Taming of Jessi Rose Read online

  Griff looked down at her lush mouth as he pulled the saddle off the gelding. He wondered what it would be like to feel her kiss. “Joth was in no danger, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

  “No, it’s not that, but I thought you said you weren’t real partial to guns?”

  “I’m not, but that doesn’t mean I’m not good with one.”

  “Joth says you’re quite good.”

  “Make you feel better about having me around?”

  Jessi nodded. “I won’t lie. Yes, it does.”

  Griff wondered if he’d ever become accustomed to her beauty. Her disposition and fondness for Winchesters notwithstanding, she was as tempting as an unguarded express car full of gold. But he reminded himself that he was supposed to be here on behalf of the judge, not sizing her up for his bed. To take his mind off things he had no business even contemplating, he said, “Well, Darcy probably won’t be having me over for dinner anytime soon.”

  “Probably not,” she replied with a knowing smile.

  Jessi looked up at him and was reminded of how she’d seen him this morning—vividly, brilliantly nude. Once again she tried to set aside the unfamiliar rush of feelings the memories evoked. “He doesn’t like being bested.”

  “He didn’t look real happy when he left.”

  Silence prevailed for a few moments as the air between them thickened like fog. Jessi said genuinely, “Thanks for keeping Joth safe.”

  “Anytime.”

  They were assessing one another, each harboring their own thoughts. He wondered what she was thinking, and she wondered the same about him.

  Griff finally broke the silence. “I wired some friends of mine. I’m hoping they’ll start coming in in a week or so.”

  “More train robbers?” she asked.

  He smiled. “Just a couple.”

  “Any of them ever worked cows?”

  “Not that I know of, no.”

  Unable to hide her smile, Jessi shook her head.

  “They’re all fast learners, though,” he added, coming to their defense. His voice softened suddenly. “I wondered how long it would take you to do that.”

  Jessi looked up into his power-filled eyes and felt his seductive spell slipping under her locked doors like intoxicating tendrils of smoke. “Do what?”

  “Smile.”

  The tone of his voice stroked her like a hand. Her voice was soft, low. “Are you flirting again, Mr. Blake?”

  “I believe I am.” He thought she had a voice as smoky as a Mexican cantina.

  “You’re not supposed to flirt with your employer.”

  “Can’t seem to help myself.”

  She grinned. “You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?”

  “Always have been—probably always will be. You’ll get used to it.”

  Their gazes held. The air was charged.

  Jessi looked away first. “Supper’ll be done in a while.”

  He nodded.

  Jessi hurried back to the house.

  Alone in the barn, Griff smiled. Was she actually flirting back? He doubted she’d thought the short exchange as anything significant, but it certainly felt like a lot more than that to him. Her beauty and rawhide spirit were as intoxicating as fine tequila. The fact that it had taken him two days to get her to smile his way was pretty humbling for a man whose way with women was legendary, but the challenge she represented surpassed anything he’d ever come up against before. Because of his mission and his desire to head down to Mexico he knew he shouldn’t be thinking about wanting her, but as he told her, he couldn’t help himself.

  Back in the house, Jessi tried to her best to concentrate on peeling the potatoes for supper, but her mind kept straying to Griffin Blake. What was it about him that caused her to smile up at him like a moonstruck girl after being in his presence less than three days? Jessi prided herself on her inner strength and her good sense, but with Griff around, her strength seemed to be fading and her good sense flying out of the window. She’d actually flirted with him back there in the barn, something she hadn’t done with any man before, not even her late husband Evan.

  Jessi paused. She hadn’t thought about Evan in quite some time. She’d married him over a decade ago, more for convenience than anything else; he’d needed a wife to further his political aspirations, and she’d needed a husband in order to maintain her teaching position. At the time her school board had frowned on unmarried women teaching in their classrooms.

