by Lori Foster
Yet she remembered his comment about cheating, lying women. Had he meant one of the random one-nighters he’d indulged? She didn’t think so. None of those ladies had warranted even a second date, as far as she knew.
Testing the waters, she said, “It’s easy to see why you’re successful with women.” His wife, that murky lady who might have hardened him, had to have been a complete fool.
Hogan shook his head. “Come on. Into bed.” He straightened the messed covers and got her settled, then scooted in next to her, covering them only with the sheet.
Until now, she’d been so cold.
But lying next to Hogan warmed her up from the inside out—and he wasn’t even touching her yet.
He stretched out a long arm to turn off the bedside lamp.
She was wondering how this would work, what she should do, when the bed dipped as he adjusted, and he very naturally drew her into his side.
“Comfortable?”
Oh yes. She cleared her throat, but managed only, “Mmm-hmm.” God, he was hot. The entire front of her was snuggled close to the side of him, one strong arm under and around her, keeping her close. She wanted to lift her leg over him, but held herself still instead.
“You don’t sound comfortable.”
“I’ve never slept with a guy before unless... Well, I never have, not without sex first.”
“It’s a unique experience, that’s for sure.”
But he’d been married. Surely he and his wife hadn’t had sex every night. Then again, if she was married to Hogan... Whoa. No. She put the brakes on those thoughts real quick.
“I don’t know when you even have time to date,” he said, and he sounded tentative, like maybe he was asking for more than the obvious.
“I don’t.”
His arm tightened around her. “So why the condoms in your purse?”
Violet reared up over him. She couldn’t see him in the dark, but she stared toward his voice. “How do you know—”
“I got your keys from your purse.”
“And you snooped!”
“Nope.” His hands closed around her waist. “They were right there, front and center.”
She felt like an idiot. Of course they were—she’d carelessly tossed them there a few days ago, worried that she might give in to him and wanting to be prepared just in case.
She wouldn’t tell him that, so instead she told a half-truth. “They’re just a precaution.”
“Yeah?” He pulled her down to rest against his chest. She felt his hand sift through her hair until he’d freed it from the band. He smoothed it down her back, saying, “In case Nathan got interested? Or a customer?” Bitterness sounded when he added, “You know Jason is married now, so he wouldn’t—”
Slowly balling up her fist, Violet drew back and punched him in the ribs. She was too close to him and feeling too weak to make it very forceful.
In fact, he laughed, caught her wrist and held it against his chest. “Legit question, Violet.”
“No, I’m not interested in Nathan that way. I told you he’s too macho. And I don’t do random—unlike some people I know.”
He laughed again, a sarcastic sound. “And my brother?”
If she could go back in time, she’d erase the very brief relationship she and Jason had indulged. But she couldn’t, and obviously Hogan knew about it.
It was before Hogan had ever moved to the area, and it hadn’t lasted long enough for anyone to remember. But in a small town, everyone was in everyone else’s business.
Knowing this was a serious subject, a touchy subject, knowing that even though she and Hogan hadn’t hooked up it mattered a lot to him, she searched for the right words to explain.
“I shouldn’t have asked.”
Hogan did that often, letting her off the hook. But not this time. “Jason and I are friends, nothing more.”
“Friends with a history.”
“Not that it matters—not to him and not to me. Honor is good for him, and vice versa. I’m happy for them both.”
With one hand he continued to hold her one wrist while with the other he stroked her back. “You slept with him.”
Violet winced. “Just that once.” Her heart thundered so hard, she didn’t know if that’s what hurt her chest, or if it was the pneumonia. “It was stupid, for both of us, and it never meant anything. For a while there I was afraid it would ruin our friendship, maybe make things awkward. But Jason was no more interested in a repeat performance than I was.”
The seconds ticked by, then Hogan teased, “Should I be insulted on my brother’s behalf?”
Knowing he believed her, Violet relaxed. “No. The chemistry just wasn’t there.” Not like the chemistry I have with you. Because it was uppermost in her mind, and here, now, in the dark discussing such intimate things, seemed like a good time to bring it up, she asked, “What about you? Am I likely to run into one of your...” She didn’t want to insult other women, so she settled on, “Flings?”
“No idea. Would you mind?”
If he’d let her go, she’d punch him again. He seemed to know it and held her snug even as she felt the laughter rumbling in his chest beneath her cheek. “Jerk.”
“I’ve never claimed otherwise.”
He didn’t have to. Anyone who knew him saw right away that he was, overall, a really terrific guy. Definitely a great dad. A good brother, a friendly neighbor.
Gorgeous, and sexy and—
“If you need anything during the night, let me know, okay?”
What if she needed him? No, bad thought. Bad, bad thought.
The quiet settled around them.
When she squirmed, getting more comfortable against him, he whispered, “For the record, I’m not proud of my temporary stint as a hound dog.”
Heat, scented by his body, wafted around her, making her warm and sleepy. “No?”
His fingertips trailed up and down her bare arm. “It was stupid and immature.”
“I didn’t realize.”
He squeezed her. “Are you laughing at me?”
