Dropping into his leather chair, J.T. scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. He figured he owed Caitlan the truth after everything Randal had put her through in the short time she'd been at the ranch. Maybe if he explained, she'd better understand his cousin's resentment and bitterness. And maybe if he talked to Caitlan he could work out some of his own frustration over the situation. "You sure you wanna hear this?"

An encouraging smile on her lips, she lowered herself into the chair in front of his desk. "I've been told I'm a good listener."

And that's exactly what he needed right now, besides an aspirin for the splitting headache spawned by Randal's abuse with the door. J.T. leaned back in his chair. "My Uncle Boyd, Randal's father, never did care for ranching life. He was always looking for an easy investment. When some guy from town offered him a copper mine sure to produce millions, Uncle Boyd sold his portion of this ranch to my father, Jared."

"How long ago was that?"

J.T. thought for a moment, a little surprised to realize just how long ago the trouble had actually started. "About fourteen years ago." He pressed his index finger to the throb in his temple and the pain eased.

"So what happened?" she asked, genuine interest in her voice.

"Uncle Boyd sank every penny he had into his mine, but he couldn't produce enough copper to stay afloat. The mine played out after a few years, and Uncle Boyd lost everything."

"Everything?"

"Yep. His house, his truck, his wife-"

"His wife?" She frowned, her smooth brows furrowing over violet eyes. "Did she die?"

"No. Aunt Gina left Uncle Boyd after he went bankrupt."

Caitlan straightened in her chair, contempt flaring in her gaze. "She should have stayed by his side-"

"She probably would have if Uncle Boyd hadn't been abusing her."

Caitlan sucked in an audible breath. The spark in her eyes mellowed to sympathy. "That's horrible. Why would he do such a thing?"

"My best guess would be so he'd feel like a man. After Uncle Boyd lost everything he had no choice but to tuck his tail between his legs, swallow his pride, and come to work for my father on a ranch that had once been half his. He was hard to get along with, always drunk and taking his anger out on the livestock and anything and anyone who'd take it."

"And your father allowed him to continue working on the ranch?"

J.T. picked up a gold-plated letter opener from his desk and slid his fingers along the smooth surface, remembering all the tension and arguments between his father and Uncle Boyd, and his dad's answer when J.T. had asked him a question similar to Caitlan's. Jared had slapped him on the back and looked him straight in the eye, saying, "You never turn your back on family, son. Someday it might be you who needs a helping hand."

Tossing the letter opener back onto the blotter, he met Caitlan's inquisitive gaze. "Uncle Boyd was family, Caitlan. My father's brother. He had no one and nowhere to go. The Raffertys are a loyal bunch. We take care of our own. I guess that's why I put up with Randal."

Caitlan rubbed her thumb along the leather arm of her chair, head tilted curiously to the side. "But what does Randal have to be so angry about?"

J.T. smiled sadly. "When my father died two years ago I inherited the ranch. Rightfully, half should have belonged to Randal, but since Uncle Boyd sold his half to my father, Randal got nothing. Two months ago my uncle committed suicide and left Randal a mountain of debts as his inheritance. I really can't blame Randal for being resentful. Uncle Boyd wasn't the easiest man to live with, and he never should have sold his portion of the ranch to invest in something as chancy as a copper mine.

"The least I can do is try and help Randal out. I pay him well as a hand, he has his own cabin to live in, and I'm helping to pay off his father's debts. I'm hoping in time he'll come around. Things have been difficult for Randal since Uncle Boyd died."

A hint of a smile touched the comers of Caitlan's mouth. "You mean Randal used to be a nice guy?"

J.T. chuckled, unable to miss the dry humor in Caitlan's tone. "Not in the traditional sense. He's always been short-tempered and extremely competitive, especially with me." He shrugged. "I've grown used to it."

"He's lucky to have you for a cousin. I don't think anyone else would put up with his temper."

"Like I said, he's family. I'll do what I can to help him." J.T. sat up, deciding he'd revealed enough family secrets for one evening. Putting away the ledger, he shuffled some papers on his desk into a neat pile. He hadn't meant to go on and on, but Caitlan had been so easy to talk to. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had such an unreserved conversation with a woman, without the pretense of something more.

