Blackwood's Woman (14 page)

They hadn't heard him enter the house. All three of them turned and stared at the intruder.

"You left your back door unlocked," J.T. said. "From now on, make sure it's locked." He walked into the living room. His eyes focused on Cliff Lansdell's arm draped across Joanna's shoulder. "What's going on here? Who were you talking about being horrified at something you might do?"

"My mother just called," Joanna told him.

"Mrs. Beaumont is worried about Joanna's safety," Cliff said.

"She's horrified at the thought Joanna might be hurt." Elena didn't look at her brother when she spoke.

"Are you worried about your safety?" J.T. walked up behind Joanna and glared at Cliff.

Cliff removed his arm from Joanna's shoulder and took a step away from her.

Joanna watched the silent exchange between J.T. and Cliff, and couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for Cliff. At that moment, she realized few men would have the courage to stand up to J.T. and confront him. There was something powerfully intimidating about J.T. Blackwood; something other men obviously sensed instinctively. Cliff was a big guy, rugged and strong. She had seen him riding and roping and issuing orders in his duties as ranch foreman, but he hadn't dared make a stand against J.T.

"Guess I'd better be going," Cliff said. "If you need me for anything—"

"She won't need you," J.T. interrupted.

Cliff nodded, then made a hasty retreat out the front door.

"That show of machismo wasn't necessary." Joanna whirled around to face J.T.

She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him.

"She's got you there, big brother," Elena said. "All Cliff was doing was giving her a little comfort."

"If you two will excuse me, I'm going into the bedroom for some privacy." Joanna F:/…/Beverly Barton - Blackwood's Wo…

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"If

10/31/2009 you two will excuse me, I'm going into the b Blackwood's Woman edroom for some privacy." Joanna patted Elena on the arm when she walked past her. "I'll call Mother back and see if I can persuade her not to fly out here tomorrow."

The moment they were alone, Elena turned to J.T. "You didn't hide your feelings very well."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about your proprietary attitude toward Joanna. If you could have seen the look on your face. I thought for a few minutes you were going to rip Cliff's arm off."

"You're talking nonsense."

"Am I?" Elena smiled. "I don't think so. Cliff got the message. Everyone in this room got the message, including Joanna."

"What message?" J.T. asked.

"You've staked a claim on Jo and were sending out No Trespassing signals, loud and clear."

"You're reading too much into what happened."

"Look, Joanna doesn't need you acting like some macho jerk right now. She just had a rather unpleasant conversation with her mother. Senator Beaumont wants Jo to come home to Virginia, and she wants to hire another bodyguard. She's afraid her daughter might be getting a little too personally involved with the wrong sort of man."

"The wrong sort … you mean me?"

Elena shook her head. "Joanna really let her mother have it. She disagrees with the way her mother thinks. Joanna isn't like that."

"Senator Beaumont doesn't want her daughter to become seriously involved with a half-breed. That's it, isn't it? Well, the woman has nothing to worry about. Whatever happens between Joanna and me won't be serious. Her mother doesn't have to worry about her marrying—"

"I couldn't get through to Mother." Joanna stood across the living room, staring at J.T., her face pale, her eyes glazed with a fine mist of tears.

Damn, he hadn't meant for her to overhear his conversation with Elena. Joanna looked as if he'd slapped her. He had hurt her with his careless words. Why hadn't he been more cautious? The last thing in the world he wanted to do was cause Joanna any more pain.

"Jo, we need to talk," J.T. said.

"No, we don't need to talk." Joanna glanced at Elena. "I'd like to be alone for a while. Please."

"I'm not going to leave like this, not until we've talked." J.T. took a tentative step toward Joanna.

Elena grabbed him by the arm. "Call me later, okay?" she asked Joanna, then tugged on her brother's arm. "We're leaving now," she told him.

J.T. hesitated, but when he saw the anger and pain etched on Joanna's face, he turned around and walked out of the house with Elena.

Joanna went back into her bedroom, sat down on the edge of the bed and covered her face with her hands. The tears were trapped inside her, choking her, restricting her breathing.

