by Lori Foster
Trying to sound disinterested rather than disgruntled, Morgan said, “I’m surprised Jordan could pull himself away from Misty. He and Gabe have been crowding her all night.” Then he shook his head. “Hell, they’ve both been dogging her heels like lovesick puppies all week.”
“And that bothers you, does it?”
Morgan snorted. “Hell, no. Except that she’s a far cry from Honey and I don’t want to see them get stuck in an awkward situation.”
That made Sawyer laugh out loud. “Jordan and Gabe? I hate to break it to you, Morgan, but they’re grown men and they’ve been handling their fair share of female companionship for some time now. Hell, Gabe started earlier than you did.”
“He lied.”
Sawyer laughed again. “Nope, I caught him at it, out in the barn that first time, so I know exactly how old he was.”
Diverted for the moment, Morgan turned to Sawyer with a grin. “You’re kidding?”
“Don’t I wish. I think that’s what started him on the path of debauchery.”
Morgan chuckled at that. The youngest brother was a regular Lothario, to the delight of the female population of Buckhorn. “Details?”
Shrugging, Sawyer said, “The girl was four years older than him, and since then, it’s like he’s irresistible to women.”
“Honey resisted him.”
Sawyer’s grin was very smug. “Yeah. I was glad to see it. Good for his ego.”
“’Course, he wasn’t really giving it his all, seeing as you’d already staked a claim.” Before Sawyer could object to that, Morgan turned to Misty. “Does it amaze you how two sisters can be so damned different? I mean, Honey is just so kindhearted and innocent.”
Sawyer had just taken a sip of his champagne, and he choked, but when Morgan gave him a suspicious look, he just raised his brows, as if encouraging Morgan to continue.
“Misty is…”
“What?” Sawyer seemed intent on digging in. “Sexy?”
“Hell, yeah, she’s sexy. But then so is Honey.”
Sawyer blinked at that, then frowned ferociously. “I’m not at all sure I like—”
“Oh, give it a rest, Sawyer. I’m not blind. And I just appreciate the fact she’s so sexy—for you.”
After downing the rest of his champagne in one gulp, Sawyer demanded, “Your point?”
Sawyer was being damn entertaining again, but Morgan couldn’t take advantage of it because he couldn’t pull his gaze away from Misty. Gabe had just swept her up into a new dance. She complained for just a moment about her feet, and Gabe, the rascal, merely went down on one knee and pulled her shoes off, tossing them aside. Misty seemed charmed, and they began a rather heated, intimate dance. The floor cleared to give them room, and Misty behaved totally uninhibited. Gabe was no better, showing off, making the women cheer, but that was his damned brother and he wasn’t interested in looking at Gabe.
Misty was something altogether different.
Morgan had to grind his teeth together. “Will you just look at her?”
“I’d rather look at you looking at her. More amusing that way.”
“It’s like, Honey is so sweet and gentle, and Misty’s all spice and fire. What is it with her, anyway? Does she think she has to seduce every guy around her?”
“She’s not seducing, she’s dancing.”
Morgan snorted. “The way she dances, it’s the same damn thing.”
Sawyer snickered. “For you, at least.”
Just then, Jordan interrupted Gabe and stole Misty away. She laughed, as willing to partner him as Gabe, and Morgan nearly ground his teeth into powder. “It’s not right, I’m telling you. She’s playing with them both.”
Deliberately adding oil to the fire, Sawyer said, “It seems to be a game they’re enjoying.” Then he clapped Morgan on the shoulder. “Relax, will you? She’s just dancing, nothing more. Oops. Here comes Honey, so I better get this out quick. She’s concerned because you’re avoiding Misty. I was supposed to tell you to go dance with her.”
“Ha.” Morgan was positively appalled by that idea, but not for the reasons his brother would likely assume. “I’m not getting near her.” He was afraid if he did, he’d explode. He couldn’t recall ever wanting a woman quite the way he wanted this one.
