Til Death Do Us Part by Beverly Barton

his best friend. Dundee’s Private Security was one of the most respected and successful private security businesses in the country.
    Oh, yeah, J. T. Blackwood was a security expert. Acting as a bodyguard was what he did best. There was only a couple of small problems associated with guarding Joanna Beaumont. The woman hated him, although he didn’t much blame her. And he wanted her, but didn’t have the vaguest idea what a woman who’d been brutally raped would need from a lover.
    He’d be a fool to take this assignment. He was far too personally involved. Despite Elena’s insistence that he take the job himself, J.T. wondered if it wouldn’t be wise to bring in another man from the agency. Simon Roarke was available and Gabriel Hawk would be finishing up an assignment within a week.
    But then, J.T. doubted an around-the-clock bodyguard was needed at this point. At least not a professional. There were enough hands on the Blackwood ranch to see that Joanna was kept under watch. If and when Lenny Plott discovered her whereabouts would be the time for a trained bodyguard to step in.
    He had put off talking to Joanna long enough. He’d present her with several alternatives, assuring her he would guarantee she was safe on the ranch, then he’d let her decide what she wanted done.
    J.T. climbed down the mountainside, returned his rifle to its sheath and mounted Washington. It had been a long time since he had dreaded anything as much as he dreaded facing Joanna, now that he knew what had happened to her five years ago. What if he said or did the wrong thing?What if— Hell! What was the matter with him? When had he suddenly become the sensitive, emotional kind? He hadn’t! Not now. Not ever. It was just that there was something about Joanna, something so gentle and tender and compelling, that he couldn’t get her out of his head.
    When he returned to the ranch, he turned Washington over to one of the stable hands instead of caring for the Appaloosa himself as he usually did. No point waiting any longer to confront Joanna.
    He found her and Elena sitting on the front porch of the converted bunkhouse, both of them swaying back and forth in the rockers. Hesitating at the foot of the steps, he looked up at Elena.
    â€œWhere have you been?” his sister asked. “You rode off in a big hurry.”
    He glanced at Joanna; she stared down at her hands resting in her lap. Where was her fiery spirit? he wondered. Her face was too pale. She was too quiet. And she hadn’t looked at him.
    â€œI needed some time alone. To think.”
    â€œLieutenant George called,” Elena said. “The policeman from Virginia—”
    â€œYou’ve already told me who he is,” J.T. said. “Did he have any updated information on Plott?”
    Elena shook her head. “No. He pretty much just repeated what Mrs. Beaumont had told Joanna earlier when she called.”
    J.T. walked up the steps, stopping beside his sister. He placed his hand on her shoulder. “I need to talk to Joanna. Alone.”
    â€œWhy alone?” Elena asked. “She needs me here. I don’t want to leave her—”
    â€œIt’s all right,” Joanna said. “You go on home. I’ll be fine. Really.”
    Elena stood, then pointed her finger in her brother’s face. “Don’t you dare be anything but gentle and understanding. Do you hear me?”
    â€œI’ll do my very best.” But would his best be good enough? He might be able to manage understanding, at least up to a point. But he didn’t know much about being gentle. There had been very little gentleness in his life and few occasions when he’d been called upon to show any tenderness. J.T. wasn’t sure there was a gentle side to his nature.
    Turning around, Elena bent over and hugged Joanna. “I’ll do anything you need for me to do to help you through this.” She squeezed