More Than a Man - Chapter 2
by CFaulkner
copyright© 2001

Kevin’s elation lasted all of about thirty seconds, until he faced the fact that J.D. was not going to be at all happy, then his jaw set. He could be at least as stubborn as his annoyingly overbearing brother. He had given his word. Shaken on it, even. J.D.’s sense of honor was bone deep, and it was about the only think Kevin could think of to cling to when his brother exploded in front of him several hours later upon hearing the news.

"She’s how old?" James rarely yelled. With his size, he didn’t need to. His voice had dropped several octaves to a frighteningly deep whisper.

Kevin saw a massive fist clench in frustration, but met his older brother’s eyes without flinching – probably one of the few people alive in the world that could or would do that. "She’s twenty-nine."

"And what part about hiring someone older did you have a problem comprehending, Kevin?" It was their father’s voice that escaped from J.D.’s mouth at times like this, making the both of them uncomfortable. "Fire her. As soon as she gets here," he commanded, jamming a battered Stetson down onto his head on his way out the door, not doubting for a minute that Kevin would do as he said. James was used to being obeyed. Leading men into life-threatening situations would do that for you. He issued the orders, and Kevin or a hand or their lawyer or whoever carried them out. And that was the way J.D. liked it.

He was out the door before he could hear Kevin’s quiet, "No."

When Jessie returned, Kevin explained exactly what had happened between his brother and himself, not wanting her to be blindsided by J.D. when he ordered her out of the house as soon as he saw her. Surprisingly, she seemed to take it all in stride, but then she had yet to meet J.D. The room Kevin showed her to was at least twice the size of the one she had had at Addy’s, and she realized she’d have room for some of the stuff she’d put into storage; that is if she was allowed to stay.

Since it was so early in the day, she just threw what she had into her room and set about cleaning up as much as possible. She stripped all the beds, including her own, and started a large load of wash, what she was sure would be only the first of many. There were plenty of laundry baskets in the mud/laundry room, so as a hint to each of the men she put an empty basket on the floor in each of their closets, as well as her own. Jess wasn’t hoping for miracles, but if they could just get the clothes into the same vicinity as the basket, she’d be happy. While the machine was running, she put as much as she could into the dishwasher and started that, too, then went to work on the house room by room, starting with the kitchen.

First things first, she took out some hamburger to thaw that looked only slightly younger than King Tut, but she figured it would suffice. There was a big jar of spaghetti sauce in the cupboard and just enough pasta, she hoped. Another intrepid exploration of the freezer produced a loaf of sandwich bread that would suffice in a pinch for garlic bread, although she preferred to use French bread when possible.

With dinner planned, she filled several garbage bags with the debris from the kitchen and the living room, then threw open a few windows to air things out while she was working. Impulsively, she bolted down to her room and grabbed her boom box, throwing in a CD she’d burned of her favorite songs to sing to while straightening up. The coat closet held an ancient vacuum that had seen better days, but it worked and that was all Jess required at this point. Once she found the floor in the living room, she vacuumed it to within an inch of its life, discovering a very nice maroon Aubusson carpet that had been hidden by old newspapers and pizza boxes. There was some of that carpet sprinkle stuff to help cover various and sundry odors whose origins she didn’t really want to consider, and she used it liberally all over. The kitchen floor got the same treatment, and then was mopped repeatedly – three times in all, until the water in the bucket came up clear. By that time, the wash was ready to go into the dryer, and the dishwasher was ready to be emptied and refilled.

Kevin had said not to expect them for lunch, which was good since she would have been knee-deep in housework at that point, but he had told her he would try to be the first one back so that he could be there to argue with his brother. As it was, J.D. beat him, bursting in the door with a face like a thundercloud and being deliberately intimidating.

He was a little startled that the woman his brother had hired was the same one who had practically skittered away from him at the diner, but then he recovered and remembered he didn’t want her here, regardless of the wonderful smells coming from the kitchen. She was singing, badly, along with "Mambo No. 5" as she stirred something on the stove.

J.D. hadn’t said anything, but she must’ve heard the door slam shut because she turned, blanching suddenly pure white before recovering to give him a warm smile, which he stubbornly refused to return. She surprised him further by turning down the volume on the boom box and walking towards him with her hand extended. "Hi. I’m Jessica Bates. It’s nice to meet you." It was interesting to shake hands with the man she knew she would end up surrendering to intimately. He was even bigger close up, and although he intimidated the hell out of her, she was not going to let him see that. Jessica could have smacked herself upside the head for not having made the connection before this, but it was a little late now. It would play out the way it played out.

Out of long ingrained habit, J.D. shook her hand, albeit with exaggerated gentleness. Jess gave no sign that she recognized him, or that he in the least intimidated her, instead she calmly returned to dinner preparations, humming along softly to the music. Neither a frightened doe nor a crotch-gazer. Hmmmmm. "You look tired. Can I get you something to drink?"