  Although there had been nothing spectacular about their life together, she and Evan had gotten along reasonably well, only to have him succumb to pneumonia less than two years after the wedding day. When her father wrote to her a few weeks after Evan’s death, asking that she come and help raise Joth after her sister died in childbirth, Jessi readily agreed because a part of her did grieve for Evan, and she hoped that going home would help her heal and get on with the business of living. For three years it did, until the day Calico Bob had ridden into town with his men to claim his young son and changed her life forever.

  So now here she stood, over ten years later, peeling potatoes, sharing a house with another outlaw. But with the flirting Griffin she sensed a light she hadn’t been touched by before; and if the truth be told, after experiencing so much darkness, a part of her wanted to run toward that blazing light and be bathed in it, but she doubted she could trust him. He was, after all, an outlaw and an avowed womanizer: two traits no woman in her right mind would ever want in a man. Surprised that she would even admit to being moved by Griffin Blake, she shook herself free of the disturbing thought and went back to peeling potatoes.

  That night, after Joth went to bed, Jessi stepped out onto the porch to join Griff as he kept watch. “Nice night,” she offered. The clear sky was filled with brilliantly twinkling stars and the moon was large. “Full moon like this is called a Comanche moon.”

  “My mother used to call it a courting moon.”

  Jessi looked down at him seated on the porch step near her feet. “I’ve never heard it called that.”

  “Where’ve you been?” he asked, in a voice soft with teasing. “Everybody’s heard of a courting moon.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “So now you’re going to tell me you’ve never been courted?”

  “Never been courted.”

  Griffin found that surprising and looked up at her in the moonlit darkness. “Not even by your husband?”

  “No. It wasn’t a love match. We married for convenience.”

  “Doesn’t sound very romantic.”

  “It suited us, though. Marrying him allowed me to do the things I wanted to do in life, and it afforded him the same.”

  “No one’s ever taken you for a ride in the moonlight or brought you flowers?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. Evan asked me to marry him, told me all the reasons why I should say yes, and so I did. We were reasonably happy, I suppose.”

  “You suppose?”

  “I’ve nothing to compare it with.”

  He thought about that a moment. “I guess that makes sense. Well, if I were courting you, I’d take you on rides in the moonlight, bring you flowers.”

  “Ah, but to what end? You don’t impress me as the kind of man who’d settle down.”

  He shrugged. “I’m not. I’m not cut out for the marriage saddle.”

  Jessi had no problem believing that. Most of the outlaws she’d come in contact with were looking for nothing more than a fast tumble in the hay. She doubted he’d be any different. “You must’ve left a trail of broken hearts behind you, then.”

  “Not really. Most women know the score going in. That way, there are no tears when I pull up stakes and move on.”

  “My friend Paris believes that love finds everybody eventually.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  “I don’t know. It hasn’t found me so far, and I doubt I want it to.”

  “Why not?”

  Jessi was silent for awhile. “Being alone ha
s its advantages. A woman doesn’t have to bow to anyone’s wishes but her own.”

  “Then we’d make a good pair, you and I.”

  “How so?”

  “I don’t want ties, and neither do you.”

  Jessi supposed he was right.

  “Courting you would be a challenge, though.”

  Jessi looked at him. “Why?”

  “Because I believe you’d enjoy it.”

  Jessi smiled in the dark. “You certainly are sure of yourself, Mr. Blake, but why court someone you know you aren’t going to commit to?”

  “For the joy and the passion of it.”

  “At least you’re honest.”

  “I am, and as long as I am, no one gets hurt.”

  Jessi pondered that a moment, then heard herself asking without thought, “How would you court me?”

  In response, he eased himself to his feet. Facing her now and only a heartbeat away, he said, “Slowly at first—then at whatever speed you’d like.”

  “You’re very bold, Mr. Blake.”

  “Only as bold as you’d let me be, Miss Clayton.”

  They were standing so close, Jessi had to fight down the urge to touch his night shadowed cheek. They were as aware of each other as they were of the crickets singing softly against the night.

