Blackwood's Woman (6 page)

When Joanna neared the main house, a typical Spanish-style stucco with a red tile roof, she glanced up and saw J.T. standing on the wide porch.

Elena had told her that J.T. had gotten his coloring from their mother, but his size was pure Blackwood. Tall and rugged, every muscle well-developed to a whipcord leanness. This evening he had discarded his tan Stetson and had dressed in black jeans and a white shirt. A silver-and-turquoise jewel clasped his black bolo tie. His F:/…/Beverly Barton - Blackwood's Wo…

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10/31/2009 and a white shirt. A silver-and-turquoise je Blackwood's Woman wel clasped his black bolo tie. His blue-black hair gleamed with a healthy vitality. Joanna visually traced the thin black band that held his eye patch in place.

"Cheer up, Jo, you're coming to dinner, not going to your own hanging," J.T. said.

She bristled at the use of his sister's nickname for her. No one except Elena had ever called her Jo. Somehow, on J.T.'s lips, it sounded far too intimate. But she wouldn't rise to the bait; she knew he'd called her Jo to see how she'd react.

"I feel like this is the condemned person's last meal and I'm that condemned person." She hesitated momentarily, then stepped onto the porch. "I am sorry that a week of your vacation has been ruined. Elena can't seem to let go of the notion you and I belong together. I know it's made your stay here at the ranch very unpleasant."

"You are so damned polite, Miss Beaumont." J.T. stood with one booted foot resting back flat against the wall. "Do you ever stop being a lady and act like a woman?"

Joanna clenched her teeth to keep herself from lashing out at J.T. Maybe he was right; maybe her good-manners-at-any-cost upbringing was so inbred that she could never escape it. But if her succumbing to him for a one-night stand would make her a woman in his eyes, then she didn't want to be a woman. Not his woman. Not ever.

"I don't think I acted much like a lady the first day we met." She tried to keep her voice even and calm, despite her anger. "If you recall, I pulled a gun on you."

"Oh, I'll never forget our first meeting. But even in pulling a gun on me, you were being a true lady. You were defending your honor, weren't you? That's what a lady would do. Or so I'm told."

Rushing out the front door, Elena glanced hurriedly from J.T. to Joanna. "Dinner will be delicious. Alex is barbecuing on the patio. Steaks this thick." She curved her thumb and index finger to indicate a good three inches. "Come on, you two."

Joanna helped Elena prepare the salads while J.T. assisted Alex with the barbecue. Within an hour the foursome settled around a black wrought-iron table in the right-hand corner of the patio located in the center of the stucco ranch house.

The evening sun lay low on the western horizon. A soft, bluesy tune drifted from the CD player on the porch that surrounded the house on all four sides and opened onto the patio.

Joanna cut into her medium-rare steak, lifted a piece on her fork and brought the meat to her mouth. She glanced across the table at J.T. He was looking directly at her lips. Swallowing hard, she laid her fork down on her plate and lifted her mug of iced tea, all the while staring at J.T. He moved his gaze from her lips upward, encountering her hard stare. He smiled, an almost smile, just barely curving the corners of his mouth.

He picked up his mug of cold beer, silently saluted Joanna with it and took a deep, hearty swallow. She averted her gaze, turning to look at Elena, who was busy feeding Alex a bite of steak. The act of feeding her husband seemed terribly intimate and sexual. The two smiled at each other as if no one else existed. They were cocooned in their mutual fascination with each other—the skinny, bespectacled, blond sculptor and his lovely, exotic, brown-eyed wife.

Maybe that's what it's like to be in love, Joanna thought. So absorbed in your lover that you are oblivious to anyone else's presence.

Joanna lifted her fork again, but before she could bring it to her mouth, J.T.

leaned over and slipped his own fork into her open mouth. Her body jerked. Her heart hammered. She glared at him. The piece of meat in her mouth felt huge and F:/…/Beverly Barton - Blackwood's Wo…

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10/31/2009 hammered. She glared at him. The piece o Blackwood's Woman f meat in her mouth felt huge and hot and heavy. Her first impulse was to spit it out—to spit it out in his face. Instead she began to chew slowly, keeping her gaze riveted on his.

"I take my steak rare," J.T. said. "I think this is medium-rare, don't you? Looks like we overcooked it a bit."

