Wanted: Fairy Godmother (8 page)

“Ahhh…the supervisor.”

She giggled. “That’s what I’m best at.”

“Really?” His voice took on a dark, seductive quality.

Quivers of delight rippled along her flesh. Heat licked at her, teasing her. Chancing a peek at him, Callie nearly lost her breath at the light of passion shining in his eyes.

“Tell me, Callie, do you like to supervise
everything
? Aren’t there some things that you just can’t control?”

His honey-wrapped voice brought images dancing in her mind: images of Jake and her, images so powerful they shook her to her core.

A sudden rumbling commotion in the distance grew louder.

Jake froze in his tracks. “Did you hear that?” The noise, like rolling thunder, came again. Icy, lightning-quick fear shot through his chest. “Big Red!”

“Your bull?”

Without answering, Jake clamped a hand on her wrist, tugging her along behind him as he raced out of the barn. “I need you to get the boys out of the way while I divert the bull. We’ll worry about getting him back in the pen later.”

Gasping for air, Jake spotted Les riding Big Red. The bull turned and twisted, trying to unseat his best friend. The hairs on the back of Jake’s neck stood on end at the sight.

“I thought he was loose,” Callie said, breathing hard beside him.

Reluctantly, Jake released Callie, and then turned to an approaching Gus. “What in the hell is he doing? Doesn’t he have enough sense to stay clear of Red?” He couldn’t keep the growing alarm from his voice.

“Now, Jake,” Gus said in soothing tones. “I tried to talk him out of it. Truly, I did. But the boy’s just showing off for the little filly over there.” He pointed his thumb to the opposite rail.

Jake followed the direction and cursed under his breath. Short, squat Mort Ketchum straddled the top rail and his pretty red-haired daughter, Sissy, stood transfixed beside him. “If he’s trying to kill himself and win her favor, he’s doing a damn good job of it.”

Callie moved near, brushing up against his arm, lending her unspoken support. For the first time in a long time, Jake didn’t feel completely, utterly alone. There was a woman willing to stand by his side, for
his
sake, to assist
him.
Jake clamped down on the overwhelming sensations pooling inside him and tried to concentrate on his friend.

“He’s barely hanging on,” Callie whispered under her breath.

“Hey, Jake,” Lance shouted, waving his arms in the air as he took up a place a few feet away alongside his brother. He nodded to the bull shoot nearby. “You gonna ride for us next?”

Whether the noise or the action spooked the bull, Jake couldn’t say, but the animal reared sharply, tossing Lester in the air. Instead of hitting the ground, Les dangled at the bull’s side, his gloved hand entangled in the rope.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Jake said under his breath, swiftly climbing the railing, and then vaulting over the top. The landing jarred him, but he remained in motion, quickly rushing to the irate twelve-hundred-pound bull.

Les bounced around, slapping the animal’s side as if he were nothing more than a rag doll.

Jake felt hands shoving him to his friend’s aid. He twisted around. Panic mushroomed, threatening to explode. “Callie, get out of here now!”

“No! You get Les untied while I keep the bull away from spearing you.”

He didn’t have time to argue the point. Visions of Big Red trampling Callie surfaced. Raw, consuming panic seized him. Perspiration bathed his body. A world of responsibility rested on his shoulders.

Moving quickly to Les and with careful synchronized steps, Jake zeroed in, grabbing a flopping Les with his right arm. The bull bucked, slamming his body weight into Jake. He grunted at the impact.

“Get out of here before he takes you down,” Les hollered, yanking his hand from under the tight rope. His palm came free of the glove, but his fingers stayed trapped, the twine cutting into the soft rawhide.

“I’m not leaving unless you’re with me, got it?” With an effort, Jake blocked and maneuvered away from the bull’s bucks and jerks. His Stetson flew off, sailing through the air and falling near the back of the bull. “This is gonna hurt some,” he warned, and then ripped his friend’s fingers loose.

Les muttered a colorful oath aimed at Jake.

“You can thank me later. Now hightail it out of here.” Jake shoved his friend toward the rail, and then turned to see the bull bearing down on Callie. His heart dropped to the tips of his boots.