Hell, no, he didn’t want something to drink when he couldn’t even think with her near. It was bad with some women, but it seemed a million times worse with her for some reason. Every nerve ending he possessed was on full alert. His heightened and finely tuned senses picked up the enticing softness of her perfume, and the wonderful underlying warmth of womanly smell. Jessica was not pretty in the classical sense, but she was pleasant looking, with a nice, well-rounded figure, clear, expressive eyes and a ready smile. But she was so much smaller than he was – maybe five foot four to his six-three. She aroused every sexual instinct the government had inadvertently activated in him and every protective instinct he had carefully retained and nurtured. His groin swelled almost unbearably and he growled, "No," before escaping to his bedroom.

When their mother was alive, a shower after work had been mandatory before coming to the dinner table, and J.D. supposed he should show Ms. Bates at least that much courtesy. But then he decided he wasn’t going to change for someone who wasn’t going to be here longer than this evening. He noticed the empty laundry basket in his closet, and the lack of clothing piles on the floor, as well as the fact that his bed had been made and the room smelled like it had had a good dose of fresh air.

Dinner that night was strained, especially after J.D. made his appearance looking like he had just walked in from the range, whereas Kevin had obviously showered and put on clean clothes, fresh from the dryer. They sat around the table like what they were – three strangers, but Jessica and Kevin kept up a light conversation, exchanging the usual personal information. Jess told him – and thus J.D. heard by default – that she was the youngest of five children, and an unrepentant spoiled brat. She confessed it with such complete lack of concern that Kevin laughed, which made J.D. clench his jaw just that much tighter. There were three girls and two boys in the family, and the majority of them had made their homes near where she had grown up, which was Eastern Tennessee.

"I’m the wanderer," she took a swallow of soda. "My father is sure I’m going to get myself into trouble since I don’t have a steady job, but I want to give my writing a chance. He made me promise that if I haven’t sold anything by the time I’m thirty-two that I’ll come back home and get married, like I should. Or at the very least, move somewhere closer to where he and my brothers can keep a weather eye on me."

"Sounds like you have a great family," Kevin commented, glad that she was carrying more than her share of the conversation because he was busy shoveling as politely as possible as much food into his mouth as he could.

J.D. snagged the last piece of garlic bread just as Kevin was reaching for it and he started to whimper, making Jessie laugh. She got up and rescued the second pan of it from the oven, plopping a piece down on Kevin’s plate.

They ate every scrap of food she’d made, then J.D. sat back in his chair and crossed a big, dirty, booted foot over his knee, pinning her with an intimidating look. She remained annoyingly unintimidated, impishly raising her water glass in salute to him from across table. He ruthlessly suppressed the unusual urge to return that warm smile in favor of an out and out glare. Kevin looked from one to the other and put down his fork, realizing the battle had been joined without him and not wanting to be an innocent bystander.

Jessie pre-empted the both of them by fearlessly meeting J.D.’s eyes and stating, "You don’t want me here."

"No, I don’t," his reply was softer than he wanted, but he was finding despite himself that he disliked the idea of hurting her feelings. Tender impulses were unusual for him, and they threw him off balance.

"But you advertised for a housekeeper and a cook. I’m both."

"You’re too damn young," he ground out.

It was Jessie’s turn to look startled. "Young? Young is eighteen."

"Young is what I say it is," James’ tone dared her to challenge him.

Jess shrugged. "Ok. I’ll take that as a compliment."

J.D. sighed wearily. Dammit, she wasn’t making this easy on him.

"Wasn’t dinner fabulous, though, J.D.?" Kevin piped up hopefully.

The older man nodded, tapping his fingers impatiently on the tabletop, as if he wanted this scene to be over and done with already.

"The house is darn near immaculate, there are clean clothes folded in my drawers instead of piled on the floor, and I, for one, vote that she stays." Kevin was an easy-going type of person, and he didn’t challenge his brother on a whim, but he was not a wimp.

Before James could say anything, Jessie got up and began clearing the table, stating calmly, "Well, I can tell you that I’m not going to stay unless you both want me to. I won’t be the cause of strife between you two. I’m sure you’ll eventually find someone who’ll suit you both."

Kevin frowned and J.D. glared while she cleaned up around them, but neither of them moved a muscle as coffee appeared before each of them, along with homemade brownie sundaes. Although they each tucked into the desserts with equal gusto, when she cleared those dishes away, Kevin made an emphatic statement.

"She stays."

Without missing a beat or raising his voice, J.D. growled back, "She goes."

Jessie surprised the both of them by her melodic peal of laughter. "Jeez, you two are certainly brothers. You sound exactly like Thom and Ethan. Stubborn is born and bred into every bone in their bodies, too."

