The Next Mrs. Blackthorne (Bitter Creek Book 6) (18 page)

He’d been surprised and pleased when Joss had turned out to be some sort of gourmet. Apparently, she’d taken cooking classes in France when her father was ambassador. North had eaten in five-star restaurants where the food wasn’t as good as the meals Joss had prepared.

“I’ll admit Joss grows on you,” North said.

“You should marry her.”

North snorted again. “Why would I want to do that?”

“She’d be a great mother.”

North looked at the youth who’d spent his life doing more caring for Sassy than the other way around. “Fortunately,” North said, “I don’t need a mother.”

Breed flushed. “I mean for your kids.”

North opened his mouth to say he wasn’t having any kids and shut it again. The truth was, he wanted kids. And they were going to need a mother. He’d planned to marry someday. He just hadn’t planned to love the woman. He’d intended to choose a wife with his mind, not his heart.

He imagined Joss with his child at her breast. The image made his breath catch and brought a lump to his throat. He focused on the cattle drive on the wall until he could speak again. “Joss is leaving.”

Breed was instantly on his feet confronting North. “Don’t you chase her away!”

He was surprised by the boy’s vehemence and felt his neck hairs hackle when he realized the kid was probably half in love with her himself. “What I do with Joss is my business.”

“You made her cry.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw her in the kitchen window when she was washing dishes tonight. There were tears on her face. You put them there.”

The accusation stung. “Joss doesn’t need you for a champion. She can take care of herself.”

“But you made her cry,” Breed persisted.

“What happens between a man and a woman—”

“You know you can be mean, North. I’ve seen you do it when you don’t like someone. When you want your way. Like King.”

North was pretty sure that was about the worst insult Breed knew to hurl at him. Breed despised King. Equating North with King was like comparing him to slime.

“You don’t always act like King,” Breed conceded when North stared at the boy, daring him to say more. To say worse.

In the end, Breed’s chin came up and he added, “But sometimes you do. Joss isn’t as strong as you or me. Don’t hurt her.”

There was more demand than plea in what the boy said. But North wasn’t about to explain or excuse himself to his maybe-brother, who was here only because he didn’t have anywhere else to go. He didn’t need a conscience. He wasn’t going to let this boy be one. Tomorrow, next week, whenever Sassy gave up on rehab and found another man to support her, Breed would be gone. He didn’t owe the boy an answer. He didn’t owe the kid a thing.

“We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow. Don’t read all night,” he said.

Then he turned on his heel and left.

The house was dark and quiet when he let himself into the kitchen. He flipped on a light and felt his throat tighten when he saw the note from Joss on the table telling him his dinner was in the fridge and giving him instructions how to warm it.

He wasn’t hungry. At least for food. He wanted Joss.

He felt a gnawing fear that she wasn’t in the house, that she’d cooked him one last supper and disappeared, that his “meanness,” as Breed had described it, had driven her away.

He headed down the hall to his bedroom, not just wanting but needing to hold her in his arms, needing to smell the flowery shampoo she used in her hair, needing to feel her warm breath against his throat.

No light showed under the bedroom door. He hesitated, his heart pounding, as he reached for the knob and quietly eased the door open. He could see her figure in the moonlight and exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

She was wearing a short white cotton sleeveless nightgown. It was his favorite. It had a little pink bow in front that was all that held the top together. One tug and the material fell away to reveal tempting flesh. She was lying on her side, one knee drawn up, her long, silky hair spread across her pillow.

North fought against the raging desire that had made him rock hard, fought against wanting—against needing, like he needed air to live—the woman lying in his bed in the dark.

And lost.

North woke suddenly, aware something was wrong. He groaned when he saw daylight through the window and rubbed his eyes. He rarely overslept. But he’d kept Joss awake half the night, and been awake himself, making love to her, dozing lightly before reaching for her again. He’d recognized his desperation for what it was, but he’d been unable to stop himself.

He knew before he looked that Joss wasn’t in bed beside him. The room felt empty. He felt bereft. He hated admitting, even to himself, the effect she had on him. But the plain truth was, the sky was bluer when she was near, and even a sunny day didn’t feel as bright when she wasn’t.

He could smell coffee. She was probably in the kitchen making breakfast. He couldn’t believe he’d slept through her shower. He felt like he was moving through deep water as he rose from the bed and headed for the shower himself.

Ten minutes later, North stopped cold in the kitchen doorway and stared. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

“Waiting for you to wake up,” Breed said. “I made coffee.”

“Where’s Joss?”

“She left.”

North felt his stomach flip-flop. He kept his voice even as he asked, “When did she leave? Where did she go?”

Breed rose and crossed to the coffeemaker, poured North a cup of coffee and shoved it into his hands. “She drove to Austin. Said she had to see someone.”

“Did she say if—when—she’ll be back?”

“You want her back?” Breed asked angrily. “You’d never know it from the way you treat her. She left in one damned big hurry this morning. What did you do to her?”

North slammed the coffee cup on the counter and jerked back when hot coffee splashed his blue chambray western shirt. He walked out without another word.

