A Moment in Time (27 page)

      
And that was the part that terrified her.
 
Without a doubt, she was unable to have a physical relationship with a man and keep her heart out of it.
 
Damn shame, too.
 
Life would be a lot simpler that way.

      
She wanted Cole Morrison in a bad way.
 
He could reduce her to a quivering mass of hormones and molecules with a glance.
 
Her response to Blade had never been anything like this.
 
Oh, it had been good–damned good–but not...soul-shattering.

      
Soul-shattering, Clarke?
 
Why didn't she throw heartbreaking into the equation, too?
 
No, Cole hadn't broken her heart.
 
Yet.

      
But he would...just like every other man she'd ever cared about.

      
Reminded of his cowboy remark, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
 
There was nothing boyish about Cole Morrison except his grin.
 
She envisioned him the way he'd looked this morning asleep in bed, with his shaggy hair tousled, morning beard stubble darkening his jaw, and that hunky torso barely covered.

      
He'd looked good enough to eat.
 
With seconds.

      
And that kiss...
 
"Oh, Lord, you've got it bad, girl."
 
Jackie rose, trying to shake off the last vestiges of the awakening she'd experienced in Cole's embrace.
 
Unfortunately, the man's kiss was potent enough to linger long after he'd fled the scene.

      
She paused at the table, pressing her fingertips to her lips.
 
No one had ever kissed her quite like that before.
 
Like he wanted to consume her.
 
Own her.
 
Love her.

      
Love?
 
A bitter laugh tumbled from her lips and she busied herself clearing away the breakfast dishes.
 
She'd learned her lesson about love after her marriage and Blade.
 
Enough of that foolishness.

      
It wasn't that she didn't like sex.
 
The problem was–and always would be–keeping her heart and her hormones separate.
 
Divided and conquered, so to speak.

      
Could
she learn to separate sex and emotions?
 
Men did it all the time.
 
A shudder rippled through her.
 
It wasn't as if she had to worry about contraception, at least not for a while.
 
She'd had her Depo-Provera injection just two weeks ago.
 
With any luck, she'd be home before she was due for another one.
 

      
Then again, maybe she wouldn't need any contraception.
 
She should just join a nineteenth century convent and end this nightmare once and for all.
 
She could be the official hairdresser for the Holy Sisters of Quantum Theory.

      
No, even if she never made love again, Jackie clarke couldn't qualify as nun material.
 
Besides, she wasn't even
 
Catholic.

      
"You're hopeless," she muttered, attacking the crumbs on the table with an angry swipe.
 
When she straightened, she stared through the open door at the rugged mountains in the distance.
 
Some of the peaks looked familiar even in this century, though she certainly couldn't name them.
 

      
Amazing.
 
If she hadn't accompanied Blade into these mountains, she wouldn't be here now.
 
In a way, her ill-fated affair with Blade had brought her here to this place.

      
And this time.

      
"Everything happens for a reason, dear,"
Aunt Pearl had always said.

      
Maybe the old biddy had been right all along.
 
Jackie walked out onto the porch and tossed the crumbs to the ground.
 
No man had ever made her feel the way Cole did, and she was crazy about Todd, too.
 
Was
she here in 1891 for a reason?

      
Her heart fluttered and pressed upward against her throat, and lust had nothing to do with that.
 
Here came the terrifying part again.
 
With a sigh, she wiped her suddenly sweaty palms on the borrowed apron and swallowed the lump in her throat.

      
Foolish dreams had led her down the aisle right out of high school, and that had been a disaster.
 
But after a lifetime of Great-Aunt Pearl's ridicule, she probably would've married the man in the moon if he'd asked.
 
On the other hand, if her mother had lived...

      
Enough.
 
"End of stroll down Memory Lane.
 
Eject tape now."
 
She squeezed her eyes shut, then blinked until her vision cleared.
 

      
Needing to keep busy, she grabbed the broom and made several passes across the porch, then paused to gaze into the distance again.
 
A cloud of dust rose just beyond the boulder that marked the trail leading to the Morrisons' cabin.
 
Curious, she stared until a man on horseback emerged.
 
He rode steadily toward the cabin.

      
And her.

      
"Oh, nuts."
 
She should hide or something....
 
Shouldn't she?
 
But the guy must've seen her by now.
 
Yes, he raised his hand and waved, never halting his steady progress.

      
She didn't want Cole to have any trouble with the law because of her.
 
But who would recognize her as the famous Lolita Belle in this Ma Ingalls get-up?
 
Her thoughts went immediately to her hair, and she hurried into the cabin and donned the sunbonnet she'd found among Elizabeth's things, tucking every strand of neon red inside.
 
Once the ribbons were tied securely beneath her chin, Jackie stepped back onto the porch and drew a deep breath.
 
Look cool.
 
Considering her archaic attire, cool was impossible, so she settled for calm.

