Taming Jesse James (13 page)

He led the way down the hall and opened a door across from the bathroom where she had showered. He held the door open for her, wide enough for three of her to pass him without even brushing against his shirt.

She noticed the careful distance he maintained between them—as if he were afraid to touch her—and her heart wept a little.

“Are you sure you'll be all right?”

She nodded, not trusting her voice. Everything was different, just as she knew it would be. What would he say if she could somehow find the words to tell him how badly she needed the warmth and safety of his arms around her just then?

She couldn't ask. She wasn't sure she could bear it if he held her with stiff awkwardness, like some fragile piece of glass.

“Good night,” she finally said, then closed the door between them.

The guest room was large with an inviting, queen-size pine bed covered with a log-cabin quilt in rich plums and greens. A small lamp graced a matching table next the bed and she fought the urge to turn it on. She wasn't afraid of the dark. She wouldn't allow herself to be. The thin spear of moonlight shining through the window would have to be enough.

She climbed into bed and pulled the quilt to her chin, focusing on that ribbon of light, on the soft texture of the cotton sheets, on the low murmur of his voice on the telephone, probably checking on the investigation. The smell of him lingered in the room—laundry soap mingled with the woodsy cedar scent of his aftershave.

The exhaustion was still there weighing down her muscles, but she knew sleep would be a long time coming. Despite her weariness, her body still seethed with tension, her mind still raced.

She supposed she would have found it shocking if she
had
been able to drift off easily after the stress of the evening. Not when she had just been forced to relive in graphic detail the nightmare she had been desperately trying to forget for the past eighteen months.

She thought of the shock on Jesse's hard, beautiful features as she had told him. That subtle withdrawal she knew he probably wasn't even aware of. She had seen it, though. The distance still hurt, even though she had been expecting nothing less.

She had seen variations on the same theme with everyone in Chicago after her attack.

Her friends hadn't known what to say. They wanted to pretend it had never happened, wanted her to just get over it and go back to the old Sarah.

Her parents had been devastated. Her mother had wept for days, her father had retreated into his study. They had insisted she come to their quiet home after the two weeks she spent in the hospital, and had babied her as if she were four years old again.

Underlying their reaction had been subtle, unspoken accusation. If she hadn't stubbornly insisted on teaching at an inner-city school, if she'd been in Evanston, where she belonged, it never would have happened.

And there was Andrew. The man she had been prepared to spend the rest of her life with. She should have been able to turn to him for comfort after the attack, but she hadn't even been able to face him when he came to the hospital.

She knew she was more to blame for the collapse of their relationship after the rape than he was. She also knew it couldn't have been very solid to begin with if it couldn't survive this test. That didn't stop the harsh sting of failure.

It felt strange to speak of her attack. She hadn't told anyone but Jesse in the nine months since she'd come to Salt River. Not a word. If she didn't speak of it, she could try her best to pretend it never happened to her—that it was some other poor woman who had endured those terrible moments in that dingy, tired classroom.

Besides, it wasn't exactly the sort of thing she could bring up in casual conversation with the other teachers.
May I use the copy machine after you? Oh, by the way, did I mention I was brutally beaten and raped at my previous school?

She sighed and rolled to her side, toward the window and that pale, comforting slice of moon.

She could still hear Jesse moving around in the other part of the house and she was suddenly struck by the realization that this was the first night she had spent in the same house with another person since she had moved out of her parents' big house and come to Salt River.

So why did she feel more alone than ever?

 

She absolutely did not want to go back in there.

Friday afternoon, Sarah sat in her car trying to find
enough strength somewhere deep inside her that would carry her up those steps and into Jesse's house.

She wasn't sure she could survive this another night. For five days she had smiled and made small talk and tried to pretend she was comfortable living in his house, that she didn't notice the tension simmering between them.

The effort was exhausting her.

One more night. That's all she had to get through. The company making the custom windows for her rental had promised they would send workmen to install them in the morning, even though it was Saturday.

She just had to get through another evening trying to pretend her feelings for Jesse weren't growing stronger with every passing moment.

He wouldn't be home for another hour or two. In the few days she had been staying there, they had fallen into a routine of sorts—awkward though it was.

She would stop at the grocery store on the way to his house after school and start dinner, then play out in the yard with Daisy for a while.

When his shift ended, Jesse would come home and they would discuss their respective days while they shared a meal. She told him of her students and school politics and her inevitable end-of-the-school-year blues. He would talk about his officers and the calls he'd gone on that day and his inevitable pain-in-the-neck paperwork.

After dinner he would wash up, then stretch out in his favorite chair with the newspaper or a book or the remote while she sat at his kitchen table grading papers. A few torturous hours later, she would eventually give up this test of endurance and retire to the guest room for another sleepless night.

She knew entirely too many things about Jesse Harte after sharing such close quarters with him for nearly a week.

She knew he woke early to run or lift weights, and that when he worked up a sweat, his hair clung to his neck in thick dark spikes.

She knew he laughed at silly jokes his nieces told him over the phone, and that the sound of it—rich and full and generous—could work itself down her spine and leave her breathless.

She knew he was passionate about his job, and considered any crime that took place in his town a personal affront.

And she knew she was teetering precariously close to falling in love with him.

That was why she sat in her car like the craven coward that she was, trying to summon the courage to make it through one more night. Each moment she spent with him, she slipped a little further down that dangerous slope, and it scared her senseless.

It was completely ridiculous, she knew that. Pathetic, even. The shy, skittish schoolteacher pining over the most gorgeous man in town. It was even more pathetic when the man in question couldn't bring himself to touch her in even the most casual of ways.

She sighed. And there was the truth of the matter. That's why she dreaded going inside—because every night, she came closer and closer to begging him to touch her again, to kiss her as he had the day they went riding together.

