by Lori Foster
PROLOGUE
THE FAMILY PICNIC had lasted all day, and Casey had a feeling everything that should have been accomplished had been. In fact, even more had developed than he'd expected – like his present uncomfortable situation.
He hadn't exactly meant to pair up with Emma Clark. She had few friends, none of them female, and Casey had just naturally defended her when the others had started sniping.
So now, with nearly every girl in town chasing after him, he found himself behind the garage at the far end of the house with a girl – the one girl he'd been doing his best to avoid – snuggled up to his side. No one else in the yard could see them. They had complete privacy.
How the hell was a guy supposed to deal with that? His father and his uncles had been the most eligible bachelors in Buckhorn, Kentucky. It had been fun for Casey growing up in an all-male household and watching his uncles and his dad deal with all that female adoration. Casey had been proud of their popularity and amused by it all. And pleased by the situation, since he'd gained his own share of adoration as he'd matured. He'd learned a lot from watching them – but he hadn't learned how to deal with Emma.
Like his father and his uncles, Casey loved and respected women, most especially his grandmother and his new stepmother and aunts. But then, they were all so different from Emma.
And that thought had him frowning.
Emma was...well, she had a reputation that could rival his Uncle Gabe's, and that said something since Gabe had been a complete and total hedonist when it came to his sexuality. By all accounts, Gabe had started young; from what Casey knew, Emma had started even younger.
At seventeen, she flaunted herself with all the jaded expertise of a woman twice her age. Her bleached-blond hair and overdone makeup advertised her status of being on the make.
Lately she'd been on the make for Casey. For the most part, he'd been able to resist her.
For the most part.
Emma's small soft hand began trailing over Casey's chest. His heart thumped hard, his body hardened. Very gently, doing his best to hide his reaction from her, he eased her away. "We should join the others."
In fact, he thought, all too aware of the heat of her young body so close to his own, he never should have been alone with her in the first place. Thanks to his stepmother and her father, he had a great business opportunity coming up. But before he could take advantage of that, he had several years of college to get through. Emma, with her hard-to-resist curves and open sensuality, would be nothing but trouble.
"No." She stroked down his bare chest, but Casey caught her hand before she reached the fly to his jeans. He liked her more than he should have, and wanted her more than that. Hell, to be truthful, he was crazy nuts with wanting her, not that he'd ever even hinted as much. His plans for the future did not include Emma. They couldn't.
Emma had led a very different life from him. Tangling the two up wouldn't be good for either of them.
His head understood that, but his body did not.
It took more control than he knew he had to turn her away this time.
"Emma," Casey chided, hoping that she couldn't hear the shaking of his voice. He'd only wanted to champion her, but Emma wanted more. She was so blatant about it, so brazen, that it took all his concentration not to give in. Besides, more than anything else, Emma needed a friend not another conquest. And beyond that, Casey didn't share.
"Are you a virgin?" she taunted, not giving a single inch, and Casey laughed outright at her ploy. She was determined, he'd give her that. But then, so was he.
Flicking a finger over her soft cheek, he said, "That's none of your business."
Her incredible brown eyes widened, reflecting the moonlight and a femininity that went bone deep. She shook her head in wonder. "You're the only guy I know who wouldn't have denied it right away."
"I'm not denying or confirming."
"I know," she whispered, still sounding amazed, "but most guys'd lie if they had to, rather than let a girl think—"
"What?" Casey cupped her face and despite his resolve, he kissed her. Damn, it was hard fighting both himself and her. "I don't care what anyone thinks, Emma. You should know that by now. Besides, what I've done or with who isn't the point."
"No," she agreed, her tone suddenly so sad it nearly broke his heart. "It's what I've done, isn't it?"
Thinking about that, about the guys she'd probably been with and the notoriety of her reputation, filled Casey with possessive rage. So many guys had bragged. Too damn many. Ruthlessly, Casey tamped down the urges he refused to acknowledge, and repeated his own thoughts out loud. "I don't share."
