TAMING JESSE JAMES Read online

  Confronted with four Harte faces watching her with the same eager expression, Sarah knew she was well and truly trapped. She tried in vain to come up with a polite way to decline the invitation without disappointing them all.

  She couldn't very well tell them the prospect terrified her. Not riding a horse up a mountain trail on a beautiful spring day—she had to admit she found that idea thrilling and adventurous, in keeping with the way she was trying to repair her life.

  Riding that horse alone with Jesse Harte was another story, though.

  She had come a long way in conquering her nervousness around him, but the idea of spending an hour or two alone in his company was as daunting as skydiving with her bum knee.

  "You're completely outnumbered," Jesse finally said with that same devastating grin. "Only way you'll get out of it now is to come down with, the chicken pox yourself."

  "Unfortunately, I've already had them, so I'm immune," she murmured.

  "Too bad. Guess that means you'll have to go with me, then." His grin just about took her breath away.

  With a resigned sigh, she followed him out into the hallway, wishing fiercely that she'd been smart enough to build up an immunity to a certain police chief she could name.

  * * *

  He shouldn't have railroaded her into this.

  Jesse watched Sarah duck her head to ride under a thick, fringy pine branch spreading over the trail. A few drops of rain from the quick shower the night before still nestled among the needles. As she brushed under it and emerged on the other side, glistening droplets clung to her thick blond hair like stars.

  No, he definitely shouldn't have brought her. Not because she wasn't enjoying it. On the contrary. Her eyes shone as brightly as the water droplets in the sunlight and her face beamed with excitement.

  He shouldn't have brought her because he didn't need to see this side of her. He didn't want to see it. It was tough enough fighting this completely inappropriate attraction to her in town, when she was shy and nervous around him. This smiling, glowing woman was damn near impossible to resist.

  But he would resist her. He had to.

  He had already worked hard to convince himself that he had to keep a safe, casual distance between them. She wasn't his type. He had a strict policy against becoming involved with breakable women and he had the feeling Sarah was more fragile than most.

  On the other side of the trees, the trail widened enough for two horses. He dug his heels into his horse's side and caught up with her.

  "You're doing great. How's your knee?"

  "A little achy, but nothing out of the ordinary."

  He wondered again how she had injured it. A car accident? A sports injury, maybe? Somehow he didn't think so. Call it cop's intuition, but he had a feeling her injured knee had some connection with whatever put those shadows in her pretty green eyes.

  He also knew she wasn't about to share that information with him.

  "Maybe we better not push it. We can stop just up ahead. There's a spot up there where you can see the whole valley."

  They climbed one last rise in the trail, to a wide plateau covered in meadow grass and piles of melting snow. He helped her dismount and the two of them walked closer to the edge, toward a handful of large granite rocks. She perched on one and wrapped her arms around her knees as she gazed in wonder at the panoramic view.

  "This is incredible! I didn't realize we were climbing so high. I swear, you can see clear to Jackson Hole!"

  He leaned a hip against the boulder. "Not quite. If we went all the way to the top of the trail, we could."

  "It's so gorgeous, it almost makes me want to cry."

  He smiled at her awestruck expression. "Please don't! I'm not very good with crying women."

  "I imagine you're probably good with any kind of women," she muttered under her breath, so low he thought he must have been mistaken.

  He decided he would probably be wise to change the subject. "There's the Diamond Harte." He pointed to the ranch. "Prettiest spot in the valley, isn't it?"

  "How big is the ranch?"

  "About ten thousand acres, give or take a few. Then we have grazing rights to about that same number on Forest Service land above the ranch. In a month or so when the snow melts a little more, I'll be taking a couple days off to help Matt and his men drive them up there. It's a great time. If you're around, you ought to come out and watch."

  He turned and found her watching him, her eyes soft and a small smile lifting the edges of her mouth the way the breeze fluttered the ends of her hair. "You love the ranch, don't you?"