  “How long were you married?” he asked quietly.

  “Almost two years. Evan died of pneumonia.”

  “He ever kiss you?”

  For a moment there was silence. “Occasionally, yes.”

  “A woman like you should be kissed thoroughly and often.”

  “Do you think so…?”

  “I know so…”

  He slid a slow finger down her cheek and then lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was as soft as the night. Jessi had only to stand there and let his whispery lips play cajolingly across her own. Nothing in life had prepared her for the sweet buffeting that claimed her, and when the kiss ended and he eased away, it took her a minute to open her eyes. “It this what you meant about courting me slowly?”

  He nodded as he lazily traced the fullness of her bottom lip. “Yes. Every woman should be savored at least once in her life.”

  She’d never had a man touch her mouth so intimately before. Her lips, full from his kisses, felt as if they’d been infused with the sparkles of the starlight. The woman in her wanted more. “Kiss me again,” she heard herself say softly.

  He whispered his reply, “You’re the boss…”

  This kiss held more fire, more power. Jessi knew she was in the web of a man so expert he could make his living doing this, but she didn’t care. She wanted to be filled by his light, be warmed by his lips moving so sensually over her own. He seemed reluctant to release her because he kept returning to steal slow, tender snatches from her lips.

  “Is this enough?” he husked out, even as he brushed another series of kisses over her brow and her cheekbone.

  Jessi’s knees seemed to have melted away. All of her inner strength and good sense had been seared to ash by his overwhelming brilliance. Granted, calling a halt was not what she really wanted, but she had to reclaim herself or succumb totally. “Yes. I think we should stop…”

  In reply to her soft words, he eased away and took a small step back.

  Jessi had no idea what she was supposed to do with the yearning throbbing so heatedly inside herself, making her want more. Jessi knew she had to get off this porch or she would start begging for more. She forced herself to head toward the door. “Good night, Mr. Blake. Sleep well.”

  “You too.”

  As soon as she was inside, Griff put his head in his hands and asked himself, “What the hell are you doing?” Even though he knew he had absolutely no business pursuing Jessi Clayton, his manhood was hard as a length of railroad track, and it took all he had not to follow her inside and make love to her until they were both too sated to move. Nothing else mattered right now; not Reed Darcy, not Dixon Wildhorse, or the seven years awaiting him back at the Kansas State Penitentiary. What he and his body wanted revolved solely around the most tempting boss he’d ever worked for in his life.

  He could hear her moving around inside the house as she prepared for bed. For a woman who was supposed to be both whore and widow, she kissed with all the experience of a virgin bride. He’d tasted a deep well of passion in the kisses she’d shared with him, but he’d also tasted an innocence he hadn’t expected. In the past he’d always been very cavalier in his treatment of the women who attracted his attention, but he instinctively knew that Jessi Clayton was not the type of woman a man could simply love and leave; she would linger in a man’s mind for a while, maybe for a lifetime. He’d always preferred cathouse ladies—memorable while they were under or atop you, but not for a lifetime. The only woman he carried constantly in his memory was the one he had buried when he was ten years old.

  So what was he doing talking about courting Jessi Clayton? Common sense dictated that he forget about wanting her and concentrate on what he’d come to Texas to do. But sometimes Griff chose not to pay attention to common sense, and now appeared to be one of those times.

  As Jessi lay in bed, she spent a long time thinking back on Griffin Blake’s kisses. They’d sent her soaring like a heroine in the pulp novels her friend Paris LaMarr had been so fond of. Although Paris had insisted that kisses from the right man could send you flying as high as an eagle, that had not been Jessi’s experience—until now. Evan’s kisses had been chaste and gentle. The few times they’d been intimate, he had been patient and respectful and made sure she didn’t have to endure his needs any longer than necessary, because he knew she didn’t enjoy the marriage bed.

