Prologue
A wealth of her red-gold hair glimmering like a fall sunset drew his eye. The body beneath it garnered his attention as well. As she walked up the main aisle, Heath Jackson perused the woman openly from his seat near the back. An unusual mix of reds and gold, shot through with an occasional strand of reddish brown—akin to copper—her hair was nothing like he’d ever seen before. It was gathered high at the back of her head in a clip that barely contained the bounty and allowed several long springy tendrils to escape. He imagined it was breathtaking when falling loose around her shoulders. His fingers burned to release the high knot, spear into the mass, and finger comb the glossy curls that would surely reach to her lower back, or beyond to her pert little bottom.
Despite the small bustle on her dress, he could discern a narrow waist, curvy hips, and what he imagined was a sweetly rounded bottom. He’d developed quite an imagination when the despicable birdcages had come into fashion and hid one of his favorite feminine features from view. At least he no longer had to try to determine a woman’s shape beneath one of those awful hoop skirts.
As the woman moved along, she nodded at folks, pausing every now and again for a brief word or to clasp hands. Near the front, she leaned over to hug an elderly woman who was too frail to stand. The position pulled her skirt tight across her hips and Heath nearly swallowed his tongue. Images of the beauty bent over with her bottom bared for him flooded his mind.
Without benefit of the skirt and whatever fripperies she wore beneath, he would guide her curvy body over one of the benches. Naked, her bottom upraised, she would tremble ever so slightly in anticipation. Stretching forward, she’d reach toward the bench seat, her breasts swaying freely, the glorious mass of her titian hair tumbling over her shoulders and onto the cushions, spreading out like a fan.
She would strain toward the floor, her toes pointed downward, just out of reach. As she balanced precariously, he would enjoy teasing glimpses of the sweet treasure that lay between her thighs, the glistening pink flesh framed by a perfect thatch of red-gold curls.
Breathless and eager for that first touch, for the fervent kiss of his hard palm on her rounded behind, she would whimper softly through her plump parted lips.
Ever gracious, he wouldn’t make her wait.
Beginning low on the back of her silken thigh, he’d run his hand slowly upward, gliding over the rounded hills of her bottom cheeks. His fingertips, grazing along the cleft, would dip inside to test her wetness and heat.
As she trembled in response, his purpose would come back to him. A long time in coming, she had earned this spanking for teasing him, flirting outrageously, holding herself away from him and building his need to a fever pitch.
Unable to wait any longer, his hand would rear back, returning swiftly to connect with a smarting crack across her pristine behind. A sharp intake of breath echoing off the walls would come back to them as she flipped her hair. She would turn to him, her beautiful face flushed, brilliant green eyes wide as a plea came from her lips…
Fantasy became reality in that moment as the redhead turned and he saw her brilliant green eyes, which seemed to gaze straight at him. No, not at him, she was looking at her father, who had been standing behind her. With a parting kiss to his cheek, she turned and proceeded up the aisle toward the front of the church.
His stomach lurched as he came to grips with the fact that the redhead he was ogling and lusting after was Jenny Harper. A longtime friend of the family and a decade or more his junior, she was an innocent no doubt. Horror swept through him as he realized he’d had a sex fantasy about her, a mere child and in church no less.
He sat back and closed his eyes, waiting for lightning to strike him and send him straight to hell. At the very least, he expected God to smite him for befouling this sweet child and his house of worship in one fell swoop with his decadent and lustful thoughts.
A sharp pain seared his ribcage. His eyes flew open, half expecting to see an angel of vengeance hovering over him with a bloody sword.
“Heath Jackson,” a familiar voice whispered. “Don’t you dare fall asleep.”
He closed his eyes in relief that his death wasn’t yet imminent and he would undoubtedly live to sin another day. The sharp pain came again, but now he knew the source. He turned his head and looked down at his mother, who was glaring up at him.
“I’ll not have it, young man. The one Sunday out of a baker’s dozen that you deign to accompany your mother to church and you doze off before the service even starts?”
Young man, he mentally sighed. In a month he’d be thirty; he wondered if she would ever stop calling him that. He reached for her arm, preventing further use of her pointed elbow.
“I’m awake, ma, so kindly stop jabbing my side or it will be two dozen more Sundays before you coax me back.”
His mother sniffed, reaching out to pick up her hymnal. Looking to her other side, he met his pa’s eyes and heard his amused chuckle.
Unable to resist, he faced forward, his eyes searching for the young miss who was responsible for his lewd thoughts.
He had trouble locating her at first, scanning, but not finding the sunset curls in any of the pews up ahead. When the opening bars of a hymn sounded, he flicked his gaze up to the gallery. Instead of the enduring Mrs. Stanton as expected, he saw Jenny’s bright head bent over the keys.
Throughout the service, he studied her at length, going through the motions of the service, mindlessly standing and sitting with the rest of the congregation. His thoughts, however, were far from spiritual, leaning more toward the carnal although not nearly as bad as before—before he knew who she was, that is.
Put simply, she was a beauty, with stunning green eyes, fair skin, a light smattering of freckles across her nose, and a tempting mouth, plump and pink, made for kissing. He noticed she worried her lower lip at times when she played a difficult passage. As the hymns flowed beautifully from her fingertips, her body swayed slightly as her hands danced over the keys.
As the music swelled above the congregation, he noticed numerous pairs of male eyes fixed on her. All were admiring, but more than a few were covetous despite the holy venue. His gut twisted with an odd sense of resentment. He wanted to protect her, shield her somehow from their lust-filled eyes. He wanted to hide her curvaceous figure, maybe with a screen around the piano, or at the very least cover her with something loose and voluminous rather than the navy blue dress that, despite being tasteful and conservative enough for church, showed off every rounded feature and luscious curve.
He shifted uncomfortably in the pew as the reverend waxed long in his sermon over morality of all things. He tamped down his body’s response, which hadn’t been easy, although being in church and seated next to his mother was helpful.
At one point as Jenny played, her head turned and her gaze scanned the crowd. His followed, wondering if those pretty eyes would land on a sweetheart, but she didn’t linger on anyone too long until she came to a stop on his family’s pew. The gorgeous green orbs shifted to him and they widened in surprise. Now, she did linger as her lips curved upward in a small smile. His body stirred as he returned her gaze.
He leaned to his mother. “Jenny Harper. How old is she now, sixteen?”
“No, dear, she’s older than that, eighteen, at least. She finished school this past spring. Why? Are you interested?”
Great. He had piqued her curiosity. The badgering would begin, again.
“She’s younger than you, but not so much,” she whispered. “She’s sweet and kind with not a greedy bone in her body, I’d swear to it. So there’s no need to worry about that.” She patted his arm. “What am I saying? You’ve known Jenny and her family for years. She’d be perfect for you, Heath.”
His eyes shot back to the gallery, to Jenny. She was playing the closing song with her eyes locked on him. As she was caught openly staring, a becoming blush colored her cheeks and she glanced back at the keys.
Fresh from the schoolroom, she was looking for love and marriage no doubt. Considering his twenty-nine years, his thoughts about a teenager seemed down right indecent.
No.
She wasn’t for him. Marriage wasn’t for him. He’d learned that the hard way. He pushed her from his thoughts.
“I’ll see you at supper,” he murmured as he rose and strode toward the exit. Thankful for his Stetson that concealed the painful bulge in his trousers, he hurried from the church as if the ass of his britches was on fire. As he hit the double doors, a discordant note made him pause. It was the first she had missed the entire service. He didn’t let it deter him. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t risk his heart ever again. Jamming his hat on his head, he burst through the doors and didn’t look back.