Nevada Heat (11 page)

"Don't 'ma'am' me!" Her index finger jabbed at him. “I heard it all. And I believed it!" Her mouth worked furiously and the anger in her eyes was softened by a sheen of tears that she refused to let fall. "But no more. And not Miranda!"

Jesus! What the hell kinda town was this? No killers allowed… pregnant women… a woman boss with a bald mountain for a bodyguard… played out gamblers and worn-out whores and now a she devil about ready to tear his heart out for something that happened to her long before he got there!

"Lady…"

”I ain't no lady neither. Just a woman." She leaned toward him, her chest heaving, eyes narrowed. “But, mister, I make you a promise here and now. You do anything to hurt Miranda" — she paused and looked him square in the eye — “and I swear I will shoot you stone dead."

Jesse's jaw dropped. As she pushed past him he stepped aside quickly. She crossed the narrow street and was swallowed up almost instantly by the rain. Still dumbfounded by what had happened, Jesse jumped when someone else spoke up from behind him.

"Ain't she somethin'?"

Dave stared off after her, an admiring smile on his face.

"She is that." Jesse just wasn't sure what.

"That woman's got more fire than anything I ever seen before. 'Magine her sayin' she'd shoot ya!"

The man looked proud. Jesse shook his head. "Mister, I believe her."

Dave grinned at him. "Shoot, son, so do I. That's why I mean to have her. Who the hell wants some mealy mouthed woman that's all the time afraid to say what she thinks?"

"It'd be some safer than livin' with a woman who'd just as soon shoot ya!"

"Yeah." Dave's eyebrows quirked. "But not near as excitin'." He moved toward the edge of the boardwalk. “I'll see ya, Jes. Got to make sure she gets home all right."

"Hell, who'd bother a woman like that?" Jesse smiled.

"Only me, I reckon." Dave chuckled and jumped into the rain. "And that's just how I like it."

Jesse watched the other man set off after Shelly and felt a wave of jealousy rush through him. He glanced over his shoulder toward the saloon and found himself wishing that he could go after the woman he wanted as easily.

Then he told himself he was being foolish. Between Birdwell and now Shelly, he probably wouldn't survive the courtin' even if he tried.

#

For a solid week Jesse'd watched her. He'd never seen a busier, more determined female in his life. She worked on the town daily as if expecting it to become the way she wanted it to be. And it seemed that no job was too big or too small to pass up.

He shook his head slowly. Standing in the shadows, he could watch her without being seen himself. For the third time in a week Miranda was washing windows. It didn't seem to bother her that as soon as she finished, the ever-present desert sand and dirt flew up and coated the panes all over again.

He glanced just to Miranda's left and admired once more the nice job she'd done completing the half finished boardwalk in front of the empty general store. She hadn't asked for help. She hadn't whined or complained about bein' tired, he told himself. Hell, she prob'ly didn't even notice that nothing she did made much of a difference!

And reluctantly Jesse found himself admiring her stubborn determination to build the town of her dreams.

Miranda bent over then to rinse out her rag in a bucket of clean water. Jesse let his gaze move over her for a long moment before cursing softly and turning away.

#

The heavy scent of wet sage filled the still, afternoon air and Miranda breathed deeply, leaned on her broom, and looked out over the muddy street. She wasn't quite sure why she bothered to sweep up the boardwalks. Especially after a rain. As soon as everyone was up and about, they'd only track the mud all over everything again. Glancing back over her shoulder at the already dirty windows she'd washed only that morning, she sighed and went back to work.

There was something comforting about the steady brush of the bristles against the wood. Or maybe it was simply the peace of a familiar chore.

The air was cool and quiet. Sunshine poked sullen fingers through the gaps in the clouds, bathing Bandit's Canyon with indistinct sunlight. Alone, Miranda let her mind wander. It was almost winter again. Soon men from all over the territory would start heading for the canyon. And for the first time in her life, Miranda wasn't looking forward to it. It seemed to her that in the last few years, things hadn't been going as smoothly as they used to. There were more fights now. More trouble. It was as if the men couldn't bring themselves to leave their violence behind anymore. Now they brought it with them to the canyon.

She admitted silently that last winter there were several men staying in the canyon she'd never seen before. Some of whom scared her. Although, she told herself, it could have been worse. At least Tom Forbes hadn't spent the winter with them again. Miranda shuddered slightly and pushed the broom even harder. Chances were very good that Tom would be riding into town any day. He rarely stayed away longer than a year at a time. And that meant she would have to spend the winter finding ways to avoid him. Just the thought of his cold gray eyes filled her with dread. If there was only some way to prevent him from coming. If she could only prove her suspicions.

Miranda shook her head and attacked the boardwalk with short, sharp jabs of the broom. She knew that Tom Forbes was a killer. She felt it in her bones. It was in his eyes. It was in the way he moved, like a mountain lion… always stalking, watching. Miranda shivered again and the sun ducked behind a black, wispy cloud.

The solid smack of a hammer against wood smashed the afternoon quiet. She stood still, cocking her head, trying to identify the direction of the sound. When she had it, Miranda hurried down the boardwalk.

She moved soundlessly in her moccasins until she could see around the corner of her own cabin. Just beyond stood the corral And at the far side of the fenced area, a man crouched in the shadows, pounding nails into the crooked posts.

Miranda stepped down into the street, mindful of the mud holes. Delicately she picked her way along fence posts, her eyes darting from the man to the road and back again. Even before she could see him clearly, she knew it was Jesse. Somehow she wasn't surprised. Especially to find him alone. In the last week or so, Miranda'd noticed just how often the man managed to be on his own.

