Forget Me Not (39 page)

She'd just finished running the brush through her hair enough times to leave the ends fuzzy, when a knock came on the door that led to the dining room.

“You out yet, Jo?”

Josephine felt as if the air was charged with the timbre of J.D.'s voice. “Um, yes.”

“I was going to take a bath myself when you're through.”

If Josephine had known that, she wouldn't have stayed in so long. She went to the door and opened it. “I didn't meant to be so long. If you had told me . . .”

“No need. I wanted you to take your time.” J.D. stood over her, seeming taller and broader than any man she'd ever met. His hair curled over his collar, his shirt wasn't buttoned to the top, and she could see the play of dark hair on his chest at the opening. When she gazed downward, she noted that his shirt wasn't tucked into his denims, nor did he wear any socks or boots.

He looked relaxed. And comfortable. As if they should be getting ready for bed together. As if they could be holding each other beneath the covers and talking about the day's events. It was a strange feeling, wanting to share things like that.

“I'll help you empty the water,” she offered, putting a hand to the ribbon at her throat. The nightgown was nothing lavish by any means; she'd had the finest satin and silks. But the simple cotton didn't make her feel any less feminine. She wished she had a robe for it; the material was thin, and in places she wasn't sure the light couldn't filter right through.

“It's getting too late for that. I'll use yours if you don't mind.”

“Oh . . . no, I suppose I don't.”

“That is, unless you've gotten the bottom as thick as silt with all that dirt you've been carrying around.”

She froze, then quickly peered into the tub.

J.D.'s laugh had her turning around. “I was kidding, Jo.” His eyes creased very slightly at the corners.

“Yes, of course.”

He brought his fingers to her chin and tipped her face up to him. “You're awfully pretty with your hair unpinned.” His lips touched hers. Light; soft; dreamy. Her eyelids slipped closed. She kissed him back. Just enough to torture herself and make her want him in the worst way.

J.D. pulled back. “I'd love to, Jo, but I'm wearing five days' worth of the trail.” His mouth pressed quickly over hers. “Wait for me?”

“Where?”

“On the porch. Boots may pretend he's deaf, but he can hear when the mood suits him.”

Josephine nodded with a knowing smile. “I'll wait for you.”

•  •  •

J.D. pushed open the screened door and let himself onto the porch. Josephine sat in one of the rawhide-bottomed chairs he and Boots had made some five years back. Eugenia had wanted a porch swing, but Boots had never gotten around to it, and now there was no need.

Josephine wore her nightgown but had gathered a shirt from her room before leaving. The evening air was pleasant for May, a slight chill, but with the leftover warmth of the day still collected in the wooden planks to make the porch comfortable.

Taking a seat next to her, J.D. put his legs out in front of him. He'd thrown on a pair of clean trousers and a shirt. Nothing else. He hadn't wanted to take the time to dress fully. He wanted to be with Josephine.

The atmosphere over supper had felt so comfortable,
J.D. wasn't in any hurry to look for another cook. And none had come his way while they'd been gone.

In the distance, coyotes called. It was too early for crickets, but silver-winged moths were attracted to the soft slice of light that poured out from the living room. The insects batted and bounced off the screen.

Jo had tucked her feet beneath her on the seat of the chair so that the fullness of her nightgown covered her knees and the length of her legs. Her hair cascaded over one shoulder. She hadn't braided it, and he hoped it was because he'd told her he liked it down.

“You tired?” he asked, feeling as if he was at his first dance, trying to win over the prettiest girl in the room.

Her reply came softly. “A little.”

“It's been a long day. If you want to turn in . . .” he began, but couldn't get the rest of the sentence out. He didn't want to be accommodating, but he felt he owed it to her. She'd been riding on a hard bench seat for the better portion of ten hours.

“Do you want to turn in?” she asked, her chin lifting from the fold in her nightgown as she gazed at him.

“Naw, I need some time to settle down.”

“Then I'll stay and sit with you for a while, if that's all right,” she added in a rush.

“I'd like that, Jo.”

Across the yard, the tabby pranced out of the barn and took off in a run toward the pasture. A few seconds later, a kitten appeared, then one of the other barn cats came out, collected the tiny ball of fur in its mouth, and traipsed back inside through a wide crack in one of the boards.

“Looks like we'll have some more mousers around here.” J.D. put his arms on the rails of the chair. “Boots's cat is a get-around tom.”

“Boots claims he doesn't like that tabby, but I think he loves it to death,” Josephine said. “I never had a
pet when I was a child. I think I would have liked to have a cat.”

“You want to see the kittens?” J.D. asked, then felt like a fool. Of course, she could care less about some free-ranging cats. She didn't even like animals, so she'd probably hate the smell of the barn.

“I don't have any shoes on.”

“Neither do I, but I'll carry you over.”

“I'm too heavy,” she blurted.

“No you're not.”

“But you said—”

“Never mind what I said in Klauffman's. I was full of it.”

J.D. rose and held out his hand for Josephine. She took it and stood. They walked to the middle of the porch and down the steps, then he swung her up into his arms. Her feet dangled over as he crossed the yard. He didn't mind the prick and dig of the occasional rock or sticker. Holding Josephine made the trip worth it.

She didn't feel too much for him. In fact, she felt just right. Though she'd trimmed down some since he'd hired her on, he liked the voluptuous curves she still had.

