Janelle Denison - Heaven's Gift aka Kiss of an Angel

"No."

The word was spoken with such finality, Caitlan automatically thought the worst. "Did your wife die?"

His gaze cut to hers, a sardonic smile on his lips. "No, she left me for something better and more exciting."

Caitlan's cheeks grew warm. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he replied, bitterness seeping into his deep voice. "It was for the best. She's been gone almost ten years."

His tone was cold and harsh and didn't welcome further scrutiny of his ex-wife. Casting a glance at the chiseled lines of his profile, she noticed the grim set of his mouth and the deep furrow of his brow. Both belied his attempt to remain unconcerned about the topic. "Don't you ever get… lonely? I mean, not having a wife and all?"

"No. I have Laura."

His pace picked up, forcing Caitlan to quicken hers to stay by his side. "That's not what I meant."

"The only thing I miss is a warm body to share my nights with. Sex , Caitlan." His jaw hardened and he shot her a scathing look. "Other than that, I don't have any use for a wife. And my personal life is really none of your business."

She glanced away. He was right, of course. Meddling in his affairs wasn't on her heavenly agenda, yet she found it odd he didn't want the intimacy and love that flowed between a man and a woman. Such emotion seemed to be the ultimate aspiration of most mortals.

An arctic gust kicked up, slicing through the warm sunshine to maliciously steal the warmth from their bodies. She shivered and watched J.T. flip the collar of his jacket around his neck to ward off the brisk breeze. Shoulders hunched, he tucked his hands into the lined pockets. The wind tugged at his hair, tousling the thick strands around his bent head. He seemed so much the loner, suddenly distant and remote, yet the glimpses of sincerity she'd seen told her he was a compassionate man who deserved the love of a good woman.

"I've never met anyone who didn't want to share his life with someone," she said quietly, more to herself than to him.

He heard her and met her gaze. "The person I wanted to share my life with died, Caitlan. I've never wanted anyone but her." The desolation in his eyes made his words that much more profound.

Instinctively, Caitlan knew the woman he spoke of was his eternal soulmate. But didn't J.T. realize he could find another to love while waiting for the woman of his heart? He only needed to allow himself the emotion to live out his years happily. "You could still be happy with someone else-"

Slicing a hand through the air, he cut her off, slanting her a look of disgust. "Don't tell me you're one of those females who believes in fairy tales and happily-ever-after."

"Well, yes, I believe everyone has a soulmate, and what's more-"

He interrupted her again. "I hate to be the one to burst the bubble you've been living in, little girl, but Cinderella and Prince Charming only exist in books. And 'soulmates' went out with the seventies."

His subtle insult made her bristle. "I'm hardly a little girl."

Stride slowing to a leisurely pace, he slid his gaze over her, lazily, thoroughly, making her feel as though he'd physically caressed the length of her with his hands. Heat suffused her body, making it difficult to put one foot in front of the other without wondering if her legs would hold out or turn to mush. She felt as if she was melting, which was ridiculous, considering the windchill factor. By the time he finished his inspection and had the good manners to lift his gaze from the vicinity of her breasts, she knew she was in big trouble.

"Pardon me, Ms. Daniels," he replied in a silky drawl that stroked over her senses and tickled her belly. "You're absolutely right. I take that back. You're very much a woman. Built quite nicely, I might add." A wicked, unrepentant grin curved his lips. "However, your philosophy on love is right along the mentality of my daughter's. She thinks everything is hearts and flowers. She's just discovering boys, so I can understand her romantic notions."

What could she say to top that? Nothing, so she didn't try. Once her mission with J.T. was over, she was going to discuss his single status with her Superiors. Surely there was someone for him.

They walked into a channel between two grassy knolls. The sun struggled to break through the canopy of trees surrounding them and failed.

A shiver chased down her spine. "It's getting cold. Where are we?"

"We're still on Rafferty land. I'm taking a short cut to the main ranch road." He rubbed his forehead, frowning. "Just keep walking. It'll keep you warm and your blood pumping."

"Don't you want to stop and rest?" He looked tired, and she wouldn't be surprised if his head was throbbing. "Maybe have a drink of water and some beef jerky?"

He briefly glanced at the knapsack. "No. I want to get back to the house as soon as possible."

"Your head-"

"Is fine. I'll let you know if I need a break."

How am I suppose to take care of him and protect him when he won't let me ? "Fine," she replied, deciding to play the game by his rules. "Just don't pass out on me, because I refuse to drag you back to the shack."

He chuckled softly, and Caitlan decided she loved the deep, rumbly sound. "I promise," he said.

The path they followed narrowed, the grass tapering to dirt and rocks. Unexpectedly, he grabbed her hand, enveloping her fingers in his. "Be careful; it's a little rough through here."

Caitlan stumbled over a cluster of small rocks, unsure if her balance had been knocked off kilter by the terrain or by the man whose hand held hers with such gentleness and care. As she careened toward him, his other hand shot out to steady her, landing on the swell of her hip. Shocked to the tips of her toes by the current of heat spreading where his fingers pressed into her flesh, she dropped the knapsack. The bag fell to the ground at her feet with a muted thump. Catching her breath, she stared into his eyes, watching as the orbs darkened in slow, tempered degrees.

The unusual connection she'd felt to this man earlier stirred within her, a bond so deep it shook her to the core of her being. A warm ripple of excitement teased her body. What is happening to me ? she wondered. Why do I feel this way ?

"Hey, you okay?"

Snapped from her daze by his concern, she pushed the disturbing thoughts aside for another time. "Um, yes. I should have paid more attention to where I was going." Then, ensnared by his gaze, she said the silliest thing. "Your eyes remind me of fresh moss dusted with gold."

"Like the moss that grows on the rocks in the stream?" His palm slowly slid from her hip to the indentation of her waist beneath the jacket she wore.

She managed a nod, her throat too dry to speak.

"How flattering." His voice was low and husky and full of a playful charm Caitlan suspected he didn't use very often. He stared at her as if seeing someone else, and the hard edge of his jaw softened. "And your eyes remind me of…" He caught what he'd been about to say and gave his head a slight shake, as if dislodging the thoughts in his mind.

Sorrow flickered in his eyes and, strangely, Caitlan felt his sadness as if it were her own. She didn't understand its source, and as she reached out to touch his face and offer what comfort she could, he saw her intent. Abruptly, he let her go and stepped away. Wrapping her arms around her stomach, she tried to sort through the upheaval of rampant emotions in her. But how did she begin to understand something so powerful and foreign in her experience as a guardian angel?

J.T. bent down and picked up the knapsack, still unable to believe he'd almost told Caitlan her eyes reminded him of lush violets. How incredibly stupid and sappy. Damn. He'd wanted her to touch him in the worst way, but he knew if she did, he'd go up in smoke and take her with him.