“No.” She surprised herself when she kissed his chest. Just a quick kiss, but still... “Do you know why you became a hound dog?”
“Yeah, I do. Now go to sleep.”
“Okay.” She was too lethargic to argue with him.
Even as she drifted off, she stayed very aware of Hogan against her—and she knew he was still awake.
* * *
The knock on the door woke Hogan and he opened his eyes before realizing that Violet sprawled half over him. He lifted his head, awareness hitting him hard.
Her slender thigh draped his lap, a warm, soft weight against his morning erection. Her hair spilled over his chest and shoulder, her hand in a loose fist over his right nipple.
The knock came again.
Well, hell.
He didn’t want to move, definitely didn’t want to disturb her, but he glanced at the clock and saw it was after nine. He came up to an elbow, and she awakened.
He watched her dark brown lashes flicker before her eyes slowly opened. She looked at his chest, down his body—then shot her gaze to his face.
“Good morning.” Jesus, she was beautiful in the morning. He opened his hands on her back and resisted the urge to fondle her bottom.
Her eyes flared.
She hadn’t yet caught on, obviously. “Someone’s at your door.”
As if she expected to see someone standing outside the bedroom, she scrambled up and pulled the sheet to her chin.
Hogan laughed. “The front door.” Ready to be gallant, he stood.
Her interest went directly to his lap and stayed there.
“Keep that up,” he warned her, while pulling on his shorts, “and it’ll be an R-ra
ted greeting I give to your visitor.” Already he had more than usual morning wood, but then, given how he’d awakened, it made sense.
When she stayed silent, he sighed. “Clearly, you’re not a morning person. Stay put and I’ll do the honors.”
Hoping it wasn’t a boyfriend of some sort coming to call on her, Hogan opened the door.
Honor and Jason stood there.
“You didn’t hear the door?” Jason asked, looking past him at the couch—where clearly no one had slept. His expression changed. “Damn, sorry. Maybe we can just—”
“Come in.” Brain scrambling, Hogan stepped back to allow them entrance. What might have happened if his brother and sister-in-law hadn’t intruded?
Nothing, you ass. The woman is sick. Still, conversations from the night before flooded back on him. He wanted to dissect everything that had been said, the assurances she’d given him, the subtle ways she’d started to soften toward him.
Instead he had to entertain.
“I thought you’d be up.” Jason barely kept his humor in check. “I know it was a late night, but you’ll be opening the diner today, right?”
“Yes.” He didn’t bother explaining that he’d still been in bed, Violet half atop him, their legs entwined. He could still feel the softness of her, the cushion of her breasts against his chest, her silky hair tangled over him—
Honor looked around, then whispered, “Violet is still sleeping?”
Get it together. “Yes, she’s—”
“Right here,” Violet mumbled, coming down the hall in her thick housecoat, the comforter once again dragging in her wake. She glanced at Hogan, then away, in her sluggish beeline for the couch.
Honor immediately went after her. “You’re still so sick. I’m sorry.”
“She’s a little better,” Hogan said. “But she’s lousy in the mornings.”
Jason said, “Antibiotics are an amazing thing.”
“I don’t know,” Honor mused. “Could be your brother’s good nursing skills that are doing the trick.”
“Maybe.” Arching a brow, Jason grinned at Hogan. “Colt’s on his way.” He nodded at Hogan’s lap. “You, ah, might want to get on some pants. Denim maybe. Something sturdy.”
“Shut the hell up.” But he went down the hall, taking deep breaths with each step, and found his pants. Behave, he told his dick. Now, with the house full, it should be easier to do.
On his way to the bathroom, he heard Violet say, “You guys, this isn’t—”
“Any of our business,” Honor happily finished for her.
Hogan could almost see Honor smiling. Such a caring person, and not a snide bone in her body.
He wondered if she woke up grouchy. Didn’t seem likely; Honor was always a sweetheart.
In rapid order, Hogan dressed, brushed his teeth and finger-combed his hair. He would have liked to shave, but he’d just made it back to the small living room when Colt arrived.
For his son, nothing seemed amiss.
Jason had coffee going and Honor pulled a bag of homemade chocolate chip cookies from her tote.
They gathered in the kitchen. Hogan saw to it that Violet took her medicine, and to everyone else’s amusement, she let him. It didn’t occur to him that it might seem uncommon for him to feel her head for fever, or to suggest ibuprofen. At least, it didn’t until he realized they were all gawking.
Honor quickly said, “The cookies aren’t really homemade. All I do is bake them, but Colt likes them.”
“I do,” Colt agreed, putting three on his plate and then serving Violet.
She smiled at Colt, thanked him and said, “I’m not dying, people. I don’t have to be coddled.”
Except that she’d wanted to be coddled last night—by him.
“I can help again today,” Colt offered. “I’m cutting grass this morning, but then I’m free.”
“You don’t mind? You don’t have a date or something else you’d rather be doing?”
“The date was last night—sort of. She hung out at the diner with some of our friends. I got to visit on breaks, and I’ll see her Monday at school. You’ll be well soon, so it’s not a problem.” He grinned. “You’ve slipped me enough free refills and always give me double orders of fries. I’m glad to pay it back a little.”