Joanna forced herself to swallow the chewed meat. "It's medium-rare. No taste of blood at all."

"Well, it's a good steak. I think I can finish it off." He cut another piece, then ate, following his first bite with many more.

By the time the others had finished their meal, Joanna had forced down several bites of her steak and a small portion of her salad. Finally Elena and Alex started a discussion about New Mexico's history, trying desperately to engage J.T. and Joanna in the conversation. The effort failed miserably. Joanna could find no pleasure in discussing Billy the Kid and John Chisum, and J.T. didn't seem to care anything about the fact that Lew Wallace, the author of
Ben Hur,
had once been the territorial governor.

"Come on, Alex, let's dance." Elena held out her hand to her husband, who quickly stood and lifted her into his arms.

J.T. and Joanna sat quietly at the table watching the couple slow dance in a sensual embrace.

"Every time I'm around those two I feel totally unnecessary," J.T. said. "It's been like this ever since they got married five years ago. You'd think they'd be sick of each other by now."

"They're in love," Joanna said.

"They're in heat." Grunting, J.T. shook his head. "I guess you don't know what that's like, do you?"

There was nothing she could do to stop the flush from spreading over her cheeks and down her throat. She'd been cursed with a redhead's pale complexion and a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose and over her cheekbones. When she blushed, it showed plainly.

"I've embarrassed you." He spoke the words in a tone of disbelief. "You can't be that naive. You're no teenager. You've got to be at least twenty-five or more. A woman your age is bound to have had several lovers."

"I'm twenty-nine." Joanna deliberately glanced away from him and at the dancing couple. "And how many lovers I have or haven't had is none of your business."

Elena waved at Joanna. "Why don't you two take advantage of this fabulous music and that glorious sunset—" she nodded to the western sky, which was afire with orange-red flames "—and dance?"

J.T. held out his hand. "Come on, Jo, let's dance. It'll make Elena happy, and that's what this night is all about, isn't it? Pacifying my little sister so she'll leave us in peace for a while?"

Joanna hesitated, then stood, walked around the edge of the table and placed her hand in J.T.'s. His grasp was light and nonthreatening. Stepping into his arms, she followed him into the dance. He held her loosely, his grip around her waist barely discernible. She breathed a sigh of relief when she realized that he intended to keep a reasonable distance between them. She'd been so sure he would haul her close to his big body and force her to endure the feel of him, hard and powerful, against her own body.

If she'd been a bit taller or had worn heels, she might have been able to glance over F:/…/Beverly Barton - Blackwood's Wo…

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If s

10/31/2009 he'd been a bit taller or had worn heels, she m Blackwood's Woman

ight have been able to glance over

his shoulder. As it was, she had to stare directly at his wide, muscular chest. He was so tall. Too tall. Too big. Too manly.

Even though J.T. did nothing offensive, Joanna felt trapped. She wasn't in control of this situation. He was. If he chose to pull her against him in an intimate fashion, she wouldn't be able to stop him.

Dammit, that wasn't true. All she had to do was tell him to release her and she could walk away. Admit it, she told herself. You aren't afraid of J.T. Blackwood; you're afraid of yourself!

"Are you always so stiff when a man holds you in his arms?" J.T. asked.

"Stop goading me," she told him. "You may find it amusing, but I don't."

"Sorry about that, Jo, but you leave yourself open to my teasing."

Just as she started to respond, the music ended. Joanna pulled away from J.T. He clasped her wrist, halting her escape. She turned abruptly and faced him.

"I'm tired. It's been a long day," she said. "I think I'll head on home."

"Oh, Jo, don't leave yet." Elena, her arm around Alex's waist, strolled over to Joanna and J.T.

"The night's still young," Alex said. "It's not dark yet. Hang around and we'll play a game of Rook."

"Not tonight." Joanna smiled at her friends, then glanced down at her wrist, still trapped in J.T.'s grasp. "Another time."

"Tomorrow night?" Elena suggested, her smile eager. "Come over for dinner again.

Tonight was nice, wasn't it?"

"Not tomorrow night." Joanna wished Elena would just let her go home and stop trying so hard to push her into J.T.'s arms.

"The next night, then," Alex said. "I'll whip up some of my world-famous chili."