  She was so beautiful. He swallowed hard, fighting down the sudden fierce urge to reach for her. Finally he had to look away from her and back down at the place he'd been raised.

  "Yeah," he finally said. "Yeah, I do love it."

  "Why didn't you stay?"

  How could he answer that? Jesse gazed down at the ranch and then over at the town sprawled just a few miles away from it, acutely aware of the wind rattling the aspens and the quiet fluttering of insects around them and the vast, beautiful silence of the mountainside.

  He thought of several things at the same time. His parents' deaths, the reckless, selfish choices he'd made in the intervening years. The debt he owed to the people of Star Valley who had been willing to forgive.

  Finally he shrugged. "Ranching was Matt's dream, not mine. I was too restless to be happy at it for long."

  "What was your dream?"

  He smiled ruefully. It had taken him years to figure that out. "I wanted to be on the right side of the law for a change. I love putting on that badge every morning and knowing today might be the day I save someone's life or return someone's property or help someone find lost hope again."

  She was watching him again with that warm light in her eyes. Damn, he wished she wouldn't do that. "You're a good person, Jesse Harte."

  "Don't kid yourself, Miz McKenzie," be murmured. Badge or not, he was still the bad boy of Salt River and always would be. There was one sure way to prove it, he thought, and leaned across the space between them, toward that softly curving mouth.

  He shouldn't be doing this. The thought registered briefly, but he didn't heed it. He had been itching to kiss her for too long. He wasn't about to give up this chance, even though he knew it was a mistake.

  An instant later, his mouth brushed hers and he forgot everything but her.

  * * *

  Sarah froze. Her breath lodged somewhere in the vicinity of her throat and she was vaguely aware of a wild fluttering of her pulse.

  He was going to kiss her. She could tell by the way he angled his head, by the sudden glittery light in his eyes.

  She wanted to tell him to stop. She wanted to cry out that he shouldn't waste his time kissing her.

  That she was broken.

  But she couldn't hang on to any of those thoughts fluttering through her head like drab moths. Not when his beautiful, rugged features were only inches away, when she could feel the soft caress of his breath on her cheek.

  She wanted him to kiss her, she realized with shock. She wanted to feel those hard, beautiful lips on hers, to taste his mouth, to know the sweet edge of passion once again.

  Was that the fragile sensation sparkling to life inside her? Desire? She barely recognized the feeling, it had been so very long since she'd experienced it. She had begun to fear maybe that was just one more part of her that had shriveled up and blown away after the attack.

  But no. Desire was definitely seeping through her bones, settling in all the deep, empty hollows inside her.

  She wanted Jesse Harte to kiss her. Wanted it fiercely, so fiercely it was stronger even than the thin sliver of fear curling through her.

  He paused for just an instant and watched her out of those incredible blue eyes, and then his mouth dipped to hers.

  Please don't let me panic. Please don't let me panic, she prayed.

  Her heart stuttered briefly, but the instant his mouth brushed hers, she forgot
all about being afraid.

  He had obviously kissed a lot of women. He knew just the right way to skim his lips against hers, to make her feel wanted and needed, not overpowered.

  She sighed into his mouth and closed her eyes to savor every moment. The masculine smell of him—a heady, woodsy mix of pine and sage and leather—his warm mouth that tasted like chocolate peppermints, the slight rasp of stubble against her skin.

  Sensation after sensation poured over her and she wanted it to go on forever. Her position on the boulder put them at about the same height and she found it easy for her hands to creep around his neck, for her to draw him closer so she could continue to lose herself to the wonder of his mouth.

  She wanted this man. Those first trickles of tentative desire swelled and surged with each touch of his mouth, until they rushed through her like spring runoff, pooling in her womb, between her thighs, in her heart. Until she wanted to weep with a vast, wonderful relief.

  She wanted him! It seemed like a miracle, like rediscovering a part of herself she'd thought was lost forever.

