief. “Me too.”

She could feel her attraction to him uncoiling. “Do you always leave women sleepless?”

“It's happened a time or two.”

“You don't believe in modesty, do you?”

“Can't be modest if you're robbing trains.”

“Or if you're conquering women from the Mississippi to the Rio Grande.”

He paused a minute and studied her face. “Does my reputation bother you?”

His expression was serious. He wanted an honest answer. “I'm not certain. I do wonder if you're just using me to pass the time until you move on.”

“That's honest.”

“Yes, it is. It's also the truth. As much as I enjoyed last night, I have a hard time, wondering whether you're just trying for another notch on your bedpost.”

He reached out and slowly traced his finger across the dark skin of her cheekbone. The tenderness of the gesture seemed to touch her soul. “You'll never be just a notch…”

Leaning over he touched his lips to hers and Jessi fed herself on his kiss, then eased back. “And how many women have you said that to?”

He brushed his lips across her ear. “And meant it? Only one…
you.
”

Jessi pulled back and searched his face.

His gaze held amusement. “From that look I take it you don't believe me.”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“No, I don't.”

He grinned. “You're hard on a man.”

“I'm skeptical by nature.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Women are supposed to be agreeable.”

“You've had too many agreeable women in your life as it is, I'm thinking. A little disagreement is good.”

“Is that why you made me wait three days to see you smile?”

“I didn't smile at you because I didn't like you.”

“You like me better now, I take it?”

“You really don't expect me to answer that—surely you don't,” she replied with a laugh.

“Why not?”

“I'm not adding one more breath of air to your already exaggerated view of yourself.”

“Exaggerated?” he asked playfully.

“Exaggerated.”

“Are you saying my kisses are exaggerated?”

Jessi went still.

“Well, Miss Skeptical, I'm waiting for your answer.”

He had her and she knew it.

She turned her head to hide her smile. He reached out and gently coaxed her chin back around so she would look into his eyes. She answered him truthfully and softly, “No, your kisses are fine.”

He slowly teased his thumb across her parted mouth, and once again the intimacy of the gesture rattled her and made her eyes slide shut.

“Are you sure…?”

He was so close and his touch so vividly possessive, Jessi was having difficulty breathing, yet she managed to answer, “I'm sure…”

“Well, just so you don't forget later.”

He kissed her so slowly and with such passion, she groaned softy in pleasurable response. Last night's kisses had been chaste in comparison to this heated, overwhelming rendition. He languidly branded her, enticed her; he tempted her to savor what only he could give. When he finally turned her loose, she swore the world was spinning.

From somewhere deep inside herself she managed to locate her will and slowly opened her eyes; his handsome satisfied-male smile was the very first thing she saw.

“You're much too good at this,” she baldly admitted.

He chuckled softly. “Glad you think so. Now, finish
your coffee and quit distracting me. or we're going to miss the end of the sunrise.”

Jessi grinned. In the early morning light his humor-filled eyes were as faceted as a mountain cat's, and just like a cat he was toying with her, but in a way she thoroughly enjoyed. For the first time in a long time Jessi Rose Clayton did what she was told—she sat back and watched the sun and sipped at her now tepid coffee.

The crest of the sun broke through the pink and gray horizon in a blaze of colors so brilliant they were impossible to describe.

“That's a beautiful sky,” he said, toasting the sight with his cup.

“Yes, it is.”

“If you could have three things in life, what would they be?” he asked her suddenly.

Jessi found the question a bit surprising, but gave serious thought to her response. “Let's see…I'd want this mess with Darcy settled, so Joth could enjoy the rest of his childhood. I'd get this roof fixed, so he and I don't drown every time it rains. And I'd go back to teaching.”

He turned to her. “That's all you'd want for yourself?”

“Yes,” she admitted truthfully. “My needs are small. What about you, what would you wish for?”

“I'm not sure, but a different life, I think.”

“What kind of a different life?”

“One where I wouldn't have to be looking over my shoulder all the time.”

She studied him for a moment. “A life on the right side of the law?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.” He then added, “I can't see myself as a farmer, though.”

“Neither can I,” she concurred.

“As a rancher, maybe.”

Suddenly Joth's head popped through the opening in
the roof. “What are you two doing up here?”

Jessi answered smiling, “Watching the sun come up. Good morning.”

“Morning, Aunt Jessi. Morning, Griff.”

“Morning, cowboy.”

“Are you ready for breakfast?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“I'll be right down.”

He nodded and disappeared back down the hole.

Jessi realized she'd wanted to hear more about the change Blake wanted in his life, but the moment was lost.

As she got to her feet, he asked, “What do you need done around here today?”

“You're offering to work?”

He grinned. “I'm not as lazy as you might assume.”

