SEDUCTIVE SUPERNATURALS: 12 Tales of Shapeshifters, Vampires & Sexy Spirits (205 page)

Taylor gasped at the pleasure that immediately radiated inward at the feel of his mouth on her fingers. Then he tenderly kissed the palm of her hand. His touch was suddenly almost unbearable to her in its tenderness. There was no way on God’s green earth this man was capable of killing someone. She knew it.

Gently pulling her closer, Jackson opened his eyes. He looked at her speculatively, and for a long moment she looked back at him. He waited, as though it was up to her to make the next move.

Taylor’s heart jolted and her pulse pounded. Jackson’s gaze was as soft as a caress and then, as if she had absolutely lost all control and good sense, she slowly leaned forward, her own gaze now fixed on his mouth. Her lips slowly descended to meet his, and she quivered at the tenderness of their first kiss.

As she lingered, warmth pooling inside, she felt his fingers at the base of her neck, gently pulling her to him, her own hands moving to his muscular chest. She returned his deepened kiss with abandon and hunger, and she felt her resolve shatter. She wanted him, she wanted more. Finally raising herself up and reluctantly taking her mouth from his, she gazed into his eyes.

A delightful shiver of desire ran through her as Jackson seemed to search her eyes, still patiently waiting. She wondered if his body ached for hers too. Then his gaze dropped. Her robe had slipped open a bit and she knew his gaze fell to the tops of her breasts, now plainly in view. He reached out and when she didn’t pull away, he softly outlined the circle of her breast with his finger.

Taylor breathed lightly between parted lips, her senses reeling. His gentle touch sent currents of yearning through her and he fondled each breast, teasing each taut nipple until she moaned softly. Their peaks grew hard as he aroused her passion, effortlessly but with such gentleness.

“Jackson, stop,” she finally managed to whisper.

“Why?” He stopped, though, then pulled her to his lips again and buried any response she may have given. He moved his mouth over hers, devouring her lips as she returned with her own hunger.

The kiss sent the pit of her stomach into a wild swirl and her blood pounded in her brain as the hot tide of passion raged on.

He pulled her closer to him, so that her breasts were against his chest, her body half covering his.

Breathlessly, she pulled her lips from his. Passion radiated from the soft core of her body and she yearned to yield to his seduction. She felt his hands move gently down the length of her back, massaging his way down her spine. She saw a clear invitation in the smoldering depths of his eyes.

“Rose, you decide where we go from here.” He studied her face, as though reaching for her thoughts.

He couldn’t disguise his body’s reaction to her—she’d felt his hardness, how strongly he’d responded to her.

Taylor breathed deeply. “I have to go.” She self-consciously pulled her robe together and scooted away from him.

* * *

Jackson ran his hands through his hair. She made him feel absolutely crazy with desire, like he’d never felt before. She was different. Why did he feel so out of control? Maybe he
was
bewitched. He continued to stare into her eyes, then watched her expression change from passionate desire to one of controlled detachment.

Perhaps she was able to remove herself more easily from physical attraction, he thought. All he knew was how confused he felt. Some long-buried part of him wanted to explore her potential friendship, and another wanted to explore her soft flesh, feel her writhing beneath him. He watched her stand and take a step off the blanket.

“I think I’ll stay here a while.” He stood and folded the blanket, handing it to her. When she reached for it, in one forward motion his arms encircled her, one hand in the small of her back.

With the folded blanket now between them, at least he was spared the guaranteed tingle of full body contact. Her breath softly fanned his face and he gazed into her clear, bright green eyes.

“You’re sure you have to go?” he asked again.

“Yes.” This time, he thought he saw reluctance in her expression. Maybe there was a chance after all.

As Taylor lightly kissed his chin and smiled, he smiled back and planted a kiss in the hollow of her neck. He remembered Ida’s words, too. No matter how she made him feel, he needed to leave things up to her. And he would.

“Goodnight, then.” He released her from his gentle embrace and watched as she made her way back to the house. Then he bent to retrieve the bottle of brandy and glasses, and walked slowly to the table in the middle of the lawn. He could use another drink to calm his nerves, distract him from the nearly overwhelming urge to follow her to her room.

