Heartbreak Ranch (14 page)

“How'd you manage to hurt yourself watering the flowers?”

He grunted and continued to hold his hand under the faucet. “I sliced my hand on one of those blasted little shovels she uses to dig out the weeds.”

“A trowel did that?”

“Damn thing is all rough edges and rust.” His voice was little more than an embarrassed mutter. “I don't see how Annie manages not to cut herself to pieces.”

He pulled his hand out of the stream of water to examine it. The wound oozed sullenly. Julianne could feel nausea roll through her stomach. She didn't do well around blood.

“It needs stitches,” she said faintly. The cut wasn't particularly long, but it was wickedly deep, with ragged edges.

“It's not that bad. I just need a couple of Band-Aids.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Think you can manage to stay on your feet long enough to help with that?”

She swallowed hard. “Me? No problem.”

“I seem to recall you have a little trouble around blood.”

Taking a deep breath, she willed the pounding in her ears to subside. “Not as long as it's only yours.”

He turned off the water with his uninjured hand and carelessly wadded a wet paper towel against the wound. “Then you're in luck. Go get those bandages, will you?”

Julianne eyed him doubtfully. “I still think you should let me take you into town and have Doc Brierly stitch you up. When's the last time you had a tetanus shot?”

He spun on his booted heel and headed to the bathroom. “You're stalling. I'll do it myself.”

She trailed after him. “How are you going to do that? Grow a third hand?”

He was already opening the bathroom cabinets and rummaging through them. She gave a mental sigh and gave in. She could do this, she assured herself. It was simply a case of mind over matter. She hoped.

“Wait, let me.” She snatched the box of Band-Aids from him and turned back to the cabinet. “You should at least treat it first with a disinfectant. We don't want your hand to turn green and fall off, do we?” She set the box down and turned to him with a bottle of first-aid spray, keeping her gaze scrupulously away from his injured hand.

He eyed the bottle in her hand warily. “That's not going to sting, is it?”

She rolled her eyes. “Try to be brave, champ.” She had to force herself then to look at the wound, and although the bloodstained paper towel had the nausea rising in her throat again, she pulled it away from his hand and squirted a healthy dose of disinfectant on the injury.

“Dammit to hell!” He yanked his hand away and blew on it, glaring at her. “Not exactly Florence Nightingale's cosmic twin, are you?”

Reaching for the Band-Aids, she grinned unsympathetically. “Don't be such a baby. I remember the time that bull caught you in the chest with its horn. Where's your tight-lipped tough guy routine now?” She finished wrapping the bandages over his wound and took a breath. She had to be at least as grateful as he that it was over.

He examined her handiwork carefully. “I seriously doubt you caught much of my tough guy routine, since you were busy keeling over at the sight of all the blood.”

“I definitely did not keel. It was more of a ladylike swoon.” She was almost certain of it. Tossing her hair back, she looked at him, conscious that the room seemed to have shrunk since they'd entered it. His shoulders were broad enough to block her view of the doorway. Strange that she hadn't noticed until now how close they were standing. With effort, she tore her gaze away from Jed and focused blindly on a point beyond his left shoulder.

“If you say so.” The amusement in his voice didn't surprise her. The finger he stroked down her cheek did. Her head jerked at the touch, and she stared at him, shocked. “Thanks for the first aid. I'm willing to make an exchange to show my gratitude.”

She swallowed hard, her gaze trained on his lips as he formed the words. “An exchange?”

His mouth quirked. “Sure. I won't tell Annie that you've been sneaking some of her yellow roses for your room.”

“How'd you…” She stopped when he raised an eyebrow. Of course, he'd noticed when he'd done the watering. “Well, as crimes go, it's not going to get me five to ten.” The casual conversation gave her time to let out the
air that had unexpectedly backed up in her lungs. That crazy shaft of awareness that had pierced her earlier was fading. It
was,
she assured herself. The need to put some distance between them no longer seemed urgent, just wise.

