Christmas Cowboy: Will of Steel / Winter Roses. Diana Palmer
“Theodore, I don’t think I’ve ever been in a bar in my life.”
“Not to worry, they won’t force you to drink anything alcoholic,” he told her, tongue-in-cheek. “And if they tried, I’d have to call local law and have them arrested. You’re underage.”
“Local law?”
“I’m not sanctioned to arrest people outside my own jurisdiction,” he reminded her. “But you could make a citizen’s arrest. Anybody can if they see a crime being committed. It’s just that we don’t advise it. Could get you killed, depending on the circumstances.”
“I see what you mean.”
He got out and opened her door, lifting her gently down from the truck by the waist. He held her just in front of him for a minute, smiling into her soft eyes. “You’re as light as a feather,” he commented softly. “And you smell pretty.”
A shocked little laugh left her throat. “I smell pretty?”
“Yes. I remember my grandmother by her scent. She wore a light, flowery cologne. I recognize it if I smell it anywhere. She always smelled so good.”
Her hands rested lightly on his broad shoulders. He was very strong. She loved his strength, his size.
She smiled into his dark eyes. “You smell good, too. Spicy.”
He nuzzled her nose with his. “Thanks.”
She sighed and slid her arms around his neck. She tucked her face into his throat. “I feel so safe with you,” she said softly. “Like nothing could ever hurt me.”
“Now, Jake, that’s not the sort of thing a man likes to hear.”
She lifted her head, surprised. “Why?”
He pursed his lips. “We want to hear that we’re dangerous and exciting, that we stir you up and make you nervous.”
“You do?”
“It’s a figure of speech.”
She searched his eyes. “You don’t want me to feel comfortable with you?” she faltered.
“You don’t understand what I’m talking about, do you?” he wondered gently.
“No … not really. I’m sorry.”
It was early days yet, he reminded himself. It was disappointing that she wasn’t shaky when he touched her. But, then, she kept secrets. There must be a reason why she was so icy inside herself.
He set her down but he didn’t let her go. “Some things have to be learned,” he said.
“Learned.”
He framed her face with his big, warm hands. “Passion, for instance.”
She blinked.
It was like describing ice to a desert nomad. He smiled wistfully. “You haven’t ever been kissed in such a way that you’d die to have it happen again?”
She shook her head. Her eyes were wide and innocent, unknowing. She flushed a little and shifted restlessly.
“But you have been kissed in such a way that you’d rather undergo torture than have it happen again,” he said suddenly.
She caught her breath. He couldn’t know! He couldn’t!
His black eyes narrowed on her face. “Something happened to you, Jake. Something bad. It made you lock yourself away from the world. And it wasn’t your experience with the traveling auditor.”
“You can’t know …!”
“Of course not,” he interrupted impatiently. “You know I don’t pry. But I’ve been in law enforcement a long time, and I’ve learned to read people pretty good. You’re afraid of me when I get too close to you.”
She bit down hard on her lower lip. She drew blood.
“Stop that,” he said in a tender tone, touching her lower lip where her teeth had savaged it. “I’m not going to try to browbeat you into telling me something you don’t want to. But I wish you trusted me enough to talk to me about it. You know I’m not judgmental.”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with that.”
He cocked his head. “Can’t you tell me?”
She hesitated noticeably. She wanted to. She really wanted to. But.
He bent and kissed her eyelids shut. “Don’t. We have all the time in the world. When you’re ready to talk, I’ll listen.”
She drew in a long, labored breath and laid her forehead against his suit coat. “You’re the nicest man I’ve ever known.”
He smiled over her head. “Well, that’s a start, I guess.”
She smiled, too. “It’s a start.”
Four
It was the liveliest place Jillian had ever been to. The dance band was on a platform at the end of a long, wide hall with a polished wooden floor. Around the floor were booths, not tables, and there was a bar in the next room with three bartenders, two of whom were female.
The music was incredible. It was Latin with a capital L, pulsing and narcotic. On the dance floor, people were moving to the rhythm. Some had on jeans and boots, others were wearing ensembles that would have done justice to a club in New York City. Still others, apparently too intimidated by the talent being displayed on the dance floor, were standing on the perimeter of the room, clapping and smiling.
“Wow,” Jillian said, watching a particularly talented couple, a silver-haired lean and muscular man with a willowy blonde woman somewhat younger than he was.
They whirled and pivoted, laughing, with such easy grace and elegance that she couldn’t take her eyes off them.
“That’s Red Jernigan,” he told her, indicating the silver-haired man, whose thick, long hair was in a ponytail down his back.
“He isn’t redheaded,” she pointed out.
He gave her an amused look. “It doesn’t refer to his coloring,” he told her. “They called him that because in any battle, he was the one most likely to come out bloody.”
She gasped. “Oh.”
“I have some odd friends.” He shrugged, then smiled. “You’ll get used to them.”
He was saying something profound about their future. She was confused, but she returned his smile anyway.
The dance ended and Theodore tugged her along with him to the dance floor, where the silver-haired man and the blonde woman were catching their breath.
“Hey, Red,” he greeted the other man, who grinned and gripped his hand. “Good to see you.”
“About time you came up for a visit.” Red’s dark eyes slid to the small blonde woman beside the police chief. His eyebrows arched.
“This is Jillian,” Theodore said gently. “And this is Red Jernigan.”
“I’m Melody,” the pretty blonde woman said, introducing herself. “Nice to meet you.”
Red slid his arm around the woman and pulled her close. “Nice to see Ted going around with somebody,” he observed. “It’s painful to see a man come alone to a dance club and refuse to dance with anyone except the owner’s wife.”
“Well, I don’t like most modern women.” Theodore excused himself. He smiled down at a grinning Jillian. “I like Jake, here.”
“Jake?” Red asked, blinking.
“He’s always called me that,” Jillian sighed. “I’ve known him a long time.”
“She