Sitting at the table, Jackson sipped his brandy, and considered what had happened. Who
was
she? Was she a highly paid harlot just toying with him? But she had seemed genuinely friendly during their conversation, and why had he felt so compelled to answer her questions honestly? A voice whispered in his head.
Why had she asked so many questions in the first place?

A cold knot formed in his stomach. Did she suspect why he was there? Had
she
been the one following him? He’d have to be careful, he decided, finishing his drink.

This mysterious Rose could be his biggest danger, for all he knew. Somehow, he would have to find out more about her.

Forever Rose: Chapter Ten

Taylor woke on her own small bed, still wrapped in the red silk robe. The night had been filled with dreams of Jackson, though now they were only vague images, just out of reach. Rubbing her eyes, she realized the laziness she was feeling was probably the leftover effect of the brandy they’d shared in the garden.

The view from the window offered signs of another warm, beautiful day. Birds were making merry music, perched on the white picket fence. Hummingbirds were drinking from the lush flowers, flitting like miniature helicopters from bloom to bloom.

She was already getting used to being there. Strange, she thought, knowing she should be trying to figure out how to get back to the real world. But, she couldn’t help thinking, she had to admit all she seemed to be feeling was how
nice
it all seemed here.

Pulling out her suitcase from under her bed, she retrieved her watch, toothbrush, toothpaste, and disposable razor—certain she’d feel better after she cleaned up, even if the water wasn’t hot.

So far she really hadn’t missed much as far as modern conveniences. She was becoming accustomed to wearing no makeup, other than the cheek rouge that Ida had left for her. And she certainly was enjoying the quiet—no telephones ringing, no televisions blaring, no sirens disturbing the serenity. She glanced at her watch. Seven. Too early for much activity at Sherman House. As she returned everything to her suitcase, Taylor said a silent prayer that Ida wouldn’t snoop and discover her modern things. It would be difficult to try to explain them to her.

After slipping into her gardening clothes, she quietly made her way down the back stairs to the kitchen. There she buttered two thick slices of Maylee’s homemade bread, and spooned on some strawberry preserves. She ate quickly, looking forward to having morning tea when Ida surfaced later. Right now there were weeds that needed her attention, and she worked ceaselessly in the garden for the next three hours.

* * *

Upstairs in his room, Jackson woke with a start, a dream image of Rose still crystal clear in his mind. He groaned in frustration and closed his eyes to recapture the picture of her reclining on his bed, beckoning to him. Her image faded instantly, and he opened his eyes.

Sunshine poured into the room and a warm breeze fluttered the lace curtains at the open window. He stretched, then swung his legs to the floor and walked to the window. Jackson could see Rose busily pulling weeds at the far fence, kneeling in the grass. It didn’t make sense. What was she doing working in Ida’s garden anyway?

With only an hour to get back to the saloon, Jackson cleaned up, dressed, and gathered his things. He relished his Sunday nights off from the bar, and silently vowed to return to Ida’s as soon as he could, hoping to find out more about the mysterious Rose. He also vowed to gain more control over his own feelings about her. There were other things to be concentrating on right now, and the morning light reminded him to keep his mind on his mission. Distractions he didn’t need.

Back in the saloon, he busied himself sweeping the floor and polishing the bar. Glasses needed to be washed and stock levels needed to be checked. He had a full day ahead of him to just get ready for the evening crowd. He’d learned a lot about running a saloon from his job. The hours were long, but wages were good.

“I brought you some lunch, Jackson.”

Jackson turned around at the sound of the voice of Josie Earp.

“Are you ready for a break? I thought I’d join you. Wyatt’s gone to look at some property and I hate to dine alone.” Josie placed a large draped tray on a nearby table.

He stared at her, frowning slightly. “I was just thinking of stopping, actually.”

“Good. There’s a new cook at Martha Reed’s place, and you tell me if this doesn’t look absolutely delicious.” Josie removed the checked cloth, uncovering two steaming plates of beef stew, with thick slices of dark bread on the side. “And even fresh peach cobbler for dessert,” she added. “Now, why don’t you sit with me here, Jackson.” She smiled flirtatiously and sat in one of the chairs.

“Looks great, Mrs. Earp.”