“Why don't you let me clean up in here?” she suggested, turning to the mess she'd left in the sink.

“Sure. I'd like to talk to you about Annie when you're done, though. Can you stop in the den?”

Her agreement earned her some breathing room as Jed turned and left the small space. Immediately, the air expanded. Julianne attended to the task at hand automatically. She threw the wet paper towels in the trash and put the first-aid supplies back in the cupboard. How nice and neat it would be, she thought wryly, if she could shut away her emotions as easily.

When she walked into the den a few minutes later, Jed was nursing a Scotch and frowning at the computer screen. She strolled around the desk to peer over his shoulder.

“Cattle prices went down again today,” he muttered, scrolling down the market listings.

“It's a good time to buy, then.”

“It would be. I just wish that the damn barn was done.”

“You can make do with the old barn for now, can't you?”

He turned his head as he replied. “Sure, but…” His words stopped abruptly, his lips close enough to her face to brush against the skin of her cheek.

Self-consciously, Julianne drew back. She would have moved away if she hadn't found herself suddenly fascinated by the way his evening beard darkened his chin, giving him a faintly disreputable look.

His frown deepened, and a muscle in his jaw went tight. She straightened and rounded the desk, dropping safely into a chair.

Embarrassment balled in her throat, making her voice sound thick. “What were you saying about the barn?”

“The barn?”

In the time it took him to answer, she carefully smoothed the gauzy material of her dress over her legs and crossed one knee over the other. Only then did she risk looking at him again. His gaze was dark and feral, and an unexpected shiver slid down her spine.

“You said you wished the new cattle barn was done. I said you could use the existing one. You said…”

“Yeah.” The word sounded rusty. He cleared his throat.

“I'm not just talking about getting the new barn up. We don't really need it until the snow flies. But I wanted to get that expense out of the way, and make a few more changes around here before I dip into the cash flow again.”

Julianne welcomed the distraction the conversation provided. And she was well versed enough with ranch matters to speak about them knowledgeably. “You mean you're weighing the advantage of the lower prices against a fear of overextending your capital?” At his nod, she asked something that had been bothering her for days. “Aren't you worried about mixing your money with Harley's in the ranch?” At the stillness that came over him then, she hurriedly added, “You know how he is when he hits a rocky patch. I'd hate to see you lose anything that you've invested here.”

“That won't happen,” he said with finality. He moved his chair away from the laptop open on his desk and reached to take the glass he had resting beside it. Swirling the amber eddies of liquor in his glass, he forestalled her next question. “I won't let it.”

She was unconvinced. From what she'd seen of the ranch, the only improvements that had been made in her absence had taken place very recently. Which meant, of
course, that Harley hadn't put a penny into the place. When she'd been a teenager, they'd kept as many cattle as the ranch could support. Jed's talk of adding to the herd could only mean that her father had sold hundreds of head off, to support himself during one of his losing streaks.

A sudden thought struck her then, and her gaze flew to the man before her. “He never…he didn't sell any of the land, did he?”

Jed's voice was cool and smooth, but his calm was belied by the way his fingers suddenly clenched the glass in his hand. “About a hundred acres to Jim Pooler, a couple of years ago.”

Although his answer wasn't unexpected, the words still stole her breath, weakened her knees. She was grateful she was already sitting.

“He…he must have been desperate.” She couldn't keep the bitterness from her voice, from her heart. It didn't take much to fuel desperation in Harley. The thought of missing out on the next big stakes game would be enough. He'd brought the ranch to the verge of bankruptcy more than once, mortgaging it so heavily that at times it had seemed as if her childhood home would become a distant memory. Each time, his luck had taken an upswing. And on each occasion, she'd been left wondering how long before it happened again.

“You're taking a chance here, more than I thought. You could lose your entire investment if Harley…” She couldn't even manage to finish the sentence, but her meaning hung in the air between them.

“I don't take chances, you told me that yourself.” His voice was flat. “Harley is never going to threaten this ranch again.”

