by Lori Foster
“He called the cops?”
“Yes.” The police had arrived, and she now knew firsthand the procedure used for thiefs. She shuddered with the memory, which wasn’t one she intended to share with Morgan. “To make a long story short, the lawyer I hired said they had a good case against me. I was the only one in the store at the time the money was taken, and they found out I was pregnant, that the father of the baby had taken off. They painted me a desperate woman, with plenty of motive to take the money. He suggested I plead guilty to save myself a bundle in lawyer fees and court costs. I…I refused. So my lawyer suggested that I go with a trial to the bench, since that would get it over with quickly.”
“I gather that wasn’t the best decision possible?”
She shook her head. “A jury might not have been so autocratic or sexist.”
“Sexist?”
“Yes. The judge was a stern-faced old relic who saw me as a femme fatale just because I’m young and I don’t exactly look like a college professor.”
One brow shot up, and his mouth quirked. “You mean because you’re sexy as hell and he noticed?”
“That’s not funny, Morgan.”
“No, it’s not. Sorry.”
He still looked amused, though, which annoyed her no end. The judge’s reaction to her had been salt in the wound. She could still remember how exposed she’d felt, standing before him.
She looked away and said quietly, “He gave me six months probation, made me pay back the three hundred dollars I hadn’t even taken, as well as court costs and legal fees, then finished up with a scathing lecture about my responsibilities and morals and hoping I’d learned my lesson.” She snorted. “The lesson I learned was that men see things one way, which is seldom the right or honorable way, and they sure as hell can’t be trusted.”
“Misty…”
“Don’t use that tone on me, Morgan Hudson. You got what you wanted, all the nitty-gritty details. Well, now I’m done. I want to get out of here. I need to go find a job, and I’m just plain not up to fighting with you anymore, so if you’ll excuse me—”
“No.”
“No?” Incredulous, she turned to face him. “What do you mean, no?”
He stood, then caught her arm and pulled her to her feet. Still holding her, his gaze intent on her face, he said softly, “I mean you’re not going anywhere, Malone. You’re going to stay right here.”
4
MORGAN STARED at Misty, knowing that despite her outraged frown, there was no way he could let her go, not now. Her shoulders felt narrow and frail beneath his big hands, and he wished like hell she looked pregnant, so she’d be easier to resist. But she didn’t. She looked soft and sexy, even with a red nose and those hideous glasses. He wanted her more than ever, but that was beside the point.
At least she wasn’t planning on getting married. Though it wasn’t any of his damn business, the very idea had set his teeth on edge. She could certainly do better than settling for some clown who didn’t want his own child. He swore to himself that was the only reason it bothered him. Then he called himself a fool.
“You can’t be off on your own right now. You said it yourself, you don’t have a job, and you’re sick.”
She gave him a blank stare, as if he was a stranger.
“Damn it, Misty, you know I’m right!”
“I know you’re nuts, that’s what I know.” He made a grumbling sound, and she said in exasperation, “It’s morning sickness, Morgan, that’s all. I’m fine the rest of the time. I’m perfectly capable of finding and working a job. Pregnant woman do it all the time, you know.”
Actually, his mind was buzzing with possibilities. If she stayed—and she would because he didn’t intend to give her a choice—he could give her a job. He’d long since figured they needed someone to answer the phones at the office, but more often than not folks just called him directly. It was a small county, and the crime level was amazingly low, so he’d been in no rush to hire a new deputy. But a secretary of sorts, someone to keep track of his schedule and forward calls and take notes, that’d be a blessing.
He’d put off the hiring for some time now. He hadn’t really wanted anyone else mucking around his offices. But now…
He eyed her belligerent expression and winced. Better to tell her about the job later, when she wasn’t so annoyed with him. He gave her a slight shake. “So what do you intend to do?”
“I intend to punch you in the nose if you don’t stop manhandling me!”
His fingers flexed on her shoulders, very gently, and he saw her eyes darken. He hadn’t hurt her, would never deliberately hurt her. No, her complaint was for an entirely different reason. “Manhandling, huh?” he asked softly. “And here I thought I was being all that was considerate and caring.”
