SEDUCTIVE SUPERNATURALS: 12 Tales of Shapeshifters, Vampires & Sexy Spirits (224 page)

Her renewed passion made him instantly grow hard against her belly. She could feel his heartbeat quicken as his body responded to hers. Gently, he pulled her upward so their lips could join in an intimate kiss.

The kiss sent the pit of her stomach into a wild swirl and she quivered at the sweet tenderness of it. She returned the kiss, lingering, savoring every moment. His hands moved to her bottom, deliciously kneading and caressing as she continued to move her hips against his hardness.

Breaking away from his kiss, she drew her knees apart and lifted herself from him just long enough to guide him into her. She watched the ember of passion in Jackson’s eyes burst into flame as he pulled her hips down against him, pushing every inch of his arousal into her.

She straddled him and arched her back in sensual pleasure, moaning as he began to softly fondle her breasts. She leaned forward, bringing her nipples to his lips. Soon he was tantalizing the buds with his tongue, exploring there until she felt dizzy with arousal.

Their bodies melted together as her hips moved against him until once again, pleasure exploded in a downpour of fiery sensations—energy seemed to arc through them. Their perfect tempo of love bound their bodies together, sending them both to an even higher level of bliss. And as their bodies finally came to rest, contentment and peace flowed between them. A happy exhaustion, a sweet agony.

She sighed a deep sigh, moaning with the gratification of a contented lover. “What a wonderful way to wake up.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I agree.”

“Shall we stay in bed forever?”

“A wonderful thought, but not so practical...besides, you’ll be hungry soon and, God knows, I have to keep you fed to keep you happy,” he teased.

“You are a rotten human being, Jackson Hoyt. I don’t know why I love you at all.” She softly punched his shoulder as she lifted herself off him and rolled over to the edge of the bed.

“I know many that would agree with you, my dear.” He laughed at her scrunched nose as she pretended to be angry with him.

“Well, even though I don’t like you at all, would you like to take a bath with me?” She walked to the stove to check the buckets of water, hoping the fire had smoldered through the night. “It’s a bit better than lukewarm,” she said, pouring both buckets into the tub. “Better hurry, though, it won’t be warm for long.”

She watched as he got out of bed to join her. “I’m up for a quick bath, then I’ve got work to do at the saloon. Can you keep yourself busy today?”

She smiled as he joined her in the tub. “Sure. There’s always gardening to do here. I haven’t been concentrating on Ida’s yard for a few days. There’s plenty to keep me busy.”

“And,” he added, “I will send a carriage this evening to pick you up and take you to the finest restaurant in San Diego for a proper meal”—he cupped her chin in one hand, then added—“before I make you my wife. I intend to find a preacher today and make you an honest woman tomorrow.”

Taylor leaned forward to press her lips to his, caressing his mouth tenderly. “Sounds like a perfect plan, my love.”

* * *

At tea, Taylor told Ida about the ordeal at Wyatt Earp’s saloon and Jackson’s involvement in the murder plot.

Wordlessly, Ida listened, seemingly captivated by her description of the discovery of how exactly Jackson’s father had been killed by the famous lawman and, finally, how Josie had come so close to perishing at the hands of the younger McLaurey brother.

“You shouldn’t have been doing all this by yourself, you know,” Ida scolded. “You could have been killed.”

“But it’s all over now—don’t scold me. I couldn’t stand it if you were really angry with me.”

Ida shook her head and smiled warmly at her. “So...you and Jackson...?”

“Jackson asked me to marry him and I said yes.”

Ida squealed with delight. “Oh, you can get married in the garden. It will be perfect. The girls can get all dressed up and we’ll have a party—no business for the night. Just us. Like family.”

“I’d love to have all of you there,” she said, “and the garden will be a perfect setting. Jackson’s in town finishing up some things at the saloon today, and arranging for a minister. We’re meeting tonight for dinner—I’ll tell him then.”

Ida covered Taylor’s hands with her own, her eyes brimming with tears of joy. “You know what I see in your eyes, Rose? True love. And, yes, I know it when I see it. And I’d say yours is a match made in heaven…but don’t tell anyone I have a romantic bone in my body ‘cause I’ll deny it to my dying day.”