Julianne ran her hands up and down arms that were suddenly chilled. She didn't want to consider this anymore,
didn't want to remember the times she'd lived in fear as a child that she wouldn't have a home the next day, the next month, the next year. That everything she valued could be gone at the blink of an eye.

She sprang from her chair, driven to move. She stopped before the windows. The sun had exploded with spectacular brilliance and was rapidly sinking behind the mountains. Darkness fell quickly in their part of the state.

The sound of ice clinking in a glass sounded behind her, and without even trying she could visualize Jed as he watched her. And he was watching. She didn't question her certainty of that. A warm river of heat streamed down her spine, as if jettisoned by his gray gaze. She shoved a hand through her hair and shuddered a breath. Her reaction to him was becoming too unpredictable, too uncontrollable.

“You said you had something to discuss,” she said, not turning around.

“Hmm?”

She glanced over her shoulder at him and was immediately pinned by that enigmatic gray gaze. “About Annie?”

He set his glass down then, with more care than the act required. “It's really not so much about Annie. It's about you.”

“Me?”

He nodded. “I know you've had to shoulder all of Annie's duties while she's laid up. Not to mention looking after her, as well. I just wanted to let you know that I've arranged to get some help out here starting next week.”

“What kind of help?”

“Someone to do the cleaning, take care of the house. All you'll have to do is check up on Annie occasionally.”

Her emotions, which had ping-ponged all evening, settled abruptly into anger. “Unarrange it.”

He blinked. “What?”

Her voice went dangerous, which suited the sudden shift in her mood. “I thought I was clear enough. Whoever you hired, unhire them. If I had wanted help, I would have asked for it.”

“Don't be stubborn, Jules. Of course you need help.”

“Of course? Why ‘of course'? Because I couldn't possibly be counted on to handle things?”

He eyed her warily. “I only meant that you could use a hand at it. The house keeps Annie busy all day, and you've got her to watch over, too. Admit it. You're wearing yourself out trying to keep up with it all. Hell, you're exhausted right now.”

The fact that his words were true didn't lessen their sting. “I'm not brainless, or useless. I don't need help, I don't want it, and if I did I could damn well arrange for it myself.”

Now he looked completely mystified, with more than a little mad mixed in. “Where did that come from? I've never thought you were useless or…what's gotten into you?”

She reached him in three quick steps, pushing her face down to his to snarl, “You. You always have to step in and take care of things yourself. Did it ever occur to you, Jed, that when you take over you make me feel like you think I'm too helpless to cope? It was the same way when you went to Florida. You just assumed I couldn't handle things on my own. You've been doing it my whole life, and I want it to stop now.”

His eyes narrowed and his words were measured. “You don't want to be throwing my help up in my face, Julianne.”

She slapped both hands on the arms of his chair and leaned closer, close enough so their noses almost touched. “Yes, I do. I'm telling you for the last time to back off.”

She glared at him and he glared back. She was near enough to see that his gray eyes had gone molten. Belatedly she realized their proximity and straightened. But when she would have moved away, his hand snagged her wrist.

“Yeah, maybe you're right.” His tone had no detectable note of agreement in it. Instead, it was hard and ruthless.

“As a matter of fact, I know you are. You may be a pain in the ass, but you're not weak and you're not useless. I've told you before you're one of the strongest women I know. I'm just trying to protect you.”

“Why?” Her voice held a genuine note of amazement.

He flung her wrist away. His voice, when it came, was baffled and brusque. “Maybe I don't know why, okay? Maybe I've never understood where this need to protect you comes from. I don't like to think of you hurt, or tired or scared. It twists something up inside me, something I wish I could turn off. Believe me, it'd be a hell of a lot easier if I could.”

S
he stared at him as if he'd become a stranger. And perhaps he had. It had always been easier to assume Jed acted from some deep-seated belief in her incompetence than from any deeper level. Had always been safer to assume so.

He reached up and brushed a knuckle beneath her eye. She knew her mirror would tell her his touch traced a shadow that lingered there. “You've been running yourself ragged. Did you expect me not to notice? Not to care?”

