by Lori Foster
Sighing, she turned to go in. “I feel ready to drop.”
Sawyer followed her through the door. The cold air-conditioning was a welcome relief as it washed against his heated skin. It may be evening, but summer in Kentucky meant thick humidity and temperatures in the nineties, sometimes even through the night.
Honey came to an abrupt halt beside the bed and stared at the fresh linens. “Someone changed the bed.”
“I did. I figured you’d want clean sheets.”
She gave him a querulous frown for reasons he couldn’t begin to fathom, then sat on the edge of the mattress and reached for the cat. Until she did so, Sawyer hadn’t realized the cat was back. Her calico coloring made her blend perfectly with the patchwork quilt.
Honey lifted the cat onto her lap and stroked her, being especially careful with her bandaged tail. “So I know you won’t kiss me again, but I still don’t know why you did in the first place.”
Watching her pet the cat mesmerized him—until she spoke, breaking the spell with her unsettling question. He didn’t want to answer her because he knew it would somehow complicate things further. But she had that stubborn, set look again, and he figured she wouldn’t go to bed until he satisfied her curiosity. He crossed his arms over his chest and studied her while searching for the right words. “I kissed you because I couldn’t seem to stop myself.”
“But why?”
He growled, “Because you’re quick-witted and sweet and you have more courage than’s good for you. And you’re stubborn and you make me nuts with your secrets.” Almost reluctantly, he admitted, “And you smell damn good.”
She stared up at him, bemused. “You kissed me because I annoy you with my stubbornness and…and my courage?”
He gave a sharp nod. “And as I said, you’re smart and you smell good. Incredibly good.”
“But I thought—”
“I know what you thought.” She’d complained about smelling like the lake when to him, she’d smelled like herself, a woman he wanted.
He started to ask her why she’d kissed him back, because she had. She’d nearly singed his eyebrows with the way she’d clung to him, how her mouth had moved under his, the way she’d greedily accepted his tongue, curling her own around it.
He shuddered, then headed for the door, escape his only option. Somehow he knew he’d be better off not knowing what had motivated her. “I won’t sleep in here tonight, but if you need anything just let me know. I’m using the front bedroom.”
She rushed to her feet. “I hadn’t thought… I didn’t mean to chase you out of your own room!”
There was so much guilt in her face, he slowed for just a heartbeat. “You didn’t chase me out. I just figured since you were already settled…”
“I’ll switch rooms.” She took an anxious step toward him. “You shouldn’t have to be inconvenienced on my account.”
He hesitated a moment more, caught between wanting to reassure her and knowing he had to put distance between them. “It’s not a problem. Good night.”
She started to say something else, but he pulled the door shut. Truth was, he liked knowing she was in his bed. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to sleep there again without thinking of her—and dreaming.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE HOUSE was eerily quiet as she slipped the bedroom door open, using only the moonlight filtering in through the French doors to guide her way. Though she hadn’t lied about being exhausted, she hadn’t slept. The clean sheets no longer smelled of Sawyer’s crisp, masculine scent. She’d resented the loss.
She listened with her ear at the crack in the door, but there was nothing. Everyone was in bed, as she’d suspected, probably long asleep. She pictured Sawyer, on his back, his long body stretched out, hard, hot. Her heart gave an excited lurch.
He’d kissed her because she was smart.
And sweet and stubborn and… She’d wanted to cry when he’d given those casual compliments. She’d almost married a man who’d never even noticed those things about her, and if he had, he wouldn’t have found them attractive. For him, her appeal had been based on more logical assets, what she could bring him in marriage, her suitability as a partner, the image she’d project as his wife.
Occasionally he’d told her she was lovely, and he’d had no problem using her body. But nothing he’d ever done, not even full intimacy, had been as hot, as exciting, as Sawyer’s kiss. God, she’d been a fool to almost marry Alden.
