Blackwood's Woman (22 page)

Joanna grinned. "You don't really believe it. You're just saying that to pacify me."

Lifting her arms, she circled his neck. "In your own gruff, moody way, you're very sweet, you know."

"I've been called a lot of things, honey, but never sweet. There's no reason for you to read more into what I say and do than—"

"I know. I know. You can't give me anything, aren't offering me anything, except your protection and a temporary love affair."

She realized that he had no idea he was catering to her romantic nature. Just as, perhaps, Benjamin had catered to Annabelle's romantic nature. When a man cared deeply for a woman, he made concessions. Was that what J.T. was doing? Did his feelings for her run far deeper than he wanted to admit? She could only guess at J.T.'s true feelings. It was possible, even probable, that he didn't know himself. Long ago, as a young boy, he had sealed off his emotions, protecting himself from being hurt. He had been stolen from the only love he'd known—his mother's. And he'd been raised by a bitter old man who obviously hadn't known the first thing about love; only about controlling and possessing.

"Exactly what did you have in mind when you brought me up here to this cave?"

Joanna leaned closer, hugging J.T., pressing her breasts against his chest.

"Considering how intrigued I am by Annabelle and Benjamin, you might have thought I'd want to make love here, in their special place."

Clearing his throat, J.T. shuffled his hips on the blanket. "I don't want you to think I brought you up here with the intention of—"

Joanna covered his lips with her index finger. "Why did you bring along a blanket?

"

"Now, Jo, you're doing exactly what I told you not to do. You're reading something into my actions that—"

She silenced him with a tongue-thrusting demanding kiss, then toppled him down on the blanket, knocking off his Stetson. Covering his body with hers, she ended the kiss and smiled at him.

"If I promise not to misinterpret your actions and start thinking there's something magical happening between us the way it did between our great-grandparents, will you make love to me here … in this cave … now?"

J.T. cupped her buttocks in his big hands, lifting and positioning her so that her softness settled directly over his hardness. "Honey, I'll make love to you … anywhere

… anytime."

She had dreamed of this moment, but she didn't dare tell J.T. Since the first time she'd read her great-grandmother's diary, she had fantasized about meeting her own passionate lover, here, in this special place where Annabelle and Benjamin had consummated their love. Perhaps she was just a foolish romantic, a woman for whom reality had become cruel and bitter. But Annabelle had been a romantic fortunate enough to find a lover who had fulfilled her fantasies.

Joanna kissed J.T.'s leather brown neck, then laid her head on his shoulder as she draped her body over his. "I'm glad I waited for you. It wouldn't have been the same with anyone else. It wouldn't have been so absolutely right."

He rolled her over onto her back, leaned down and unbuttoned her shirt. She shivered when his fingers touched her bare skin. "Are you sure this is what you want?

"

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"Yes, I'm very sure." Reaching up, she unsnapped his shirt and stretched her hands out over his chest. When he sucked in his breath, she smiled. "You make me want to learn all there is to know about making love. You make me want to trust you completely, to give myself over to you and believe you'd never hurt me."

He undid the front opening of her bra, lifted her just a fraction off the blanket and removed her shirt and bra. He gazed down at her breasts—round, full and tempting.

Covering them with his hands, he slid one leg between her thighs. Lifting his knee, he massaged her intimately.

"I want you to trust me completely," he said. "To know that what happens between us now is a mutual loving. We both give and we both take." Clasping her hand in his, he carried it to his belt buckle. "I take you. You take me. And when you lose control, I lose control."

With a precision of familiarity, as if they had undressed each other numerous times, Joanna and J.T. divested themselves of their clothing. When they lay naked, side by side on the blanket, J.T. took her in his arms and turned her to face him.

"Will I frighten you if I'm not gentle this time?"

He fondled her, testing her readiness. She clung to him, her answer a gasping sigh against his lips. "No, you don't have to worry. I don't feel very gentle myself. Not here. Not now." Not when the passion within her had been ignited by the chance to fulfill a dream, to capture for herself some small portion of the magic Annabelle had known.