Rose smiled, but figured Ida’s secret wasn’t a secret at all. “Now, I’ve got work to do in the garden. I want it to look perfect for tomorrow. Will you pick out something for me to wear tonight?”

Ida nodded as she headed for the door wearing a big gardening hat to protect her from the already blazing sun, and the oversized tunic and pants that she’d worn the first day she’d worked in the garden.

“Bother,” Ida said. “Now I’ve got to find a new gardener.”

* * *

Taylor gulped down the glass of lemonade that Ida had left for her on the table in the garden. The rose bushes were filled with blooms, and each flower bed had been weeded and watered. She plopped down on one of the chairs, pulled her hat off her head and wiped her brow. A perfect day.

“Congratulations.”

The cheerful sound of her father’s voice startled Taylor, then filled her with joy.

But dread soon replaced her joy as she again had the distinct feeling something was going to happen, which distressed her since the mystery had been solved.

“Are you happy, Taylor?”

She’d never been happier and she knew without a doubt Jackson was exactly what she needed. And wanted. Would she have a future with him?

Taylor listened to the silence, her stomach knotting in fear.

Dad?

“Your future belongs to you.”

She didn’t understand. All she wanted was to know how much time she had.

Her eyes filled with tears of frustration. She felt like she could disappear at any moment, and at the same time it felt like she could have whatever it was she set her mind to have.
Which was it?

“Rose! Come inside! I’ve drawn a bath so you can clean up and get dressed. Hurry or you’ll be late for dinner,” Ida called.

Welcoming the interruption, she blinked back her tears, then deposited her tools in the shed and joined Ida inside.

* * *

“Rose, the carriage is here. Let’s have a look at you,” Ida called.

Taylor walked into the parlor dressed in a shimmering peach lace dress, a satin bow at her waist. Her hair was brushed back from her face, long curls secured to the back of her head. Pearls at her throat completed the look of a Victorian socialite going out for the evening.

“Perfect,” gushed Ida. “You look perfect. Jackson will fall in love with you all over again. Turn around, let me see the back.”

Taylor smiled at Ida’s motherly attention, whirling around in a slow circle with her arms held out. She felt like a beauty contestant waiting for a judge’s approval.

“I have to admit, Rose, that it’s been a pleasure transforming you to the beauty that you have become. And I know Jackson would agree.”

“Oh, Ida. You are a miracle worker. Thank you for lending me so many of your pretty things.” She wrapped her arms around Ida in a long hug.

Then Ida held her at arm’s length for another look. “I’m so glad you’re happy, Rose. You deserve it.”

“And so do you...always remember that.”

“Off with you, now—the driver’s waiting. Have a wonderful dinner.”

Taylor blew a kiss to Ida from the carriage as the driver urged the horses forward. As she settled back in the coach, she covered a yawn with her gloved hand. Working in the yard had been more tiring than she had realized.

Her eyelids felt strangely heavy and she soon found that she couldn’t keep them open. If she could just close her eyes for a few minutes, she’d be fine…

* * *

Jackson slid the final bottle of brandy on the shelf. The saloon was clean again, everything in its place, the bar lovingly polished to a brilliant luster. He looked around the room, amazed that a few short days ago, he’d been counting on either being dead, in jail, or on the run from a murder. Now he was looking at a possible partnership with Wyatt Earp, and marriage to a beautiful stranger named Rose.

The thought of her filled him with a rush of joy and happiness. He closed his eyes and her face filled his mind.
Rose.

The creak of a floorboard disturbed his thoughts and he turned toward the door. “Sorry, we’re closed—”

With a shock, he felt blinding pain in his chest, followed by an eerie feeling that he had stepped outside himself as he looked at Dean McLaurey, standing ten feet away, his gun smoking.

Jackson’s head snapped at the sound of another shot.

The thunderous noise filled the room, along with the earsplitting sound of glass breaking. Jackson looked toward the window in time to see Mr. Johnson, his gun drawn.