      
The rider brought his horse to a stop several yards in front of the cabin and sat staring at her.
 
Who was he?
 
Was he dangerous?
 
What did he want?

      
And where the hell was Cole?

      
Drawing a deep breath, Jackie squared her shoulders, grabbed the broom handle again, and resumed her sweeping.
 
If the stranger made one threatening move against her, she'd ram that broom right where it counted.
 
It wouldn't kill him, but he'd wish it had.

      
She glanced at him from beneath her lashes and saw him nudge his horse into a walk.
 
He advanced slowly, his features gradually taking shape.

      
Beneath the brim of a black cowboy hat, his face was mostly a shadowy blur.
 
Even so, there was something unsettling about the angle of his jaw, the way he held his shoulders.

      
Blade.

      
Her heart slammed into her breastbone and she clutched the broom in a death grip, pivoting to face the intruder.
 
She had nothing to fear from Blade, but–she dug her nails into the wooden handle of the broom–he'd be smart to avoid her at all costs.
 
Yet here he was.
 
Or was he?
 
Come to think of it, did Blade know how to ride a horse?

      
She looked at his face again and her heart did a somersault.
 
If this guy wasn't Blade Smith, he was his exact twin.
 
An ancestor?
 
It almost made sense in a sick sort of way.

      
"Mornin'."
 
The man brought his horse to a stop again a few feet from the porch step.
 
"I'm lookin' for a fella named Cole Morrison.
 
He around?"

      
Blade with a Texas drawl?
 
Jackie would've laughed, but common sense prevailed.
 
For a change.
 
"Mr. Morrison isn't available right now."
 
She smiled in what she hoped was an appropriately demure manner for a Victorian lady.

      
"Available?"
 
The man made a snorting–and very un-Blade–sound.
 
"Well, does that mean he's here or not, ma'am?"

      
"Was Mr. Morrison expecting you?"
 
Jackie fluttered her lashes.
 
"I didn't catch your name, sir."

      
The man shifted uncomfortably in the saddle.

      
He was hiding something.
 
She peered intently into his dark eyes.
 
Was he Blade?
 
A little rougher around the edges, not as immaculately groomed by a long shot, but still Blade...?
 
With an accent?

      
"Name's Smith."
 
He stared at her as if checking for her reaction.

      
And Jackie forced herself not to react, though her heart rate tripled.

      
"Rock Smith," he added with a smile.

      
Smith.
 
Rock?
 
She regained control and drew a shaky breath.
 
"Rock?"
 
She cleared her throat and sniffled.
 
"Really?"

      
The muscles in his jaw rippled and she knew he was clenching his teeth.
 
Just like Blade.

      
"Yes, ma'am.
 
Really."
 
He heaved a weary sigh.
 
"My pa had to deliver me durin' the War Between the States, and he dropped me on my head."
 
Smith flashed her a smarmy grin reminiscent of the Blade she'd left in her time.
 

      
"I see," she said, trying to resolve the man's identity as someone other than Blade, but he did have the same last name.
 
The most common name in the English language, she reminded herself.
 
Even so, this Rock Smith persona was outrageous enough to be one of Blade's cons.

      
"So my ma said my head was hard as a rock."
 
He gave a shrug.
 
"Folks in East Texas are queer that way, so, naturally, my name's Rock."

      
Queer East Texans?
 
Gee, that's reassuring.
 
She cleared her throat again.
 
"Naturally.
 
All right, Mr. Smith."
 
There was no way she'd call any man "Rock."
 
She tightened both hands around the handle of her broom and held it in front of her, though her visitor hardly seemed threatening.
 
Still...
 
"I'll tell Mr. Morrison you called."

      
"Beg pardon, ma'am, but when do you expect he'll be...available?"
 
He grinned again.

      
A con artist, just like his descendant.
 
And there was no way she'd believe this man wasn't Blade's ancestor.
 
She squinted.
 
Though she still couldn't be totally certain this wasn't Blade himself playing an evil game.

      
It sure as hell wouldn't be the first time.

      
"I'm not certain," she said carefully.
 
"If you'd care to leave a message, I'll be sure he gets it."

      
"Y'all do that."
 
He tilted his head to one side, then his gaze plunged to her not-so-heaving bosom.
 
Chuckling, he shook his head.

      
Heat crept up Jackie's neck to her cheeks, but she tried to pretend she hadn't noticed his affront.
 
However, one thing was now perfectly clear.
 
This man was looking for Lolita.
 
Didn't he recognize her from the Silver Spur?
 
And how had he known to look here?
 
Cole had seemed certain he didn't recognize anyone in the saloon that day.

      
Maybe Cole's baggy shirt had hidden her then and the bonnet was doing it now.
 
She glanced at the huge brim.
 
Thank goodness.
 
Concealing her hair and being less voluptuous than Lolita might have saved her.
 
Twice.