"Casey," she said, shyly peeking up at him, her expression tinted with hope, "what if I promised not to—"
"Shh." He couldn't bear for Emma to start pleading, to make promises he doubted she could keep and that wouldn't matter in the long run anyway. He couldn't let them matter. "Don't do that, Emma. Don't make it harder than it already is. Summer break is almost over and I'll be leaving for school. You know that. I won't be around, so there's no point in us even discussing this."
Big tears welled in her eyes, causing his guts to cramp. One of her hands fisted in his shirt. "I'm leaving too, Casey." Her breathing was choppy, the words broken.
Emma leaving? That surprised him. As gently as possible, Casey stroked the tears from her cheeks and then, because he couldn't help himself, he kissed her forehead. "And where do you think to go, Em?" She hadn't finished high school yet, had no real prospects that he knew of, no opportunities. Her home life was crap, and that bothered him too. He wanted...
No, he couldn't even think that way.
"It doesn't matter," she said. "I just wanted you to know."
He didn't like the sound of that, but had no idea what to say. He could see her soft mouth trembling, could smell her hot, sweet scent carried on the evening breeze. Unlike the other girls he knew, Emma didn't wear fragrances. But then, she didn't need to.
Her warm palm touched his jaw. "You're all that matters to me right now, Case. You and the fact that we might not ever see each other again."
Boldly, she took his hand and pressed it to her breast. Casey shuddered. She was so damn soft.
His resolve weakened, then cracked. With a muttered curse, he pulled her closer and kissed her again, this time giving his hunger free rein. Her mouth opened under his, accepted his tongue, gave him her own. It didn't matter, he promised himself, filling his hand with her firm breast, finding her puckered nipple and stroking with his thumb.
She gave a startled, hungry purr of relief, her fingers clenching on his shoulders, her hips snuggling closer to his, stroking his erection, driving him insane.
Casey gave in with a growl of frustration and overwhelming need. He was damned if he did, and damned if he didn't. And sometimes Emma was just too much temptation to resist.
But it wouldn't change anything. He told her so in a muted whisper, and her only reply was a groan.
Two Months Later
CASEY SAT BACK in his seat and watched them all with an indulgent smile. Family gatherings had become a common event now that everyone had married and started families of their own. He missed having everyone so close, but they visited often, and it was obvious his father and uncles had found the perfect women for them.
The girl beside Casey cleared her throat, uncomfortable in the boisterous crowd of his family. It didn't matter because he doubted he'd see her again anyway. Donna was beautiful, sexy and anxious to please him – but she wasn't perfect for him. He knew it was dumb, considering he wasn't quite nineteen yet, but Casey couldn't help wondering if he'd ever meet the perfect girl.
An image of big brown eyes, filled with sexual curiosity, sadness, and finally rejection, formed in his mind. With a niggling dread that wouldn't ease u
p, Casey wondered if he'd already found the perfect girl – but had sent her away.
Then he heard his aunt talking to Donna, and he pulled himself out of his reverie. No, she wasn't perfect, but she didn't keep him awake nights either. And that was good, because no matter what, no matter how he felt now, he would not let his plans get off track. He decided to forget all about women and the future and simply enjoy the night with his family.
It was late when the family get-together ended and Casey finally got home after dropping off his date. He'd just pulled off his shirt when a fist started pounding on the front door. He and his father, Sawyer, met in the hall, both of them frowning. Sawyer was the town doctor and out of necessity, patients sometimes came this late at night, but as a rule they called first – unless there was an emergency. Casey's stepmother, Honey, pulled on her robe and hustled after them.
When Sawyer got the door open, they found themselves confronted with Emma's father, Dell Clark. Beyond furious, Dell had a tight grip on his daughter's upper arm. His gaunt face was flushed, his eyes red, the tendons in his neck standing out.
Casey's first startled thought was that even though he hadn't seen her in two months, Emma hadn't gone after all. She was right here in Buckhorn.