She was staying with them at the house, so he saw her at breakfast, looking all sleepy but still full of smiles for his brothers. He saw her at bedtime, wishing everyone—but him—a good night’s sleep. He even saw her in the afternoon, though he did his best to avoid it. She would be painting her toenails right out on the back patio, or puttering around the kitchen, giving the illusion of being domestic when he’d be willing to bet she didn’t have a domestic bone in her entire lush little body.
It didn’t matter what she did, he liked it—a little too much. And she knew it, which was why she avoided him as much as he did her. They were far too sexually aware of each other for comfort.
But it was all physical, and a fast, easy, physical relationship with his sister-in-law’s sister would never do. Sawyer, damn him, had made the woman a relative with his marriage, and that put her off-limits for every single thing Morgan would like to do with her. And the things he’d like to do…
He almost groaned out loud. The vivid images of him and Misty together, naked, overheated, carnal, would amuse his brothers and shock the hell out of Honey. She was overprotective of Misty—why, he couldn’t fathom. He had a feeling his sexual thoughts wouldn’t shock Misty at all. He had the taunting suspicion she’d be with him every step of the way.
“Damn.” Morgan felt the start of an erection and had to fight to control himself. Not easy to do when Misty was laughing and looking flushed from all that dancing. Jordan whirled her in a wide circle, and Morgan wanted to flatten him.
“Damn is right. You’re in for it now.”
Morgan turned to see what Sawyer was blathering on about and was met with Honey instead. She looked incredibly beautiful in her white wedding gown, her long blond hair loose and her face glowing. Morgan smiled at her. “Have I kissed the bride yet?”
“About a dozen times, I think.” She grinned at him, and twin dimples decorated her cheeks.
“Morgan…” Sawyer’s beleaguered tone didn’t bother Morgan one whit. Annoying each other was the brothers’ favorite pastime. And Sawyer, love-struck from day one though he fought it pretty damn hard, had made himself a prime target.
Honey laughed and patted her husband’s chest. “Oh, Sawyer, relax. Your brother is just a big pushover.”
Sawyer choked again.
Morgan, amused by her insistent misconceptions of him, grinned. Not another soul in Buckhorn, male or female, thought of him as a pushover—pretty much the opposite, in fact.
His grin fell flat with her next words.
“I want you to dance with Misty.”
“Ah…”
“Morgan, it almost seems like you’ve been avoiding her. She told me just this morning at breakfast that you didn’t like her.”
They’d talked about him? Morgan wanted to ask exactly what had been said, but he didn’t want to look too interested. “I don’t dislike her.”
“Of course you don’t! But she thinks you do because you’ve spent so much time at work since she’s been here, and you’ve barely said two words to her.”
Morgan tugged on his ear, beginning to feel uncomfortable. He wanted to sock Sawyer, who stood behind his bride, smirking. “It’s been really busy this week and being that I’m sheriff I can’t just…”
“But you’re not busy now. And look, she just finished a dance. It’s the perfect time for the two of you to talk some more and get better acquainted.”
Sawyer, ready to get back a little of his own, said, “Yeah, the timing is perfect. And with your, er, charm, you should be able to put her right at ease.” Then he grinned, glancing at his wife. “You’d do that for Honey, wouldn’t you, Morgan?”
Honey, playing along, gave him her most endearing smile.
&nbs
p; He tried, but not a single rebuttal came to mind. “Well, hell.” Morgan stomped away, resigned to his fate and unfortunately, in some ways, pleased to be forced into it. He saw Misty look up from across the room, as if she’d somehow sensed his approach. She did that a lot, seeming to know the second he entered a room. And then she’d get quiet and withdrawn—but only with him.
Her dark blue eyes, so bright and clear they still had the effect of making his heart skip a beat, widened. He saw her soft lips part, saw her cheeks darken with color. She turned, looking, he knew, for an avenue of escape. But she’d already been surrounded by every eligible bachelor in Buckhorn, and they were in no hurry to let her leave.
Morgan stopped right behind her. She didn’t turn to face him, but she knew he was there; her shoulders stiffened the tiniest bit and her normally husky voice became a little bit shrill as she asked the men who would dance with her next.
