Blackwood's Woman (15 page)

She nodded her head. J.T. cursed softly under his breath. "What's the matter, baby doll?" Lenny Plott asked. "Surely you're not surprised to hear from me. After all, you knew it would be only a matter of time before I'd look up all my old friends. I suppose Lieutenant George told you what happened to poor little Melody."

"You strangled her."

"Is that all he told you?" Lenny Plott laughed—that shrill, diabolical laugh Joanna would never forget. "You know what else I did to her before I strangled her, don't you, Joanna?"

There was no way Joanna could keep Plott on the phone long enough to run a F:/…/Beverly Barton - Blackwood's Wo…

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10/31/2009 ere was no way Joanna could keep Plott on Blackwood's Woman the phone long enough to run a trace. From everything he'd found out about Leonard Plott III, J.T. knew the man might be deranged, but he wasn't a fool.

"I'll be seeing you," Lenny said. "But you don't know when. You don't have any idea who I'm coming after next. Will I go to Missouri or Texas or New Mexico? Who knows, maybe I'll throw darts at a map."

"If you come after me, you'll be sorry," Joanna said. "I'll kill you before I'll ever let you touch me again."

"So brave, aren't you, darling girl? Well, just remember this, you won't recognize me when you see me. I've changed my appearance. I doubt my own mother would recognize me."

The line went dead. Joanna replaced the telephone receiver. J.T. grabbed her by the shoulders.

"What did he say?"

"He said he had changed his appearance enough that I wouldn't recognize him, and that he knows where all three of us—Claire, Libby and I—are. We don't know which one of us he'll come after next."

"Look, Jo, he just told you that to try to frighten you even more than you already are. Our boy Lenny sounds like the type who likes to play head games."

"Phone Lieutenant George and let him know about this call," Joanna said.

"I'll phone from the main house." He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, soothing her. "Will you be all right here by yourself until I get back?"

"Tim Rawlins is still outside. And I have my gun." She pulled away from J.T.

"There's no need for you to come back over here."

"You're wrong about that, honey. Plott knows exactly where you are now. I'm moving in here with you. It's time for me to start acting as your private, around-the-clock bodyguard."

"No!" She backed away from J.T. "That's not necessary."

"This isn't up for discussion. We're not taking a vote. From now until Lenny Plott is arrested, I'm not leaving your side. Do you understand?"

Reluctantly, she nodded her head. Dear God, how had her life come to this? Lenny Plott had escaped from prison and was threatening her life. And J.T. Blackwood, a man she both desired and despised, was moving in with her.

* * *

Joanna stared at the shaving kit sitting on the left side of the vanity in her bathroom.

She had never shared a bathroom with a man. Even when she'd been engaged to Todd, they hadn't lived together. Having J.T. sleeping in the room next to hers, the two of them together twenty-four hours a day, seemed far too intimate. She might not like the idea, but she wasn't going to ask J.T. to leave. In the sea of fear and uncertainty her life had become, J.T. was her lifeline—the one person standing between her and a deadly enemy.

Dragging her gaze away from the leather kit, Joanna picked up the jar of cleansing cream, unscrewed the lid and delved her fingers into the solution. Smearing the cream on her face, she glanced in the mirror. Her green eyes stared back at her, mocking her, telling her she was a fool. Although her body longed for J.T. and her romantic heart cried out for his love, she knew they were all wrong for each other.

She was a permanent type of woman; he was a temporary kind of guy. She believed in love; he didn't. And to complicate matters further, she could not bring herself to fully trust J.T. She didn't doubt his sincerity when he promised to protect her from F:/…/Beverly Barton - Blackwood's Wo…

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10/31/2009 trust J.T. She didn't doubt his sincerity whe Blackwood's Woman n he promised to protect her from Lenny Plott, but she didn't dare trust him with her love. Of course, it didn't really matter. He didn't want her love. All he wanted was her body.

She wiped off the face cream, washed her hands and lifted her silk robe from the wooden wall peg. She had thought about going to bed early, but had decided she would not stay in her room to avoid J.T. She had work to do, a life to live, an orderly routine to her days. She'd go crazy if she couldn't maintain some semblance of normalcy in her life. She'd just have to get used to J.T.'s presence.