She bit her lip in indecision, then resolutely shook her head. “Not likely, Morgan. You’re up to something, I just haven’t figured out what yet.”
Her opinion of him was far from flattering, with good reason, he supposed. He dropped his hands and turned to think, only to hear her stomping away. He caught the back of her robe and drew her up short. “Whoa. Now where are you off to? We have to finish discussing this.”
Through gritted teeth, she said, “There’s no we to it, and there’s nothing to discuss.” She swatted his hands away and jutted her chin toward him. “I’m going in to shower and dress, and then I’m leaving. You won’t have to worry about me at all, and your precious brothers will be safe from my lascivious tendencies.”
Damn it, she was trying to make him feel guilty—and succeeding. “You let me think the worst about that, Malone. Admit it.”
“You always assume the worst,” she argued. “I’m not responsible for the way your mind works.”
“No, you’re not. But in a way, it is your fault.” She looked ready to erupt, so he added, “I get around you, Malone, and I can barely think at all, much less with any logic. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve got the hots for you in a really bad way.”
Her face went blank for a split second, and he braced himself for an attack. Then suddenly her mouth twitched, and she burst out laughing. “Is that your way of saying you’re sorry?”
Hearing her laugh was nice, even if she was laughing at him. “I suppose you think I owe you that much?”
“Nope.” Her glasses slid down her nose and more hair escaped the rubber band. She looked disheveled and vulnerable and so damn female he felt rigid from his neck all the way down to his toes. “I don’t think you owe me a darn thing, Morgan, except to butt out of my business.”
Shrugging in apology, he whispered, “I can’t do that.”
“You,” she said with emphasis, “have no choice in the matter.”
“I can help you, Malone.”
“You want to help?” She turned away from him, then said over her shoulder, “Leave me be.”
Why, Morgan wondered as she stalked away, would she steal money from an employer, but not take money from him when it was freely offered? Especially considering the situation she was in. And not only had she refused the money, she’d been downright livid over the idea. Somehow it didn’t fit, and he damn well intended to find out what was going on.
Later. Right now he was busy plotting. She had turned down the money, but maybe she’d accept his help in other ways once he talked her into staying. He wasn’t raised to turn his back on a woman in her predicament, especially considering that she was part of the family. Whether she liked it or not, that excuse was good enough for him.
He picked up the coffee mugs and her empty juice glass, then headed into the kitchen. He had a few things to take care of before she finished showering, so he might as well get to them. First was that ragtag little car of hers. Removing a few spark plugs ought to do the trick. Getting his brothers out of bed would be a little harder, considering the night they’d all had, but they would rally together for a good cause, and he definitely considered Misty Malone a good cause. Given how all his brothers had doted on he
r the past couple of weeks, he had no doubt they’d feel the same.
Twenty minutes later, Morgan was sitting at the kitchen table with a bleary-eyed Casey when Misty walked in. The others hadn’t quite made it that far yet, but Morgan knew they’d present themselves shortly.
Casey, with his head propped in his hand, glanced at her and yawned. “Morning, Misty. What’re you doing up so early?”
Misty stopped dead in her tracks. Her hair was freshly brushed and twisted into a tidy knot on the top of her head that Morgan thought made her look romantic and amazingly innocent. Her glasses were gone—thank God—and she no longer had a red nose. She wore a yellow cotton camisole with cutoff shorts and strappy little sandals and she looked good enough to eat.
Morgan drew in a shuddering breath with that image and steered his wayward thoughts off the erotic and onto the essential.
Rather than answer Casey, her accusing gaze swung toward Morgan and there was murder in her eyes. He grinned. He’d rather have her fighting mad than looking morose any day. Leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, Morgan said, “What’s with the suitcase, Malone?”
Casey, who hadn’t noticed the luggage yet, sat up straight. His gaze bounced back and forth several times between the suitcase and Misty’s face, and he looked more alert than he had only five seconds ago. “You’re not leaving, are you?”