Once he reached the barn, he had to put her down to lift the latch. The inside was dark, but he knew his way around to the rafter where they kept a lantern and a box of matches on the ledge.

“Stay there,” he said, then struck the match and brought the large space to light.

The floor had been raked out, the hard-packed dirt easy on his feet as he went back for her.

“My guess is they're up there.” He pointed to the hayloft, then took her hand. The distance to the tall, wooden ladder was short, and J.D. stepped aside so Josephine could climb up first.

She put her hands on the edges but didn't move. “It's not that far up. I'll be right behind you. Lift the
hem of your nightgown and tie it in a knot so you won't trip over it.”

She reached for the white bottom, and he helped her take the fullness and twist it into a single knot that raised the hem up to her knees. “You're all right,” he reassured her.

Josephine put her foot on the rung and climbed. J.D. stayed directly behind her, his feet on the rung just below hers. Once at the top, she leaned over onto the sprinkling of hay. J.D. reached her and went around. He put his hands on her shoulders and helped her up.

She climbed to her knees, then stood.

He brushed a piece of hay from her hair, then squeezed her hand. Walking toward the large opening that was closed off, J.D. pushed one of the doors open. A pulley was on the outside. They used it to haul the bales of hay to the loft.

The scents of night mingled in to stir with the grassy scent of straw and musty wood. From the corner came a mewing sound. The open hay door let in enough starlight for J.D. to make his way over, his hand still holding Josephine's.

“There they are,” he said, bending to one knee. “Looks like five of them.”

“They're not all yellow like Boots's cat.”

“Nope. Black and white like their mother. Except that one. It's got the stripes.”

The mother cat lay on her side, the kittens curled around her, several nursing.

J.D. straightened and took Josephine to the opening. From this position, they could see above the house's rooftop to the bluffs. A bat flew over the chimney and flapped off into the darkness.

Sitting down, J.D. took Josephine with him. She sat by his side, and they looked out together.

“It's so quiet here,” Josephine reflected. “I never thought I'd like the quiet, but it's nice. I got so used to
hearing the sound of horses and the voices of people on the street below my window, I didn't think I could sleep to anything else but noise.”

“Some people can adapt, I reckon . . .” His voice trailed as he thought of Eugenia. “And others can't.”

A light wind fell through the opening and ruffled the hay. A few stalks blew across Josephine's bare calf. One tumbled into her lap. J.D. plucked it away, then put his hand on her shoulder and gathered her close to his side.

He wasn't good at expressing his thoughts and opinions. What was on his mind wasn't something he could just say. He needed to consider every corner of the corral before he declared any promises.

“Were you in love with that man?” he asked in a quiet tone.

He felt Josephine stiffen a little, but he didn't let her go. His fingers grazed the soft fabric of her sleeve as he caressed her arm.

“I believed myself to be,” she replied. “I . . . yes, I was. It's not fair to say that I wasn't. I did love him. But I don't anymore.” She turned to him. “I don't want to talk about that tonight. I'd rather not talk at all . . .”

Leaning into his chest, she kissed his cheek, then his mouth. J.D. slipped his arms around her waist and brought her to him as he lay back in the hay, taking her with him. The softness of her nightgown inched higher up her thigh. His one hand cupped her buttocks as the other slipped across warm skin. She wore no underdrawers. The realization left him eager to touch all of her without the constraints of clothing.

His lips brushed hers, then he pulled back and brought her gown over her head. Within seconds, he'd divested himself of his own clothing and spread the garments out as a makeshift bed to keep the slivers of hay away.

Lying atop the scattered clothing, he brought Josephine to his side once more, stroking the valley of her
waist. He explored her breast and brushed her tight nipple. Then he took her into his arms.

There was a certain urgency this time, unlike the slow hours they'd shared in the Wampum Saloon. He needed her, like he'd needed no other woman.

Pinning her beneath him, he buried his hands in the curls of her sweet-smelling hair as his mouth swooped down to capture hers. She returned the kiss, lingering, testing. She parted his lips with her tongue and took control of the kiss.

He sensed her eagerness, and without any preludes other than blinding need, he took her. The pleasure was pure and harmonious as they moved together. Their legs intertwined. Blood pounded through his heart.

A moan slipped through her lips, and he caught it with his own, pressing a kiss to her as he joined her in the outcry of release.

He savored the feeling of her, keeping her close, feeling her breath on his heated skin. Feeling himself inside as the turbulence of their lovemaking pulsed around him.

J.D. didn't want to let her go. Not now, or ever. But he feared that if he pushed for her to stay right at this moment, she'd run. And that was the last thing he wanted her to do.

Instead, he'd have to show her all she'd be missing if she left here. Because he didn't want to let her go.

21

J
.D. spent the next several days showing Josephine the land surrounding the ranch, hoping to convince her he wasn't a fly-by-night rancher. He took her on a line ride so that she could get an idea of the boundaries. The barbed-wire fences weren't his idea, but the encroaching homesteaders had made them a necessity since last year. Those line fences seemed to have no beginning or end, stretching for miles down through gullies or up over hills and ridges. Camps, all just a day's ride away from the main house, had been established for the cowboys on repair duty. Each was nothing more than a framed shack with a stove and a bed.