Wed to the Witness (10 page)

“Then I'll enjoy myself even more.” Smoothly, he turned his hand over to grip hers. “In case you haven't noticed, I like having you around.”

She felt the same about him, Cheyenne thought. Over the past week they'd eaten meals on her small porch, dined at elegant restaurants, even shared a moonlit picnic on a beach. They'd talked for hours, about anything and everything.

The whole time, Jackson hadn't touched her. Hadn't even tried.

And each night after he'd left her, she had lain awake, staring at her bedroom ceiling, driving herself crazy wondering what it would be like if he had been there with her. The knowledge that she'd asked him to keep his distance, insisted he give her time to get to know him had done little to ease the desire that thickened round her like a spiderweb whenever he got near. Like now.

For the first time in her life, she fully understood the power—and allure—of greed. She wanted Jackson Colton, more than she had known she could ever want a man. Any man.

Even as desire tightened its grip on her senses, she felt the familiar niggling fear begin to surface. She could imagine herself trusting Jackson with her body, perhaps even her heart.

But not with her secrets.

An involuntary shudder coursed through her. What if she told him about her gift of sight, and he looked at
her as if she were crazy, as Paul had? She had no idea how deep her feelings for Jackson went, yet she knew his rejection would be devastating.

“Cheyenne, what's wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“I felt you tremble.”

“I'm fine.”

Keeping her hand firmly in his, Jackson leaned in, his eyes grave. “Have you changed your mind about me?”

She blinked. “Changed my mind?”

“Maybe you've decided Law's suspicions about me might be true. Maybe now you're afraid for me to even touch you.” Enough bite sounded in his words for her to recognize hurt.

She stared down at their joined hands, wishing she weren't so moved by the tone of his voice, by the touch of his flesh against hers. But she was. He stood beside her, handsome as sin, the bright sunlight gleaming on his dark hair while the woodsy scent of his cologne filled her lungs.

And she wanted.

She raised her eyes to meet his somber gaze. She didn't need a vision to tell her that he cared for her. “I know you're innocent, Jackson. And I'm not afraid for you to touch me.”

“You're afraid of something,” he countered quietly. “I see it in your eyes.”

“I…” She shook her head and found she could no longer resist the whisperings of her heart. No longer wanted to resist. “I want us to be together.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

“Yes.”

His gaze remained steady on hers as he tugged her
out of the crowd and away from the corral. “Let me get this straight,” he said when they were far enough away so they couldn't be overheard. “Are you saying you want us to be lovers?”

“Yes.”

“What brought this on? Why now?”

“I don't know.” She let out a long breath. “It just hit me. You took my hand in yours, and I knew.”

With his free hand he toyed with a wisp of hair that had come loose from her braid. “So, you think you know me now? You think we know each other well enough?”

“I think.” A thought hit her, along with a wave of embarrassed heat. Up until a few moments ago he hadn't touched her in nearly a week. Maybe he had decided he no longer wanted to. Maybe he just hadn't mentioned that
he'd
changed his mind. She pulled the clipboard from under her arm and hugged it to her chest like a shield. “That is, if you still want—” She gnawed her bottom lip. “Maybe you've decided you don't—”

“Not a chance.” His fingers laced with hers while his gaze flicked to the corral, then came back to her. “I don't suppose there's any way you could get away right now?”

While the shaky heat of anticipation settled in her belly, she checked her watch. It was almost noon—she needed to go by the dining hall to make sure they'd begun serving the mountains of potato salad, fried chicken, biscuits and desserts that the cooking staff had slaved over. After that, it was her responsibility to see that all the events scheduled for the afternoon started on time. And she hadn't yet had a chance to check the temporary bandstand that had been erected for that evening's dance.

She nearly groaned out loud. “I can't get away for hours,” she said, her mouth curving with regret. “I guess my timing's not the best.”

“It sucks.” He rested his forehead against hers. With that one gesture, he closed off everything in her world but him. Only he existed.

“Tonight,” he murmured. “We'll be together tonight.”