Misty ground her teeth, then whipped around to face Casey with a falsely bright smile plastered in place. “’Fraid so, kiddo. I have things to do. But I did enjoy my visit. Tell your dad thanks for me, okay?”
She started to move, but Casey jumped up, looking panicked, and all but blocked her way. “But Dad’ll kill me if you leave without saying goodbye! I mean, Honey will be upset and that’ll upset Dad. Just hang around for breakfast, okay?” He glanced at Morgan for backup. “Tell her, Uncle Morgan. Shouldn’t she stay and have breakfast?”
Morgan nodded slowly. “I do believe you’re right, Casey.”
“Ah, no…It’s better if I—”
The kitchen door swung open and Jordan dragged himself in. He was wearing a pair of unsnapped jeans and scratching his belly while yawning hugely. His hair was still mussed and he looked like he could have used another six hours of sleep, at least. The last Morgan had seen him last night, three of the local women were trying to talk him into taking each of them home. It was a hell of a predicament for his most reserved brother.
Morgan had not one whit of sympathy for him.
Because Jordan had taken the path from the garage—where he kept his apartment—to the kitchen, the bottoms of his feet were wet. When he saw Misty packed up and ready to go, he nearly slipped on the linoleum floor in his surprise.
Morgan caught him, then pushed him upright. If Jordan knocked himself out, he’d be no help at all.
In his usual mellow tones, Jordan asked, “What’s going on here?” He dried his feet on a throw rug while quietly studying everyone in turn.
Morgan feigned a casual shrug. “Misty says she’s leaving.”
Casey crossed his arms, ready to add his two cents’ worth. “She’s not even going to tell anyone goodbye.”
Looking from Casey’s disapproving face to Misty’s red cheeks before finally meeting Morgan’s gaze, Jordan frowned. Not a threatening frown, as Morgan favored, but rather a contemplative one. Jordan was no dummy and caught on quickly that this was the reason he’d been summoned from his bed. He fastened his jeans now that he knew there was a lady present, then took several cautious steps forward, making certain not to slip again. Holding Misty’s shoulders, he asked softly, “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Why are you sneaking off like this?”
Morgan didn’t like his brother’s intimate tone at all. And he sure as hell didn’t like Jordan touching her. He glowered at Misty as he said, “I don’t think she wanted anyone to know she was going.”
Jordan glanced at Morgan, then crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Misty with quiet speculation. “Is that true?”
After a long, drawn out sigh, Misty dropped her heavy bag and propped her hands on her hips. “I’m not sneaking, exactly. You all knew I was going to be leaving today.”
Gabe spoke from the doorway where he’d negligently propped himself, unnoticed. “Not true.” He gave Morgan a look, then came into the kitchen and dropped into a chair with a theatrical yawn. He, too, was bare-chested, but he wore loose cotton pull-on pants. “You said you couldn’t stay, Misty, but you didn’t say a damn thing about taking off today at six-thirty in the morning. Hell, the birds aren’t even awake yet, so I’d definitely call that sneaking. What’s up, sweetheart?”
Misty looked ready to expire. Morgan took pity on her and pulled out a chair. “Why don’t you at least sit down, Malone, while you do your explaining?” He reached for her arm, but she sidestepped him. Breathing hard, she glared at them all, then said, “I’m leaving, that’s all there is to it. I’m already packed and I want to get an early start. I’m not good at long goodbyes, so…if you’ll excuse me?”
She picked up her bag and headed for the door. Her car was parked at the side of the house, close to the back door. There was a flurry of arguments from Casey, Jordan and Gabe, but Morgan had expected no less of them. It was why he’d so rudely dragged them out of their warm, comfortable beds. Unfortunately, Misty wasn’t going to be swayed by them.
She stormed out of the house in righteous fury, and they all trailed behind, talking at once. Morgan listened to their arguments for why she should stay and even commended his brothers for making some good points.
Misty did an admirable job of ignoring them.