  His tongue licked at the corners of her mouth and she parted her lips, welcoming him inside. The kiss deepened and she could feel heat emanating from him like a sun-warmed rock.

  She wanted everything, wanted those hard arms around her and his hair under her fingers and his hands on her skin. She made a soft noise in her throat and pulled him closer.

  At the sound she made, Jesse froze and pulled back. Talk about a plan backfiring. He tried fiercely to catch his breath, to hang on to the last shreds of control.

  He'd meant to show her he was too wild for a woman like her. Maybe scare her a little so she'd stop looking at him with those damn stars in her eyes.

  So much for that idea.

  She had stunned him.

  That was the only word for it. He couldn't remember ever feeling as completely undone by a woman, by the torrent of emotions that single kiss had sent tumbling through him—tenderness and protectiveness and a raw, hot need.

  He wanted to pull her close, to safeguard her from whatever sometimes put that lost look in her eyes, to keep her safe and warm and loved.

  Now he was the one who was scared to death. Breathing hard, he shoved his hands into his pockets and was amazed—and even more terrified—to realize they were shaking slightly.

  It was just a kiss.

  He'd kissed plenty of women before, tasted their mouths, touched their skin. Too many, according to Matt and Cassie. They liked to teasingly accuse him of leaving a long string of bruised and broken hearts across western Wyoming.

  They were wrong. He had hurt a few women, he hated to admit it, but not on purpose. He had always made it abundantly clear up front to the women he dated that he wasn't looking for anything permanent.

  Most of the time, that's all they wanted, too—he was careful to make sure of that—but one or two had started to take things too seriously.

  When he could see them getting that light in their eyes that warned him they were starting to dream of wedding cakes and flower girls, he knew it was time to break things off.

  He liked party girls. He wasn't ashamed to admit it. Big hair, big smiles, big breasts. Maybe it was a holdover from his wild younger days. He didn't drink anymore, didn't smoke, didn't swear much, but he still liked to date women who knew how to have a good time. Women who were there only for the short term.

  So what was he thinking to kiss Sarah McKenzie—a very long-term kind of woman—as if he meant it?

  And why, if it was just a kiss, did he feel as if that boulder she was sitting on had just rolled right over him?

  He blew out a breath and sneaked a look at her. Big mistake. Her eyes were all soft and dewy and she almost looked as if she was going to tear up any minute now.

  Panic ripped through him. He couldn't bear it when women cried.

  What the hell was he supposed to do now?

  He'd blown it big-time and now he was going to have to work even harder to keep away from her. A soft, fragile, forever kind of woman like Sarah McKenzie deserved far better than a rough lawman with wild blood running through his veins.

  Trouble was, he didn't want to stay away from her. He liked her, respected her and—damn his hide—still wanted her.

  He cleared his throat. "Should we keep going up the trail or are you ready to head back?"

  She blinked at him, looking more vulnerable than a tiny kitten in the middle of a pack of junkyard dogs, and he watched her trying to gather her composure. Little by little, that glowing color began to fade from her face. He told himself he was relieved, but a hard kernel of regret dug into his heart as he watched it disappear.

  "I … maybe we'd better head back," she murmured. "It's later than I realized and I have some things to do back in town."

  He nodded and brought the horses over, then tried to make as little contact with her as possible while helping her into the saddle, afraid that if he touched any more of that soft skin, he might pull her into his arms and not let go.

  The ride down the trail was uncomfortable, stiff and quiet. The birds were still singing, the mountains still bright and cheerful with spring, but much of the joy seemed to have gone out of the day.

  All too soon, they arrived back at the Diamond Harte. He reined in near the ranch house, then went to help her dismount. She felt small and fragile in his hands—his fingers almost touched around her waist.

  He released her quickly before he could pull her back into his arms. Maybe he moved too quickly. When he helped her to the ground, she stumbled a little and he had to reach for her again to steady her.