Whatever happens between Joanna and me won't be serious. Won't be serious.

Won't be serious.

She'd been a fool to think that just because J.T. wanted to make love to her, he F:/…/Beverly Barton - Blackwood's Wo…

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10/31/2009 e'd been a fool to think that just because J

Blackwood's Woman .T. wanted to make love to her, he might actually care about her. Maybe her mother had been right all along. Hoping to find the kind of love Annabelle Beaumont had found with Benjamin Greymountain was a fool's fantasy.

Joanna twisted her great-grandmother's ring around and around on her finger.

Sometimes she wished she'd never found the old diary and the leather pouch containing the ring. Maybe it would have been better if she'd never come to New Mexico, searching for a new life and dreaming of finding true love.

One thing was certain—J.T. Blackwood most definitely wasn't the man Benjamin Greymountain had been. But then, maybe she wasn't half the woman Annabelle had been.

Chapter 7

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J
.T. nodded at Tim Rawlins when he stepped up on Joanna's front porch. Standing at the door, he hesitated before knocking. He'd given Joanna a couple of hours to be by herself and calm down, but he'd waited as long as he could. His patience had run out.

He hadn't meant for her to overhear his conversation with Elena. He could have kicked himself when he'd seen the look of hurt and disillusionment in her eyes. But who knows, he told himself, maybe it's better this way. At least now, she knew exactly where they stood. He wanted Joanna, wanted her in the worst way a man could want a woman. But if she was expecting love and "forever after," she had the wrong guy.
Love
wasn't a word that existed in his vocabulary. And there was no such thing as "forever after." He lived his life a day at a time.

Joanna opened the door, took one look at J.T. and started to close the door in his face. He stuck his foot over the threshold and grabbed the edge of the door.

"May I come in?" he asked.

She glared at his hand, then down at his foot. "Doesn't look like I can stop you."

She stared directly at him.

"I'd like to come in and talk to you, but I won't crash my way in if you say no."

"Come in." Turning her back on him, her spine stiff as a board, she marched into the living room.

J.T. followed her over to the easel supporting Elena's portrait. "You're capturing my sister's earthy beauty."

"We didn't get a chance to do much work today," Joanna said. "I need only a couple more sittings to be able to finish it. Elena wants it for Alex's birthday present."

"Well, it'll certainly be something he'll treasure."

"I hope so."

J.T. stared at the unfinished portrait. "Elena looks a lot like my mother. The way I remember her from my early childhood. When I saw her again after so many years, she was dying and had aged terribly."

"You and Elena resemble each other some, enough to recognize the fact you're brother and sister." Joanna covered the portrait.

"Elena was fifteen before I ever met her, before I even knew I had a half sister. One F:/…/Beverly Barton - Blackwood's Wo…

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10/31/2009lena was fifteen before I ever met her, before Blackwood's WomanI even knew I had a half sister. One of my mother's relatives called and told me my mother was dying." J.T. strolled around the living room, surveying the changes Joanna had made in the old bunkhouse. She'd turned a ramshackle old building into a warm, comfortable home.

J.T. glanced at the portrait of Annabelle Beaumont hanging over the mantel, and wondered if he should show Joanna the picture he had of Benjamin. His gut instincts told him that Annabelle had been the artist who had drawn his great-grandfather's likeness in a stark, totally male black-and-white sketch. Suddenly J.T. noticed a small fire burning in the fireplace.

"It's too hot a day for a fire," he said.

"I needed to burn some trash." She sat down on the leather sofa. "Is there a reason you came over here to see me?"

J.T. took a closer look at the "trash" she had decided to burn. A tight knot formed in his throat when he recognized the notebook she had half-filled with sketches of him. Dammit! She must hate him. And he didn't want her to hate him. All he wanted was for her to accept this thing between them for what it was. Lust. Good old plain lust. Nothing less, but nothing more.

"Maybe you should go back to Virginia the way your mother wants you to," he said.

Snapping her head around, she frowned at him. "Why?"

"Why? Well, you'd be better off without my being involved in the case. I think it's pretty obvious that things aren't going to work out between us. Our expectations are different."