Her father had once claimed she could have any husband she wanted based on her looks and his financial influence, neither of which she’d ever considered very important. Sawyer couldn’t be interested in her father’s influence, because he didn’t know about it and didn’t need it, in any case. And from what he’d said, he didn’t find her all that attractive. She smiled and touched her cheek. She was a wreck, and she didn’t even care. He’d kissed her, and he’d told her she smelled good, and he liked her wit and stubbornness and courage. Such simple compliments that meant so much. Without even realizing it, he’d given her a new perspective on life, a new confidence. She’d no longer doubt her own worth or appeal, thanks to his grudging admission.
She knew she had to leave before she threw herself at him and begged him to pretend she was one of the women from outside of town. Every time she was around him, she wanted him more.
She’d left a note on the bed, made out to Sawyer and sealed in a bank deposit envelope she’d found on his dresser. It was a confession of sorts, explaining how she felt and part of the reasons she had to leave. It was embarrassing, but she felt she owed him that much, at least. She knew he wouldn’t be happy with her furtive defection, but from what he’d said, he’d be even less happy if she lured him into an intimacy he was bound and determined to resist.
Her purse had been in the closet, as the brothers had claimed, and all her credit cards and I.D. were still inside. She was ready to go.
The door was barely open when the small cat leaped off the bed to follow her out. When Honey reached for the cat, meaning to close her back in the bedroom so she wouldn’t make any noise, the cat bounded out of reach. Honey wasn’t sure what to do, but it was certain she couldn’t waste time hunting for the animal in the dark. She’d been through the house, but she wasn’t familiar enough with the setup to launch a search; odds were she’d knock something over.
She was halfway down the hallway, moving slowly and silently though the blackness, when the cat meowed. Every hair on her body stood on end while she waited, frozen, for some sign she’d been discovered. Nothing. The brothers slept on.
Honey glared behind her, but could only see two glowing green eyes in the darkness. Again she reached for the cat; again it avoided her. She felt the brush of soft fur as the cat moved past, then back again, always just out of reach. Honey cursed silently and prayed the cat would be quiet, and that she wouldn’t trip on it and knock anything over.
The house was so large, it took her some time to make her way to the kitchen, especially with the cat winding around her ankles every few steps. She’d always liked cats, but now she was thinking of becoming a dog woman.
A tiny, dim light on the stove gave scant illumination across the tiled kitchen floor. She could barely see, but she knew the keys were hanging on a peg on the outside wall, close to the door, so she used the stove light as a compass of sorts, helping her to orient herself to the dark room. Shuffling her feet to avoid tripping on unseen objects, including felines, she made her way over to the door, trying to avoid the heavier shadows of what she assumed to be the table and counter. Once her searching hand located the keys, she had another dilemma. There were too many of them!
Her heart pounded so hard it was almost deafening. Her palms were sweaty, her stomach in a tense knot. The damn cat kept twining around her bare feet, meowing, making her jumpy. She had no idea where the pet food was kept and had no intention of trying to find out.
Finally, knowing she had to do something or she’d definitely faint, she ignored
the cat and decided to take all the keys. When she found one that operated the closest vehicle, she’d drop the rest in the grass, leaving them behind.
She tucked her purse under her arm and wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. Carefully, shuddering at every clink and rattle, she lifted the various key rings. There were five sets. She swallowed hard and, clutching the keys in one hand, her purse in the other, she reached for the kitchen door. The cat looked up and past her, meowed, then sprinted away. Honey turned to see where the cat was headed and barely caught sight of a large, looming figure before a growling voice took her completely off guard.
“You were actually going to steal my car!”
She jerked so hard, it felt like someone had snapped her spine. At first, no sound escaped her open mouth as she struggled to suck in air, then her heartbeat resumed in a furious trot, and she shrieked involuntarily. Shrill. Loud. The cat took exception to her noise, and with a hiss, darted out of the room. Honey seriously thought her heart might punch right through her chest, it was racing so frantically. It didn’t matter that the voice was familiar; she’d been sure she was all alone, being incredibly sneaky, and then he was there. The sets of keys fell from her limp hand in a clatter on the tile floor. Her purse dropped, scattering the contents everywhere.
