Rebel Heart (9 page)

“He could have been courting a girl. You couldn’t have known.”

“I should have.” Frustration colored her voice. “Doesn’t any man have a sense of responsibility? Do they all just want to play their entire lives?” She shoved back her chair and carried her dish to the sink, plopping it down hard and running hot water over it.

Jase came up behind her, his right hand reaching for her shoulder. “Hey, lighten up. Did your father play all the time?”

“Sure. He was a pilot. They’re notorious for hard living and hard playing. When he wasn’t up in the air, he spent his time at the O-club, boasting of exploits with the other jet jockeys. Everywhere we went I tried to make a home for us and he left me to it. Every base was the same. He never mistreated me, but he ignored me, seeking fun and games over spending time at home.”

“Honey, you’ve had a raw deal with men. They aren’t all like that,” he said gently, rubbing her shoulder.

“All the ones I meet are,” she said. “Isn’t there someone out there that would put home and hearth before fun and pleasure?”

“Most people do. Most people find home and hearth provide the pleasure.”

“Maybe, but not the men I meet.”

“Then tonight we’ll see if you can meet some other kind of man.”

She shut off the water and turned. Jase’s arm encircled her, drew her up against his long, lean body. Resting her hands against his chest, she looked up into his eyes. For an instant she felt sheltered and safe. His strength was evident, even as she knew his steadfastness was questionable. She longed to lose herself with him. To explore the future with a strong man beside her.

But he wasn’t that man.

His heart thudded beneath her hand while the heat from his body slowly enveloped her. His breath stirred tendrils of her hair as his scent filled her nostrils, spicy and male, intoxicating. Slowly she relaxed, leaned against him, tilting her head back for the kiss that was inevitable. The one she wanted as much as he did.

His lips were warm, firm, hungry, moving across her mouth in a sweeping caress, touching her, possessing her. His tongue traced her lips, rubbing again and again against the seam until she opened her mouth to permit him access. He tugged against her lower lip, skimmed the soft skin of her lower lip, grazed against her teeth.

Her heartbeat rampant in her chest, blood rushed through her veins, scalding every inch of her. She snuggled against him, longing for more, longing for him to deepen the kiss. Her hands tightened into fists, clutching his shirt as if dragging him closer still. His arm tightened, her own were caught between them. She struggled to get even closer.

On and on the sweet kiss continued, each straining to give the utmost pleasure to the other within the confines of a single, hot kiss.

When she moaned softly in her delight, Jase slowed down. He drew back enough to see her dazed expression, her dreamy eyes, softly swollen lips, glaze of color high in her cheeks.

Groaning he buried his face against her neck, drinking in the sweet scent of her. “God, honey, I want you!”

Sanity returned slowly. For endless moments Shannon remained in his embrace, savoring the feel of his body against hers, savoring the heat that pounded through her. For one long moment she savored the dream of the two of them together, playing.

Then reality returned.

“To play with,” she whispered sadly. She pushed away, her fingers lingering for a moment as she tried to brush out the wrinkles she’d caused in his fresh shirt. Reluctant to end the fairy-tale embrace that meant different things to her than to him, she stayed a moment longer in his warm embrace.

He released her. His eyes were hooded, his expression impossible to read. “There’s a time for play, Shannon.”

“Yes, there is. I’m going to change now. I’ll be ready in a few minutes. Have some gingerbread. I kept it warm.”

She pushed past him and hurried to her room. Her senses were inflamed, heightened. Colors seemed more vibrant. The air was scented with grass and dust and cattle overlaid with the hint of Jase's aftershave. The soft air caressed her as she hurried into the shower. The water was silky as it cascaded across her heated skin.

She had to draw in her raging emotions, stomp down her craving for the man. She knew he was not for her and she'd be a fool to believe it was any different. Even for a minute.

She couldn’t deny the sexual attraction between them. But that’s all it was. She wouldn't fall for another cowboy.

She couldn’t survive another heartbreak.

It was the shortest shower on record. Once she finished, she put on fresh underwear and went to her closet. Pushing one dress aside, she studied another. Then another. Suddenly she realized what she was doing.