Racing to the animal’s shoulder first, Jake rammed into the bull’s side. Big Red’s bellow of pain didn’t compare to the shaft of white-hot agony slicing through Jake. Pushing past the blinding torment, he rushed to Callie’s defense. Without thinking, he scooped her up by the waist, gripping her to his chest.

“Jake, hurry, he’s right behind us,” Callie cried in his ear as her arms tightened around his neck, smothering him in the heady scent of wildflowers.

He dashed to the rail as if Satan himself were biting at his heels. “Wrap your legs around me,” he shouted. Instantly, she obeyed.

He climbed the rail in a flash as Big Red’s hot, angry breath touched the back of his legs. After clearing the top, Jake lost his balance and toppled to the ground. He twisted in mid-air, hoping to avoid crushing her. Callie’s legs and arms went slack, her hands pushing at his shoulders just before she landed heavily on him, knocking the wind from his lungs.

The force of the impact jarred him, causing Jake to roll with her until they stopped several feet away with Callie beneath him. All her curves melded perfectly with his hard angles, accepting him.

“Are you all right?” Her voice sounded so far away.

Sucking in gulps of precious air, he could only nod, her shoulder cushioning his throbbing head. With his strength returning, Jake lifted himself so now he stared into her wide, troubled gaze.

“Did I hurt you, honey?”

She shook her head, looking dumbfounded and fighting shock.

Awe at what she’d done for him robbed him of his senses. Tenderly, he caressed her satiny cheek, and then dragged his thumb over her rosy lips. Captivated, he stopped once he came to the full middle part of her bottom lip.

He lowered his head, gently tasting her. The soft, tender flesh nearly drove him mad. Warmth engulfed Jake, warmth and stunned wonder.
She tastes like paradise.
He wished it would never end.

Suddenly, jerked back to the present and away from Callie, Jake found himself surrounded. Several pairs of hands reached out, first to haul him to his feet, and then to gingerly lift Callie.

A cacophony of voices, all jockeying to be heard, crashed down on him. One voice, high-pitched and squeaky, rose above the rest.

“Look what Big Red’s doing!”

He jerked his gaze to the pen at Lance’s request. Staring in disbelief, Jake locked gazes with the huge, snorting animal as the bull defecated in Jake’s beloved Stetson.

The sound of pots and pans clanking together caused Jake to groan as knife-like pain bolted through his skull. Rolling over on his belly, he buried his splitting head under his feather pillow. Clutching the edges to his ears, he tried to shut out the deafening racket coming from the kitchen.

The makeshift cocoon only made him more aware of the persistent throbbing in his temple.

One week of late-night poker games, indulging in beer guzzling, and shots of good Kentucky bourbon brought him to this regrettable position, he admitted ruefully, mentally kicking himself for the latest hangover. In his quest to blot out Callie and her troublesome effect on his senses, he’d only made his situation worse.

“Callie,” he whispered huskily, savoring the sound of her name on his lips. A sweet, urgent ache swept through his body.

He wanted Callie Andrews. His body knew it right from the start. But his mind shunned the obvious; he needed her to play fairy godmother. The duel played havoc on him, tearing him in two.

By nonverbal, mutual consent, Callie and he had agreed not to push the boundaries as they had with that incredible kiss. That kiss, the softest and sweetest he’d ever experienced, replayed itself. He groaned aloud, feeling her ready response all over again.

He tossed the pillow aside in disgust and turned over onto his back. Looking at the white painted ceiling, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and then dragged a hand over his stubbled jaw. Making love with Callie would ruin all his cleverly laid plans. He had to follow his gypsy soul.

With the realization that he couldn’t have her firmly planted in his mind, Jake closed his eyes. He smiled as a tantalizing daydream whispered into his mind. He caressed the silkiest skin. He followed with a sprinkling of kisses, dipping his tongue into her sexy little navel. The fantasy lady gasped sharply as he touched the taut rosebud topping her full luscious breast. Inhaling, he relished the heady scent of wildflowers.

“Wildflowers?”

The dream halted abruptly like a freeze-framed image. Scrutinizing the vision of loveliness, Jake surveyed her from toe to head. He stopped short when Callie’s beautiful, heart-shaped face came into view.

Shock sliced through Jake’s body, jarring him from his alluring apparition. “Damn woman,” he hissed between clenched teeth. “And damn wildflowers.” Breathing in deeply to quiet his boiling libido, he sniffed the acrid air.

