2000 Kisses (37 page)

Tess stared blindly as the words echoed through her mind.

Love him.

Was it true? Had T. J. McCall stolen beneath her defenses, bypassed her professional tunnel vision, and locked down hard on her heart?

Her face felt cold, dangerously cold. She wasn't ready for that kind of intimacy and commitment. They were worlds apart. They were too volatile, too different. Too—

“Tess, are you there?”

She stared at the distant blue curtain of rain creeping up the valley. “I'm here, but I have to go. You can reach
T.J. at the sheriff s office. I'll tell him that you called.” There was a note of finality in her voice.

“Tess, I—”

“Good-bye, Andrew.”

She didn't pause to regret or consider. She was stabbing in numbers before her anger could cool, running on a mix of panic, determination, and raw anger as she reserved a seat on the next morning's earliest flight from Tucson to New Orleans. Oh, she'd be careful.

Cash only. No hotel and no stops except at the cruise ship.

She glanced at her watch, waiting for the agent to complete the reservation. She'd have to leave very early to make the flight. Three hours should be enough to—

The phone was yanked from her fingers, and Tess was spun around hard.

His eyes were churning. His shoulders could have been carved from stone.

“Take a seat, Duchess,” he ordered. “Then tell me what in the hell you were doing.” Grimly, he twisted the receiver away from her fingers.

Sputtering, Tess grabbed it back. “Give me that.”

“Not a chance.” He slammed the phone down.

“Just who do you think you are?”

“The man who is supposed to keep you safe,” he growled. “But you seem hell-bent on giving these people a clear target. Are you always this reckless, or have you got the idea that you're immortal?”

“Immortal? That's a big word for a cowboy,” Tess snapped.

“Oh, I know a few. Stick around and you might hear them.”

Tess's fingers locked into fists. “Use a few, in that case. Tell me about my apartment. Andrew told you that
someone broke in, but neither of you saw fit to pass the news along to me. I want to know why.”

“You were already upset. I didn't see how it could help matters to tell you.”

“Who gave
you
that choice?”

“I did. As someone who cares about you.”

“Then, don't care about me, not if it means censoring my news and controlling where I go.”

“It's called protecting you,” T.J. said savagely. “At least I'm trying to. The first place these people will look is for flight records. Any hacker with a friendly travel agent can check tickets reserved anywhere around the globe. You'd better pray that reservation didn't go through,” he said flatly.

Tess shoved angrily at his hand, which had locked around her wrist. “Forget trying to scare me. It won't work.”

“I'm not trying to scare you. I'm trying to talk some sense into that head of yours. Do you think the burglary at your apartment was an accident?”

Tess swallowed. “Of course not. But one day won't matter. I'm leaving first thing in the morning and I'll be back by evening. There's no way they can—”

He gripped her shoulders hard. “Are you deaf? You're not going anywhere. Not to New Orleans or Tucson or Tombstone. Forget about it.”

Furious, Tess wrenched at his hands. “Don't give me orders.”

“It would be easier to hold a conversation with a rabid steer.” He pinned her to the wall, his face unreadable. “Someone fired a shot at you by those ruins. I was too slow, too unprepared. They might have taken you, Tess. Right now you might be shoved in the back of a car
or locked in a room while they—” He swallowed a curse.

“So this is about you, because you believe you failed in your duty?”

“I did fail. But it won't happen twice,” he said grimly.

Tess watched something flicker in his eyes. “There's something else, isn't there?”

He didn't answer.

“Tell me,” she whispered.

“It's the man in Atlanta.” He drew a hard breath. “He's not missing anymore.”

Tess felt something twist at her chest. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that they found him. He was facedown in a half-filled irrigation pipe. There was a bullet through his left temple.”

He didn't tell her the rest: that die man had been badly beaten before he was-killed, most likely in an effort to extract every detail of his account information, “And here you are, calmly booking a flight that would make you a walking target for men with no scruples about torture or murder.” He gripped her shoulders. “You're staying, and that's that. Don't try to sneak out, or I'll tie you to die bed. I might even decide to join you there.”

Tess started to lash out, only to feel die reality of the danger she was in. T.J. was right. If she wasn't very careful, she could end up in an irrigation ditch with a bullet in her temple, too.

She drew a slow breath, then put a hand awkwardly on his shoulder.

He didn't move. His shoulder was corded, taut beneath her hand.

“T.J.?”

He turned swiftly, his eyes burning. “Dammit, these men aren't playing games, Tess. They could be up in the wash right now, watching us, waiting for a chance to close in. I can't guard every foot of terrain and I can't keep you safe if you try to run from me. And I don't want to fail. Not with you,” he added harshly.

She stared at him, watching emotions race across his face.

“I won't let them get to you,” he whispered.

Her breath came swift and unsteady. She caught a breath as his fingers locked around her.

