A Cowboy for Christmas (15 page)

“No. Leave it.” She put a restraining hand on his wrist and instantly regretted it. Every time they touched, something deep inside her unraveled a little bit more.

“Yes, ma'am. Let me know exactly what
you
want.” He laughed, and the sound made her feel warm and toasty right down to her toes.

His grin was cocky and his eyes glistening with the same out-of-control impulses that were simmering through her blood. He leaned closer. She did not shy away.

“If we were in a romantic movie,” Rafferty said. “This would be the point where I'd kiss you.”

“But this isn't a movie.”

Their gazes fused.

“No.

“And you're not going to kiss me.”

He leaned forward until his lips were almost touching hers. “I'm not going to kiss you.

“That's very good,” she said, “because it's not like this relationship could go anywhere.”

“I know.”

“You
do
want to kiss me,” she said. “Admit it.”

“Woman,” he murmured, “you have absolutely no idea how much.”

A thrill blitzed down her spine. His warm breath tickled her skin. He smelled so good Lissette could scarcely remember her name.

You can't let Rafferty kiss you. You mustn't let him kiss you. This cannot happen.

She raised her hands and clutched them together in front of her chest, building a barrier between them. It was weak, but it was all she could come up with.

“Please . . .” she whispered, meaning to add
don't
, but her throat was so tight and his eyes were so dark and she was caught up in the strange magic surging between them.

“You're vulnerable,” he said. “I want to kiss you so much I can't stand it, but I don't want to take advantage.”

Take advantage of me. Please!

“And I seem to have this need to protect vulnerable people. It's probably not a healthy situation. You and I.”

“You're just as vulnerable as I am, Rafferty Jones. It couldn't have been easy for you coming here.”

“I don't shirk my duties.”

“And I'm a duty?”

“I didn't say that.”

“Do you think . . .” Lissette paused, cleared her throat. “That if we'd met in some other way, before I met Jake, that we would have been attracted to each other?”

“Lissy.” He breathed. “There's absolutely no doubt in my mind.”

She touched Rafferty's shoulder.

He looked at her and their gazes merged.

She felt everything all at once.

It was like an earthquake rocking her chest, lust and chemistry, longing and yearning, guilt and loneliness. Hunger and sadness and hope. It fell in on her, heavy and warm and too much too soon, and at the same time, not nearly enough.

What had she gotten herself into?

His gaze was like a lightning strike.

Her lips tingled.

He cupped his palm under her chin and tilted her head, his eyes never leaving hers.

She stiffened. Wanting to taste him but terrified of where all this was leading.

He dropped his hand.

No!
her body protested.

Compelled by a force she couldn't understand or explain, Lissette leaned in toward him. She just knew that she had to kiss him or die, but it wasn't in her nature to act so boldly. She was accustomed to finding roundabout ways to meet her needs. She couldn't bring herself to initiate the kiss, but she could make him kiss her.

Brazenly, she wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight.

He arched his eyebrow, making sure he understood what she was asking.
Are you sure?

She swallowed, moistened her lips. Nodded.

His eyes lighted up and a smile tipped his mouth. It was like watching a drawbridge drop, and behind the door of the fortress, hidden beneath the strong, silent cowboy persona, lurked a heartbreaking tenderness. This man cared deeply about the world, and it hurt him that he couldn't cure all the ills of it.

“Sweet Lissy,” he murmured, and lowered his head.

Her pulse skipped.

The kiss was quiet, languid, and deep. He took slow opportunity to taste and smell and feel. His tongue drew a hungry response so acute that she felt like she was falling through time and space.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, hung on to him, increasing the pressure.

He kissed her harder, deeper, and more intensely.

The taste of him! Like sunflowers and rainbows and clouds on a soft summer day. It was as if she knew every part of him—a weary traveler returning home from a long, arduous journey.

While the world shrank down into the minute width of mouths, she opened herself up to possibilities as yet undreamed. She was completely disarmed. With any other man the stunning intimacy and astonishing sensuality would have unbalanced her, but with Rafferty everything was different.

Her lips shuddered against his mouth and her body molded to his.

His hands roved over her spine and she strained into him, her breasts crushed against his chest as he fell back against the couch. In his arms, she felt not only incredibly sexual, but oddly at peace. A peaceful roller coaster. Was there such a thing?