Her breath clogged in her throat. Jed simply observed everything. She'd always known that. But caring…no. That was unexpected. And achingly touching.

“You don't have to prove anything to me. It's not a weakness to ask for help, to accept it.”

“Maybe…” The words were difficult to summon, more difficult to force out of her throat. “Maybe I have to prove something to myself.”

She searched his gaze, wondered if he could understand
what it was like to be buffeted by self-doubt, until virtually paralyzed with overanalysis. She doubted he could comprehend even if she could find the words to explain. He'd never seemed to suffer any second thoughts.

Except for a moment ago. His voice had been harsh, bewildered, as if he truly couldn't understand the tricks his instincts played on him. He wasn't alone. Right now she'd give a great deal to understand what was behind his need to protect her, as well.

He slowly stood, his body brushing against hers as he rose. Her pulse throbbed, and thoughts scattered. It was difficult to think when that piercing gaze was fixed on hers. Hard to remember caution with his thumb tracing her jawline with a touch that trailed heat.

When his hand dropped away she should have stepped back, should have made a casual remark and an easy escape. But this didn't seem casual and it didn't seem easy. She blinked in wonder when he reached for her hand and smoothed his thumb over the blisters she'd gotten from mopping the acres of floors in the house. Her breath caught as his eyes went smoky. He brought her hand to his lips and touched his mouth to her injuries. And her heart quite simply turned over.

Perhaps she could have fought the fire and hunger that he unleashed in her so easily. But tenderness from this man was impossible to resist, devastating to the senses. He released her hand, tipped her chin up and fanned his fingers across her cheek. And in the seconds before his descending mouth met hers, she could have sworn she saw a flicker of uncertainty on his face.

His kiss, when it came, wasn't uncertain. It was the softest of touches, with an underlying hint of possession. She took a breath, drew in his scent. The aroma was a mingling of tobacco, Scotch, and something uniquely Jed,
something a little hot and wild. Their lips met, clung and didn't quite part. Then Julianne heard his breath rasp, felt the quick clench and quiver of nerves jumping in his fingertips, and the bottom dropped out of her stomach. She leaned closer and sank into the kiss.

This wasn't the free fall into pleasure she'd come to expect, but a slow, almost gentle glide. The softness of it weakened her knees, the sweetness melted her defenses. His taste was almost familiar now, but different, too, flavored with a hint of hesitation, a dash of expectancy. Surrounded by the still, rigid air of a man used to control.

She stepped blindly forward, deepening the kiss, welcoming the immediate answering pressure of his mouth on hers. The solid warmth of his body was close. Her hands came up to rest on his chest, smoothed upward to clutch those muscled shoulders. She was in need of something to steady herself, to counteract the dizzying spiral of need that could consume so quickly.

He put his arms around her and splayed one hand on the skin bared by the backless sundress. Reaction shuddered through her at the stroke of that calloused palm, the fingers that caressed and claimed. Her mouth twisted beneath his, and too late she considered the danger. Slow, lazy sips of him were no less shattering to her senses than taking him in great greedy gulps. The journey was different, but the impact was the same.

His mouth left hers, cruised to her throat, found a pulse hammering beneath the skin and laved it with his tongue. Her blood immediately thickened, began chugging moltenly through her veins.

One hand slipped, braced against his chest, and she was once again reminded of his strength, his endurance. He had always seemed so strong, so indestructible. She was captivated to discover that his strength was tempered by taut
muscles and skin that was—her fingers slipped between two buttons of his shirt—smooth and hot to the touch.

He caught her hand in one of his and held it captive, and his words when they came were ragged and harsh. “I'm not fighting it this time, Julianne.” Her eyes fluttered open, and her head continued spinning at the primitive promise etched on his tightly drawn features. “Stay or go, it's your decision. But you need to make it.” His fingers tightened convulsively on her back and then relaxed. “Now.”

