A Moment in Time (24 page)

      
Or maybe what Lolita-Jackie feared most was herself.
 
The fine hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and he glanced quickly at his son.
 
Todd stood staring at Cole with an expression far too mature for a child.
 
It almost seemed as if Todd understood Cole's feelings more than he did.

      
That would be a fine trick, since Cole didn't understand them himself.
 
Enough of this, Morrison.
 
"Looks like somebody cut your hair," he said to Todd, desperately needing to change the subject.

      
"Miss Jackie." The boy poured the cornbread batter into an iron skillet and shoved it onto the glowing coals in the bottom of the fireplace. "She said she went to school to learn how to cut hair."

      
"Like a barber?"
 
Cole glanced at her, but she continued to kneel before the fire, tending the beans. "It looks good. Thank you."

      
"You're next," she said without turning around.

      
Cole's cheeks warmed and his son giggled. At least some of his bothersome tension had passed. "All right, I'm willing," he said, giving an emphatic nod when Jackie glanced back over her shoulder. "I am willing. You can cut my hair, too."

      
She turned her back on him again. "Only if you bathe and wash your hair first."

      
Todd laughed again and Cole pinned him with a fierce gaze that only made the boy laugh even harder. "Seems you've been doing a lot of laughing lately, boy." He couldn't suppress his own grin. His let his voice fall to a hoarse whisper. "Keep doing it."
 

      
He felt Jackie's gaze on him again and looked her way.
 
Her gray eyes were wide and moist, her smile gentle and knowing.
 
Almost sad.

      
The heat in his face sank to his groin like lightning after a lone pine.
 
"I reckon I have time to make it to the falls and back before we eat."

      
"Falls?"
 
Jackie rose and moved the skillet to the table.
 
"I'll heat these again just before we eat.
 
What falls?"

      
"There's a small waterfall."
 
Mountain snow run-off might dampen his body's spirits a mite.
 
At least, he sure as hell hoped so.

      
"Sounds lovely."
 
Her eyes brightened.
 
"I'd like to see that sometime."

      
"Well, not now if you really want me to wash up, ma'am."
 
He held her gaze with his, struggling to breathe as her eyes darkened and her tongue swept out to moisten her lips.
 
Her gaze dropped below his waist and her lips curved ever-so-slightly.

      
Damn.
 
Demure definitely wasn't the right word to describe this woman, no matter how she was dressed.

      
"That's awful cold water this time of year, Pa," Todd said, marking on his slate again.
 
"Last spring, you said we had to wait 'til Jul–"

      
"Never mind what I said," Cole interrupted.
 
"Cold water will clean just as good as warm."
 
Not that water was ever really warm at this altitude.

      
"Don't catch a chill, cowboy," Jackie said, pursing her lips in a way that made his blood turn molten.

      
Without another word, Cole pivoted and marched out the door toward the falls.
 
A chill was exactly what he needed, but the way his luck was running, he'd probably turn the water to steam instead.

      
The moment the falls came into view, he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it into the low branches of a young aspen.
 
His hat followed, then he kicked off his boots a few feet farther down the trail.
 
By the time he reached the water, he had his clothes stripped away and walked into the steady stream without hesitation.
 
The frigid water peppered his skin like buckshot, but he stood there and took it until his lust finally waned.

      
After washing himself and his hair as best he could without soap, it took several minutes to gather his clothes from the various trees.
 
That only reminded him why he'd been in such an all-fired hurry in the first place.
 
A reminder he sure as hell didn't need.

      
Gritting his teeth, he slipped his clothes on his shivering, damp body.
 
He'd better hurry back before dark so Todd wouldn't worry.

      
But as he picked his way along the trail in the encroaching twilight, Chief Byron's words flashed through his mind again.
 

      
"Woman With Fire in Her Hair–and mouth–will make a good squaw.
 
She will warm your bed when the snow covers the mountains, and give you many fine sons."

      
Damn.
 
The cold water's effect was only temporary.

* * *

      
Jackie's hands trembled as she turned the pages of
Huckleberry Finn
.
 
She was far too nervous for a mature woman who had her head screwed on straight.
 
Right, Clarke.

      
She glanced down at Todd, tucked in his bed for the night.
 
The boy's lids drooped and he yawned.
 

      
"Looks to me like you'd better get some sleep now, kiddo," she said, rising.
 
"I'll send your father in to say goodnight."

      
"Miss Jackie?"

      
"Yes?"
 
She hesitated, warmed by the affection in Todd's eyes.
 
Her caring torpedoes were obviously factory defects.
 
Seconds.
 
Or maybe even thirds.

      
"I'm glad you're here.
 
Thank you."

      
What could she say?
 
Was she glad to be here, stranded in 1891 without her blow dryer or indoor plumbing?
 
Don't answer that.
 