“This is not a date!” she repeated aloud. Turning, she pulled a clean pair of jeans from her drawer. They were new, still stiff. She took a baby blue cotton shirt from the hanger and drew it on. It buttoned up the front and she was satisfied Jase would not suspect she dressed up at all for him.

Brushing her hair, she left it to fall down her back. Because of being in the braid all day, it was wavy and shiny as she brushed through the thickness. Two clips on either side kept it from falling into her face.

As she put on a light touch of makeup, she tried to quell the flutters in her stomach. It was not a date, she repeated as she studied herself in the full-length mirror.

She was pleased to note that she looked fine. The blouse enhanced the smoky blue of her eyes, brought a touch of color to her cheeks. Or had Jase’s kiss done that? Her clothes were clean, neat, and nicer than she wore around the ranch, yet they were not at all dressy. No one could get the wrong idea from what she wore.

Certainly not Jase, if his expression was anything to go by when she joined him a few minutes later in the kitchen. He glanced up, then back to his coffee.

“I’m ready.”

“I see. Just let me finish this cup. The gingerbread was good.”

“Thanks.” She glanced around, surprised. All the dishes had been washed and put away.

“Jase, thank you. You didn’t have to clean up.”

He shrugged. “No problem.”

She turned back to him, amazed. She couldn’t ever remember her father or husband doing dishes. They had considered it woman’s work. She watched as he finished his cup of coffee, his throat working as he swallowed. She longed to touch that brown column, feel the pulse of his heart beneath hers. Taking a deep breath, she headed for the door before she made a fool of herself.

It’s not a date,
she repeated over and over as Jase drove into Tumbleweed. They talked little, both content with their own thoughts, though Shannon wondered if his were as chaotic as hers. Turning to look out the window, she tasted her lips with her tongue, wondering if she were imagining his taste lingered. Closing her eyes brought back the sweet sensations he’d wrought. Opening them dispensed them only marginally.

Jase turned into the street that ran along one side of the downtown square in Tumbleweed. The place was full. Cars and pickup trucks crammed into every available space. Parking was impossible. He turned up a side street near The Big Bonanza and found a spot.

Shannon thrust open her own door before he could offer to let her out.
This was not a date.

But she had trouble remembering that in the next instant. When he joined her on the sidewalk, his good arm came around her shoulders, his hand cupping her shoulder, one finger beneath the collar against her bare skin. He pulled her gently to him, so her left shoulder snuggled against his hard chest. His right hand steered her slightly ahead of him as they walked to the bar.

The sounds filled the night; laughter, noisy talk, the clink of glasses. The closer they came to the bar, the louder the noises. When Jase reached around her and pushed open the door, the din spilled over them like a tangible wave. The air was slightly smoky, the atmosphere one of good humor and fun.

At first Shannon thought the entire town was present, but as they moved through the crowd, searching for an empty table or booth, she realized she recognized most of the men and women present. Smiling and nodding or waving to those who called her, she began to relax.

Jase found one of only a couple of tables still vacant. He drew his chair right up to hers, and rested his arm across the back of hers in a proprietorial manner.

“Really, Jase,” she said, turning amused eyes on him. “You act as if you’re staking your claim.”

“Exactly that, darlin’,” he drawled, smiling down into her eyes.

“This isn’t a date,” she said quickly, her heart fluttering at his look.

His hand came under her chin, tilting her head back until her face was close to his. “Where I come from, if a man brings a woman to a dance, she stays with him. I expect the same here. If you want to pretend this is not a date, but a business meeting, we’ll talk about cattle.” There was a hint of steel in his tone.

“What’ll you have, folks?” The young waitress dressed in fancy fringed Western wear smiled down at them. She held a tray at her waist and leaned over to put napkins on their table.

“Beer,” Jase said, raising his eyebrow at Shannon.

At her nod, he amended, “Two beers.”

“Right away.”

Shannon watched the waitress wind her way through the crowd.

“Relax, Shannon, I’m not going to eat you, much as I want to sometimes,” Jase muttered.