She had to ask herself some hard questions. Was she attracted to him simply because her life was falling apart and he seemed to know exactly how to put her back together again? In her need to find her way in this new chapter of her life, was she grasping at straws? Was she mistakenly reading something into these impulses that wasn't really there? Was she confusing sexual desire for something more substantial? How could she even be thinking such things about a man she'd known only a little over a week?

Lissette dithered, caught between doubt and desire. She did not like this push-pull of emotions. For years, she'd been living life on autopilot, melding with Jake's wishes, putting on a pleasant face, getting through life by putting things in soft focus. She always did what felt safe, but the power of her attraction to Rafferty drove home that she'd done so at the price of her independence. That's what scared her most. This arousal of the self buried deep within her.

Panicked, Lissette pressed a hand to his chest, pushed away from him, broke the embrace. “We have to stop.”

“Yes,” he said. “You're absolutely right.”

But he did not.

Chapter Thirteen

R
afferty didn't mean to claim her mouth so roughly or insistently. Hell, he hadn't meant to kiss her at all, at least not initially, but when she'd taken that step toward him, his restraint had dropped away and he'd just acted.

She tasted like heaven.

He knew she would taste good, but his expectations fell far short of reality. No pastry on this earth tasted so amazing and he couldn't get enough. His arms tightened around her, smashing her pert soft breasts against his muscled chest.

She'd made a low noise of encouragement, letting him know that she didn't mind his forceful technique. In fact, she relaxed her jaw, parted her teeth first.
C'mon in, cowboy
.

Here I come, sweetheart.
He'd plunged his tongue inside her.

Her arms twined around his neck.

Rafferty heard a low buzzing in the back of his head. A ravenous fever mounted inside him. Her eyes were closed and he closed his too, savoring the specialness of this moment.

He never wanted it to end.

Many kisses. He'd kissed many women. Many times. Not that he was a player or anything, but he was a young, healthy, red-blooded male. He'd had his fair share of romances, knew a thing or two about kissing.

But this? He had no words. It was beyond any kiss he'd ever gotten or given.

That scared him. A lot.

He hadn't meant to start anything. She'd just been talking about Jake and how spontaneous he'd been and Rafferty had started feeling jealous because he wasn't spontaneous, and obviously, Lissy liked spontaneous men, and when she'd taken that step toward him, the floodgates had opened and his brain had sent a single message to his nerve endings.

Just do it
.

So he'd kissed her.

Now he had to live with the consequences. He'd gone and done the very thing he'd fought against since meeting her. He had the willpower of a fruit fly.

Dammit, Jones.

He'd started this. It was his place to stop it. Rafferty pulled away, broke the kiss.

Lissette's eyes were wide. They were both tugging in equal, desperate gasps. “Wow,” she said. “That was—”

“Nice,” he said quickly before she had a chance to figure out she'd rocked his world.

“Yes . . . um . . . nice. That was nice.”

“Bad idea, though.”

“Totally.”

“I promise it won't happen again.”

She looked distressed. “No, no. Won't happen again.”

He got up. “I should go.”

“Yes.” She dropped her gaze.

He forced a smile, turned around, and headed out the back door, knowing he could never undo what he'd just done. Worse than that, he didn't
want
to undo it.

He had to leave Jubilee. Now.

Because, if he stayed, he knew he was going to make love to her. She wanted it as much as he did. He saw it in her eyes. He'd tasted the strength of her desire. Making love to her was so wrong, why then did the idea of it feel so right?

He fumbled the lock, got the door open to his apartment, and tumbled into the room. He pulled his suitcase out from under the bed. He could not stay here. Too much was at stake. He'd never felt like this about anyone and he didn't know how to handle it.

You're doing it again
.

Yes, he knew that. Which was why he was leaving. He was falling for a woman who wasn't ready for a relationship. Hell, he wasn't ready. He hadn't seen this coming. Hadn't thought to defend against it.

“Jake, if you were here right now, you'd punch me out for what I want to do to your wife,” he muttered, rolling up his shirts and stuffing them in the suitcase.

He didn't know why he'd stayed this long. Okay, that was a lie. He did know why he'd stayed this long. Lissette. She was the reason he'd stayed and she was the reason he had to go.