“Call me Josie. Please.”

Jackson came out from behind the bar and sat at the table opposite her. “Thanks. I guess I was more hungry than I thought.”

Josie took a bite of stew. “Wyatt’s rather pleased with your work here, you know.”

“Excuse me?”

Josie stared at him. “I just thought I’d let you know that Wyatt thinks you’re a good employee. Do you enjoy your work, Jackson?”

“Sure,” he answered between mouthfuls of stew.

* * *

They sat silently for a while, with young Jackson concentrating on his meal and Josie stealing glances at him.

She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Did you have a good night off last night?” She carefully searched his eyes for the slightest sign of guilt or suspicion. She’d been terrified he’d seen her following him to The Acme Saloon the night before, but now saw nothing in his expression to indicate he had. Tremendously relieved, she smiled. “What do you do, Jackson, besides work?”

Jackson’s expression was neutral. “Nothing much, I guess. Usually I just relax and rest.”

...and meet with hooligans and outlaws.
Josie added to his thought with her own. From behind one of the curtained rooms at The Acme Saloon, she had seen the McLaurey boys join him in The Reading Room. She had also seen Taylor crouched along the wall listening. “That doesn’t sound too exciting to me. Have you had a chance to explore San Diego since you’ve been here?”

“Not too much actually.” Jackson threw her a sidelong glance as he finished his cobbler and leaned back in his chair.

She smiled. “Hope you enjoyed the lunch. We’ll have to do this again sometime.” She placed the empty dishes back on the tray. “I’ll just get these back to Martha. I won’t keep you any longer.”

* * *

In Martha Reed’s café, Josie made her way to the kitchen to return the tray of dirty dishes. The new cook was checking a batch of biscuits in the oven, while Martha busily washed dishes.

“How was lunch, Josie?”

“Just fine, Martha, just fine. And Mr. Johnson, the peach cobbler was simply divine.” She smiled warmly at Martha’s new cook, surprised and rather pleased to see a man in the kitchen. “Martha, may I ask you a question?”

“Well, certainly, Josie. What is it?”

“Yesterday, a stranger had breakfast here. A small, thin young man wearing a light colored vest and a bowler hat. Do you remember him by any chance?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Martha replied. “He was quite nice. I remember he asked about lodging, and I sent him to see Maylee at the Gaslamp Quarter Hotel. He might have gotten a room there.”

“Do you remember anything else?”

“Nothing, really. He just seemed like a nice young fellow.”

“Thanks, Martha.” Josie walked back through the café and headed for the Gaslamp Quarter Hotel. Perhaps Maylee would add to the story.

A few minutes later, Maylee told her the stranger had ended up as Ida Bailey’s new gardener. It was beginning to feel like she was on a wild goose chase. Looking over the fence into Ida’s garden, Josie could see Taylor pulling weeds along the back wall. Carefully, she opened the gate and closed it silently behind her. Eyes fixed on Taylor’s back, she walked up to him.

“Hello, Taylor.”

With a gasp, Taylor stood up and turned toward the voice. “Jeez, you scared me half to death!” She brought her hand above her eyes to shade them from the sun. “Oh, hello, Mrs. Earp. What brings you here?”

“Well, you, actually.” Josie answered. “Could we sit down and talk for a while?” She walked stiffly to the table and chairs, and sat down. “I need some information, Taylor. I hope you can help me.”

Josie watched Taylor sit down in the empty chair and remove the leather work gloves and hat, placing them on the ground at his feet. Again she had the feeling there was something not quite right about the stranger, but was unable to put her finger on it.

Taylor sat silently, eyes downcast, waiting.

Josie continued to stare, examining her for a clue, some sort of sign that would explain why she felt so cautious. She gazed at Taylor’s short hair, damp and wavy from working in the day’s heat. She looked at his small ears and clear skin. The loose shirt he wore did well to disguise body type or muscular development. Her examination ended at Taylor’s small feet wearing old boots that seemed two sizes too big. Then she leaned forward, closer, and took a deep breath and sat back in surprise.

Well, for one thing, she decided, this creature was not a man. No man could hide the masculine odors created by the sweat of working in the summer sun. Taylor simply
smelled
too good.