She studied him through eyes that struggled to close again, wanting to shut in that picture of him: muscles coiled tightly, jaw clenched, and a whisper of dampness glossing his five o'clock shadow. She wondered how long ago her decision had been made. Swaying forward a little, she whispered against his lips, “Stay.” And felt the utter stillness that came over him, a whisper of a moment before his arms yanked her closer and that rigid control sprang free.

His mouth claimed hers again, and this time there was nothing gentle about the pleasure that rammed through her. The floor abruptly tilted beneath her feet, and she hooked an arm around his neck to anchor herself. His lips were hungry, almost bruising, and there was primitive satisfaction in the moist tangle of tongues, the scrape of teeth.

Her head fell back, a gesture of surrender she would have denied had she been aware of it. He took immediate advantage, switching his attention to the long line of her throat, the exquisitely sensitive spot behind her ear. With fingers inclined to tremble, she began to release the buttons on his shirt, guided only by an overpowering need to feel his heated flesh.

He shuddered when she touched him, and the evidence of her effect on him was heady. He was heavily muscled,
his tight skin smooth, and a mat of crisp hair angled down his chest. She pressed her mouth against his skin in a shocking need to taste him, and was rewarded by his ragged groan.

The sound fueled her edgy need, sparked an equally fierce desire for more. Much more. In the next instant that desire was answered by the slide of his hand beneath her dress, along the bare expanse of thigh. She gasped and shivered at the touch.

“I've wondered all night what you had on under here,” he murmured. And then he found the answer to his question, discovered the lacy wisp of panties beneath.

Desperate need, fierce and urgent, gushed forth with the force of a geyser. He soothed the tremors rippling through her with long, sure strokes, molding, petting, possessing. But there was no calming the chaos to her senses when his fingers slipped inside the elastic and cupped warm, damp flesh.

She quivered against him, feeling like she was poised on the edge of a frightening discovery, but without the will to turn back. His touch was light, his fingertips barely grazing the sensitive folds of flesh, and she could feel herself growing soft and moist.

He leaned forward and took her mouth, his tongue stabbing deep even as his fingers slipped inside her. His thumb found and circled the taut bundle of nerve endings, and he took her to the first climax with fingertips alone.

She cried out as the fast hard orgasm crashed over her, her knees buckling in the aftermath, driving him deeper. He held her to him for a moment, the touch intact, waiting for her rioting nerve endings to calm. “Jed,” she whispered achingly against his mouth.

The sound of his name on her lips seemed to unleash a wave of violent emotion. “Yes.” His voice was thick,
barely recognizable.

“Jed.” He drove her up again with one firm movement, and the heated excitement flared anew.

Twisting against him helplessly, Julianne felt the edges of relief, so recently attained, spiral away. He could cause that so easily, so effortlessly. But not again. Not without him. Even as the colors fragmented behind her eyelids with each bold stroke of his fingers, she reached for his belt buckle, fumbled for his zipper. He hissed in a breath and crowded her against the desk, arching into her touch.

And cursed. Roundly.

Her eyes fluttered open and a smile tugged at her lips as he released her to struggle with half-undone clothes and a desktop littered with papers and the laptop. Their gazes caught, and he leaned over her, an answering smile on his hard mouth, his gaze hot. With a tug he pulled her to him and engaged her mouth in a voracious battle of lashing tongues and deep, hot kisses.

Julianne was dimly aware of being moved, guided backward, but she kept her eyes closed, too involved in the bombardment of dark tastes, desperate flavors. Something bumped up behind her hips and her weighted eyelids half opened. He'd moved her against a marble-topped table and bunched her skirt up in one fist.

His shirt was only halfway unbuttoned, and she rectified that oversight now, tugging it from his waistband. His free hand slipped inside her panties for a moment, briefly cupped and squeezed her buttocks, before he pulled the undergarment down her legs.

“Step out of them,” he rasped, and mindlessly she did so, while at the same time pushing his shirt off his heavy shoulders. He moved between her legs and pulled first one strap down her shoulder, over her arm, and then the other.

