Caitlan grinned back and reluctantly withdrew her hand from the solid strength of his arm. He stared at her, his smile slowly fading into something more curious. His gaze gradually lowered to her mouth, making her suddenly conscious of her lips, and the way his had felt moving over hers. Like heated silk and, deeper, the taste of man and earthy desire. A light, fluttery sensation settled within her.
'What about you, Caitlan?' he asked, turning the tables on her. 'Ever been married?'
'No.'
He studied her closer, a scrutiny that made her uneasy. 'How old are you?'
'Thirty-four.'
'An old maid.' He grinned, humor creasing the skin around his eyes. 'That clock of yours is ticking.'
'Yeah,' she agreed for his benefit. She pressed her hand to her stomach, an unexpected, vast emptiness consuming her. For the first time since passing on, she resented not having had the chance to have children, the love of a good man, and a full life. Why did that bother her so much now?
'Ever been close to getting married?'
She glanced at J.T., his question evoking all kinds of feelings in her. Elusive sensations, and even more distant, wispy emotions. 'Yes,' she automatically answered. 'Once. A very long time ago. Things didn't work out.' She frowned, wondering how she knew she'd been close to getting married at one time, but unable to fully grasp the answers she sought. Vague images danced in her mind, and she closed her eyes to bring them into focus, ignoring the sudden heat of the medallion against her skin.
Caitlan sucked in a sharp breath as a brutal pain seized her head and the images dispersed. Pressing her fingers to her temples, a distressed moan rolled from her throat. Heaven help her, what was her connection to these strange visions?
J.T. watched Caitlan squeeze her eyes shut, her face pale. She drew in a deep, steady breath as she rubbed her temples, as if warding off a sudden headache. 'Caitlan, you okay?'
'No,' she said on a low moan, blinking her lashes open. Confusion and pain glazed her eyes; then they cleared. 'I mean yes, yes, I'm fine,' she quickly amended, avoiding his gaze. 'Just tired, I think.'
Nodding his agreement, he gathered up their plates and stood. 'Considering it's nearly five in the morning, you should be.' He rinsed their dishes, wondering at how easily she'd pried personal confessions from him, how easily he'd whiled away over an hour with her. What surprised him the most, though, was that he'd enjoyed every minute of being in her company.
He turned back toward her, noting that the color in her cheeks had returned, and she looked more in control of her senses. 'Come on; I'll walk with you upstairs.'
Grabbing her sketch pad and pencil, she slid from the bench. She passed him on the way to the door, giving him a facsimile of her normal bright smile. He shut off the light, throwing them into shadowed darkness. Quietly, side by side, they ascended the stairs. At the landing he grabbed her elbow and stopped her when she would have veered off toward her room.
She glanced at him, and he saw the questions in her eyes. Her tongue slid along her bottom lip, a nervous gesture he found endearing, and arousing. His gut tightened and heat flared like wildfire inside him.
For a reason he couldn't explain he didn't want to let her go, even though he knew he should. What he wanted was to lead her into his bedroom, lay her down on the bed, ease deep inside her, and stay in that paradise forever. He wanted to fill her up the same way she filled him when he was near her. Completely. Unequivocally.
Looking into her eyes, he wanted to drown in their endless depths that promised everything he'd lost faith in so long ago. Things he had no right expecting or taking from her.
He slid his fingers from her elbow and down her arm. Picking up her hand, he rubbed his callused thumb across the soft skin of her knuckles. 'Thanks for listening to the sordid details of my life,' he said, his voice low, a wry grin curving his mouth.
Caitlan got the distinct impression that J.T. didn't discuss his private life freely, yet he'd been so open with her. 'They say confession is good for the soul.' She resisted the urge to pull back the hand he caressed so softly. The way he stroked the sensitive skin in between each of her fingers made her knees weak and heat shimmer up her arm. Clutching her sketch pad to her breasts in an effort to stop the tingling in the sensitive tips, she forced a smile. 'At least I'm good for something, huh?'
'You're good for a lot of things, I'm sure,' he said, his suggestive tone adding to Caitlan's already overloaded senses. Leaning close, he grinned. 'Don't tell Paula, but those cherry tarts were better than hers.'
He looked so much like the young boy she'd drawn, so carefree and full of mischief, that she allowed an unrestrained grin to grace her lips. 'I'm glad you liked them.'
'Oh, I did,' he murmured. 'Very much.' Suddenly growing serious, he let go of her hand and caressed the dimple creasing her right cheek with his finger, his touch feather-soft and reverent.
A shiver swept down Caitlan's spine. His gaze darkened hungrily, and deeper, she saw the desire and need that matched the building tension in her. Her breath caught, and a delicious anticipation sped up her pulse.
J.T. moved closer, his bare toes touching the tips of hers. Sliding his hands along her jaw, he cupped her face in his warm palms and lifted her mouth to his. Slowly lowering his head, his lips whispered over her cheek. Then his tongue darted out to stroke her dimple, a warm, damp caress that electrified her.
His assault was so gentle, so sensual, her lips parted on a soft moan.
J.T. glided his thumb across Caitlan's bottom lip, his mouth hovering inches above hers. 'I'm gonna kiss you, Caitlan,' he said, his voice husky with barely leashed restraint. 'If you want me to stop, tell me now.'
Even if she had wanted him to stop, she couldn't have found her voice to say so. The only sound she could manage was a whimper when his mouth skimmed over hers, then pressed more intimately. His fingers slid into her hair, and he cupped the back of her head in his hand, angling her mouth just so for his heated invasion.
Before Caitlan could catch her breath his tongue surged into her mouth, taking possession and stealing what little sanity she had left. His other hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her so close, the only thing separating them was their scant clothes and the tenacious hold she had on her sketch pad. Automatically, she splayed her free hand on his chest. The moment she touched his warm, firm flesh, her body swelled with awareness and an intense heat flooded her. Her connection to J.T. was stronger, more powerful than ever.
A groan of surrender rumbled up from his chest, and his kiss gentled. He made love to her mouth like a man who had all the time in the world. Like he couldn't get enough of her. Like she was water and he was dying of thirst.
She yearned to give him any sustenance he craved.
He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, both of them struggling to regain a normal breathing pattern. Caitlan ran her tongue over her swollen lips, tasting the unique flavor of J.T., cherries, and chocolate.
Eyes closed, smiling, she whispered, 'I like the way you taste.'
He brushed his mouth over her lips again, his tongue following suit. Fingers still tangled in the hair at the back of her head, he gently pulled her away, waiting until she blinked her eyes open to look at him. 'And I want to taste more of you. Everywhere, Caitlan. In every way possible. That kiss wasn't nearly enough.'
She shivered at the wicked promises glittering in his eyes, wanting everything as much as he. Somehow, a semblance of reason stole through the desire making her lethargic, and she stepped from his embrace. She hated the chill that replaced the heat of moments before. 'We can't. We shouldn't.'
'Yeah, I know.' His voice was rough, like sandpaper. 'But it doesn't stop me from wanting you.' Shoving his fingers through his hair, he glanced away, as if he'd revealed too much.
Finally he released a heavy sigh. 'Go to bed, Caitlan.'
The following day at noon, restless and unable to concentrate on the columns of figures in front of him, J.T. left his office. Strolling into the kitchen, hoping to catch a glimpse of Caitlan, he instead found Paula and Laura making sandwiches for lunch. His guest was nowhere to be seen.
