"Caitlan?"
"Go away, J.T.," she said wearily. "I'll be downstairs in a bit."
Okay, he deserved that. He almost turned away, but a streak of stubbornness held him there. Testing the knob, he found it unlocked and slowly opened the door and looked inside.
She sat on the bed, knees pulled up under the covers, drawing on that pad of paper she coveted. Her hand stilled and she glanced up, but she didn't glare at him as he'd expected her to. Like he wished she would, so he wouldn't feel like such an ass. No, her features were delicately somber, her violet eyes wide and glossy. The bedside lamp haloed her dark tousled hair, and he detected a faint smudge of weariness beneath her bottom lashes. She looked extremely vulnerable, and achingly beautiful.
A sudden emptiness consumed him, leaving him emptier and more desolate than ever. As he held Caitlan's gaze, something elemental shifted within him, making him too susceptible to this woman who'd intrigued him from the very first. He denied his growing feelings for Caitlan, that he was coming to care for her in a way that he hadn't cared for anyone in a long time. She made him feel, and he couldn't afford to. Besides, she'd only get hurt.
Pushing aside the tenderness and warmth crowding their way into his heart, he stepped inside her room without an invitation and shut the door quietly, wanting privacy for their discussion.
She returned her attention back to her drawing, the tip of her pencil scratching across the paper. "What do you want, J.T.?"
You. The word came without provocation; it was the absolute truth. All he wanted at that moment was to strip off his clothes and hers, push her back on the bed, and sink deep inside her, losing himself in her damp softness and heat. He wanted to see passion and desire flare in her eyes, wanted to experience again those ripples of pleasure that clutched him when she reached that crest.
He'd been right: once with her wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. God, he hated this weakness he had for her.
Business, Rafferty, he reminded himself. Walking to the side of her bed, he braced his shoulder against the wall, silently vowing he wouldn't touch her again.
He cleared his throat of the thick need gathering there. "We need to talk about what happened earlier."
She tensed but didn't look up at him. Instead, her pencil increased in tempo-quick, short, abrupt strokes slashing across the page. "I'd rather not."
He leaned forward slightly to get a look at what she was drawing but she held the pad at such an angle that he couldn't make out the sketch. "I'm not giving you a choice, Caitlan. I didn't protect you."
Finally, she glanced at him, confusion darkening her eyes. "Protect me?"
Damn. She couldn't be that innocent! "Yeah, I didn't use a condom, so what I want to know is if you're on some kind of birth control. The last thing I want is for you to end up pregnant. I don't think you'd want that either."
She blushed at his bluntness and averted her gaze back to her pad. "Don't worry about it, J.T.," she said quietly.
A shaft of white-hot jealousy lanced through him when he thought of her on contraceptives for some other man. He should have let the subject drop, but a possessiveness he had no right to feel provoked him into pressing for more answers. "So you're on some form of birth control then?"
His tenacity earned him a sharp look from her. Then a raw pain flickered in the depth of her eyes. "No. I can't get pregnant."
Shock rippled through J.T. Her confession momentarily stunned him speechless. When he recovered he silently berated himself for being so callous. "I'm sorry, Caitlan. I didn't mean to be so insensitive. It's just that…" He shoved his fingers through his shower-damp hair, now wishing he'd never broached this subject with her. "It's just that after what happened with Stacey I don't care to make the same mistake twice."
"I understand," she said softly, flipping her sketch pad closed. "But there's nothing for you to worry about."
He should have been relieved by her reassurance, but the sadness lingering in her gaze touched a chord within him. She wanted children, he realized, but for some reason couldn't have them. The thought made him ache for her.
She opened the nightstand drawer and put her pencil and pad inside. "If you're done, I'd like you to leave so I can get dressed."
No, he wasn't done. He didn't like being dismissed, and he liked even less the sensation of something still unresolved between them. Unable to get a firm grasp on what that something was, he gave her a curt nod and crossed to the door, then let himself out of her bedroom.
As soon as J.T. left, Caitlan sagged against her pillow and closed her eyes, willing away the dull twinge in her chest. Her hand absently strayed to her flat abdomen. A baby. J.T.'s baby. The thought filled her with such a sweet sorrow she wanted to weep for all the things that could never be. Where had all this longing come from?
The answer eluded her.
Freshly showered and changed into a pair of jeans and a pink sweatshirt, Caitlan went downstairs to the kitchen, prepared to face J.T. again. Except he wasn't sitting at his usual spot, eating breakfast and drinking coffee. Dirty breakfast dishes were stacked by the side of the sink, along with a platter of leftover scrambled eggs, sausage, and pancakes. Paula stood by the counter next to the sink tenderizing a roast, engrossed in her task. The clock above the kitchen window read five-thirty in the morning. Where were the men?
Drawing a deep breath for calm, Caitlan pasted on her best smile. "Good morning, Paula." Stopping at the coffeepot, she reached into the cupboard and brought down a mug, then filled it with the steaming brew. This morning a double shot of caffeine would be just the ticket.
Paula glanced over her shoulder, smiling brightly. "Oh, good morning, Caitlan. I didn't hear you come in." She gave the meat a few more whacks with the mallet. "J.T. mentioned you were awake and would be down shortly. You're quite an early riser."
Caitlan shrugged, aware of the other woman's scrutiny. "Habit, I guess."
Paula nodded. "I know how that is. My body has its own natural alarm clock built in too." She placed the meat into a roasting pan and added peeled carrots and potatoes. "Sleep well?"
Startled by the question, Caitlan slopped a dollop of cream over the rim of her mug. Grabbing a paper towel, she soaked up the mess. "Uh, yes. Just fine." She hadn't slept a wink.
"Didn't seem like J.T. did," Paula commented, her lips pursed in disapproval. "That man had the temperament of a provoked bear this morning. Even his usual cup of coffee didn't help."
Smiling blandly, Caitlan leaned her hip against the counter and took a sip of coffee. I guess I bring out the best in him, she wanted to reply sarcastically but kept her thoughts private.
"We had a long day at Debbie's yesterday, and he was up late last night," she said as an excuse. Both accounts were true, the latter most likely being J.T.'s reason for being so grouchy. But he'd been the one to follow her into the barn, then seduce her in the early hours of the morning…
And you welcomed every one of his kisses and heated caresses.
"Did you have a nice time?"
Jarred from her intimate thoughts by Paula's question, Caitlan stared at the older woman, wondering if she somehow knew what had transpired between her and J.T. "You mean at Debbie's?"
"Of course." Paula frowned at her as she rolled out a slab of dough for biscuits. "What did you think I meant? Did you go somewhere else I don't know about?"
Just paradise, Caitlan thought. Sheer, unadulterated paradise. But she wasn't about to divulge that information to Paula. "No, we didn't go anywhere else, and yes, we had a nice time." Before she could put her foot in her mouth any further, she asked, "Where's J.T.?"
Paula dusted flour on the rolling pin and continued spreading the dough. "He left about fifteen minutes ago. You just missed him."