Sandra Steffen - McKenna's Bartered Bride

He killed the radio and drove back into town in silence, his agitation mom prickly than ever. The first thing he noticed when he pulled into the alley that ran behind the buildings on the east side of Main Street was the shiny red truck parked near Josie’s back stairs. The second thing he noticed was the light in the window overlooking the alley. Had they just gotten back? Or had they just turned on the light?

Jake pulled into the shadows behind the Crazy Horse Saloon. Strumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he told himself he was only there to make sure O’Grady brought Josie home safe and sound.

He turned off the engine and heaved a deep sigh. He was no better at lying to himself than he was at lying to anybody else.

He and Rory had always been rivals. Jake didn’t know how it had started, but he distinctly remembered the day it had come to a head. He and Rory had both been twelve. They’d buried Jake’s brother a few weeks earlier, and Jake was feeling surly. Mrs. Fergusson had just announced that parents’ night was coming up. Rory had leaned over and whispered, “Guess your mother won’t wanna leave her rich boyfriend down in Texas to come. My father says a woman who takes money for sex is a whore whether she’s on a street corner or in a penthouse.”

Jake had gotten a week’s detention for breaking Rory’s nose. Neither of them had ever apologized, and they’d never been friends since.

Rory O‘Grady had always been cocky and arrogant and conceited. But he wasn’t an ax murderer or a rapist. The O’Gradys were braggarts, not bad people, annoying, but not evil. Jake peered at the lit window, uncomfortable, because that meant he couldn’t pretend that he was hiding in the shadows out of some noble responsibility to make sure Josie was safe. He couldn’t even blame it on his aversion to coming in second. Okay, part of it might have been jealousy. Most of it was Josie. That was where it got complicated. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his head ever since he’d heard her laugh. For crying out loud, he’d found himself saying her name every time he thought about those hundred acres over by Sugar Creek. It was almost as if someone was tampering with his thoughts.

Catching a movement out of the corner of his eye, he turned his head just as Rory ambled down the steps. He was whistling, but his steps didn’t appear any more jaunty than usual. Jake took that as a good sign.

While Rory got in his truck and drove away, Jake tried to decide what to do. There wouldn’t be any harm in sauntering on up to her place and saying hello. Jake peered around. The voice had been in his head, but it hadn’t sounded like his conscience. It was the damnedest thing. But it wasn’t a bad idea.

Maybe he and Josie could talk awhile. Maybe she would laugh again.

He eased out of the truck, looked all around and set off for the stairs. His tread was light, and a pleasant breeze wafted through his shirt as he raised his fist and knocked softly on the glass.

Josie was smiling when she opened the door. He could hardly blame her smile for slipping away. His arrival was a surprise.

“Evening, Josephine.”

“Jake!”

He noticed how nice she looked in her light green dress. “Nice night,” he said.

“Yes, I guess it is.” Her eyes were shining and her lips formed another smile, this one for him. It was amazing, the way she made smiling look so easy. She appeared to have had a good time with Rory. She didn’t, however, appear to have been kissed. It was a shame, too, because she had such a kissable mouth.

He would never know what made him swoop down, covering her mouth with his. Her lips parted on a gasp. He brought his hand to her face, threading his fingers through her hair. His mouth moved over hers even as he tipped her head back, deepening the kiss, her surprise slowly turning into pleasure. A soft groan sounded in her throat, and her lips opened beneath his. Lord, she tasted sweet, her lips moist and warm and giving.

Her fingertips fluttered to the back of his hand, brushing his knuckles. Her hand was small, her touch soft, her kiss so heady it was as if something that had been tightly coiled deep inside him was starting to unravel. Ah, Jake thought. He’d been too long without a woman.

Josie knew she should open her eyes, but she lacked the strength. All she could do was strain toward Jake’s warmth. One second his kiss was as tender and light as the summer breeze. The next it was deep and searing, lingering, savoring, devouring. She’d been kissed a thousand times, but she’d never been kissed quite like this.

Tom’s mouth had always become softer as he’d kissed her. There was nothing soft in this kiss. It was possessive, demanding, the tiniest bit savage. It made her feel naughty, and nice, and young, and free. And very, very single.

Shock ran through her, and she drew back, her eyes finally opening. Jake’s fingers were still tangled in her hair, his lips still wet from her kiss, his eyes clouded with passion. Her heart was hammering wildly, foolishly. “Wh-why did you do that?”

He took his time drawing away, letting his fingers comb through her hair. “There are sparks between us.”

“Spaf—Jake,” she said, feeling guilty. “What are you doing here?”

She’d called him Jake. She hadn’t intended to, but it had just slipped out. After that kiss, she didn’t see how she would be able to call him Mr. McKenna again.

While she was trying to regain her equilibrium, his gaze probed hers, then strayed to her mouth. “I didn’t plan this. The kiss, I mean. I wanted to see you, talk to you. May I come in, Josephine?”

She was feeling a little off-kilter and thought about telling him it was late. She was tired. But then she caught sight of his expression, at his lips that seemed so unaccustomed to smiling and the crease in one lean cheek, and she didn’t have the heart to turn him away. Drawing in a shaky breath, she gestured him inside.

It was very gentlemanly of him to remove his hat, but she thought it was at odds with the man, because there was nothing gentle about Jake McKenna. Not the way he looked, not the way he moved, certainly not the way he’d kissed her. He wasn’t like any other man she’d ever met.

“You wanted to talk to me?” she asked, averting her gaze.

“I find myself in a very precarious situation,” he said quietly.

She took a deep breath and let it all out “Precarious situations are best discussed sitting down.” Moving past him, she led the way to the sofa.

He lowered his frame into a threadbare, but cozy, overstuffed chair she’d picked up for a song when she’d first moved to South Dakota. It looked smaller with him in it. Her entire apartment felt smaller with him in it She tried to figure out why. He was tall, yes, but no seven-footer. His shoulders were broad, yet he was lean, his waist narrow, his arms and legs muscular. Her gaze strayed to his hands. Forget faces or physiques. It was a man’s hands she always paid attention to the most. After all, it was a man’s hands that put out fires, swung a hammer, wielded a rope, stroked a woman’s body.

And Jake McKenna had the most amazing hands. They were work roughened, right down to the tips of his long, slightly crooked fingers. There was strength in those hands. She wondered if there was gentleness, too.

Forget it, she told herself. She didn’t need to know why he made her apartment seem smaller. She had to put an end to this breathlessness, this feeling of wonder. She would hear Jake out, and then she would send him on his way.

“Does this have anything to do with the reading of your father’s will?” she asked.

His chin moved only a fraction of an inch. It was enough to alert her to his surprise.

“What do you know about my father’s will?”