Just then a cheer went up through the crowd as the band came in and started setting up their equipment. Jase reached out and captured Shannon’s hand and laced his fingers through hers, resting them on his hard thigh.

She glanced at him briefly, but said nothing, turning back to study the others in the large country-western bar.

She only pretended to ignore him, to ignore the sizzling tremors that raced up her arm, that tantalized her, teased her. She was more conscious of his hand than she had been of anything else in her life. Trying to breathe became a chore. Trying to give the impression of disinterest and serenity became a monumental task.

Brad Chalmers and his wife Charlene spotted them and came over to speak to Shannon. She introduced Jase and soon they dragged over two chairs and sat. The four of them chatted casually. If the Chalmers noticed anything amiss with Jase holding her hand, they made no comment, though Shannon noted they glanced at their linked hands rather pointedly at one point.

When the beer arrived, Jase released her long enough to take a long pull directly from the bottle. Then he recaptured her hand, his cold from the beer. Shannon tried to relax, enjoying the feel of his hand around hers, his fingers thrust between hers, the soft rubbing of his thumb across the back of her hand.

In fact, she began to enjoy the entire evening. It was good to have a bit of fun. She’d been working too long on the ranch, bound up in worries about the future.

The Chalmers beckoned to another couple to join them and soon their table expanded. Laughter and quick rejoinders flowed among them all and time flew by.

When the band started their first set, Jase tugged at her hand, pulling her up from the chair.

“Really, Jase, I don’t dance very well,” she said, hesitating, pulling back.

He ignored her and led her onto the wooden dance floor. “Honey, no one here is judging the dancing. We’ll have a good time, that’s all.” The number was lively and before she could protest, he swung her into his arms and into the rhythm of the music. Despite the cast, despite the taped ribs, he danced with enthusiasm and skill.

Just like he did everything, she thought briefly, surprised to find out how much she liked it. After only two stumbles, she caught the rhythm and had no trouble keeping up with Jase.

When the song ended, another cowboy asked Shannon to dance. Involuntarily she sought Jase’s permission. He nodded easily, grinned at her and turned to find another partner.

Time flew by as they danced song after song. Shannon talked with the cowboys and ranchers who danced with her, caught up on local news, and explained who Jase was and how he was helping her. Most had heard of Rod's theft and commiserated with her.

When the band began a slow song, Jase appeared and drew her away from Josh McKensie, a younger son of one of the big ranchers south of Tumbleweed.

“Slow dances are mine,” Jase explained to the younger man as he drew Shannon up against him. His cast made it awkward, so he simply wrapped his arms around her and held her in his embrace. Slowly they moved to the soft strains of the love song.

“That was rude,” Shannon said softly, moving in step with him, feeling his thighs brush with hers, relishing the sensation of his arms banded around her, holding her as if she were precious.

“Rude be damned. For future reference, slow dances are mine.”

“Jase—”

“Don’t argue, Shannon.” He rested his cheek against her hair and swayed with the music.

Giving herself up to the pleasure of being in his arms, she fell quiet. She was warm from exercise, he was equally warm, yet the heat that grew between them had little to do with the fast pace of the previous dances.

His legs brushed by hers, one came between hers, moved away, as tantalizing as deliberate seduction. Shannon was mesmerized by the sensations that swept through her. The sizzling attraction that flared between them was heightened by the sensual seduction of the slow, sweet love song. His body moved against hers, moved her with him, choreographed to offer the most in delightful intimacy.

“Careful, darlin’,” he said in a low, husky voice.

The realization of her power welled up deep within her. This virile sexy man wanted her. Her, Shannon Blackstone. The woman who had not been able to keep her husband home for months on end. She glowed with the sensation, happiness bubbling up and threatening to engulf her forever.

Standing on tiptoes, she dragged her body against his, reveling in the response he was unable to deny. Sweetly, she kissed his cheek.

“Honey, if you don’t stop, I’m going to ignore your refusals and find a quiet place for us to end this.”

She tried to pull away, giving them some space, but his arms refused to release her. He smiled and dropped a light kiss on her lips just as the song ended and the singer announced the band would take a brief break.