Then he got a good look at her ravaged face, and he erupted in rage.
He'd been wrong. His plans were changed after all.
In a big way.
CHAPTER ONE
ENRAGED AND UNCERTAIN what he planned to do, Casey started forward. Before he reached Dell, Sawyer caught his arm and drew him up short. "Take it easy, Case."
Emma covered her mouth with a shaking hand, crying while trying not to cry, held tight by her father's grip even as she attempted to inch away from him. She wouldn't look at any of them, her narrow shoulders hunched in embarrassment – and possibly pain.
Casey's heart hurt, and his temper roiled. Emma's pretty brown eyes, usually so warm and sexy, were downcast, circled by ruined makeup and swollen from her tears. There was a bruise on her cheek, just visible in the glow of the porch light.
Casey felt tight enough to break as a kind of animal outrage that he'd never before experienced struggled to break free. Every night he'd thought about seeing Emma again, and every night he'd talked himself out of it.
Not once had he considered that he'd see her like this.
His vision nearly blurred as he heard Emma sniff and watched her wipe her eyes with a shaking hand.
With unnecessary roughness, her father shoved her forward and she stumbled across the wide porch before righting herself and turning her back to Casey. Without a word, she held on to the railing, staring out at the moonlit yard. Her broken breathing was audible over the night sounds of wind and crickets and rustling leaves.
"Do you know what your damn son did?" Dell demanded.
Casey felt Sawyer look at him but he ignored the unasked questions and instead went to Emma, taking her arm and pulling her close. It didn't matter why she was here; he wanted to hold her, to tell her it'd be all right.
Drawn into herself, Emma sidled away from him, whispering a broken apology again and again. She hugged her arms around herself. Casey realized the night was cool, and while Dell wore a jacket, Emma wore only a T-shirt and jeans, as if she'd been pulled away without having time to grab her coat. Since he was shirtless, he couldn't offer her anything. He tried to think, to figure out what to do, but he couldn't get his brain to work. He felt glued to the spot, unable to take his gaze off her.
She needed his help.
Honey came to the same realization. "Why don't we all go inside and talk?"
Looking horrified by that proposition, Emma backed up. "No. That's not—"
"Be quiet, girl!" Her father reached for her again, his anger and his intent obvious.
Casey stepped in front of him, bristling, coiled. "Don't even try it." No way in hell would he let Dell touch her again.
Face mottled with rage, her father shouted, "You think you get some say-so, boy? You think what you've done to her gives you that right?"
Without moving his gaze from the man in front of him, Casey said, "Honey, will you take Emma inside?"
Honey looked at her husband, who nodded. Casey hadn't had a single doubt what his father would do or say. Not once in his entire life had he ever had to question his father's support.
Never in his life had he been more grateful for it. Again, Emma tried to back away, moving into the far shadows of the big porch. Casey snapped his gaze to hers, so attuned to her it seemed he felt her every shuddering breath. "Go inside, Emma."
She bit her lip, big tears spilling over her blotchy cheeks and clinging to her long lashes. Her mouth trembled. "Casey, I..."
"It's all right." He struggled to keep his voice soft, comforting, but it wasn't easy – not while he could see the hurt in her eyes and feel her very real distress. "We'll talk in a little bit."
Speaking low and gentle, Honey put her arm around Emma, and reluctantly, Emma allowed herself to be led away. The front door closed quietly behind them.
With his daughter out of sight, Dell seemed more incensed than ever. He took two aggressive steps forward. "You'll do more than talk. You'll damn well marry her."
Casey gave him a cool look of disdain. That Dell could treat a female so callously made him sick to his stomach, but that he'd treat his own daughter that way brought out all Casey's protective instincts. More than anyone else he knew, Emma needed love and understanding. Yet, her own father was throwing her out, deliberately humiliating her.
"You brought her here," Casey growled. "You've delivered her to my doorstep, to me. What she or I do now is no concern of yours. Go home and leave us the hell alone."