  Something told her it might be different with Griffin Blake. It was truly a scandalous thought, she admitted. Just being near him seemed to give birth to feelings she wasn’t sure properly raised women were supposed to have. Her memories of the strength and beauty of his body had not dimmed, either. Thinking back on that sight in conjunction with his potent kisses made her dizzy. What would it be like to lie with a man who enjoyed women? she asked herself. Her lips still felt kiss-swollen, and the throbbing in her blood, although lessened, continued to echo like a faint drumbeat. The no-nonsense woman who usually directed her life scolded her for her musings and thought it better to dwell on a less volatile subject, and Jessi agreed.

  Turning her pillow over in an effort to get more comfortable, Jessi found her thoughts turning to her father. What would he say about a man like Blake? She’d no idea if he was in heaven or hell, but she wondered what he would say about her battle to hold on to the land. In her heart, she knew none of her efforts would matter or be good enough. Even though she’d given everything to the land except her life, his will had declared Joth the sole heir. Not that she minded—she loved Joth very much. Jessi had been named her nephew’s guardian and instructed to turn over the reins when the boy reached legal age. In exchange, she would be allowed to live out her life on the ranch if she chose, but he’d willed her nothing more.

  Frankly, she hadn’t even expected that; her father’s opinion of her had been no secret. The pain associated with that realization flared once more. When she was younger, the knowledge that her father hadn’t loved her had pierced her heart so badly she’d cried herself to sleep more nights than she cared to remember, but over the years the sharp edges had dulled. Now that hurt was just a dull ache sharing space with all the other heartaches she’d known.

  The clock on her nightstand had once belonged to her late mother Violet, and it showed it to be almost 2 A.M., far past the time when she should’ve been asleep, but her thoughts kept swinging back to Blake. Having an extra set of eyes and hands on the place did make breathing a bit easier, even though he hadn’t as yet done anything even resembling work. A voice in her head reminded her that he had run Darcy off her land yesterday, and that in itself should’ve earned him a bonus. She supposed she agreed with the assessment, but she refused to dwell any longer on his kisses. Her own unchar
acteristic actions on the porch notwithstanding, Jessi was realistic: she was no more than a diversion for him. When he was done here, he’d ride out of her life and be gone like yesterday’s sunrise.

  Chapter 4

  The next morning, Jessi awakened to what sounded like someone walking on the roof. To make certain it hadn’t just been her imagination, she sat up in bed and paused to listen. When the steps echoed again, she got up to investigate. Just in case the steps belonged to a trespasser, she grabbed her Winchester.

  Dressed in the faded blue wrapper she’d pulled on over her thin cotton nightgown, she first went down the hall to check on Joth. His room was early morning silent and dappled by fingers of the dawn’s faint light. He lay fast asleep, so she closed his door and withdrew quietly. She next stopped at Blake’s door. When her soft knocks went unanswered, she gently turned the knob and peeked in. The silence of the room mirrored Joth’s, but Blake’s bed was empty.

  Closing the door, Jessi assumed the footsteps on the roof were his, but she couldn’t imagine what he could be doing up there, especially at this time of morning.

  She climbed the ladder in the kitchen and found him seated with his back resting against the old chimney. His arms were folded across his plaid-shirted chest, and his eyes were focused out on the pink and gray sky of what promised to be a spectacular sunrise.

  Upon seeing her, he gave her a smile any woman would love having turned her way. It made Jessi remember last night’s encounter all over again.

  “Morning,” he said in greeting.

  “Good morning. What are you doing up here?”

  The flat roof made it easy to maneuver, so she had no trouble walking. The early morning breeze gently teased the hems of her wrapper and gown, exposing the well-worn boots on her feet

  “Watching the sky. I didn’t get to see too many sunrises in the penitentiary.”

  “What’s it like there?”

  “Hellish. You break rocks from dawn to dusk, eat rancid army rations, and hope nobody kills you in the night.”

  Jessi could hear the bitterness in his tone.

  “Coffee?” he asked, indicating the battered pot at his side.