Rafferty sank down on the bed, dropped his hands in his lap. He didn't want to leave, but how could he stay? If he stayed, he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off her. He would have to make love to her.

Go.

Blowing out his breath, he fell back onto the mattress, stared up at the ceiling. He wiped a hand over his mouth. Lissette. Lissy. He wanted her with an urgent yearning that would not subside.

Get out of here
.

What about Slate? What about getting money for her? What about helping her with her business? What about meeting Claudia and finding out about his father? What about Kyle?

What about him? Save your hide. Get lost, cowboy. Climb into that old pickup and head west. Now.

And he would have gone too if a sudden crackling hadn't come over the intercom and Lissy's voice saying, “Rafferty, I need you. Now.”

Instantly, he sprang into action. Not knowing what she wanted or needed, but by damn, he was on it. He scrambled down the stairs and crossed the backyard, almost running to get to her.

He pushed open the French doors without even knocking. “Lissy, what is it?”

Lissette was standing over the kitchen sink, clutching her left hand around her wrist, staunching the flow of blood dripping down her fingers. On the marble slab island sat a glistening sharp butcher knife and a half-cut butter yellow spaghetti squash. She turned incredibly calm eyes on him.

“What happened?” He snatched up a cup towel from the counter and rushed toward her.

“Minor kitchen mishap,” she said mildly. “But I'm going to need stitches. Can you drive me to the emergency room?”

A
fter Lissette's hand had been sewn and bandaged (it took eleven stitches to close the deep gash from the top of her thumb all the way down to her wrist) the doctor released her with the admonition to take it easy for a few days. No cooking.

The knife had slipped while she'd been chopping up the tough-skinned spaghetti squash for a new recipe she'd dubbed Tumbleweed Bread. In retrospect, she should have cooked the squash whole and sliced it up afterward.

Heck, in retrospect you should have had your mind on what you were doing instead of on Rafferty's kiss.

Feeling a little light-headed from the blood loss and drama, she made her way to the ER waiting room where Rafferty sat with Kyle on his knee, playing giddy-up horsey. Kyle was grinning and clinging to Rafferty's kneecap as Rafferty bounced him up and down.

When he spied her, Rafferty immediately got to his feet, swinging Kyle up and into his arms with the smooth movements so practiced it looked as if he'd been a dad all his life. Concern clouded his brown eyes as his gaze took in her bandaged hand.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” she admitted. “Except I shudder to think about the hospital bill.”

“I've already taken care of it,” he said.

For a moment, she thought about protesting. She didn't want to be dependent on him, but it simply took too much energy to argue, and right now, her thumb was starting to throb again as the local anesthetic wore off. All she wanted to do was go home and take a long nap. “I'll pay you back.”

“No.”

“Yes, I will. I—”

“Lissy,” he said in a kind but commanding tone. “It's taken care of and that's the end of it. You don't owe me. If anything, I owe you.”

“How's that?” she asked as he escorted her from the hospital.

“You opened your home and heart to me without any prejudice or hesitation. You accepted me for who I am. Do you know what a rare quality that is?”

He depressed the door locks on her truck's remote control key chain and opened the passenger side door. He held out his hand to help her climb inside. “Lean on me,” he welcomed.

What temptation, to lean on him.

Instead, she boosted herself into the seat, even though she had to use her injured hand to do it. She turned her head so he wouldn't see her wince.

Was she being stubborn? Stupid? The deal was that she simply couldn't grow accustomed to having him around. He'd be leaving soon enough, she might as well get used to it. Still, he had gotten her out of a jam. It made her realize how completely vulnerable she really was, a single mom living alone with a deaf child.

“I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been here,” she said, feeling sheepishly grateful, once he'd gotten Kyle buckled into his car seat and joined her in the cab of the pickup.

“You would have called 911. I didn't do anything special.”

“Thank you for being here.”

He shrugged, looked uncomfortable with her gratitude.

She'd needed him and he'd been there in a crisis. He was a man you could count on, but she didn't want to count on him. All she wanted was to be strong enough to take care of herself and her son. Was that so much to ask?

Slanting her head, she glanced over at him. He was so good-looking. He stared straight ahead, concentrating on the road. Her mind drifted back to the kiss. How he'd made her feel. It had been such a long time since she'd felt wanted, cherished, sexy. Jake's affairs had made her insecure about her femininity. Rafferty's attention restored it.