Before leaving the sanctuary of her bathroom, she glanced back at the shaving kit.

She found J.T. standing in front of the fireplace in the living room, gazing up at Annabelle Beaumont's portrait. Joanna sucked in her breath. The sight of him, partially disrobed, left her breathless. He had removed his boots and socks, leaving his big feet bare. His unbuttoned shirt hung loosely about his hips. In that one brief moment before he turned and looked at her, Joanna saw a glimpse of what she thought might be the real J.T. Blackwood. Pensive, brooding and yet somehow vulnerable. And in desperate need of love.

"I have something to show you," he said. "Something you can have, if you want it."

He reached down in the plaid chair, picked up a large yellowed, frayed piece of paper and held it out to her.

"What is it?" she asked, noticing that it seemed to be a sketch of some sort.

"Here. Take a look."

He handed it to her. Holding the sketch by the edges, she gasped when she saw the strikingly bold features of a handsome Navajo man. Obviously the drawing had been done years ago. Over seventy years ago?

"This is Benjamin Greymountain, isn't it?" Joanna had always wondered what he'd looked like, if he'd truly been as handsome as Annabelle had thought. He had been.

"Yep. That's him."

"Where did you get—"

"My mother. When I went to see her, shortly before she died…" Pausing for a split second, he swallowed hard. His jaw tightened, then relaxed. "She gave me her grandfather's ring and this sketch of him. She told me the ring and picture went together."

"You know Annabelle sketched this," Joanna said. "She couldn't keep it, couldn't take it back to Virginia with her and look at it day after day."

"What makes you think that? More than likely, she knew she'd have no use for it once she left New Mexico. She probably wanted to put her summer affair behind her."

"That's where you're wrong." Joanna stared down at Benjamin's image. There was the hint of a resemblance between J.T. and his ancestor; a similarity in the eyes, in the cheekbones, in the full lips. "I knew that Annabelle had done several sketches of Benjamin. She wrote about them in her diary. She gave him one—" Joanna glanced down at the treasured portrait in her hands "—this one, as a keepsake, and she destroyed the others before she returned to Virginia. She said it was best if the only picture she had of him was the one forever etched on her heart."

J.T. swore under his breath. Snapping her head around, Joanna glared at him.

She carried the sketch over to her work desk in front of the row of windows overlooking the porch. Reverently, she laid the image of Benjamin Greymountain down on top of the desk.

"From what you just told me, I'd say your great-grandmother was quite a F:/…/Beverly Barton - Blackwood's Wo…

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10/31/2009 om what you just told me, I'd say you Blackwood's Woman r great-grandmother was quite a romantic." J.T. hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his jeans and laid his palms flat on his hips. "She must have had a really miserable marriage to have spent so much time idealizing some summer affair she'd once had."

"I found the diary in an old trunk in my parents' attic," Joanna said. "I looked for things to occupy my mind after… Well, needless to say, I was intrigued by my great-grandmother's tragic love affair. Believe me, J.T., what she shared with Benjamin was far more than just some summer affair."

"I don't see what was so damned tragic about it." J.T. padded softly across the wooden floor, easing up behind Joanna.

She knew he was hovering over her, only inches away. And he was waiting for her to turn on him, to denounce his insensitivity. Keeping her back to him, she glided her fingertips around the edge of the sketch.

"If you're right, and they weren't deeply in love, then there was no tragedy. But if I'm right, just imagine how they felt—how you'd feel if you'd gotten to spend only a couple of precious months with the one true love of your life."

J.T. couldn't imagine. He'd never been in love, didn't believe in the nonsense and wished Joanna didn't. If she were less of a romantic, their relationship would have a better chance. If only she could admit that wanting each other was enough, without clouding the issue with sentimentality.

"Let's agree to disagree," J.T. said, wanting more than anything to ease her into his arms, untie her robe and slip it off her shoulders. She had such pretty shoulders.