When Jordan realized how serious she was, he took the suitcase from her hand while stabbing Morgan with curious looks, as if waiting for him to stop her somehow.
Morgan almost laughed. He’d known there was no way he’d be able to bring her around. If he wasn’t missing his guess, he was the biggest reason she was so set on going. That was why he’d pulled the spark plugs, as insurance until he got her over her pique and could make her see reason.
After Jordan stowed her suitcase in the back seat, he reached for Misty and pulled her into a fierce hug. To Morgan, seething at the sight of Misty snuggled up against Jordan’s bare chest, the embrace didn’t look at all familial. He was just about to tear them apart when Jordan leaned back the tiniest bit to look at her.
“Where will you be staying?” Jordan asked. “Is there a number where we can call you?”
Misty appeared stumped for just a moment, which made Morgan very suspicious, then she brightened. “I’m sort of moving around at the moment. But I’ll let you know when I get settled, okay?”
Morgan continued to study her. It was amazing, even to him, but he could read her like a book, and he knew without a doubt she didn’t have any place to stay. He wanted to throttle her, and he wanted to hold her tight.
Gabe stepped up next for his own hug, and he even dared to kiss her on the cheek, lingering for what Morgan considered an inappropriate amount of time. Morgan gave serious thought to throwing Gabe back into the basement. “If you change your mind,” Gabe said, “promise you’ll come back.”
“I promise. And thank you.”
Casey shook his head. “My death will be on your hands, because Dad is still going to kill me.”
Morgan silently applauded Casey’s forlorn expression, but Misty didn’t buy it. She actually grinned. “Your father wouldn’t hurt a hair on your head, and you know it! Now give me a hug.” With a crooked smile, Casey obeyed.
And even that made Morgan grind his teeth. Casey was a good head taller than Misty with shoulders much wider. Morgan didn’t like it at all. Hell, so far they’d all touched her more than he had!
Misty didn’t even bother looking at Morgan. He crossed his arms and waited until she’d gotten behind the wheel and pulled her door shut, then he leaned back against a tall oak tree. He considered himself patience personified.
Jordan stepped up to him with an intent fro
wn. It was unlike Jordan to be so disgruntled, and Morgan raised a taunting brow. “Sorry to see her go?”
Jordan didn’t rile easily. “You got me out of bed just to tell her goodbye? I figured you’d stop her somehow. Honey’s going to be damn upset when she finds out we let her leave.”
Morgan eyed his brother a moment longer, decided he didn’t see any signs of lovesickness, and turned to stare at Misty. “She’s not going anywhere.”
Misty gave one final cheery wave to them all and turned the key. The engine ground roughly, whined, but didn’t quite turn over. Frowning, she tried again. The car still wouldn’t start.
Satisfied, Morgan watched Gabe saunter over to him, Casey at his side. “You tinkered with her car?” He sounded faintly approving. Gabe was the mechanic and handyman in the family. If he’d thought of it or had had time, he likely would have done the same.
Morgan gave him a wounded look. “Now, would I do a thing like that? I’m the law around here, Gabe, you know that. Tampering with a car is illegal.” He looked at Misty with a smile. “I’m sure of it.”
Grinning, Gabe went to the driver’s window and tapped on it. When Misty rolled down her window, he said, “Doesn’t sound like she’s going to start, hon.”
Misty dropped her head onto the steering wheel and ignored Gabe, ruthlessly twisting the key once again. She looked so forlorn that Morgan almost couldn’t stand it. He wanted to lift her out of the car, hold her, tell her everything would be okay. He wanted, damn it, to take care of her. To protect her.
Because she was family.
Because she was a woman in need.
Because it was the right thing to do.
Not because he cared for her personally. Wanting a woman and caring for her were two different things, and he was never one to confuse the issues. Yes, he wanted her, more so now than ever, which seemed odd in the extreme. But he could deal with that. What he couldn’t deal with was the idea of her running off with no place to go, and the fact that she’d be alone at a time when she needed family most.