"I'm afraid dinner and cards will have to wait awhile. I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon to spend a week or so on the Navajo reservation." Joanna kept her phony smile in place—just barely. She felt J.T.'s hard, cold stare boring into her. She wanted to scream, to tell him, yes, a thousand times yes, he
was
the reason she had to escape.

"But why tomorrow?" Whining, Elena stuck out her bottom lip in a childish pout.

"The reservation will be there a week from now. Please, wait."

"Leave her alone, Elena," J.T. said, then released his hold on Joanna's wrist. "She's made her plans."

"But she can go to the reservation any time," Elena said. "You're only going to be here another week and—"

"I'll stop by tomorrow afternoon and say goodbye before I leave." Joanna's smile drooped. She sighed, bit her bottom lip, then reached out and hugged Elena. "Please, understand," she whispered.

Joanna hurried off the patio, onto the inner porch and through the house. When she reached the front porch, she stopped suddenly, her vision blurred by a fine mist of tears. She sucked in a deep breath of crisp, clean air.

She felt a big hand gently clutch her shoulder. Gasping, she turned quickly, bumping into J.T. and losing her balance. He grabbed her by both shoulders to steady her.

"Elena's all right," he said. "I promised her that I'd walk you home and try to persuade you to stay on at the ranch."

"Which you won't do, will you?"

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"W

10/31/2009 hich you won't do, will you?" Blackwood's Woman He rubbed her shoulders with his big hands. "You're tight as a coiled spring, honey. What's wrong with you? You act like you're afraid of me."

"I told you once before that I'm not afraid of anything, most especially not you."

"Well, that's good to know, because I'm harmless. I'd never hurt you."

Joanna longed to believe him, to take him at his word, but she knew better than to trust a man like J.T. Blackwood. Any man, for that matter. Joanna hadn't trusted a man in five years. Not since a monster had sadistically raped her in her own apartment. Not since her devoted fiancé had walked off and left her to face the trial and months of therapy without his love and support.

"I'd never give you the chance to hurt me, Mr. Blackwood."

"I thought we were finally on a first-name basis. Remember, I'm J.T.—" he released one of her shoulders and tapped his chest with the tips of his fingers "—and you're Jo." He pointed to her.

"Please, don't call me Jo."

"Elena calls you Jo."

"I know, but that's different," Joanna said. "She's my good friend and you're …

you're—"

"Not your friend?"

"No, not my friend."

"Then what am I?" He slipped his arm around her waist, urging her closer.

She couldn't seem to breathe. Her head spun. She clutched his arms, feeling firm muscles beneath her fingers.

They both heard a man clear his throat. J.T. glanced over Joanna's shoulder and saw Cliff Lansdell, his ranch foreman, standing in the yard. Turning Joanna around so that she stood at his side, J.T. kept his arm about her waist.

"What's wrong, Cliff?" J.T. asked.

"Sorry to bother you, J.T., but you told me to let you know when Queen Nefertiti was about to foal. I've called Dr. Gray."

"Thanks, Cliff. I'll come on out to the stables in a few minutes. After I walk Miss Beaumont home."

"That's not necessary," Joanna said at the same moment Cliff spoke.

"I'll be glad to walk Joanna home, if you're in a hurry to get out to the stables, J.T."

"I'll walk Jo home." J.T. said her name in a sultry way, tightening his hold around her waist.

Joanna had the oddest notion that J.T. Blackwood had just laid claim to her, that somehow he had warned Cliff that she was out of bounds to any other man.

"I'll see you over at the stables, then." Cliff's shoulders slumped. He glanced at Joanna. "Good night." He tipped his hat, turned and walked away.

"I can get home by myself." She snapped out the words, not caring how she sounded.

"Would you like to come to the stables with me and wait for the blessed event?"

J.T. ran his fingers up and down the side of her waist.

Joanna sucked in her breath. "No. No, thank you."

"My Appaloosa, Washington, is the colt's sire and this will be Queen Nefertiti's first. It's a special occasion."

"Then you should go on. Don't waste time walking me home."

J.T. guided her off the porch and across the yard, not saying a word. When they F:/…/Beverly Barton - Blackwood's Wo…

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J.T

10/31/2009 . guided her off the porch and across the y Blackwood's Womanard, not saying a word. When they reached her front door, she unlocked and opened it, then turned to him.