Morgan looked at every man there, and he fashioned a grin. A very hard, unmistakable expression. Several of the men, eyeing him closely, began to back up, quickly making their excuses.
Morgan took advantage of their retreat. “I believe that’d be me, Malone.”
She hated it when he called her by her last name. He’d found that out the first day they met. He’d been calling her by Malone ever since, because it helped to maintain the small distance necessary for his sanity.
“I don’t think so, Hudson.” She reached for Gabe’s hand. He was one of the few men who wasn’t intimidated by Morgan’s darkest stare. In fact, Gabe looked highly entertained. He was a gentleman and would have assisted her, if Morgan hadn’t beat him to it, reaching around her and snatching her slim fingers in his own before she could get a solid hold on Gabe. The reach brought his chest up flush against her slender back. He could smell her, warm woman and sweet sexiness. Her scent was like an irresistible tonic to him, and like any basic male animal, he reacted strongly to it. Her hair, so silky and luxurious, brushed his chin, and it was like having fire lick down his spine. He caught his breath.
They both froze.
Gabe chuckled. “You two going to stand there doing the statue imitation all night, or do you intend to dance? I have to tell you, Honey is frowning something fierce over the show you’re giving the guests, and I think she’s about to start this way.”
Morgan drew in a deep breath, searching for control. “Get lost, Gabe.”
“No way. I don’t get to see you this rattled too often.”
“I’m not rattled.” He stepped back a safe distance but retained his hold on Misty. Trying to sound reasonable, rather than rattled, he said, “Your sister wants us to dance.”
Misty’s pink tongue darted out to lick nervously at her lips, and Morgan wanted to groan. He glanced at Gabe and saw that his brother was every bit as alert and fascinated as he was. Damn. He started backing out to the middle of the dance floor, tugging Misty along with him. Everyone could see she was a reluctant participant, and after the way she’d accepted every other partner, Morgan was peeved. “Come on, Malone. I won’t bite you.”
“Can I have that in writing?” Gently, she tried to disengage her hand. Morgan stared at her, refusing to let go and refusing to respond to her sarcasm.
She sighed. “Look, Morgan, this isn’t a good idea.”
Perversely, he asked, “Why not?”
“You don’t like me! That was easy enough to figure out from the moment we met.”
She was so…lovely, he couldn’t help but study her face, the narrow nose, the high cheekbones, her small rounded chin. If he looked any lower, he’d never survive the dance, so he brought his gaze to hers. “I liked you well enough…at first.”
“All right. Then from the moment I introduced myself. I have no idea what you’ve got against me, and to tell you the truth, I really don’t care.”
“You don’t, huh?” It was amazing how she went straight to the heart of the matter. Most women wouldn’t have been so bold.
He wondered if she’d be that bold in bed.
“No, I don’t,” she said. “Truth is, I’m not at all crazy about you, either.”
The grin took him by surprise. Strangely, Morgan realized he was enjoying himself. Beyond being turned on, he felt challenged, and that didn’t often happen with women anymore. “Why not?”
Before she could reply, the music changed, turned sultry. Misty gave such a heartfelt groan of despair, he chuckled. “Oh, no. I’m outta here.” Again she tried to pull loose, but Morgan swept her closer and wrapped one arm around her waist.
Near her ear, he whispered, “Quit fighting me, Malone. It’s only one dance.” One dance that felt closer to foreplay. Just holding her was making him nuts, and this close, he could see a few damp, glossy black curls clinging to her forehead and temple. Her upper chest, visible over the scooped neckline of her maid-of-honor gown, was dewy with perspiration. She was warmed up and flushed all over. The vigorous dancing, he thought, leaning subtly forward to breathe in her heated scent. The thought of any other man in the room, especially his damn younger brothers, being this close to her, being affected the same way, made him want to growl.
Misty frowned at him. “What’s the matter with you, anyway? You look like a thundercloud.”
She pulled back, putting a few more inches between their bodies, but Morgan could see the added color in her cheeks and knew she was feeling the effects of the closeness, same as he was.