That was news to Hogan. So Violet had been pampering his son? Nice.
Violet turned to Hogan. “You can fill out a time card for him?”
Hogan and Colt protested at the same time.
She held up a hand. “For once, you two look alike.” She frowned at Colt. “You are the nicest young man ever, but you can’t work for free. I wouldn’t want you to, and I won’t let you. And you,” she said to Hogan, “shouldn’t let him.”
Jason laughed. “Well, he is saving up for college, so...be gracious, Colt, and thank the lady.”
“Thank you.”
As the cookies and coffee were consumed, Hogan stewed. Yes, his son was saving for college—because his college fund had been robbed, wasted. And he, Hogan, had been blind to it, never once suspecting. It still made him ill. God, he’d been such a fool.
Violet’s bare foot thumped his calf under the table.
He looked up and saw her glowering at him. “What?”
Rolling her eyes, coughing briefly, she said, “Your brother asked you a question.”
“Oh.” He gave his attention to Jason. “What was it?”
“I asked if you wanted us to stay with Violet so you could go home and do whatever for a while.”
“And I,” Violet said, “told him I didn’t need a babysitter.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Hogan agreed. He stood. “And yes, I’ll be heading home now.” He waited until the others caught his not-so-subtle hint and abandoned their chairs.
“I need to get started on a new gazebo today,” Jason said.
Honor hooked her arm through her husband’s. “And I have to be at the salon in an hour.”
Glad to get them on their way, Hogan nodded. “I’ll walk you guys out.”
“You’re leaving now, too?”
Violet looked small and vulnerable and as far from “sweet” as a woman could get. “We’ll talk first,” he promised her. “Then I’ll go.”
“Honor, thank you for the cookies. Jason, thank you for the coffee. And, Colt, thank you for helping out at the diner.”
Colt slung his arm around her. “Thank you for the temporary job.” He gave her a squeeze, said, “Let me know if you need anything, all right?” and followed his uncle out.
Hogan gave her a long look. “I’ll be right back.”
After a few minutes spent chatting with Jason and Honor, Hogan watched them drive away. He turned to his son. “So, how’s everything going?”
“What do you mean?”
“New girl? Odd jobs? School?”
“Everything’s great, Dad. No worries.” He rattled the keys to his old pickup in his hand, anxious to be on his way.
Hogan settled against the fender. “You like the girl?”
The slow smile reminded him way too much of himself, and his uncle. “Yeah. She’s shy, but really nice.”
“Pretty, too, I noticed.”
Colt gave one nod. “Definitely pretty.”
“Working at the diner won’t put a crimp in things?” Colt carried a lot of AP classes, worked nights and weekends cutting grass and doing yard work, plus odds and ends jobs for neighbors, and still fit in time for girls and his friends.
“No, it’ll be fine.”
He didn’t often feel uncomfortable with his son, but over a touchy subject like college, he couldn’t help but frown. “I’m setting up another college fund—”
“It’s fine.” Colt opened the truck door in a rush. “I should get going
. I’ve got five lawns to finish up before the diner opens.”
“Five?”
“They’re the size of postage stamps, Dad. Won’t take me long.”
Clearly Colt didn’t want to talk about it, either. Hogan let out a long breath. “I’ll see you at noon?”
“Probably quarter till. I’ll help you open.” He put the key in the ignition, but didn’t start it. “What’ll happen tomorrow?”
Hogan shook his head. “She’ll insist on coming in. She’s still got five days of meds to take, and she’s still running on empty, but there’s no way I can stop her.”
“I guess not.” Colt gave it some thought. “Tell the others to step up as much as they can.”
“Good idea. I’ll do that.” He clasped his son by the shoulder and gave him a squeeze. “Be safe.”
Colt grinned. “You, too, Dad.”
Hogan closed the door, then turned to go back up the walk. He saw Violet standing at the window.
4
NATHAN SAT ON his front porch early Monday morning, drinking coffee, thinking about the day and, admittedly, waiting for his neighbor to show herself.
He’d learned her pattern by observation.
Lights out at ten each night. Her porch light stayed on.
No visitors, but she ventured out to her porch early evening to read.
And each morning, between seven and seven thirty, she exited her front door, went down the walk putting in earbuds, her iPod attached to the waistband of yoga pants, and she jogged.
It was now seven fifteen.
When he heard her door open, he didn’t look her way. Just set aside his coffee cup and flexed his arms.
He was ready. More than ready.
Today she wore running shoes, black compression shorts, a yellow tank top, and if he was any judge of breasts—and he was—a sports bra. She had her thick dark blond hair in a fat braid down her back. Instead of sunglasses, she wore a visor that cast a shadow over her amazing eyes.
Without looking his way, she picked up her pace and fell into a light jog, her braid bouncing behind her.
Nathan watched her go, flexed again, then headed down the walk. His legs were longer, he was stronger and he’d catch up easily enough. But first he wanted to do more observing.