James snorted, thinking to himself that his feelings toward her were anything but fraternal, but he said nothing, merely watching her as she cleaned up the rest of the dinner dishes, then joined them back at the table.

"Well, I’d appreciate it if you’d let me stay here overnight, Mr. Hamilton. I gave up my room at Addy’s in anticipation of staying here, and I don’t fancy getting filled with buckshot by knocking on her door at night." This time J.D. did smile; everyone in town knew that Adelaide Simon was a full-fledged alarmist who slept with a loaded gun under her pillow. It was a wonder she hadn’t killed herself accidentally with the thing long ago. Seeing his smile, something painful and tight contracted in Jessie’s heart. She knew instinctively that he did it all too rarely, and it was nice that he could respond to her in that way. He held himself so aloof . . . she wondered why.

Kevin butted in. "Of course you’re going to stay – "

But Jess stopped him by quietly placing her hand on his arm for a second. "No. Your brother has the right to have whomever he wants in his home."

"It’s my home, too."

That stuck in J.D.’s craw. His brother was right. Jessie fit the bill wonderfully, and he was the only obstacle to them hiring the only person who seemed to have met most of their qualifications. And the house did look a thousand times better. If only he could be sure of himself . . . If only, if only. Inwardly, he raged against what had been done to him, even though he had consented at the time, not realizing the full extent of the modifications he would be subject to. Now he didn’t quite trust himself. He had killed all too easily with his awesome strength, and had become frighteningly adept at it. Every care had been given to training him in a thousand different ways of inflicting pain and death on a human. No one had taught him how to temper that strength, and one innocent female had paid for it with her life. That had been the beginning of the end for him. It had been his own, personal holocaust. Never again, he had sworn. Never again.

Since that time, he had kept himself away from women in general, only occasionally travelling on business to a city large enough where he could indulge his personal preferences with someone who was well paid to tolerate his idiosyncrasies. Even then, the first time, he had nearly been rendered incapable for fear of accidentally hurting her.

If he ever did find a woman with whom he could have a physical relationship, it would have to be someone who had as strong a sexual urge as he had now. One of the other side affects of the modifications the military had subjected him to was that his libido, which had never been low in the first place, was now quite predominant in his personality. It was only because he had been able to develop a rigid self-control, along with his personal sense of honor that would never allow him to force himself on an unwilling woman, that he hadn’t ended up like more than three quarters of the men who had undergone the treatments with him – in a civilian or military jail, gone crazy, or dead from suicide.

Unable to answer in a way that they both wanted him to, J.D. rose and went into his study, seemingly the only room in the house left untouched by her presence, and closed the door with a quiet click.

The next morning, both brothers were pleasantly surprised when fresh, hot coffee, scrambled eggs, bacon, and hash browns, as well as a wonderful nutmeg muffin with cinnamon sugar on the top greeted them.

Now he felt even guiltier. "You didn’t have to do this," J.D. said automatically, digging into a pile of fluffy eggs just the same.

Jessie seemed to float around the kitchen in the white eyelet housecoat she was wearing. Her hair was mussed and sleep was still in her eyes, but both men thought she looked gorgeous. J.D. especially, until he clamped down on himself ruthlessly. She would be gone by the time he got back in tonight. There was no hope for anything more. None.

She filled both of their cups with coffee again, then Kevin asked, "Aren’t you eating?"

"At this hour of the morning? Not likely, honey." Her truly horrified tone and comically wrinkled face drew smiles from the both of them.

"Not a morning person, are you?" Kevin inquired, grinning at her like an idiot.

Jessie held a hand to her heart as if swearing an oath. "I am of the firm belief that five o’clock comes but once a day – in the afternoon. You guys are just lucky I can cook in my sleep."

Kevin finished up and threw his napkin on the table. "Well, I guess there’s no hope for it." He faced Jessie and took her hand; kissing the back of it and bowing low. "I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I think you would have been a fabulous addition to the household."

Jessie lifted the skirt of her robe delicately between her thumb and middle finger, feigning a curtsey badly. "Thank you, kind sir. I appreciate that you considered me for the job."

With a speaking glare at his brother, Kevin marched out the door.

"More coffee?" she asked J.D. without looking at him.

"No, thanks."

Jess bustled about, cleaning up as much as she could around him. "I’ll be leaving this morning, around ten, when I’ve had a chance to repack my things and get them into my car. Should I lock the door behind me? Kevin didn’t give me a key . . . "

For some reason, everything she was saying, the idea that she would be packing and going somewhere where he couldn’t see her, was annoying him to no end.

"Where’ll you go?" he asked, unable to stop himself from the inquiry.

"Back to Addy’s. She’ll probably still have my room open."

"Hmmm. I’ll be back in around nine thirty, then, to carry things for you."