Jake bolted upright. The snowy-white sheet dropped from his naked chest and pooled at his hips. Trying to clear the fog from his brain, he stilled, senses fully alert. “What in the world? Something’s burning!”

Jumping out of bed, Jake didn’t stop to drag on his rumpled pair of jeans. “Callie!

Following his nose, Jake rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen, his heart in his throat. He stopped dead in his tracks. Four pairs of wide eyes fastened on him.

“Jake,” Callie said. Her gaze traveled the length of him. A red blush colored her cheeks.

His abdomen tightened. His pulse beat a wild tempo.
Hadn’t she ever seen a man in his boxer briefs before?
he wondered, intrigued and turned on beyond description by her intent, hungry stare. He rubbed a hand over his chest and watched Callie’s interest peak. Her eyes widened and her lips parted slightly as her gaze followed his hand downward to his hard, flat stomach.

“Oh, no,” Lance cried, shoving a smoking frying pan under the running faucet.

A loud, lingering hiss permeated the air, along with a clinging, charred odor and a puff of gray smoke.

Perplexed, Jake thrust aside the swirling desire. “What the hell is going on in here?” He looked at a grimacing Callie for an answer.

In the last few weeks, she’d made an indelible impression on the boys, he admitted. His cousins appeared to have taken to her like a newborn calf to its mother.

A warm, family-like atmosphere prevailed, creating an unusual longing in Jake and a happy home life for the boys. So wasn’t part of her job to keep the boys out of trouble?

Callie shrugged. A sheepish grin inched up the corners of her mouth, showing off her sexy little dimple and causing his middle to clutch in want. “I’m afraid I tried to cook breakfast. As you can tell, I’m not too good at it.”

“Yet,” Marvin chimed in. “Lance is giving her lessons.”

“Isn’t that great?” Callie patted Lance on the cheek, causing a dull red flush to steal along the boy’s neck and into his face.

A knife-blade sharp stab shafted through Jake’s chest. What was happening here? His cousins clung to Callie, growing closer. They may be learning the ways of the ranch, but they also lapped up her cheery, steady big sister presence.

A family.

And he had not been a part of any of it. That stung.

But that’s not what he wanted for himself. So why did it hurt? He didn’t know the why of it. He just felt it.

“Come on, hurry up, Jake. Don’t forget you’re coming with us today,” Stan said.

Swallowing hard, Jake brushed the hurt away, not understanding it nor wanting to dissect it. He just knew he was not going to get tricked into caring any more than he already did. It would just cause more pain for all of them when he left. “On second thought, maybe you should go without me. I’ve got some more practice to get in—”

“Oh, no you don’t, Jake Lassiter,” Callie said.

“You can handle it. I know you can.” He backed out of the kitchen. “Don’t let me keep you.”

“Jake? You can’t ditch us.”

Leaving, he turned and took the stairs two at a time, putting as much distance between them as he could.

It didn’t work.

Callie was right behind him five seconds after he entered his room. She moved fast. “I’ll just be in the way,” he said, trying to dodge her. But she planted herself in front of him.

“Not true. The boys need you there.”

“It’s clothes shopping.”

“They just want to spend time with you. You’ve avoided them.” He read between the lines.
And her.

It was the truth. “You’re right.” Guilt nudged him.

“I know I am.” She smiled. It kicked him in the gut.

Jake gave in; he knew she’d never give up. How long could it take, anyway? “All right. The sooner we get this over with the better, as far as I’m concerned,” he said, trying to look anywhere but her mouth. He wanted to kiss her again. He stopped himself.

Somehow Callie’s presence weaved a magic spell around all of them, including Jake. With her skillful persistence, she’d taught the boys lessons on ranch life, cowboy lingo, and many of the things Jake had tried and failed with them.

Last night she’d talked the boys into trying a few new things: shopping for cowboy gear; short, neat haircuts; and a social life.

Today marked the first day on the road to their outward transformation. And she’d roped Jake into accepting the challenge himself. After all, she reminded him, the boys idolized him and he had to set a good example.

With a great deal of difficulty, he stomped down on his need to touch her and seized the opportunity to lay down the law as far as this transformation involved him.

“We should get some things straight. We can talk after I take a shower.”
A very cold one.
“Is that all right with you?”