Sawyer was there in an instant, his hands clasping her shoulders and jerking her around to face him, hauling her up close on her tiptoes again. Her body flattened against his, and she could feel his hot angry breath on her face, feel the steel hardness of his muscles, tensed for battle.
“You were going to steal my goddamn car!”
“No…” The denial was only a whisper. She still couldn’t quite catch her breath, not after emptying her lungs on that screech.
He took one step forward, and her back came up against the door while his body came up against her front. “If I hadn’t been sitting there in the shadows, you’d be sneaking out right now.” He shook her slightly. “Admit it.”
She swallowed, trying to find her tongue. Instead, the damn tears started. He’d been there all along? She’d never stood a chance? She sniffed, fighting off the urge to weep while trying to decide what to say, how to defuse his rage.
She trembled all over, and she couldn’t find the willpower to explain. She felt Sawyer practically heaving, he was so angry, and in the next instant he groaned harsh and low and his hands were on her face, his thumbs brushing away the tears, his mouth hungrily searching for hers. The relief was overwhelming.
She cried out and wrapped her arms around him. He’d said it wouldn’t happen again, that not only didn’t he want her for a fling, he didn’t want her for anything. She’d told herself that was for the best. She’d told herself she hadn’t cared. But inside, she’d crumbled.
Now he wanted her, and she was so weak with fear and excitement, all she could do was hold on to him.
One of his hands slid frantically down her side, then up under her shirt. He bit her bottom lip gently and when she opened her mouth, his tongue thrust inside, just as his long, hot fingers closed over her breast.
She jerked her mouth away to moan at the acute pleasure of it—and the kitchen light flashed on.
Blinded, Honey shaded her eyes while Sawyer jerked her behind him and turned to face the intruder.
“Just what the hell is going on?” There was two seconds of silence, then, “Ah. Never mind. Stupid question. But why the hell is she screaming about it?” Morgan’s voice. Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God. Honey peeked around Sawyer, then yelped. Good grief, the man was buck naked and toting a gun!
Sawyer shoved her back behind him again with a curse. “Damn it, Morgan, put the gun away.”
“Since it’s just you, I will. That is, I would if I had any place to put it.” Honey could hear his amusement, and she moaned again.
Sawyer muttered a low complaint. “You could have at least put some shorts on.”
“If I’d known you were only romping in the kitchen I would have! But how the hell was I supposed to know? She screamed, Sawyer. I mean, I know you’re rusty and all, but damn. You must have completely lost your touch.”
Honey clutched at Sawyer’s back, her hot face pressed to his bare shoulder. This couldn’t be happening.
Sawyer crossed his arms over his chest. “She screamed because I caught her trying to steal the car keys.” He kicked a set toward Morgan. The sound of them skidding over the floor was almost obscene. Honey didn’t bother to look to see if Morgan picked them up. The man was blatantly, magnificently naked, and didn’t seem to care. She shuddered in embarrassment and burrowed closer against Sawyer, pressing her face into his hot back, trying to blot the vision from her mind.
Morgan gave a rude grunt. “I see. She was stealing one of our cars. And so you kissed her to stop her?”
“Don’t be a smart-ass.”
Suddenly she heard Casey say, “What’s going on? I heard someone scream.”
Honey thought if there was any luck to be had for her, she would faint after all. She waited, praying for oblivion, and waited some more, but no, she remained upright, fully cognizant of the entire, appalling predicament she’d gotten herself into.
Sawyer’s body shifted as he gave a heavy sigh. “It’s all right, Casey. Honey was just trying to sneak off in the night. She was going to steal a car.”
“I was not!” Honey couldn’t bear the thought of Sawyer’s son believing such a thing about her. She cautiously peeked around Sawyer and saw Jordan and Gabe amble into the room. Just what she needed. Morgan, bless his modest soul, had sat down behind the bar. All she could now see of him was his chest. But that was still more than enough, especially since the gun remained in his hand, idly resting on the bar counter.