“You could've fooled me,” she cracked teasingly.

“Be nice, or you won't get any more of my exaggerated kisses.”

Jessi rolled her eyes. “The corral needs work.”

“This roof could use some attention, too.”

“I know, but we need more wood than I have on hand, and Darcy owns the only lumber mill around.”

“We'll just have to work around him.”

“I doubt he'll be very accommodating after your run-in with him yesterday.”

“Probably not, but we can figure out something. In the meantime…thanks for watching the sunrise with me.”

“My pleasure.”

 

Jessi, Joth, and Griffin spent the early part of the day replacing some of the old posts and cross ties of the corral. Under Jessi's supervision, Joth used a rope tied to Buttercup's saddle to help free the rotten, weathered posts from their holes.

Griff was impressed at how well trained the little palomino pony was and how much affection Joth showed it as horse and rider worked in tandem. The pony stopped and held when Joth asked it to and pulled when Joth said to pull. Once the old wood was freed, Joth and Buttercup dragged it off to the barn.

As Joth and his pony made yet another trip to the barn, Jessi said with all seriousness. “If anything ever happens to that horse, it would probably kill him. I think he loves Buttercup more than anything.”

“Except his Aunt Jessi.”

Jessi turned to face him.

“Told me so himself. I told him it takes a very special woman to make a cowboy love her more than his horse.”

“And you would know.”

“Not really, I've never been in love. Lust, yes; love, no.”

Griff wondered what she would say if he told her that last night, after he'd finally fallen asleep, he'd dreamt about them making wild and passionate love. The dream had been so vivid he'd wakened this morning as hard and as ready as though the dream were real. Looking over at her now, all he could think about were the dream-based memories of her riding sensuously astride him and how beautifully her breasts had filled his hands.

Jessi had never known a man whose eyes could make her feel as if her clothes were going to melt from her body, but that's exactly how she felt at this moment. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, not really. Just thinking back on the dream I had about you last night. Pretty good dream, too, if you want to know the truth.”

Thinking this was just another form of his flirting, Jessi replied with a raised eyebrow, “How many women have you roped with that old lariat?”

Griff's mustache lifted with his smile. “You don't believe me?”

“Remember my skeptical nature? I'm not a naive ingenue.”

“No, you're not. You're a woman, there's a difference.”

“And that difference is age.”

“You're putting up barriers again, Jessi Clayton. You're not that much older.”

“I know, but for you, I'll need all the barriers I can find.”

He grinned and picked up another post.

As the work continued, Jessi couldn't help but wonder if he'd been telling her the truth about the dream. What had it been about? He'd said it had been a good dream. Had he dreamt about kissing her? Although neither of them made mention of this morning's rooftop interlude, the sweet memories lingered within Jessi, as did her desire to be kissed by him again.

Jessi hadn't cut all of the new posts the same size. Because of the inadvertent mistake, some of the new posts wouldn't fit into the old holes, so new ones had to be dug. The digging turned out to be the hardest work yet. Due to the lack of rain, the ground was as hard as rock.

“Where'd you get the wood for the posts?” Griff asked, as he stopped digging a moment to catch his breath.

“Joth and I cut down a few dead trees last fall. We used some of the wood for heat this winter. I figured what was left would come in handy for repairing the corral.”

And she'd been right. She had just enough extra to replace most of the rotting wood, the rest of the corral fence repairs would have to wait until another time.

As early afternoon rolled in, Jessi left the men work
ing while she went in to fix them all some lunch. She made sandwiches using the meat from the last ham in the cellar stores and some bread. It wasn't fancy fare, but they wouldn't go hungry.

As she went to the front door to call Joth and Blake inside, she paused at the screen door to watch them. They were stacking the last of the old wood. She couldn't hear their conversation, but she could see Joth smiling and talking and acting like the open, friendly young boy she'd always loved. He hadn't had much to smile about lately through no fault of his own, yet Blake seemed able to make that part of Joth come alive again and Joth seemed relaxed in his presence. Blake for his part did not act annoyed by the boy's attention and Jessi blessed him for that. She still didn't know if his being here would be of any value to the ranch, but so far, Joth looked to be benefiting, and that was more than enough for her now. She knew she would be remiss if she didn't keep an eye on Blake, however; he was, after all, an outlaw, and kisses or no kisses, badge or no badge, trying to make a house cat out of a mountain lion was much easier said than done.

As Jessi stepped out onto the porch, the sight of Sheriff Hatcher riding up made her stop. Her father and the Vale sheriff had been lifelong friends until Reed Darcy came between them. She wondered how the lawman slept at night, knowing he hadn't lifted a finger to find the ones responsible for the cowardly murder of his friends.