  "I'm okay," she assured him, stepping away. "Just a little wobbly."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes. Thank you for taking me," she said brightly. Too brightly. "I didn't realize how much I've missed riding."

  He had hurt her. He could tell by the brittleness in her voice and the distance in her eyes. Damn. That's what he'd been afraid of.

  "I'm sure Matt would let you ride his horses anytime you'd like. There are dozens of trails above the ranch that are perfect for an hour or two trail ride. I'll talk to him about it for you if you'd like."

  Her smile looked as if one of the girls had stuck it on her face with glue, but missed the corners somehow. "I appreciate the offer, but when I want to ride again, I'll talk to him. Thanks anyway. Do you need help putting the horses up?"

  They were talking like polite strangers, like distant, formal acquaintances, and he hated it. "No. I've got it."

  "Well, goodbye then. Thank you again."

  "Sarah…" I'm sorry, he started to say. She looked at him expectantly but he wasn't sure exactly what he was apologizing for. For kissing her? Or for stopping?

  "Never mind," he mumbled.

  She pursed her lips, gave him one more of those terrible imitations of her smile, then walked to her car with her limp just a little more pronounced than usual.

  * * *

  What had she been thinking?

  She should never have climbed on the back of that horse the day before, should never have gone riding with Jesse.

  With every muscle in her body aching, Sarah stepped away from the bulletin board she was redecorating in her classroom Sunday evening. She gingerly eased onto the softest chair she could find in the room—one of the rolling computer chairs that, to her everlasting relief, possessed a comfortably padded seat.

  She was going to be here all night trying to finish this thing if she had to continue taking these breaks every ten minutes.

  The breaks had become a necessity, though. She stretched her knee out carefully and winced at the hot ache that forcefully reminded her of her folly. Unfortunately, her knee wasn't the only sore part of her body, but it seemed to have borne the worst of it.

  She refused to acknowledge the other, not-so-physical ache that had settled somewhere in the vicinity of her heart after her afternoon spent with Jesse Harte.

  She refused to regret their kiss, her aching heart notwiths
tanding. It had been warm and soft and sexy, and had made her feel wonderfully alive for the first time in months.

  What she did regret—no matter how much time she spent castigating herself for the futility of it—was that she would never have the chance to kiss him again.

  Jesse had made it clear he wouldn't be kissing her again anytime soon. He had ridden down the mountainside as if he had a snarling grizzly at his back.

  The irony had not escaped her. For so long she had believed she would never feel desire again, never want to be with any man again.

  And when she suddenly discovered that part of her hadn't died, had only been lurking somewhere deep inside, the man she wanted was obviously not interested.

  She had to stop thinking about him. Mooning over the man wasn't helping her finish the job here.

  She sighed and forced her attention back to the bulletin board, with its border of smiling suns wearing dark glasses, a not-so-subtle reminder that summer was just around the corner.

  This would be her last bulletin board of the school year, since the term ended in just a few weeks.

  Would she be here in the fall to take this one down and put up a new one, to greet a new crowd of fourth graders with their shiny notebooks and stiff new blue jeans and unsharpened pencils?

  She hadn't decided yet. When she came to Star Valley, she had signed only a one-year contract, subject to renegotiation at the end of the school year. She had yet to make up her mind about signing a new one and teaching here another year.

  On the one hand, Star Valley had provided exactly what she had needed the past nine months. Peace and safety. A place to regroup, to find the strength to survive.

  A place to heal.

  On the other hand, she feared she was becoming too comfortable here. Was she hiding out from the realities of the world in this place where she lived most of her life alone?

  Maybe it was time to go back to Chicago. Maybe she would never really feel herself again—or at least finally begin to like the woman she had become—until she returned to face her friends and her family and her nightmare.

  She didn't have to decide this tonight. She stapled the last smiling sun on the border, then stepped back to admire her work. Perfect. Now she could go home and soak her loudly complaining muscles in a nice hot bath.