Breed ran along beside him, pestering him with questions for which North had no answers. He had no idea why Joss had left. Unless it had something to do with what had happened between them last night. But she’d never turned him away. And she’d enjoyed the slow and tender lovemaking the third time as much as she’d participated in the hunger of the first and the passion of the second.

“Where are you going?” Breed asked when North pulled open the door to his pickup.

“You’ve got chores to do,” North said. “Get to them.”

“Bring her back,” Breed shouted after him, as North gunned the engine. “Bring her back!”

North tried to imagine who Joss might need to see in Austin. Only one name came to mind.

“He’s not getting her back,” North vowed. “He had his chance and he didn’t fight for her. I’d never let a woman I loved give herself to another man.”

North realized what he’d said and made a growling sound in his throat.
I don’t love her. But she’s mine until September. And I keep what’s mine.

He went straight to the federal courthouse in Austin, because that’s where he thought Joss would have the best chance of finding Clay Blackthorne. He sat in the back of the courtroom and listened to some expert testifying about the sophistication of the bomb that had been used to destroy the federal courthouse in Houston.

His eyes searched the courtroom for Joss. He worried that he’d made a mistake when he didn’t see her. And then he did. She was sitting in the second row next to his sister and his niece. He was wondering how long it would be before the court took a break and he could talk to her, when Clay called a break for lunch, and everybody stood to allow him to leave the courtroom.

North searched the milling crowd for Joss. He watched as Libby, Kate, and Joss disappeared out a door near the bench and suspected they were headed for Clay’s chambers. The question was whether he should join them, or wait for Joss to come back out. As he headed toward the front of the courtroom, he saw there were two deputies standing on either side of the door the women had passed through. But North had spent his life confronting trouble head-on. He wasn’t about to stop now.

All Jocelyn had wanted when she’d left North’s ranch was a chance to talk with Clay alone. It hadn’t turned out to be as easy as she’d hoped. He’d been unavailable before court started for the day, so she’d found herself a seat in the second row. To her amazement, she’d been joined by an exuberant Kate Grayhawk, who was with her mother, giving Jocelyn and Libby no choice except to greet each other. Fortunately, the court session began before Jocelyn needed to say much more than hello.

Jocelyn had been surprised when Libby returned to Wyoming a month ago—alone. To North’s disgust, and her parents’ dismay, Kate had signed up for summer classes, instead of returning to Wyoming with her mother after the spring semester ended.

According to North, Kate had coaxed Libby back to Texas this weekend, in the middle of her mother’s short, busy season of guide trips, with a request to help her shop for a wedding dress.

When court recessed, Jocelyn had been swept along with Kate and Libby toward Clay’s chambers.

“We’re only going to be with Daddy for a few minutes,” Kate said. “Mom is here to help me buy a dress and plan my wedding.”

“‘I didn’t know you’d set a wedding date.”

“We haven’t yet,” Kate said airily. “We don’t have to worry about reserving a church at the last minute because we can be married at Bitter Creek any time we want. But the wedding is definitely on. Because really, when you find the love of your life, what’s the point of waiting?”

Jocelyn realized the girl was lying. She’d been to enough embassy parties to recognize the signs. The staccato speech, the nervous flicker of her eyes, and the fidgeting hands all revealed Kate was uncomfortable with her story.

Jocelyn glanced at Libby to see if she knew her daughter was prevaricating. She found a frown of concern on Libby’s brow. She didn’t think Kate—or Libby—would welcome her help but she offered it anyway. “I’d be happy to help, if there’s anything I can do.”

“There is something,” Kate piped up. “You can help me convince Mom and Daddy to come to Bitter Creek this weekend with Jack and me. Mom thinks the Blackthornes won’t want her at Bitter Creek—because of Uncle North’s buying up their stock and then just
sitting
on it, making them all wait and wonder when the ax is going to fall.”

Kate turned to Jocelyn and said, “Has North said anything to you about what he plans to do? I mean, about when—or whether—he’s going to force the Blackthornes off the ranch?”

Jocelyn was surprised to be so suddenly confronted with such a loaded question. “I can’t speak for North,” she said. “Maybe you should ask him.”

Kate grinned and shrugged. “I have. He won’t tell me. But the very fact he’s hesitated, and is holding his cards so close to the vest, must mean he’s reconsidering his options, don’t you think?”

Jocelyn laughed uncomfortably. “With North, anything is possible.”

Kate turned to her mother and said, “No one at Bitter Creek is going to be mad at you for something North hasn’t done yet.”

“I wouldn’t be comfortable just showing up without an invitation, Kate.”

“But
I’m
inviting you. And Daddy will be there.” Kate put her arm through her mother’s and said, “Aw, Mom. Come spend some time with me and Jack. It’ll be fun.”

“I’ll think about it,” Libby said.

By then they’d reached Clay’s chambers. Kate walked right into her father’s open arms and got a hug.

