Desire gripped her as if it had claws. His mouth continued its assault on hers, seducing her senses, peeling away the layers of caution that guarded her secrets.
An alarm sounded somewhere in the recesses of her dazed mind.
The will to survive smothered the yearning for pleasure. She hadn’t come here tonight to be kissed. She was here because the man whose mouth was currently ravishing hers was in trouble and fate had brought her to him.
“Stop.” She dug her fingers into his shoulders. “Jackson, we need to stop.”
“Why?” His voice was a raw whisper as his mouth trailed down her jaw, nuzzled her throat.
“I… Because.” She flattened her palm against his chest, forced him back. Breathing jerky, she stared at him while every pulse point in her body hammered. “Just…because,” she managed in a hoarse whisper.
“Well.” He expelled a ragged breath. “I guess that’s as good a reason as any.”
“I…” She waved a hand vaguely. “We don’t even know each other.”
His smile was slow and potent. “Seems to me we’re working on changing that.”
When he reached to touch her cheek, she jerked her head back. “I have to go. Now. Right now.”
“I didn’t mean to come on so strong.”
He bent down, scooped up her keys, then stood with them in his hand while his concerned eyes skimmed over her face, lingering on each feature. “It’s just that you’ve been in my thoughts for so long. I still can’t quite believe you’re here tonight.” He handed her the keys, his fingers sliding against hers. “With me.”
She stared into his face, the shadowy lights of the far-off street lamps emphasized his ruthless good looks. She scraped her teeth over her bottom lip, bringing his taste back to flood her mouth…and a swell of fresh desire into her system that made her legs go weak all over again.
“Good night.” It didn’t matter that her voice was unsteady. What mattered was that she get into her car before her wobbly legs gave out.
“Good night.” The eyes that had looked so rock-hard in her vision were now the color of smoke. “I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.”
“Yes.” She was reasonably sure her system would have settled by then.
It wasn’t until she pulled the Mustang out of the lot that she released the breath she’d been holding. Whatever trouble Jackson Colton was in, it had brought her to him. Until she knew why, she needed to keep a clear head. Then, when the knowledge came, she would be capable of putting two rational thoughts together. Unlike she had been while wrapped in Jackson’s arms.
When she turned onto the winding coast road she flexed her fingers against the steering wheel, pleased that her hands no longer trembled. Her breathing had evened. Finally.
Before this night, only one man had ever rocked her senses and taken her so swiftly toward the edge of control. After she’d given herself to him and told him about her gift, he’d looked at her as if she were crazy. Even now, the memory of the names Paul called her had her blinking back tears.
Holding a part of yourself back wasn’t deception, she reminded herself. It was self-preservation—as she’d learned through hard experience.
With Jackson, she would let fate take her hands and lead her.
And she would hold her secrets close.
Three
Jackson knew the drive along the dark coastal highway should have calmed him, helped his thoughts steady. Instead, his mind was as restless as the sea that churned against the ragged cliffs edging the shoreline.
How many women had he kissed? Slept with? He neither knew nor cared. He’d indulged in nights of mutual pleasure, then walked away unscathed. Tonight he and Cheyenne had shared a few kisses, nothing more. They’d been exceptional kisses, but kisses all the same.
Why, then, while he held her in his arms, had he been hit with aching desire when he had expected to feel the usual careless, carefree passion? The memory of her hot, unrestrained mouth pressed against his crept into his mind like a seductive phantom. He wanted her taste again. Wanted to hold her. Wanted her. Just her.
“Dammit.”
Something was happening inside him. Because he wasn’t precisely certain what that something was, he felt a tug of worry. He’d always been sure of his ground when it came to the opposite sex, yet he could have sworn he’d felt the earth move beneath his feet when Cheyenne’s mouth opened beneath his, inviting him in.
He just needed to get his balance back, he told himself as he steered the Porsche off Highway 1 onto Colton land. After all, his usual afternoon and evening didn’t include having the cops accuse him of two attempted murders, then running into—and ravishing—the woman whose testimony could place him in almost the exact spot a wannabe killer had stood during one of those attempts.
No matter how perverse, right now dealing with the dilemma of how to keep his butt out of jail was preferable to trying to figure out what was going on inside him where Cheyenne James was concerned.
In Jackson’s mind, the first order of business was to tell his uncle that the cops suspected he was the person who’d tried to put a slug into him. Twice.
“Can’t wait,” he muttered.
Blowing out a breath, he swung the Porsche around a corner. In the distance, the barn, stable and bunkhouses huddled in shadowy outlines against the starry night sky. The neat white-railed fence that lined the two-lane road stood ghostlike beneath the moon’s silver glow. Beyond the fence, shadowy trees dotted the hillside pastures. Jackson knew the security cameras his uncle had installed after the second attempt on his life were recording the Porsche’s progress along the private road. Monitors had been installed in his uncle’s study that displayed the views picked up by the cameras placed in strategic spots across Colton property.
Moments later, Jackson eased to a stop in the driveway that curved in front of the sprawling two-story house painted in soft white with jutting balconies, a terra-cotta roof and high-columned porch. Colorful lakes of flowers and shrubs pooled nearby. Swinging open the car door, he breathed in the salty tang of the ocean that lay just past the steep face of rough rock bordering the house’s manicured back lawn. The beat of his footsteps against the driveway mixed with the pounding of the surf.
Out of the corner of his eye he caught movement at the right of the porch. An armed security guard nodded to him, then melted back into the shadows.
Twin carriage lamps on either side of the towering front door cast overlapping puddles of light onto the porch. Twisting his key in the lock, Jackson pushed open the door, closed it behind him, then veered across the tiled foyer. He paused beneath the arched doorway that marked the entrance to his uncle’s beamed study.
As always, Jackson was struck by the coziness of the room with its leather sofas and chairs, polished brasses and thick rugs that spread vibrant color across the wood floor. The walls were paneled in oak mellowed by time, housing row after row of shelves lined with leather-bound books. Across from the stone fireplace in which flames ate