His closeness had her pulse thudding. “Yes—”

“Thought we'd never find you!” a voice boomed from behind them.

They turned in unison to find Joe and Meredith Colton standing only inches away.

“Mr. and Mrs. Colton,” Cheyenne said while heat rushed into her cheeks at the possibility they'd overheard her and Jackson's plans. “Welcome to Hopechest Ranch. I'm glad you could make it.”

“Joe and Meredith.” From beneath the brim of his Stetson, the older man beamed at Cheyenne and gave her arm a squeeze. “The only time I ever missed a Hope-chest competition was during the years I served in the Senate and lived in D.C.” Turning to Jackson, he gripped his nephew's hand in a hearty handshake. “You doing okay, son?”

“Things are looking up,” Jackson said, then gave Cheyenne a wink that sent her heart whacking around in her chest.

Pulling in a breath, she forced her thoughts away from lust and to the couple who'd joined them. The Colton family patriarch had dressed for the day in an unassuming plaid shirt, worn jeans and scuffed boots. His wife had opted for skintight designer jeans that highlighted her lean, leggy figure. Tooled black boots covered her feet; her yellow silk blouse sported silver trim that
matched the band on her white-as-snow hat. A small leather purse hung from a silver chain looped across one shoulder. Diamond studs the size of gumdrops glittered coldly at her earlobes.

Her blond hair slid behind one angular shoulder as Meredith shifted her attention toward the corral. “We'd barely been here fifteen minutes when Teddy and Joe, Jr. dashed off. That was ages ago. Have either of you seen them?”

“Sorry,” Jackson answered.

Cheyenne ran her tongue around her teeth. “Actually, I ran into them earlier behind the pole barn.”

Using a red-tipped nail, Meredith slid her designer sunglasses down her nose and gave Cheyenne a look over the tops. “I'm almost afraid to ask what my boys were doing
behind
the pole barn.”

“Nothing dastardly,” Cheyenne answered. “Just teaching Priscilla Cooper how to make noises with her armpit.”

“Hell's teeth.” Meredith rolled her eyes, then shoved her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “I can't let them out of my sight for a minute.”

Joe shook his head. “Sweet thundering Jesus, Meredith, they're just being boys!”

“That's right, Aunt Meredith,” Jackson commented. “You remember what you did when you caught Rand and me doing the same thing.”

Cheyenne saw a look cross the woman's face, a quick shadow, that cleared instantly. “Of course I remember. Cheyenne, do you have any idea where Joe, Jr. and Teddy are now?”

“I sent them over to the kids' area near the dining hall.” While she spoke, Cheyenne was pointedly aware that Jackson's gaze had narrowed on his aunt's face.
“Sophie, River and some of the Hopechest counselors are in charge of the three-legged races. There's also milking, roping and greased pig contests for the kids. I'm sure Joe, Jr. and Teddy have found plenty there to keep them busy.”

“No doubt. I'm going to check just to make sure.” Meredith looked at her husband. “Coming, darling?”

“I'll catch up with you later.” Joe glanced at Jackson. “Right before we left the house I got a call from your dad. He and your mother are coming in this evening to spend a couple of days with us. Graham has some business to discuss. I know you're officially on a leave of absence, but I need to go over a few details with you before I talk to him.”

Jackson nodded. “Sure.”

“See you later, then.” Meredith turned and sauntered off down the gravel path that led to the dining hall.

“She doesn't remember,” Jackson said almost to himself.

“Doesn't remember what?” Cheyenne asked while his gaze tracked his aunt.

“That day Aunt Meredith found Rand and me in the backyard, making noises with our armpits. She thought what we were doing was so hilarious that she had us teach her our technique.”

Only after Meredith moved out of sight did Jackson meet Cheyenne's gaze. “She and Rand and I have joked with each other about that day off and on over the years. There's no way she could have forgotten about it. But she has. You could see it in her face.”

“The accident,” Joe said. “She's never been the same since she and Emily were in that car wreck.”

“No.” Jackson angled his head. “I guess not.”