Gabe held up a hand. “I already heard the explanations. Damn, but she has a shrill scream. I had to scrape myself off the ceiling, it startled me so bad.”
Jordan held the cat in the crook of one arm, gently soothing it. “I even heard her all the way out in the garage. When I got here, the poor cat was nearly hysterical.”
Ha! Honey eyed them all, especially that damn traitor feline, and tried to muster up a little of that courage Sawyer claimed she had. At least they weren’t all naked, she told herself, then shuddered with relief. Casey had pulled on jeans, and Gabe had on boxers. Jordan had a sheet wrapped around himself, held tight at his hip with a fist.
She felt remarkably like that damn cow in town who’d drawn too much attention.
“I wasn’t stealing the car.” They all stared at her, and the accusing look on Casey’s face made her want to die. She wiped away tears and cleared her throat. “I left a note on the bed, explaining. I just wanted to get to town and I thought it’d probably be too far to walk. I would have left the car there for you to pick up.”
Jordan frowned. “What’d you want in town that one of us couldn’t get for you?”
“No, you don’t understand. I was going to take the bus.”
Morgan shook his head in a pitying way. “We don’t have bus service in Buckhorn,” he explained with little patience. “You’d have gotten to town and found it all closed up. Around here, they roll the sidewalks up at eight.”
Her heart sank. “No bus service?”
Gabe pulled open the refrigerator and pulled out the milk. He drank straight from the carton. “The only bus service is in the neighboring county, a good forty miles away.”
Honey watched him with a frown. “You shouldn’t do that. It’s not healthy.”
Sawyer turned to glare down at her, his face filled with incredulous disbelief. She shrugged, feeling very small next to him. In a squeak, she said, “Well, it isn’t.”
Gabe finished the carton. “I knew it was almost empty.”
“Oh.”
Sawyer flexed his jaw. “What about your car? Your stuff? You don’t even have any shoes, remember?”
He was still so furious, she took a step back. And even though Casey had looked wounded by what she’d attempted to do, he came to her
side. He didn’t say anything, just offered his silent support by standing close. She sent him a grateful smile, which he didn’t return.
She shifted. “After I got things taken care of, I’d have sent for my stuff.”
“Taken care of how?”
She’d known Sawyer was large, but now he seemed even bigger, his anger exaggerating everything about him. There was no warmth in his dark eyes, no softness to his tone. She wasn’t afraid of him, because she knew intuitively that he’d never hurt her. None of the brothers would hurt a woman; that type of contemptible behavior just wasn’t in their genetic makeup. But she was terribly upset.
She opened her mouth, hoping to put him off until she wasn’t quite so rattled, and he roared, “No, God dammit, it will not wait until the morning!”
She flinched. Silence filled the kitchen while she tried to decide how to react to his anger. Jordan stepped over to her, flanking her other side. “For God’s sake, Sawyer, let her sit down. You’re terrorizing her.”
Sawyer’s eyes narrowed and his jaw locked. With a vicious oath he turned away, then ran a hand through his dark hair. Just then Honey noticed Sawyer wore only boxers himself. Tight boxers. That hugged his muscled behind like a second skin.
Her lips parted. Her skin flushed. Blinking was an impossibility.
She stood there spellbound until Jordan set the cat down and started to lead her away. He held her arm with one hand and his sheet with the other and tried to take her to the table. Belatedly she realized his intent and held back because that would put her alongside Morgan, and she knew no one had thrown him any pants yet.
“I’m all right,” she whispered, wishing Sawyer would look at her instead of staring out the window at the pitch-black night.
Jordan released her with a worried frown. She went back to the door and began picking up the keys and the contents of her purse. No one said anything, and when she was done, she carefully replaced the keys where they belonged. With her back to all of them, she said, “I wanted to get to the next town. I have a credit card, and I could charge a room, then call my sister to let her know I’m okay.”
