held against her chest. 'What are you drawing?'
'Nothing.' Her chest tightened with apprehension. Now that she knew the boy she'd drawn was him, she wasn't sharing her sketches with anyone. If she didn't understand all the crazy things happening to her, how could she begin to explain them to him?
'Can I have a look at your nothing?' he persisted.
He touched a finger to her ankle-just a butterfly touch, really-but after the vision she'd seen and experienced, her reaction was anything but mild. Pleasurable waves of heat lapped up her leg, making her conscious of a growing heaviness in secret places. He didn't seem aware of the turmoil he caused in her, and she wasn't about to let on to it by jerking her foot away.
'I'm just sketching a picture of King, nothing spectacular.' She surprised herself with the casualness of her voice.
'Don't tell me you're self-conscious about your work.' He smiled, that lazy, sexy smile that lit up his eyes.
She shrugged. 'I guess I am.'
His finger fell away from her ankle and he stared thoughtfully out the window. 'I knew someone who was the same way with her drawings. She had this natural gift, yet she was so modest about it, like you.' He glanced back at her, and the distant pain in his eyes gripped her heart. 'Maybe someday you'll show me your sketches?'
He stood and nodded toward the kitchen. 'I was just going to get a glass of orange juice. Since both of us seem to have insomnia, care to join me?'
J.T.'s invitation was one Caitlan couldn't resist.
She wanted to be near him, for reasons beyond protecting him. For selfish reasons that could never really amount to anything. He made her feel reckless and bold, and she went with the moment before it was lost to both of them.
'I'd love a glass of orange juice.' Sliding off the window seat, she followed his form through the darkened living room.
J.T. flipped on the light when they walked into the kitchen. Caitlan sat down at the table. Setting her sketch pad and pencil aside, she watched as he strolled to the refrigerator, opened the door, and peered at the contents. The smooth muscles across his back flexed as he bent over and reached inside.
'I'm gonna wring her neck,' J.T. grumbled irritably.
'Whose? Paula's?'
'No. Laura's.' He brought out a glass pitcher with a ring of orange juice staining the bottom. 'She always puts the pitcher back with only a few drops left in it. Does that look like enough to fill a glass to you?' He held the container up for her inspection.
Caitlan laughed softly, suspecting he asked the same question, and used the same patronizing tone, when reprimanding Laura herself. ' 'Fess up. I'm sure you did it when you were a boy.'
His fierce frown dissolved into a guilty grimace. 'Actually, I was worse. I drank the juice directly out of the pitcher, then put it back in the fridge empty. Now I know why my mother used to get so upset, because it annoys the hell out of me when Laura does it.' He set the pitcher in the sink, went back to the refrigerator, and grabbed the container of milk. 'How about a cup of hot cocoa instead?'
'Sounds good.' Standing, she walked to the counter where Paula had left the tarts. She pulled the plastic wrap off the plate, and the sweet yet tangy aroma of cherries drifted up to her. 'Would you like one?' she offered. 'I made them. You didn't have one after dinner, and if I do say so myself, for a first attempt they aren't half bad.'
Filling the pan on the stove with milk, he glanced at her, his eyes glittering with a teasing light. 'I'll risk eating one. Warmed, please.'
She smiled. Setting two on a plate, she popped them into the small microwave, set the timer, and let them warm. Leaning her hip against the counter, she watched as he scooped sweetened cocoa into two mugs and then stirred the milk so it didn't scald.
Interested to know more about his family, and him, she asked softly, 'Has your mother been gone for long?'
The surprise her question triggered was quickly replaced by a distant sadness in the depths of his gaze. 'She died from cancer when I was eight.'
His long-ago grief touched her. 'You were so young.' The microwave buzzed. Removing the plate, she took it to the table and sat back down.
'Yeah.' He sighed, pouring the milk into each of their mugs. Bringing them to the table, he sat in his usual spot across from her. 'It was tough when Mom died. Debbie and I were both close to her.'
'Your father never remarried?'
'Nope. He loved Mom so much, he said he didn't even want to try and find someone as sweet as her.' He grabbed one of the pastries and took a huge bite.
Caitlan smiled to herself, instinctively knowing that, with a love as binding as the one his parents had shared, they were joined in heaven. 'So you grew up without a mother around,' she went on, taking the other pastry and nibbling on the corner of it.
'Yeah.' He stared thoughtfully at the filling oozing from his pastry. 'I missed her, but I still had Dad for guidance. Mom's death was hardest on Debbie.' He transferred his gaze to her, distant emotions shading his eyes. 'Dad wasn't all that comfortable explaining 'female' things, and even though Paula was around, Debbie got cheated out of that closeness mothers and daughters seem to share. That's probably why Deb is so protective and extra loving with her own girls. She wants to give them everything she missed out on.'
Caitlan swirled the cocoa in her mug, deciding to take a gamble with her next question. 'What about Laura's mom?'
Glancing at her sharply, he swallowed the last of his tart, chasing it down with a drink of his cocoa. 'What about her?'
His tone and expression didn't encourage further questions, but Caitlan was too curious about this mystery woman. 'Will you tell me about her?'
'What are you more interested in hearing?' he began, bitterness deepening the timbre of his voice. 'That Stacey was a gold digger? That she deliberately got pregnant so I would marry her? Or maybe you'd like to hear about how she got bored with ranch life right after Laura was born and started sleeping with the hands before she divorced me to marry some rich guy from Texas?' His mouth stretched into a grim line, and there was a challenge in his gaze. 'Not a pretty story, is it?'
Caitlan didn't allow his bluntness to dissuade her from wanting to know more. 'Did you love her?' For some reason his answer was important to her.
He stared at her for a long moment, the air charged with turbulent emotions. Dragging his palm down the side of his face, he released a long breath burdened with regrets. 'I tried, Caitlan. I really did. I wanted so badly to forget Aman-' He stopped abruptly, as if catching himself revealing too much. Then his jaw hardened. 'It's difficult to love a woman who traps you into marriage for her own selfish means. I cared for Stacey. She gave me Laura, and for that I'll always be grateful.'
'But you never loved her,' she stated softly.
He shook his head. 'No. I've already told you, I've only loved one woman and she's dead.'
Caitlan understood his loneliness and pain so much better. What she didn't understand, however, was why her own heart felt exposed as a result of his lost love. Crazy. Unexplainable. Staring at the dregs of cocoa in the bottom of her mug, she channeled her thoughts down a different avenue. 'Does Stacey ever see Laura?'
'Not since the day she left the ranch ten years ago. She had visitation rights, but she never exercised them. She didn't want the complications of a kid messing up her life with her rich Texan.' He shrugged. 'Actually, I'm grateful, because Laura doesn't need to be in the middle of a tug-of-war between Stacey and me. I know it has to be difficult for Laura without a mother around, but I try and do the best I can.'
Caitlan heard the doubt threading through his voice, and without really considering her actions, she reached across and placed her hand on his arm and gave him a light squeeze. The contact of his warm flesh against her palm radiated up her arm like a ray of sunshine. 'She's a wonderful girl. You should be proud.'
He smiled, a genuinely proud grin that reached his eyes. 'Yes, she is, and yes, I am.'