“You were great again, Daddy,” Kate said as she stepped back. “Overruled, overruled, overruled. I thought the defendant’s attorney was going to choke when you wouldn’t allow any of his objections to that expert witness’s testimony.”

Jocelyn watched Clay closely as he turned to greet Libby. “It’s good to have you back in Texas,” he said.

Libby smiled slightly and said “Kate didn’t give me much choice.”

Then their eyes met, and as though someone had flipped a switch, Jocelyn suddenly became uncomfortably aware of the sexual tension arcing between them.

“I know you’re not free for lunch, Daddy,” Kate said. “I just came by to see if you can get away this weekend to come down to Bitter Creek with me and Jack. And Mom.”

“Kate, I haven’t agreed to go,” Libby said.

“I’d love to come,” Clay said at the same time. Then Clay turned to Libby and said, “I hope you’ll join us, Libby.”

“Please come, Mom. Pretty please? With sugar on it?”

Libby laughed and shook her head at Kate’s juvenile antics, then met Clay’s gaze and said, “I’ve always wanted to see the Castle. Do you really think I’d be welcome?”

“You’ll be with me. I’ll run interference, if necessary.”

“All right,” Libby said. “I’ll go.”

“Great!” Kate said. “Then it’s all settled. Jack and I are driving down together. Can you give Mom a ride?” she asked her father.

“We can fly down,” Clay said, never taking his eyes off Libby.

Kate put an arm through her mother’s and tugged her toward the door. “See you tomorrow night, Daddy,” she said as the door closed behind them.

An awkward silence descended once the two Grayhawk women were gone. Jocelyn finally broke it by saying, “I’m glad to see you and Libby are on good terms.”

Clay picked up the gavel from his desk and turned it back and forth in his hands. “Yes. Well. We’ve spent a lot of nights over the past month talking about how to stop this wedding.”

Jocelyn thought they must have discussed their relationship as well, they seemed so attuned to each other. She felt a surge of relief, knowing her defection would be less painful to Clay.

She opened her mouth to confess her change of feelings toward Clay and chickened out. Instead she said, “You still don’t approve of Kate getting married?”

He pitched the gavel back onto his desk with a clatter. “No. I don’t approve. Neither does Libby.”

“Maybe you can use the time with Kate and Jack this weekend to convince them to wait.”

“Maybe,” Clay said with a rueful smile. “Kate seems pretty sure of what she wants.”

Jocelyn remembered her perception that Kate hadn’t been telling the truth when she’d rattled on about her wonderful relationship with Jack. Maybe Libby and Clay would be more successful in talking her out of this marriage than Clay thought.

“It’s nice to see you,” Clay said, interrupting her thoughts. “I have to admit I’m surprised. Where’s North?”

“You get right to the point, don’t you?” Jocelyn said.

Clay shrugged. “He made it pretty plain you were his property.”

“It isn’t like that,” Jocelyn protested. “In fact,” she said, plucking up her courage, “that’s why I came to see you.”

Clay leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms. “I’m listening.”

“I don’t want you to wait for me, Clay.”

He stood again and unfolded his arms. “I owe you—”

“That’s exactly it,” Jocelyn hurried to say. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to marry me.”

Clay took a step toward her and said, “Don’t give up on us now, Jocelyn. Just wait until September when—”

“Don’t!” Jocelyn said, cutting him off. “The truth is, my feelings have changed.” She took a breath and added, “I no longer want to marry you.”

Clay crossed to the window and looked out. “You’re in love with him,” he said flatly.

“More to the point, I’m not in love with you,” Jocelyn said. She didn’t add that she might never have been in love with him after her first infatuation, only jealous of her sister’s loving relationship with a man she’d wanted for herself. Jocelyn wasn’t proud of that realization, but she’d come to terms with it.

Clay turned to face her. “Does North know how you feel?”

“No.”

Clay made a disgusted sound in his throat. “I wasn’t kidding when I said he can’t love you. He isn’t capable of it.”

“That’s not really your problem, is it?” she said gently.

“It is if you’re ruling out any chance of us being together in the future.”

Jocelyn didn’t want to argue. So she didn’t say anything.

“What happens now?”

“You go on with your life. I go on with mine.”

“That doesn’t work for me.”

“Clay, I—”

He grasped her shoulders and said, “I want more, Jocelyn. I want what you’re offering North. I’m not going to let you walk away. I’m going to be standing right here when North gets tired of you—and he will. You’ll never be happy with him.”

“And I will be with you?” Jocelyn said heatedly. “I’m only an
obligation
to you!”

“No. No,” Clay said, pulling her into his arms and holding her close. “That’s not true.”

Jocelyn laid her head against his beating heart. She was confused. Was Clay right? Would North tire of her? He’d already tried to send her away—more than once. She leaned back and looked deep into Clay’s gray eyes, searching for the answers she sought.

And was amazed at what she found.
Hope.

She laid a palm against his cheek. “Thank you, Clay, for caring so much.”

“It’s more than—”

She put her fingertips against his lips. “No. Don’t say any more.”

“Just be careful, Jocelyn,” Clay said. “North can’t—”