Soft, pale skin, with a light dusting of freckles just like the freckles that dotted her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

"If you read the diary, you might change your mind." Joanna felt his warm breath on her head. If she turned, would he take her in his arms? She pivoted slowly, facing him. "Would you like to read Annabelle's diary?"

"No, I wouldn't. And you'd be better off if you locked the thing in a drawer and forgot about it." He touched her then. Hesitantly. Tenderly. Reaching down, he lifted her hands into his. "I want you. You want me. There's nothing wrong with that. As a matter of fact, I think it would be wrong if we denied ourselves the pleasure we can give each other."

J.T. held their clasped hands between their bodies. When Joanna glanced down, all she saw was their matching rings, the old silver gleaming faintly in the lamplight.

She was tempted. Dear God, how she was tempted. But when their affair ended, what would she have left? Memories, some inner voice told her. But her memories would be tarnished, not golden the way Annabelle's had been. Love made all the difference. It had to Annabelle. It did to Joanna.

"Would you consider making a bargain with me?" Joanna asked, wondering if she'd lost her mind even considering the proposition she was about to make.

"What sort of bargain?" Lifting her hands to his lips, he kissed each fingertip.

Joanna shivered. "You're interested in an affair. Nothing serious. Nothing permanent. You'd just like for us to become sexual partners while you're acting as my bodyguard, then when your services are no longer required, we both go our separate ways. No regrets or recriminations on either side."

"What are you getting at?"

"I'm willing to consider what you want, to give us both a chance to see exactly what there is or isn't between us." Joanna already knew. She'd gone and done the unforgivable. She was falling in love with J.T. How stupid could she get? She wanted F:/…/Beverly Barton - Blackwood's Wo…

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10/31/2009 givable. She was falling in love with J.T. How Blackwood's Woman stupid could she get? She wanted tenderness, understanding, patience, and a man interested in a lifetime commitment. J.T. offered nothing she wanted—nothing except himself. And
he
was what she wanted most of all. Even if he could be a part of her life for only a few weeks.

Cocking his head to one side, J.T. grinned. "What's the catch, honey?"

"I want you to read Annabelle's diary," Joanna said.

"You want me to do what?" He released her hands, dropping them quickly, as if her touch had burned him.

"You read Annabelle's diary, one entry at a time, and I'll give you the chance to persuade me to become your lover."

"You're serious." He laughed, the sound deep and hearty. "By God, you are serious."

"Is my asking price too high?"

"Go get that damned diary!" He pulled her into his arms, lowered his head and whispered against her lips, "I'd read a hundred diaries for the chance you're offering me."

She shoved him away gently, then took a step backward, her hip bumping into the easel holding Elena's portrait. She grabbed the easel, steadying it.

"Not tonight. Too much has happened today. Discovering that Lenny Plott knows where I am. Having you move in with me. And knowing Mother will arrive tomorrow and start issuing orders." Joanna groaned. "Tell me, J.T., am I making a deal with the devil? I really don't trust my own feelings. And I don't trust you at all. At least not when it comes to—" she'd been about to say
love
"—our having a physical relationship."

"You handle things with your mother and I'll take care of Lenny Plott. You trust me to keep you safe, don't you?"

"I want to trust you completely," she said. "I know you seem to be a man of your word, a man who keeps his promises, but I… Well, I don't know if I'll ever be able to completely trust a man again. Not after the rape. Not after Todd's desertion."

"I'd like to be the man who teaches you to trust again," J.T. told her. "And I'm not the devil, honey. I'm just a man. A man who's going to keep you safe. And that is a promise."

And I'd like to be the woman who teaches you how to love,
Joanna thought, but said, "Promise me something else, J.T."

"What?"

"Promise me that, no matter what happens, you'll try to open up your heart and your mind to your mother's people. Elena told me that you know practically nothing about the Navajo."

"What is it with you? You want me to read Annabelle's diary. You want me to get in touch with my Native American roots. You want to change me, Jo. I swear, a person would think you don't like the man I am now."

"I'm not sure I do like you," Joanna admitted. "At least, not the J.T. Blackwood you present to the world. I want to get to know the man inside you, the real J.T.

Blackwood."

"Don't kid yourself. The real J.T. Blackwood is who you see right here in front of you."