When they got to the house, Rafferty insisted on carrying a sleeping Kyle inside to his bed and she didn't argue.

“Now,” he said, turning to her as she shut Kyle's door after them, leaving it open just a crack. “You need to take a nap as well.”

He ushered her up the steps to her bedroom, but hesitated at the threshold. “Anything I can get for you? Some aspirin? A glass of water?”

“I'm fine,” she said. “They gave me a mild painkiller at the hospital.” She was acutely aware of the fact that he was in her bedroom. The big king-sized bed stretched out like an invitation.

How crazy was it that she wanted him? Fantasized that he'd strip off both their clothes and join her in the bed. It was just a fantasy. They couldn't progress beyond that kiss for so many reasons, but that didn't change the fact that goose bumps fled up her back at the thought of his naked body pressed against hers.

She stared at his lips, wished he'd kiss her again. Neither of them moved.

“Sleep well,” Rafferty said finally, and then turned and bounded down the stairs.

Leaving Lissette feeling hot, achy, and more confused than ever.

I
t was time to tell Claudia about Rafferty.

Between her aching hand and her guilty conscience, she hadn't managed to snatch more than a few hours of sleep the previous night. Rafferty was staying at her place. He'd met her friends. She couldn't keep hiding him from her mother-in-law. Claudia was going to be hurt, but the longer Lissette put off telling her about him, the worse it would be.

On Monday morning, while Rafferty had taken Slate over to Joe's ranch to cut cattle, she had called Claudia and asked her to meet her at the little park in Lissette's neighborhood at nine o'clock. She'd picked the park because it was neutral territory and Kyle loved playing there, but she'd been so on edge, she'd arrived early.

She'd paced for a while, practicing how she would break the news about Rafferty. She sat down on a playground swing, wrapped her fingers around the chain, the thick wad of the bandage on the pad of her thumb providing a barrier over the stitches.

Lissette couldn't remember the last time she'd swung on a playground swing. When she was a kid living in an upscale Dallas suburb, there'd been a neighborhood park not far from their house with tall, A-frame metal swing sets.

The seats of the swings were long and wide and made of smooth polished wood, just perfect for risk-taking girls who dared to stand up on the seats in a valiant attempt to swing high enough to flip over the top of the pole. She had never been risk-taking, daring, or valiant.

Her mind wandered to last week's merry-go-round of consultations with doctors and therapists and deaf educators, all orchestrated by her parents. She'd accepted their help because it was for Kyle, but a nugget of resentment lodged in her stomach. They didn't think she was capable of taking care of her own child.

Her brain buzzed on information overload, her mind fraught with choices and decisions about Kyle's future. There were all kinds of things to consider about educating her son. Things she'd never imagined.

Everyone seemed to have an opinion on what she should do—from the experts, to her parents, to her friends, to Claudia, to Guillermo. Whatever she decided, they all assured her it was urgent that she make a decision and make it soon.

It normally took her a long time to make up her mind. She liked to explore, consider all possibilities, weigh the pros and cons before jumping into something. The few times she had been rushed into a decision—marrying Jake for one—she'd ended up unhappy with the results. But she knew she irritated people who moved faster. Those closed-ended types who seemed to rule the world. Make a decision. Move on. Next!

Bundled in a hooded sweatshirt, Kyle was silently rolling a toy truck through the sandbox.

When she was small and let loose in a park, Lissette would run from one piece of playground equipment to the other, never able to make up her mind which one to play on first. She'd hop on a swing, then hop off to join one of her sisters on the slide, think better of it halfway up the ladder and skip over to ride a spring horse.

“Make up your mind,” her mother would holler at her, “and start having fun, Lissy.”

But when she'd dig into the sand pit, the jungle gym enticed and she'd end up like a hummingbird, flitting from flower to flower, never settling in, and never filling up. She admired that Kyle knew what he wanted, made a choice, and stuck with it.

She inhaled deeply. It was the kind of morning Claudia called the dog days of autumn—those languid days just before the holidays began, when the air tasted dusty and the fields lay fallow following fall harvest, a time of stifling, stagnant waiting.

Lissette pushed with her blue-jeaned legs, kicking out, and then tucking her legs back to send the swing moving forward faster.