His kiss devoured her, as hers did him. He rolled her on her back and cupped her behind, lifting her. She clutched his back, biting into his flesh with her fingernails, bucking up to meet him. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she issued him an invitation into the sheathing warmth of her body. He thrust into her forcefully.

Moaning with pleasure, she kneaded his tight buttocks.

Heat poured into her body as if a searing liquid fire had entered her bloodstream.

Her breasts ached, her nipples beaded into tight buds. As he moved in and out of her, his hard chest grazed her sensitive nipples, the sensation shooting pinpricks of pain and pleasure to the very core of her femininity.

Her breathing quickened. She gasped for air as the tumult within her built, stronger and stronger with each powerful stab. What he gave her was too much, and yet at the same time, not nearly enough. She wanted him to end this torment, but she wanted the loving to go on forever.

He increased the depth and pace of his lunges. Erotic words, spoken harshly and urgently, told her of his needs and intentions. Joanna trembled as the first warning signs of fulfillment rippled through her.

J.T. didn't know if he could hold on much longer; the tight clutching of her body brought him to the very edge. The moment he felt her shatter into paroxysms of release, he hammered into her repeatedly, his own release coming hard and fast. He cried out, the sound one of a triumphant male animal. Pure masculine completion controlled his body.

His jackhammer thrusts created anew the climactic spasms within her. Her moans of pleasure grew louder and louder. In the final moments, he uttered Navajo words to her, words neither of them understood.
"Ayóí óosh'ni."
But in her secret heart of hearts, Joanna believed she knew what J.T. had said to her, even if he did not. His words were Benjamin Greymountain's words—his proclamation of love to Annabelle.

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10/31/2009 . wrapped his arms around Joanna, their b Blackwood's Woman odies resting spoon-fashion. He lay there, holding her, listening to the soft, sweet sound of her breathing as she slept peacefully, sated and safe. Somehow he'd allowed this beautiful, loving woman to get under his skin, to get past the protective armor he'd kept securely around his emotions. He was a fool for getting personally involved with her, but heaven help him, he had never wanted or needed a woman so much.

He had promised her that he'd never hurt her, but he had lied. He had lied as much to himself as he had to her. Oh, he'd never hurt her physically, but he knew that sooner or later he'd break her heart. And for a woman like Joanna, his precious romantic Joanna, breaking her heart would be far more devastating.

She believed in things he didn't, and wanted more from him than he had to give.

He almost wished he could be the man she wanted. But he couldn't. She wanted him to be the reincarnation of Benjamin Greymountain; to come to her with a Navajo soul, to love her with a mindless passion. Joanna wanted the two of them to capture the spirit of their ancestors and bring to life the love Annabelle and Benjamin had taken to their graves.

When Joanna awoke, they made love again. Sweet, slow love, each learning the other's body by touch and taste and sight. The burning sun melted into the late-afternoon sky, splaying the earth with golden light. They dressed unhurriedly, taking time to savor their last moments alone in this special place. Joanna clasped Annabelle's book of poetry to her breast. A shadowy sense of sadness settled on her heart. Would this be the only day she and J.T. would make love here? Was there no future for them?

J.T. helped her mount Playtime, then took the book from her and put it in her saddlebag. "Time to go back to the ranch. Elena and Alex should be home by now, even if Elena did a lot of shopping while they were in Santa Fe."

Joanna nodded. Yes, it was time to go back to the ranch, back to reality, back to the threat on her life.

* * *

Joanna and J.T. returned Washington and Playtime to the stables, taking time to give their horses a rubdown themselves, instead of handing them over to a stable hand.

"After we shower, how about my grilling steaks tonight?" J.T. said. "We can call Alex and Elena and see if they want to join us."

"Sounds like a great idea." She tiptoed her fingers up J.T.'s arm. "Especially the part about taking a shower."

"Are you suggesting we shower together?" He slipped his arm around her waist and drew her to his side.

"I've never taken a shower with anybody. It would be another new experience for me."

