Backlash Tender Trap Aftermath - Lisa Jackson Page 0,1
entered her quickly. A swift flame of pain burned for a second within her, only to be extinguished by the gentleness of his strokes.
Tessa gasped, her arms circling his neck, her lips pressed to his as he began to move within her, enticing her to do the same. He kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her lips. The wild flames running through her blood leaped out of control and she was moving with him, riding on a storm as furious as a prairie fire, a tempest that swallowed them both.
“Love me,” she whispered.
“I do—oh!” he cried, his voice raw as he stiffened above her, then fell spent into her waiting arms. “Oh, love.”
The wind shifted silently, moving across the rugged ridge on which they lay, bending the dry grass and catching in Tessa’s hair.
“Don’t ever leave me,” she begged, her mind still spinning in a kaleidoscope of colors as she clung to him and tried to still her racing heartbeat. She felt the dew of sweat on his arms, smelled the scent of lovemaking on his skin, saw smoky clouds swirl in a sky tinged with pink.
“I have to go to L.A.”
His words were a cold dose of reality. “You don’t have to,” Tessa protested.
“Yes, I do, Tessa. I’ve got a job there in two weeks.” Evidently seeing the disappointment in her eyes, he kissed the tip of her nose. “But you could come with me.”
She swallowed back the urge to cry and looked away from him to the hazy heavens. “My dad—”
“Doesn’t need you. I do. Come with me.”
“What would I do in Los Angeles?” she asked, shifting her gaze back to his. “I train horses. I don’t belong in the city. And neither do you.” Blinking rapidly, she told herself not to cry, not this afternoon, not after loving him so completely. Clouds drifted overhead and the smell of smoke wafted through the trees.
“I’m an engineer, Tessa. I want to build bridges and skyscrapers and—” His nostrils flared and every muscle in his body flexed.
“And what?”
“Smoke!” he whispered, his gaze darting through the surrounding hills, to the valley floor far below. “Oh, God—”
“What?” she asked, reading the terror in his eyes. “Denver?” Her throat suddenly dry, she, too, smelled the biting odor of burning wood. Fire!
Scrambling into his jeans, Denver stared down the hillside, his face a mask of horror. “Oh, God, no!”
Tessa followed his gaze, only to see steel-gray smoke billowing from the stables of the McLean Ranch. She felt the blood rush from her face as she scrabbled on the dry ground for her jeans and blouse and struggled into her clothes.
Denver ran barefoot to his horse and grabbed the reins. While the poor beast sidestepped and tossed his head, he swung onto the gelding’s back and kicked hard. Leaving behind a cloud of dust, the buckskin tore down the rutted trail, his hooves clanging sharply on the rocks.
“Wait!” Tessa cried, cursing the buttons of her blouse as she yanked on her boots, then ran to her sorrel mare and climbed into the saddle. “Come on,” she urged, shoving her knees into the mare’s ribs. The little quarter horse leaped forward, half-stumbling down the rocky trail. Tessa slapped her with the reins, and the mare scrambled down the hill.
Wind tore at Tessa’s face and hair, and tears blurred her eyes as she clung burrlike to her horse’s neck. Denver was yards in front of her, cutting away from the trail and through the trees. “Wait!” she called again.
He didn’t even glance back. Tucked low over the buckskin’s shoulders, he streaked ahead.
“Giddyap!” Tessa screamed, praying that the smoke pouring from the stables was from a fire already under control—trying to stop the horrid dread knotting in her stomach. Her game little mare sprinted into the pines, and Tessa had to duck to escape being scraped off by low-hanging branches. “Come on, come on,” she whispered as they broke from the trees and raced across a long pasture leading to the stables.
The ranch was a madhouse. Stable boys, ranch hands and the kitchen help were running through the yard, yelling at one another, turning hoses onto the burning building. Thick, pungent smoke clogged the air, changing day to night. Flames crackled and leaped through the roof. Horses shrieked in terror, their horrific cries punctuating the ring of steel-shod hooves pounding against splintering wood.
“Dear God,” Tessa prayed. “Dear God, save them!”
Denver yanked his horse to a stop, and as the buckskin reared, Denver jumped to the ground, then vaulted the