She stared at him for long seconds, then reached up and touched his jaw, her brows drawn in a contemplative frown. "Your heart is bruised," she said so softly he almost didn't hear her.
Her see-through-him gaze seared his soul. Hardening himself against the tug-of-war with his emotions, he forced a harshness to his voice. "It's completely shattered, Caitlan. I lost any softness or tenderness long ago. If you let me, I'll take and take and give nothingin return. I have nothing to give, so don't get it into your foolish head that you're just the woman to repair my heart. And don't make the mistake of thinking my desire for you is something more; you'll only get yourself hurt. I have nothing left to give a woman, Caitlan. Any woman."
She shook her head, wisdom lighting her eyes. "I don't believe that."
"Believe what you want, but consider yourself warned." He rolled completely off her and let his gaze take in the disheveled length of her, then noticed she was looking at that traitorous part of him still eager to consummate what they'd started.
Leaning close, he made sure she didn't miss the warning in his tone. "I'm about two seconds from stripping you naked and easing this ache of mine, so I suggest you leave while I'll still let you." He ran his fingers purposely up her thigh, and she jackknifed into a sitting position. Grimly, he said, "Go, Caitlan. Now!"
He watched as she slid from the bed and bolted from the room as if the devil was on her heels.
Caitlan closed the door to the guest bedroom and leaned against the slab of wood for support, her legs trembling in a series of gentle aftershocks. Heaven help her, she could still feel the imprint of J.T.'s hard body pressing into hers, could still taste the sleepy warmth and male earthiness of him in her mouth. Flattening her palms to her burning cheeks, she tried to calm the fine tremors running the length of her body.
In the darkness, she felt the damp material of her shirt where he'd suckled her nipple to an aching peak. The pleasure he'd given her at that moment had been so intense, her desire for him nearly overwhelming, she'd wanted to drown in the exquisite sensations. A dart of heat shot to her abdomen when she thought how his mouth and hands brought a part of her to life, real life, and how she'd craved more contact and deeper, more intimate touches. As her body blossomed with each kiss and bold caress, a deeper need had settled in, pulling her under and opening herself to him, physically and emotionally. Powerfully. Her soul felt the rightness of the connection, yearned for a joining that tugged at her heart. She'd almost given in…
And then the purpose for being at J.T.'s ranch wove through her mind, jolting her past the passion clouding her judgment and thrusting her back to her responsibilities as a guardian angel-none of which included making love with her ward. Thank goodness J.T. had let her go. But not until after a lecture from him, a warning she'd be smart to heed. For his sake as well as her own.
Feeling more stable, Caitlan walked across the room and pulled back the covers on the bed and slipped between the sheets. Lying there, she stared at the ceiling, replaying J.T.'s words in her mind. I have nothing left to give echoed in her head and brushed across the surface of her heart. And why did she want to be the one to give him joy again?
"Oh, Caitlan, your thoughts are futile," she whispered to herself. "You know you can't allow this attraction to interfere with your mission. How would you explain that mess to the Superiors?"
Rolling to her side, she tucked her hands beneath her pillow, deciding the best course of action would be to act as if tonight had never happened when she next saw J.T. A dry laugh escaped her. Wish for a mortal life while you're at it, Caitlan. There was no way in heaven she could forget the shameless way her body had responded to his, that a look from him could make her breathless with sensual anticipation.
Her groan of dismay broke the silence in the room. She was here to protect J.T., but who would protect her from this forbidden desire she had for him?
Chapter Five
Blinking irritably at the heavy, burning sensation in his eyes, compliments of a sleepless night invaded with erotic dreams of Caitlan, J.T. headed toward the kitchen for breakfast the following morning. The heavy scent of bacon and coffee, mingled with the sweeter aroma of Paula's delicious pancakes, provoked a rumble of hunger from his stomach. He needed food and coffee, then a fast run on Quinn to take the edge off his strung-out nerves.
J.T. stopped short when he walked across the threshold, his gaze riveted to the one woman he'd thought to avoid by getting up this early. Caitlan.
He felt like hell, knew he looked like hell, and to compound his ire, she sat at the end of the table looking as refreshed as a daisy after a spring rain-as if she had had a good eight hours of sleep under her belt. At five in the morning, for chrissakes! She should have looked a little wilted!
Her silky hair swung about her shoulders as she glanced at him. A slight smile curved her mouth. "Good morning," she said cheerfully.
Despite her attempt to be amiable, he detected the guardedness in her eyes. A look of uncertainty that said she wasn't sure she wanted to get too close to him. Good. After last night he wanted her to stay the hell away from him. The further, the better.
"Morning," he muttered. Crossing to the coffeepot, he poured himself a cup of the brew, then carried it to his regular seat at the table, across from Caitlan. Settling himself on the bench, he glanced around. "Where's Paula?"
"In the pantry," Caitlan replied, concentrating on the task of slathering strawberry jam on her toast.
"Breakfast will be on the table in a sec," Paula called. The sound of canned goods being shuffled from the shelves drifted out of the walk-in pantry. "Frank and Kirk are on their way up."
"That's fine." Taking a long swallow of coffee, J.T. studied Caitlan. She wouldn't look at him, acted as though he wasn't there. Her indifference annoyed him because he was all too aware of her.
She stood and went to refill her mug with coffee, offering him an unobstructed head-to-toe view. He recognized the thigh-length beige cable-knit sweater she wore over her jeans as Debbie's, and was grateful for the concealing and bulky top. He knew she had curves, had felt every one of them last night, and wanted no visual reminder of how lush her body really was.
She returned, and he took another drink of his coffee, parading his thoughts in a different direction. "What are you doing up so early?"
Grabbing the sugar container, she poured a long stream into her coffee, added a splash of cream, and stirred. "I couldn't sleep."
"Join the club." He watched her take a bite of her toast and lick a smudge of jam from her thumb, unaffected by his dry comment. Dammit, look up at me! After a reassuring glance to confirm that Paula was still busy in the pantry, he said in a low voice only Caitlan could hear, "I couldn't sleep probably because I'm not in the habit of receiving late-night visitors."
Her gaze flew to his, the violet depths smoky with awareness. He smiled, a measure of wicked satisfaction rushing through him at the telltale flush sweeping across her cheeks. He waited in anticipation for her rebuttal, but before she could reply they were interrupted.
"Don't mind J.T.," Paula said, bustling back into the kitchen, her arms full holding a container of dried noodles and a sack of potatoes. "A cup of strong coffee usually takes the grizzly out of him. Our J.T. isn't much of a morning person." She cast him a fond smile over her shoulder before unloading her staples onto the counter.
No, he wasn't much of a morning person, J.T. thought, staring at Caitlan's amused expression. Especially since wakening with an arousal so painfully hard it had taken a cold shower in order for him to zip up his jeans. And it was her fault. Even after she'd left his bed last night the scent and warmth of her lingered, haunting him and his dreams.