Jess preferred he didn’t return. He disturbed her, in the most elemental of ways. It appeared her insight had been wrong, but then, there was a first time for everything. "That’s not necessary – "

J.D. rose to literally tower over her and growl, "I said, I’ll be back here at nine thirty. You don’t need to hurt yourself carrying heavy suitcases out to your car."

She couldn’t resist the impish impulse to salute him, saying snappily, "Yes, Sir."

There was that smile again. It was coming more frequently, and she was glad to be the cause of it. "Brat," he threw over his shoulder on the way out the door.

"Bully," he heard her bellow back with a chuckle. Well, he thought as he strode to the barn, the woman had guts, you had to give her that.

It was about nine-fifteen when he rode up on his big sorrel stallion, catching her as she tried valiantly to cram a huge suitcase into the tiny trunk of her junker car. J.D. dismounted quickly and dropped the reins, knowing Chieftain wouldn’t wander further than the barn. As usual, when he was around her his genitals lead the way. They were even less controllable with her than with most women. The only thing he could think about was how much he wanted to bury himself in her warm, sweet wetness . . . after he’d given her a good spanking for being bratty, of course.

His jaw set, James shouldered her out of the way, resisting the impulse to swat her jean covered behind for disobeying him. "Didn’t I tell you to wait until I got here so that you didn’t have to do this yourself?"

Jessica folded her arms over her chest, pursing her lips with frustration at the way he just horned in and took over like it was his God-given right. "Excuse me, but aren’t you declining the opportunity to boss me around, big man?" she asked in a voice that fairly dripped with sarcasm.

His big body stilled ominously, and she watched with a mixture of unbearable excitement and just a tinge of fear at the look that he gave her. "You’d better watch your tone, Missy, or you’ll may just get what you’re pushin’ for."

She snorted behind him, but wasn’t smart enough to shut up. "You’re a bully, J.D. Hamilton."

"And you’re a sassy little brat, Jessica Bates. I guess your father didn’t spank you enough when you were young . . . "

Jessie leaned against the rear of the car and snorted indelicately. "I got spanked plenty when I was younger, thank you. By my father, my mother, and my older brothers!"

James couldn’t prevent a big grin from spreading over his face. "Well, you must’ve deserved it, then, huh?"

A deep frown creasing her face, Jessica replied wryly, "You know, you don’t smile nearly enough, but smiling at me getting my fanny tanned is way outta line, buster."

Man, this was the millionth time he wanted to beat his own head in for allowing them to experiment on him. If he’d been a normal average guy, all of this flirting and talking about spanking might have lead somewhere. He’d never have had to turn her away; in fact he would have done everything in his power to keep her here. In his head, he’d already blistered her bottom and was busy "making it up" to her.

But, again, he was doing the noble thing. Making sure he wouldn’t hurt her in any way. Denying even the faint possibility of having what he wanted most - feminine companionship, a teasing sense of humor . . . a potential mate.

It had been a long time since he’d indulged himself in anything, relaxed his guard a little and just enjoyed life. He had seen too much. Sometimes he didn’t feel quite human anymore.

He’d never wanted anything as much as he wanted her to stay at the ranch. Even though he would never be able to get truly close to her in the way he would like, she had gotten to him in such a short time that he would be willing to put up with a permanent case of blue balls if it meant that he could enjoy her sweet, womanly presence for even the shortest amount of time.

Jessie was getting behind the wheel of her car when he grabbed her upper arm suddenly, then drew back as if he’d been burned. "I was thinking," he began slowly, having suddenly wondered if she might turn him down. "Do you suppose we could do this on kind of a trial basis?"

Her broad smile was his answer. "A week?" she stepped out of the car and a little closer to him, and he took a casual but noticeable step back.

"I was thinking more of a month. Then we’ll revisit it."

"Done!" Jessie held out her hand to shake his, and it was the quickest, wimpiest handshake in history. He acted as if he thought he’d get girlie cooties if he touched her. But his eyes were completely wild around her, following her as avidly as a wolf stalking prey. He was already sauntering toward the house with her bags when she said, "Thank you. I’ll try to keep out of your way. You’ll hardly know I’m here!" she shouted after him, not sure that he could hear her.

James was already regretting his gonad-inspired impulse, and laughed low at her promise that he wouldn’t realize she was in his house. Right. He came to full, painful attention just smelling the floral scent that clung to her. The brush of her arm against his when she had poured him coffee this morning was enough to make his loins throb until all he could think about was laying her naked beneath him on the kitchen table . . .

But he’d done it, and he wasn’t going to go back on his word.

She’d looked so damned happy when he said she could stay, even if it was only on a trial basis.

He tromped out of the house and mounted his horse.

This was a bad, bad, bad idea . . .

Then why was he so blasted glad she would still be under his roof?

Click for Chapter 3