Only one more night. She could be strong for one more night, couldn't she? She would go home in the morning, whether the dratted windows were installed or not. Heaven knew, she dreaded making a fool of
herself over him far more than she feared going back to her house.

A rap on her car window suddenly startled her out of her thoughts. Her heart jumped until she recognized Jesse's younger sister standing outside her car, her short dark hair ruffled in the breeze and her blue eyes clouded with worry.

“Is everything okay?” Cassie Harte asked, her voice muffled by the layer of glass.

Sarah nodded, aware of the heat soaking her cheeks. She must look like an idiot, sitting out here in her car staring at his house. She opened the door and climbed out. “Everything's fine. I was just unwinding for a moment before I went inside.”

“I'm sorry to disturb you, then.”

Sarah laughed ruefully. “I'm glad you did. Daisy's probably going crazy wondering why I'm just sitting out here.”

A pang of discomfort settled in her stomach as she used the key Jesse had given her to unlock his door. She knew she was probably being silly, but it seemed so presumptuous to act as if she belonged here in the house of this woman's brother.

She knew Cassie, but only casually. Early in the school year she had seen quite a bit of her at school functions with Lucy, and had heard from one of the other mothers that Cassie had basically raised her niece until Matt Harte married Ellie Webster over a month before.

She wasn't sure what had happened to Lucy's mother, but by a few of the whisperings she'd heard, apparently she'd disappeared in the midst of some kind of horrible scandal involving Cassie's ex-fiancé.

Sarah also knew Cassie had moved away from the
family ranch after her brother's wedding and now had a job cooking at the Lost Creek dude ranch north of town.

She didn't know much about her, but she did know she liked Cassie. From the time she first moved to Star Valley, the other woman had gone out of her way to make Sarah feel welcome.

Cassie followed her up the stairs and into the house, loaded with boxes and bags. “Nobody in this family tells me anything,” she said. “I swear, I would probably still believe in Santa Claus if I had to rely on my big brothers to fill me in. I didn't have a clue what had happened to your house or that you were staying here, until this morning when I ran into Ellie at the grocery store. How are you doing?”

“Fine. Anxious for things to get back to normal, but fine.”

“I can understand that. I love him dearly, but I'll be the first to admit Jesse's not always the easiest person to live with. I also know he's not much of a cook—believe me, I know—so I brought a few ready-to-heat dinners. That's why I dropped by. I hope you don't mind.”

Ah. So that explained the mystery of her packages. “That's very sweet of you, but I'm going home tomorrow.”

Cassie's shrug looked elegantly feminine, despite her T-shirt. “You can take some food back to your house with you or Jesse can always freeze them for another time.”

Cassie set a box down on the counter between the kitchen and family room and began removing foil-covered containers. “Hope you like spicy food. Since
I wasn't sure of your tastes, I went by Jesse's. The hotter the better for him.”

She thought of the Thai food she used to devour by the cartonful in Chicago. She hadn't realized she missed it until right this second. “Spicy is fine.”

“Good. This one is plain old lasagna and this one is artichoke heart enchiladas. Two of his favorites. I've written cooking instructions on each one, but basically you just have to throw them in the oven. Oh, and here's a couple of salads and some bread sticks and turtle pie for dessert.”

Sarah laughed helplessly. “Whoa. Slow down. This is more food than I could eat in a week.”

“If you were alone, maybe, but if I know my brother, you'll be lucky to get seconds of any of it. Now, which one would you like tonight, lasagna or enchiladas? Just choose and I'll get it started for you.”

“Um, which would you say is your brother's favorite?”

“That's a tough one. He loves them both, but I'd probably have to say the lasagna would squeak ahead, just barely.”

“Lasagna it is, then.”

Cassie turned on the oven, then began working in the kitchen with quick, efficient movements that made Sarah feel like a complete incompetent.

“You know, you really don't have to do this,” she said. “I can probably follow directions.”

Cassie's smile lit up her whole pixie face. “I know. But cooking is what I do best, so don't spoil it for me.”

While Cassie put the foil tray in the oven and began to transfer the rest of the food to the refrigerator, Sarah went to work preparing the salad.

“So tell me,” Cassie said while they worked, “is
Jesse any closer to finding out who vandalized your place?”

Sarah shook her head. “He had a couple of leads, but neither one amounted to much.”

If anything, he and his officers were further than ever from finding who had made such a mess at her house. Jesse had learned the vandal had used cow's blood—apparently from a cow that was killed and mutilated in a pasture near the Diamond Harte.

Monday morning he had also called Chicago and learned Tommy DeSilva was still in a maximum-security facility in Joliet. DeSilva might have sent someone after her, but Jesse didn't seem to think it was very likely. It seemed an unusually long time to wait for revenge, when he could have more easily sent someone after her when she was still in Evanston staying with her parents.

Which left the terrifying conclusion that she had an unknown enemy somewhere in Star Valley. She couldn't even begin to figure out who it might be.

“Well, I hope he finds him fast,” Cassie said fiercely. “It makes me sick that someone could terrorize you that way. And I can promise you that when Jesse does find whoever it is, he's going to make the creep very, very sorry. One time in school when I was about seven, he found out that Kip Burton used to tie my shoelaces together every day on the school bus so I'd fall on my face. Kip was a year older than Jesse and twice as big, but that didn't stop my brother.”

“What did he do?” Sarah knew she shouldn't be so intrigued by the image of Jesse as a boy.

“He tied Kip's shoelaces together with Wally Martin's, who was even bigger and meaner than Kip. Wally wasn't happy about it, I can tell you that. By the time
Wally was through with him, Kip could barely even tie his own shoes. I think he still holds a grudge to this day.”