Julianne's breath jammed in her throat. She watched
him, feeling vulnerable and exposed, as he dragged the bodice of her dress down, revealing her bare breasts. The air was cool on her nipples, already drawn into tight, painful knots. His eyes narrowed and he swallowed hard, his breathing harsh in the silence of the room. And then he filled his hands with her, lowered his head and took a nipple in his teeth, and sensation exploded into tearing need.

A ball of heat formed, low in her belly, and each flex of his mouth sent a fiery streamer of sparks flashing through her, burning her from the inside out. Her hands were restless, smoothing over his broad chest, clutching tight muscles in his shoulders, lingering over the smooth, puckered flesh on his back. The legacy from his childhood. Her touch slowed, became caressing, but he wouldn't let her calm, wouldn't let the pace slow. He moved closer, feasting on her, shoving the dress further down until the material was bunched around her waist.

She stroked her hands down his sides in a sensuous slide, then moved to cup his heavy masculinity in both hands. He started, shuddered mightily, then thrust into her touch. She freed him from his clothes and caressed him with hands that trembled with a touch of awe. He was hard, huge, pulsing. And she wanted.

They were the only two in the room, in the state, in the universe. At that moment, with his mouth on her, his tongue pressing her nipple to the roof of his mouth to pleasure it, she believed it. Was certain of it. Thoughts dimmed, sensation crowded in until there was space for nothing but the feelings he was creating in her, the brutal needs that even now were spiked to a fever pitch. Again.

Her touch grew more desperate, and he understood her demand. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a foil package, brushing her hands aside when they would have
tried to help. Then he stepped closer, close enough for his manhood to tease the tender flesh between her legs, and stopped.

“Open your eyes, Julianne.” The words were harsh, guttural. And he waited until she obeyed. He brought her forward until her breasts pressed against his chest, arranged her legs around his hips. And still he waited.

“I want to watch you.” The words seemed dragged from him, from a place deep inside that he usually kept well hidden. A place that simmered with dark, primitive desires. Her gaze was helplessly entrapped by his. Just as she was trapped by the promise of ferocious pleasure shimmering just out of reach. His face worked, and she couldn't have looked away if she'd tried. He was a man in the throes of a violent emotion. “I want to see your eyes when we…”

He moved then and her cry mingled with his ragged groan. His fingers went to her hips and he held her still as he drove deeply inside her. She clenched her legs tightly around his waist and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. They were linked, in the most intimate way a man and woman could be, and still it wasn't enough. “Jed.” His name was a cry, a plea. It was answered with a powerful thrust, deeper still, followed by a pounding rhythm that bound them both. Tighter. Harder. Higher.

Her nails scored his shoulders, mindless now, urging him on. Her body shook with each powerful lunge of his hips. She arched, offered more, and he took it. She could feel the climax shimmering, just out of reach, and she held back, suddenly desperate that he join her before going over the next jagged brink.

He felt her hesitation and reacted immediately. One hand moved between her legs. “Let go,” he urged, de
manded. His face was damp, his dark hair clinging damply to his forehead.

“Not without you,” she panted. She locked her ankles behind his back as his hips thrust with increasing intensity against hers. “Now, Jed. Now.” Their gazes met, held, until his image began to blur as her vision grayed.

Abruptly she crested, the release slamming into her with a violence that left her breathless. Dimly she was aware of her name on his lips, his body drawing tight and his last powerful lunge before he joined her in a free fall into pleasure.

 

Rocking to the Boss's lyrics blasting through the headphones, Julianne's hips bumped and circled as she hummed an enthusiastic accompaniment to “Born in the U.S.A.” The vegetables she was chopping by an enthusiastically wielded butcher knife lay in a dizzying array of color that owed more to exuberance than to accuracy. She couldn't remember a time she'd felt so loose, so carefree. Every muscle in her body felt vibrantly alive, crackling with health and energy. And she would cheerfully credit the night she'd spent wrapped around Jed Sullivan as the cause.