He glanced up and found her studying him intently. Growing increasingly uncomfortable under her scrutiny, he asked, "What's the matter?"

Speculation simmered in her eyes. "I was just wondering… do you think Randal would try to harm you?"

Something in her gaze made him decidedly restless, a perceptiveness that went as deep as he could see. He knew exactly what Caitlan was get ting at, pinpointing Randal as a suspect for his accident, and quickly shook his head. "No. Randal's hotheaded, but he's pretty harmless. All talk and no action, I've learned. He's just bitter over his father's mistake, and the debts he's responsible for, which is understandable." But his cousin's drinking habit was another matter, J. T. thought, especially since it was starting to affect his work.

The ache in his temples had worked its way up to where he'd been hit in the head. He needed rest, he decided, watching as Caitlan stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books. Clasping her hands behind her back, she casually examined the titles. Now that the crisis with Randal was over, and an explanation given for his cousin's odd behavior, J. T. couldn't help but consider the intimacy of Caitlan alone with him in his office, and the endless possibilities of such a confinement. Shifting restlessly in his chair, he tried to shake off the provocative thoughts invading his mind.

"I see you're a fan of Stephen King and John Grisham," she commented. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled at him, and in the next instant an incredible awareness, as vital and hot as flame, settled between them. Fast as lightning, the easy friendship they'd established altered to a sexually charged energy that arced the distance between them.

J.T. saw the awakening glint in her eyes, felt he sensuality of new discovery cloak the room. Her hair feathered softly around her face, and as he dropped his gaze to her mouth, lips moist and slightly parted, an achy emptiness settled deep inside him.

Abruptly, he stood, determined to send her on her way before he took full advantage of the soft invitation and curiosity in her gaze. "It's been a long day and my head is killing me," he said, which wasn't a total lie. His head was killing him, the throb unmerciful. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to turn in."

Caitlan started toward him, concern dissolving the desire of moments before. "Are you going to be okay? Maybe I should check the bump on your head."

His thoughts took an inappropriate turn as she neared. Damn, the last thing he wanted from her was mothering. He wanted something hot and basic, her warm, soft feminine body to lose himself in. And something more. He longed for the temptation of tenderness and care in Caitlan's violet eyes. But he'd be no better than a thief if he gave into his greed, because he'd give her absolutely nothing in return. At least not what a woman with her capacity to care truly deserved: love and affection, laughter and joy. And promises.

She skirted the desk, and before she could touch him he stepped away so his chair separated them. He ignored her perplexed look. "I'm sure this is just a backlash of all the excitement of today. All I need is some sleep. Did Laura show you the guest room?"

Caitlan nodded. "Yes." It's the room beside yours. "And your sister loaned me some clothes. Your family is wonderful. Everyone has been so nice about me being here."

"Everyone except Randal," he stated.

She shrugged. "I'll just stay out of his way and I'll be fine."

J.T. jammed his hands on his hips and held her gaze steadily. "Stay out of everyone's way, Caitlan," he ordered, a hard edge to his voice. "Like I told you before, I don't want my men distracted."

His commanding tone made her bristle defensively, and her chin shot up a notch. "Fine."

There was something in his look, something very explicit and very male. A challenge of sorts with a sexual undertone. The heated message in his gaze said he wanted her, in the simplest, most primitive way. Her pulse quickened and she struggled for breath, drawing in the scent of musk and man. A familiarity in those darkening green-gold eyes of his reached deep inside her and tugged, demanding her attention. Yet she couldn't quite focus on the images, and when she tried her medallion scorched her skin.

J.T. swore under his breath and shoved his fingers through his hair in a frustrated gesture. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going up to bed."

Caitlan watched him start for the door, wishing for the easy truce they'd shared before this startling awareness had intruded. In an effort to make amends she quickly asked, "Would you happen to have a pencil and pad of paper I could borrow?"

Turning, he frowned at her request. "Somewhere in one of those drawers I do." He made his way back to the side of the desk. "Mind me asking what you need it for?"

Noticing that the harsh lines between his brows were no longer present, she smiled. "I'm not really tired and I like to sketch. It helps me to relax."