Not that he was unfriendly or standoffish. Her brow furrowed thoughtfully. The other men seemed to like him well enough and yet Jesse remained solitary. As if he wanted to be a part of things and at the same time keep himself distant.

When he stood up and yanked at the fence post, testing its strength, she swallowed heavily and almost retreated.

He'd taken his shirt off. The muscles on his chest glistened with sweat as he swung the hammer back for another blow. His broad-brimmed hat was pulled down low, throwing his face into shadow. His pistol and holster rode his narrow hips and his long legs, spread wide for balance, looked every bit as muscular as the rest of him.

Somehow Miranda managed to keep moving. Though she knew she should turn around and go back to work, she couldn't take her eyes off him. The now familiar racing of her heart accompanied the short, gasping breaths she took. No matter how many times she saw him, her reaction was always the same. And if she was to survive the long winter ahead and honor the vows she'd made to her mother and herself, she had to find a way to stop it.

She took a deep breath and told herself that now was as good a time as any. They were alone. No one to disturb them. Maybe they could talk. Talk about what it was between them and how they could stop it before it got out of hand.

He looked up suddenly as if sensing her presence. There was no welcome on his face or in his eyes. But Miranda kept walking. It was too important that they talk.

"Good afternoon," she said as she stepped up beside him.

"Afternoon." He glanced at her then went back to studying the post. He looked at her from the corner of his eye and kept working.

"Jesse…"

"What do you want, Miranda?" He dropped the hammer and turned to face her, hands on his hips.

He was so close she could have touched him. Instead she shoved her hands into the back pockets of her pants. Tilting her head back, she said softly, “I thought we could talk."

"About what?"

“Well…" She tried to read his eyes, but he kept them half-shut in the shadow of his hat. "Perhaps we could talk about what happened in the store the other day." Just thinking about that kiss brought the blood rushing to her face and a curl of pleasure to the pit of her stomach.

He took a deep breath and a drop of sweat rolled down his flesh and disappeared into the dark curls that covered his chest. “What’s there to talk about? It was just a kiss."

"Just a kiss?" She was beginning to feel a little foolish. Was it possible that she'd made more out of it than there was? No. She remembered his reaction. His heart pounding. How tightly he'd held her.

He was lying.

"Yeah. A kiss." He turned his back on her, bent, and picked up the hammer again. "Now I got to finish this."

"Not yet." She waited for him to look at her again. "I don't know why you're acting like this, Jesse. I only wanted to talk to you about this… feeling that’s between us. Get it all straightened out in our minds."

“Feelin'?” He pushed his hat back. “What are you goin' on about now? Wasn't no feelin's involved." His sharp green eyes met hers then slid away quickly. His breath rushed out on a heavy sigh. “It was just a kiss, Miranda."

Funny, she should be glad to hear him say that. But she wasn't. It was one thing for them to talk and settle things between them. It was another for him to insist that nothing existed. Now she was determined to make him admit that there was more between them than either of them wanted.

“Prove it."

"What?"

“I said, prove it." She took a step closer. "Kiss me again. Show me that there is nothing for us to talk about. Prove that it was just a kiss."

His eyes narrowed, his lips grim, he stared at her. Miranda waited, holding her breath. What had she done? For a long moment he didn't move. Finally he reached for her and drew her up against him. Just before his mouth came down on hers, she heard him mutter, “It’s just a kiss."

Chapter 7

It was nothing like before.

The moment their mouths met, Jesse knew he was lost. So warm, so soft, her lips welcomed him and he swallowed back a groan of pleasure. His arms closed around her, his hands moved over her back of their own accord, responding to the need to touch her. The smooth, delicate material of her white shirt caressed his palms and Jesse splayed his fingers wide to feel as much of her as he could.

There was no gentleness in this kiss, there was only an urgent need. He smoothed her lips with his tongue until she opened her mouth for him and he slipped inside. Her breath mingled with his, and when she moved her own tongue against his in unpracticed passion, Jesse's heart stopped.

She leaned into him, pressing herself against his body, and he held her tightly. He felt her hands slide up his naked arms and over his shoulders. Her fingers plucked his hat off, then wove through his hair.

He couldn't get enough. He couldn't kiss her deeply enough. He couldn't get close enough.

His arms still wrapped around her, he turned her until her back was against the stable wall. With one arm cradling her head, he ran his hand up over the curve of her hip, past her narrow waist to the swell of her breast. She moaned softly when his fingers moved over her erect nipples and he tore his mouth away from hers, dragging air into his chest.

Jesse looked down at her as he slipped his hand into the open vee of her shirt. Her eyes slitted, her lips parted, her breath came fast and furious. Slowly his long fingers pushed the edge of her chemise aside and reached for the pink bud waiting for his touch. When his fingers moved lightly over her warm flesh, Miranda gasped.

He felt the same reaction shake through him. Jesse moved his gaze slowly down the length of her throat, and where his eyes moved, his lips followed. He trailed feather-light kisses down her neck and over the smooth ivory of her chest. Miranda's nails bit into his shoulders as he moved closer to her breast. Slowly, deliberately he held the dainty fabrics aside and dipped his head to taste her. As soon as his lips closed around her nipple, Miranda arched her body against his and he heard her breath coming in small, urgent gasps.

His chest too tight to breathe, Jesse settled instead for suckling at her breast. His tongue teased the tip of her and circled the pale pink ring of flesh. His body aching for her, Jesse groaned when her fingers threaded through his hair and held his head tightly against her breast in a demand for more.

His fingers reached for the tiny buttons of her shirt and quickly undid them. His mouth moved over her heated skin, kissing and stroking with his tongue every inch of flesh his hands uncovered. He felt her body trembling and knew that the same tremors were shaking him.