When he didn’t answer, just continued to stare at her, she sighed. “Don’t pretend my honesty bothered you, Morgan. I won’t believe it.”
Going for the direct attack, he surmised, and smiled. “You haven’t offended me.” Then he made his own direct attack. “You wanna know what I don’t like about you, Malone?”
“No.”
Her naturally husky voice dropped another octave in her irritation. Where his hand rested on her back, he could feel the satin of the dress, warmed by her body, and the supple movement of her muscles. She was slim, but still stacked like a Barbie doll, with lush breasts and a narrow waist. Her legs seemed to go on forever, long and sleek and sexy. Her bottom, though small, was perfectly rounded and just bouncy enough to make him catch his breath whenever she walked away. He’d spent far too many hours obsessing over her bottom.
And those breasts. He could spend at least an hour enjoying her just from the waist up. Unable to stop himself, Morgan looked down at the pale, firm flesh and imagined the formal dress around her waist, her breasts naked for him to see, to touch and taste, to enjoy. He groaned. It was almost too easy to imagine his mouth on her, considering how much cleavage was showing, more so than any of the other women in the wedding party, though they were all wearing similar gowns in different colors. With the shape of the neckline there was no way she could be wearing a bra, or at least, not much of one.
Almost burning up, he growled, “You’re Honey’s sister.”
She blinked, wary surprise evident in her expression. “So?”
“That puts you off-limits. And I don’t like it.”
Her eyes widened. “Good grief! You make it sound like if you decided to…to—”
“Yeah, all that you’re imagining and more.”
Her breath caught, and she choked on her anger. “Like I’d be agreeable! Well, let me put your mind at ease here, Morgan. The answer would be no!”
Annoyed all over again, he said, “I’m not buying it, Malone. You flirt all the damn time. Not just when you talk, but when you move, when you eat.” He looked at her breasts again, which were trembling with her ire. “Hell, even when you breathe.”
His words made her sputter before she managed to spit out, “That’s absurd!”
“Do you realize every guy here has been ogling your breasts?”
Her mouth dropped open, then abruptly snapped closed. “You’re disgusting.”
“I’m not the one showing so much skin.”
Through her teeth, she ground out, “Every woman in the bridal party is showing the same amount of skin, you
idiot. Why don’t you go lecture one of them?”
Easily, knowing it was true, he said, “None of them looks like you.” Then he pulled her closer despite her slight resistance. “And I don’t want any of them.”
She looked flabbergasted. “Why, you…you arrogant bas—”
“Shh. Keep your voice down. I don’t want your sister’s reception ruined by a scene.” She glared at him and her eyes looked hot enough to roast him, her cheeks rosy with color. He wanted to kiss her, but had at least enough sense to hold back from that.
Actually, Morgan wouldn’t have been at all surprised if she’d socked him one, right there in the middle of the hall. And he was honest enough to admit he’d deserve it. He wasn’t sure why he goaded her, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
She huffed, then jerked against his arms. Very low, with clear warning, she said, “If you don’t want me to cause a scene, then kindly get your paws off me and leave me alone.”
With relish, he said, “Can’t. Honey is determined to see us get acquainted.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake…I’ll talk to her.”
“Why bother?” He stared into her incredible eyes and felt a twisting in his guts as he muttered, “You won’t be here much longer, and then it won’t matter.”
She quickly looked down and bit her lip.
Above the lust, suspicion blossomed. Morgan whispered, “Misty?”
Her gaze jerked to his face, and he realized he’d called her by her first name. Misty suited her, all dark and mysterious, except for those direct, intense blue eyes. “You are leaving soon, right?”
She swallowed, looking away once again. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”
Frowning, Morgan half danced, half steered them toward the patio doors. Misty didn’t seem to realize his intent, she merely clutched at him to keep from losing her footing as he danced her first one way, then another, moving easily around the other couples.
When he opened the patio door and stepped outside, Misty started to hold back. Then he saw her square her shoulders and follow him. Evidently she’d decided they needed a showdown.