Though Casey knew it would only complicate things more, he wanted to tear Dell apart. It wouldn't strain him at all. He was taller, stronger, with raw fury adding to his edge. He deliberately provoked Dell, and waited for his reaction.
It came in a lightning flash of curses and motion. The older man erupted, lunging forward. Smiling with intent, anxious for the confrontation, Casey braced himself.
Unfortunately, Sawyer caught Dell by his jacket collar before Casey could throw his first swing.
At well over six feet tall, solid with muscle, Sawyer wasn't a man to be messed with. He slammed Dell hard into the side of the house, and held him there with his forearm braced across his throat. He leaned close enough that their noses nearly touched.
"You come onto my property," Sawyer snarled, looking meaner than Casey had ever seen him look, "treating your only daughter like garbage and threatening my son?" He slammed Dell again, making his head smack back against the wood siding. "Unless you want me to take you apart right now, which I'm more than willing to do, I suggest you get hold of your goddamn temper."
Dell's face turned red from Sawyer's choking hold, but he managed a weak nod. When Sawyer released him, he sagged down, gulping in air. It took him several moments, and Casey was glad that Emma had gone inside so she didn't hear her father's next words.
Wheezing, Dell eyed both Sawyer and Casey. "You're so worried about Emma, fine. She's yours." He spit as he talked, his face distorted with anger and pain. "You and your son are welcome to her, but don't think you cam turn around and send her back home."
"To you?" Casey curled his lip. "Hell no."
Something in the man's eyes didn't make sense. The fury remained, no doubt about that. But Dell also looked...desperate. And a bit relieved. "You swear?"
He should have hit the son of a bitch at least once, Casey thought. He nodded, and forced the next words out from between clenched teeth. "You just make sure you stay the hell away from her."
Glaring one last time, Dell stepped around Sawyer and stomped down off the porch. At the edge of the grass, be stopped, his shoulders stiff, his back expanding with deep breaths, and for a long moment he hesitated. Casey narrowed his eyes, waiting. For Emma's sake, he half hoped her father had a change of heart, that he showed even an ounce of concern or compass
ion.
Dell looked over his shoulder at Casey. His mouth opened twice but no words were spoken. Finally he shook his head and went to his battered truck. He didn't glance back again. His headlights came on and he left the yard, squealing his tires and spewing gravel.
Casey stood there, breathing hard, his hands curled into fists, his whole body vibrating with tension. The enormity of the situation, of what he'd just taken on, nearly leveled him. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think.
Jesus, what had he done?
Sawyer's hand slipped around the back of his neck, comforting, supportive. A heavy, uncomfortable beat of silence passed.
"What do you want to do first, Case?" Sawyer spoke in a nearly soundless murmur, his voice disappearing in the dark night. "Talk to me, or talk to Emma?"
Casey looked at his dad, a man he loved and respected more than anyone else on earth. He swallowed. "Emma."
Nodding, Sawyer turned them both around and headed for the door. Casey hoped a few answers came to him before the morning light began creeping over the lake. Because, at the moment, he had no idea what the hell was going on.
EMMA HEARD the opening and the closing of the front door. She squeezed her eyes shut, horrified, ashamed, scared spitless.
And oddly relieved.
More tears leaked out, choking her, burning her cheeks and throat. What had she done? What choice had she been given?
Honey touched her arm in a motherly way. "Drink your hot chocolate. And Emma, everything will be okay. You'll see."
Shaking down deep in her soul, Emma wiped at her eyes. She felt like a child, and knew she looked more like a barroom whore. Her makeup had long since been ruined and her nose and eyes were red. Her hair was a wild mess and her T-shirt was dirty.
Though the Hudson household was cozy and warm, she still felt chilled from the inside out. In that moment, she wondered if she'd ever be warm again.
Hugging herself in self-conscious dismay, she wished she could just disappear. She didn't belong in this house with these nice respectable people. But disappearing wasn't an option. She'd gotten herself in this mess and now she had to face them all. She had to explain.