"Oh, I see. So, you're saying that if I return to Virginia and get a different bodyguard, I won't wind up making a total fool of myself over you."

"Dammit, Jo, that's not what I said." J.T. slumped down in the overstuffed plaid chair across from the sofa. "If you go back to Virginia, neither one of us will wind up making fools of ourselves. I want something from you that you're not willing to give, and you want something from me that isn't in me to give. It's as simple as that."

"Nothing's ever that simple."

"If you want to go home to Virginia, I'll call Simon Roarke and have him fly out here tomorrow and go back to Virginia with you whenever you're ready to go."

"Who's Simon Roarke?"

"He's been an agent with Dundee's Private Security for several years. He's top-notch. You'd be safe with him." J.T. grinned, but there was no mirth in his smile.

"Besides, your mother might approve of him. He's pure Scotch-Irish all the way back to Adam. Not a drop of impure blood in him that I know of. But his folks were poor Southern farmers. Think that will disqualify him?"

"It might disqualify him as husband material," Joanna said, "but I think Mother would approve of him being my bodyguard."

"Then I'll call him and have him catch the first flight—"

"There's no need to call Mr. Roarke. I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here in Trinidad, New Mexico, on the Blackwood ranch, and I'm holding you to your promise to stick around as long as I need protection." She smiled, just barely turning up the corners of her mouth. Her green eyes glistened with triumph.

"Your mother isn't going to be happy."

"I really don't care. I'm just sorry that you and Elena and Alex will have to endure her visit. She's a charming Southern lady on the surface, but beneath that Virginia-belle facade, beats the heart of a born politician. She's not above saying or doing whatever she thinks is necessary to get her own way."

F:/…/Beverly Barton - Blackwood's Wo…

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10/31/2009 ever she thinks is necessary to get her own wa Blackwood's Woman y."

"And that includes taking potshots at me."

"I'm not worried about you." Joanna stood. "Your hide is pretty tough. I'm worried about Elena. She's very protective of you, and she'll jump to your defense if Mother casts aspersions on your ethnic heritage." Joanna walked toward the front door. "I think we've discussed everything we needed to, don't you?"

J.T. stood. "Here's your hat. What's your hurry?" he said jokingly. "One question before you kick me out."

Shrugging, she nodded agreement. "All right. One question. Then you'll leave."

He glanced at the notebook, now almost totally consumed by the blaze in the fireplace. "Why did you burn the sketch pad?"

Every muscle in Joanna's body tensed; her nerves jangled like a zillion tiny bells.

She couldn't bear the way J.T. was looking at her, as if accusing her of something sinful. How could she possibly answer him without lying? His thoughtless remark that nothing serious would ever happen between them had cut her to the quick. She didn't want to admit to him how much he had hurt her. But he already knew. The burning sketch pad was all the evidence he needed to know the depth of her anger.

"I understand exactly where we stand," she said. "We are not our great-grandparents. There is no grand love affair in our future. You don't want a serious relationship with me, and I don't want any type of relationship with you, other than in a strictly business capacity."

"You're a hard woman, Joanna Beaumont. You want all or nothing, don't you?"

"I'm afraid so."

"I'll keep a guard posted outside around the clock, and I'll check in with you from time to time." He walked over to her, hesitated momentarily; then, when she didn't respond to his gesture, he opened the front door and stepped out on the porch.

Just as she started to close the door, the telephone rang. She rushed across the room, grabbed the receiver and said hello. J.T. stood in the doorway and waited.

"Hello," she said again.

"Hello, Joanna."

"Who is this?"

"Don't you recognize my voice, baby doll?"

"No—no, I don't." But she did. She would never forget that cultured Southern drawl, that soft, effeminate voice or the "baby doll" endearment.

"I've already talked to Claire and Libby. I told each of them that I'd be paying them a little visit any time now. I didn't want you to find out about all the attention I'm giving them and get jealous."

J.T. stepped back inside and closed the door behind him slowly. He watched Joanna. Her face paled. She clutched the telephone fiercely.

Joanna glanced over at J.T. He mouthed the words, "Who is it? Plott?"