Joe raised a shoulder. “That's not something I want
to think about today.” He looked back at Cheyenne and smiled. “Mind if I steal my nephew for a while?”

“Go ahead.” She looked up at Jackson. “I need to go by the dining hall.” She flipped a page on her clipboard. “I've got a ton of other things to check after that.”

“You're one busy lady,” Joe commented. His gaze shifted in the direction of the corral. “There's Emmett and Blake Fallon. I haven't seen Emmett in a while. Guess I ought to visit with him, see how he's enjoying retired life.”

“Go ahead, Uncle Joe,” Jackson said. “I'll catch up with you in a few minutes.”

“Take your time, son,” Joe said, then gave Cheyenne a wink before striding off.

“Alone at last.” As he spoke, Jackson nodded in the direction of a nearby towering oak. “Want to meet there about half an hour before the target shooting competition? We can walk over to the range together.”

“That sounds good.”

He curled a finger under Cheyenne's chin, nudged it up. “There's one other thing I want you to plan on.”

“What's that?”

“Save me every dance tonight,” he said quietly, then dipped his head. His lips brushed hers, as light as a wish. “After that, I'm going to take you home and make love with you. All night.”

 

Patsy clenched her trembling hands into fists as she made her way along the gravel path that led to the ranch's dining hall. Inside her, desperation rose like floodwater. She hadn't known what the hell Jackson was referring to. Didn't have a clue how Meredith had re
acted when she'd found him and Rand years ago making noises with their armpits. Armpits!

Behind the oversize lenses of her sunglasses she kept her eyes straight ahead, nodded only slightly to people coming the opposite way along the path. She didn't want to talk to anyone,
couldn't
talk right now. Not while she felt so vulnerable. So alone.

She needed to think.

She dragged in air, but couldn't seem to get enough in her lungs. Years ago, when she had assumed her twin sister's identity, she had handled anything and everything that had come along. References to the past hadn't knocked her off-balance. Only lately had she begun experiencing the ice-pick jabs of panic in her chest that she felt now.

Pulling her purse off her shoulder, she dug inside, fished out the small gold case and opened its lid; her hands shook so badly she almost fumbled the pills it held onto the path. She'd recently discovered one Valium was no longer enough to calm her nerves, so she popped two into her mouth and swallowed them dry.

On impulse, she veered off the path, forcing her trembling legs to carry her into the small clearing she spotted behind towering redwoods. There, she dropped onto one of several large rocks that had been pushed together to form a rustic bench. She gave scant notice to the swatch of colorful wildflowers that spread across the floor of the clearing.

She could still feel Jackson's eyes on her, looking down in a way that sent the message she wasn't being looked at, but into. His gray gaze had been like a cold wave against her flesh. What did he know? Something about Emily?

Patsy closed her eyes against a rising sense of panic
that made breathing almost impossible. She had covered her tracks, she told herself. No one—including Jackson—knew that she'd hired the man who had broken into Emily's bedroom that night. If only Silas Pike hadn't bungled the hit. If only Emily hadn't gotten away and now was who-knew-where, living on the lam.

The unfairness of it all rose inside her, swamping Patsy's mind. What if the nightmares Emily had suffered since the accident finally revealed the answers that had been locked for the past ten years inside the little bitch's head? What if Emily realized her image of seeing “two mommies” was no image? What if she remembered she'd actually witnessed Patsy and Meredith together? What if Emily suddenly recalled seeing Patsy dump an injured, unconscious Meredith on the grounds of the clinic?

What if? What if?

For a moment, the shapes and colors in the small clearing seemed to shift out of sync. Patsy felt droplets of sweat break out on her skin. For the millionth time she cursed herself for not having finished things after she'd run Meredith's car off the road. If she had killed Meredith and Emily, she'd be free and clear. Instead, here she was, desperate to hold on to the cushy lifestyle she'd created for herself and her two sons. A lifestyle all of her senses screamed she was in danger of losing. She
had
to find Meredith. And Emily. She could feel them out there, hostile eminences. They deserved to die.
Had
to die.