J.T. eased his hand down, spreading it out over her behind. "I'm glad I'm the one who's getting to share all these new experiences with you."

Joanna unlocked the front door and walked into her house, with J.T. following her, his hand still on her rear end. She gasped when she saw the state of her living room. She rushed inside, then stopped dead still. J.T. cursed.

"The place is a total wreck," she said. "What could have— Oh, my God, no!"

J.T. came up behind her, draped his arm around her middle and rested his chin against her temple. "Take it easy, honey."

"The room's been ransacked," she said.

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"T

10/31/2009he room's been ransacked," she said.

Blackwood's Woman

Sofa and chair cushions lay haphazardly about the floor. Lamps had been shattered and pictures ripped from the walls. Someone had done a thorough job of plundering, turning neatness and order into total disarray. Pulling away from J.T., Joanna crossed the room to the easel that held Elena's portrait.

"Dammit!" she cried when she saw the defaced painting. "He destroyed Elena's picture."

J.T. read the message that had been written in red paint across the surface of his sister's portrait. "I'll be back." He gripped Joanna by the shoulders, then closed his eyes for a moment, a burning black rage searing him.

"He's been here." Joanna trembled in J.T.'s arms. "He's been inside my home.

How did this happen? Why didn't someone see him and stop him?"

"I don't know." J.T. tightened his hold on her, silently cursing Lenny Plott, damning his soul to everlasting hell. The man was a slippery, slimy, conniving polecat. Somehow he had slid past Dane Carmichael and Hal Landers when he'd come through Trinidad. But what if he hadn't come through Trinidad? It was possible that he'd gone southwest, then north and had doubled back in the opposite direction.

J.T. knew from having read reports on him that Leonard Plott III was a sick, evil man, but he was nobody's fool. In his own way, the man was a genius, having raped dozens of women and eluded the police in Virginia for several years. If his last rape victim's boyfriend hadn't returned home unexpectedly, Plott might never have been caught.

Not only was Plott smart, he was rich. And with his kind of money, he could buy just about anything he needed—even certain people's help and other people's silence.

Leonard Plott was a dangerous animal. Sooner or later, someone was going to have to bring him down. J.T. wanted to be the one to do it.

"It's not safe here, is it?" Joanna turned in J.T.'s arms. He hugged her fiercely.

"I'm not safe anywhere from that monster."

"You're safe with me," J.T. told her. "Right this minute, you're safe. Here. In my arms. And I'm going to keep you safe."

"What are we going to do? He'll be back. He won't stop until he's—"

"Don't say it, honey. Don't even think it. If you don't feel safe here on the ranch, we'll find another place."

"Someplace where he can't find me?" Joanna asked. "Dear God, J.T., I don't think such a place exists."

Chapter 11

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"
W
e're going to catch this guy," Dane Carmichael said. "It's only a matter of time."

"Time isn't on our side." J.T. glanced across the room at his old FBI friend and Special Agent Landers, the two men seated side by side on the leather sofa in J.T.'s study. "Plott has already kidnapped and killed one woman, and possibly a second.

And today, he came onto my ranch, right under our noses, and ransacked Joanna's home. No one saw him. Not one person on this ranch had any idea an intruder was anywhere around. That should tell us all something about Plott, shouldn't it?"

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anyw

10/31/2009 here around. That should tell us all somethin Blackwood's Woman g about Plott, shouldn't it?"

"It tells me what I've known all along. That we're dealing with a highly intelligent and very dangerous criminal." Uncrossing his legs, Dane eased to the edge of the sofa. "His access to an unlimited amount of money makes our job more difficult and his revenge scheme easier for him to achieve."

J.T. cut his gaze toward Joanna, who sat in the swivel chair behind his desk. He had asked her to let him speak privately with Carmichael and Landers, but she'd insisted on being present. He understood her need to be involved with the investigation; after all, it was her life on the line. She was one of Plott's prey, possibly his next intended victim. She looked up at J.T. and nodded, silently telling him that she was all right.