Then he peeled off her sweater and shoved her against the wall.

His thigh nudged her hips and his hands were tangled in her hair. A muscle pumped at his jaw as he drew a slow, angry breath. “You were wrong to make that call.”

“I can see that now.”

He took another breath, his thighs moving restlessly, his body rock hard against hers. “I'm sorry about what I said. All I could think of was what might happen to you.”

“So am I.”

Tess jerked at his shirt, shearing off all the buttons, then sighed as her fingers rode down his chest. Her skirt was bunched around her waist and T.J. had one thigh between her legs when some shred of sanity returned.

He bit off a graphic curse, then let his head sink down against her forehead. “I have a whip here somewhere,” he muttered. “You might want to use it on me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because of this.” He shook his head as he found a tiny bruise on her arm and two others at her shoulder. “You still have bruises. In a few more minutes, I might have added my own, dammit.”

He kissed them slowly, one by one, then eased his hands under her skirt and whispered in her ear.

“What parade?” she muttered.

“For Founders Day. In twenty minutes. Everyone will be there,” he said hoarsely. “Including us.”

“Butldon't—”

He slipped inside her while her heart pounded, his body hard and demanding. Tess felt the instant slam of desire as he drove deeper. She raked his back with her nails, shocked at how easily he swept her into this blindness again.

She heard the sound of distant fireworks as pleasure burst through her.

Or maybe it was simply the sound of all her careful defenses finally shattering.

He was sweating beneath his light jacket

He thought of the money and all the incredible things he could do as he fingered the roll of electrical tape in his pocket and stared down at the motionless body on the ground. Taping the mouth was a nice touch.

Time to go. He checked the ground, making certain he'd left no clues. He'd have to be fast now.

He wouldn't think about the money or all those lazy, beautiful days on the beach that it would buy. He wouldn't think about anything else until he was almost done.

He laughed mirthlessly.

Almost.

I
t was three o'clock, the temperature still hadn't reached eighty-five, and a brisk breeze was blowing in from the eastern mountains.

Ms. Eliza Jenkins' fourth-grade class was handing out small plastic flags and the rotary club was dispensing free sodas in front of the courthouse. Mae was selling steaming cups of cappuccino as fast as she could brew them in the shiny new machine that had arrived via express mail that morning. Meanwhile, the high school band was tuning up for a musical reception to formally open the Almost Founders Day Celebration.

It was sweet and honest and yet Tess could not escape how out of place she felt here. She kept her gaze on T.J., who was shaking hands with a rancher whose face was the color of burned leather.

Grady saw her staring. “Glad to see you looking so good, Ms. Tess.” He studied T.J.'s back. “Glad to see Sheriff McCall looking so good, too. It's been a while.”

Tess wanted to ask him why, but she didn't. T.J.'s past would make no difference to her future. She had an odd feeling that events were pushing them forward, driving them to the moment when they would be forced to make choices that would sweep them apart.

Tess sighed. Almost was a place for protection and
escape, but she could never make her home there, When her problem was solved, they both knew she would head back to Boston. There would be no challenge for her here, and she needed challenge the way she needed air.

Like it or not, their future was clear. T.J. couldn't leave, and she couldn't stay. Oh, maybe for a month. Even for two.

Then what? Cards at Christmas? A short and entirely awkward visit to Boston, which they both would regret after an hour?

Better the break should be clean and complete No regrets and no dragging out the proceedings. She owed TJ. that much.

Sunlight gleamed on his badge. He raised a little girl onto his shoulders, then turned to wave atTess before moving through the crowd gathered beneath the large red streamers.

As she watched him smile, her heart hurt.

She was beautiful, T.J. thought.

Her hair was like sunlight, and her smile reached all the way to his toes.

Already she had changed the town. Mae was doing a land-office business in cappuccino and mocha lattes, right beside a rough sketch of the new clinic that was being planned, thanks to Tess's fund-raising ideas.

TJ. had to laugh as he saw Mae's niece pass by wearing bright red boots and sporting highlighted hair almost as bright as Tess's.

Yes, Tess had already left her mark on Almost. He wondered how he would bear all these reminders if she left.

Not if, but
when
she left. Because they both knew she had to. That'-was- the kind of woman she was. That sassy wit and edgy drive were part of why she fascinated him.

He wanted to argue with her—to argue with himself. Even when he knew that words would make no difference.

A shadow fell in front of him. “I need to talk to you, Sheriff.”

T.J. tried to hide his irritation, flicking a glance at the man beneath the broad, battered Stetson. “Fm kind of busy now, Tom.”

The rancher moved, blocking his way. “This can't wait.” T.J. lowered the little girl from his shoulders, then passed her to her waiting father with a smile. Then he rounded on Stoner.

“What's happened?”