Then he watched as Dean McLaurey’s body fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

Then total blackness...he was falling into the blackness…

Forever Rose: Chapter Thirty-Two

I need to wake up. Jackson is not going to be very impressed with a sleeping bride-to-be.

The blaring sound of a car horn made Taylor’s eyes pop open in alarm. Her heart at her throat, she sat up in her seat and blinked painfully at car lights in the oncoming lane.

Eyes filling with stinging tears, she covered her mouth, holding in the sob that threatened to escape.

Stunned, she looked down.

She was still dressed in Ida’s peach lace dress, and she was still riding in a carriage, but soon she saw that she had made the journey home to modern San Diego, evident with one look at her surroundings.

How had it happened?

Tears overflowed onto her cheeks as she closed her eyes, grief overwhelming her. Her heart felt like it was breaking.

How will I survive without him?

Another car horn blared and the carriage pulled to a stop at the curb with a lurch. She covered both ears from the pain of the modern noises, and slowly opened her eyes. She was home. Her apartment windows were dark, she could see mail overflowing from her postal box.

She had indeed come back.
Alone.

“Sorry about the rough stop. That guy in the truck was determined to get past us. I have a feeling he’s not overly fond of sharing the road with a horse and buggy. I’ll be right down to help you out…”

As she waited for the driver to make his way over to the side door to help her out of the carriage, she placed her hand on her chest.
So this is what a broken heart feels like.

Then the door opened and the man extended his hand to her.

As their fingers touched, she felt an unexpected surge of energy shoot up her forearm that tingled all the way to her shoulder. Her eyes widened as she recognized the feeling.

The driver pulled his hand away quickly and stepped back as she raised her gaze to look at him.

“Did you feel that?” he asked. “Must have been static electricity or something.”

Taylor stared into the driver’s sky-blue eyes.

The same eyes
.

Her gaze lowered to his mouth.

The same lips.

Her eyes searched his for any sign of recognition, logic battling the urge she felt to leap into his arms.

“Yes, I felt it too,” she whispered.

“Oh, I almost forgot. While you were sleeping, an elderly man gave this to me...and said to give it to you when you woke up. He said you’d understand. He seemed harmless...a nice old guy, actually.”

She watched as the driver presented her with a perfect, long-stemmed red rose.

Dad?

Only silence.

“Are you all right?” the driver asked.

“I’m fine...really.” She brought the rose to her lips, feeling its softness and breathing in the heady aroma.

“Do you think you know the old guy who gave this to me to give to you?”

“Yes, I think I do.” She smiled at the carriage driver, and once again breathed in the amazing scent of the rose. “Mmmmmmm...wonderful. Smell?”

The driver leaned over to inhale the fragrance, closing his eyes for just an instant. When he opened them again, their faces were only inches apart.

She looked again into his eyes and as she held his gaze, she heard—as though from a great distance—first a female voice singing,
“He’s the one,”
followed by a male voice singing,
“She’s the one.”

Probably just a car stereo. A popular song lyric at best.

As though he too might have been jolted by the ghostly voices, the driver stepped back, falling hard onto the sidewalk.

Taylor hurried out of the carriage to see if he had seriously hurt himself, kneeling on the sidewalk next him she tucked the skirt of her gown so she could lean in closer to him.

“Are you hurt? Are you all right?”

“Embarrassed, but fine, thanks.” Again, the driver gazed into her eyes as he leaned in closer to her.

Taylor said a silent prayer, asking for a sign that this man was who he appeared to be…who she desperately wanted him to be.

“The man...said something else,” he said.

She waited, holding her breath.

“It’s weird…”

“Tell me. Please…”

“He said to believe in the voices.” Then he grinned and tilted his head. “Did you just hear something a moment ago?”

“Wise man,” she answered.

“I know this is going to sound crazy...”

“Go ahead,” she urged. She liked the sound of that already.

“Have we met before? I feel like we...know each other. I promise you, this is not some kind of line.”

She waited.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his gaze never leaving hers.

“Taylor Rose Martin. But, you can call me Rose. It’s your choice.” She extended her hand to the driver.

When their hands touched again, the warmth traveled up both their arms, ending at their hearts.