"Thanks, Todd," she whispered instead, then hurried out to the porch, where Cole sat on the front step.
 
"Todd's ready."

      
"I think you tuckered him out today."
 
Cole rose, an impressive tower of a man against the darkening horizon.

      
"The feeling is mutual."
 
Jackie still had the book clutched in her hand and she extended it to Cole.
 
"I forgot to put this away."

      
He took the book, his fingertips brushing against hers.
 
Jackie closed her eyes as warmth seeped through her veins.
 
These Morrison men were wreaking havoc on her self-control.
 
The little guy was shattering her resistance to caring, and the big one had her libido boogying to Ricky Martin's latest hit.

      
Nix on the libido, Clarke.
 

      
Cole paused, staring at her through the moonlight, then retreated inside.
 
He returned a few minutes later without the book.
 
"He's already asleep."

      
"I didn't think he'd last long, but he reminded me we didn't get to your haircut," Jackie said, rubbing her hands along her upper arms.

      
"Ah, that's right.
 
Sorry."

      
"Tomorrow."

      
"Sure."

      
Enough smalltalk.
 
Jackie drew a deep breath and girded her resolve.
 
"Well, you promised to tell me why you need the gold badly enough to kid–"

      
"Wait."
 
Cole closed the front door of the cabin, then took her hand and led her off the porch.
 
They paused in a patch of moonlight at the edge of the forest.
 
"It's pretty tonight."

      
"Yes, but a little cool."
 
Jackie felt as nervous as a teenager on her first date.
 
At least now she didn't have to worry about zits, but she had plenty of other things on her mind.

      
This is not a date.
 
She gnashed her teeth and drew another deep breath.
 
Cole might be a hunk-and-a-half, but she had to keep things in perspective.

      
"Okay, cut the stalling," she said, summoning the stubborn streak she'd inherited from her mother.
 
Unfortunately, Great-Aunt Pearl had it, too, which was probably why she and Jackie had always fought over every little thing.
 
"Tell me why you agreed to be Merriweather's henchman."

      
"Ouch."
 
Cole raked his fingers through his hair and gazed beyond her at something only he could see.
 
"I suppose that's what I am."

      
"Color me clueless here, but you don't seem the type."
 
She felt his gaze redirected now.
 
Toward her.
 
"I don't think kidnapper is listed on your resumé.
 
Is it?" she pressed.

      
His chuckle sounded bitter in the peaceful night air.
 
"This is the first...and last time," he said after a long pause.
 
"The very last."

      
"So why this time?"
 
And what can I do to convince you to give up the gold and take me back to Devil's Gulch instead?

      
"A promise."

      
Jackie stared at him for several silent moments.
 
Though she tried to resist it, she couldn't help but sense his pain.
 
It was a palpable thing, as real as the gentle breeze that suddenly swept up the mountain pass and rustled the aspen leaves overhead.

      
"Why, Cole?"
 
For some crazy reason, she needed to know.
 
Though her instincts screamed for her to wrap her arms around him and share his pain, logic demanded she persist until she had all the ammunition necessary to convince him to do her bidding.

      
And she felt like a royal bitch about it, too.

      
"You promised me, too," she prompted, hating herself.

      
"You sure don't seem much like a famous saloon singer now."
 
His voice was warm and husky, floating through the night air and hitting its mark.

      
Her heart.

      
"You promised."
 
Her voice was barely more than a rasping whisper now.

      
He combed his fingers through his hair again, then shoved both hands into the front pockets of his jeans.
 
"I...I need the money to give my son a decent life."
 
He laughed again, no trace of humor even now.
 
"Elizabeth wanted..."

      
His dead wife.
 
Jackie should've known.
 
She squeezed her eyes shut for a few moments, then blinked away the moisture that had gathered in her lashes.
 
"Elizabeth wanted what, Cole?"
 
She kept her voice gentle, and she knew the reason for her gentleness was far more significant than merely the means to an end.
 
She truly cared about this man and his son.

      
No, you can't care.
 
Holding her breath, she suppressed the tremor that commenced from her very soul.
 
"What did she want?
 
What did you promise her?"

      
Cole turned away and braced his arms against a boulder.
 
His shoulders were slumped, his head bowed.
 
Jackie's heart broke right then and there.

      
She ached to wrap her arms around his slim waist, to offer any comfort she could possibly provide.
 
Heat settled low in her belly and coiled through her loins like a hot oil treatment.
 
Altruistic thoughts banished beneath a powerful onslaught of plain, old-fashioned need.
 
Physical
and
emotional.
 
God help her.

      
The cool breeze wafted through the trees again, stirring her senses to a hunger so intense she could barely stand it.
 
Her nipples strained against the stiff fabric of Cole's dead wife's dress, but that reminder didn't help to diminish the desire erupting within her.
 
Instead, thoughts of Elizabeth Morrison waned and carnal urges reigned supreme.