SAWYER

by Lori Foster

  Jordan grinned. "Your sister sounds a lot like you."

  Why that amused him, she couldn't guess. "In some ways."

  Gabe looked thoroughly disgusted. "Someone is following you around town, looting through your house with you in it, and the best your father could do was offer an alarm system?"

  Honey held up her hands. She couldn't very well explain her father's detachment when the very idea would be alien to such protective men. Why, even now, they'd gathered in the kitchen, in the middle of the night, pulled from their beds, and no one was complaining. They just wanted to help.

  Those damn tears welled in her eyes again.

  Morgan flexed his knuckles, and the look on his face was terrifying. Even though she felt disturbed rehashing the whole story, Honey smiled. They were all so overprotective, so wonderful. She couldn't drag them into her mess. She had no idea how much danger she might actually be in. "When I left my father's that afternoon, the car was there again, following me, and I did panic. I took off. But it followed, and even tried to run me off the road."

  Jordan stared at her. "Good God."

  "It kept coming alongside me, and when I wouldn't pull over, it...it hit the back of my car. The first time, I managed to keep control, but then it happened again, and the third time I went into a spin. The Mustang had to hit his brakes, too, to keep from barreling into me, and there was an oncoming car and the Mustang lost control. He went off the side of the road and crashed into a guardrail. The other car stopped to see if he was hurt, but I just kept going."

  "And you've been going ever since?"

  She nodded. "I left Alden a week ago. It seems like a year. I stopped once and traded in my car, which was a nice little cherry-red Chevy Malibu, not worth much with the recent damage in the back. I bought that old rusted Buick instead. But I've been so on edge. I stopped to get gas once, and saw the Mustang again. I have no doubt I'm being followed, I just don't know why. Alden didn't really care about me, so it seems insane he'd go to this much trouble to harass me. And harassing me certainly wouldn't make me reconsider marrying him."

  Sawyer pulled out a kitchen chair then forced her to sit in it. He said to Jordan, "Why don't you put on some coffee or something? Casey, you should go on back to bed."

  Casey, who'd been sitting at the table, his head in his hand, looking weary, said, "No way."

  "Chores still have to be done tomorrow."

  "I'll manage."

  Honey, relieved to be off her feet, smiled at him. "Really, Casey. You should get some sleep. There's not anything else to hear tonight, anyway."

  Sawyer crouched down beside her, his expression intent, his nearness overpowering. She couldn't be this close to him without wanting to touch him, to get closer still. And right now, he had all that warm, male skin exposed. She turned her face away, but he brought it back with a touch on her chin. "Now there's where you're wrong, sweetheart. You're going to tell me why you agreed to marry this bastard in the first place, and why he wanted to marry you. Then you're going to tell me what made you change your mind. And if we have to sit here all night to get the full truth, then that's what we'll do."

  She knew she'd get no rest until he had his way, and she was limp from the nerve-racking experience of trying to steal away and getting caught in the act. She folded her hands primly in her lap and nodded. "Very well. But at least get dressed." She looked over her shoulder at the others. "All of you. If I'm to be forced through the inquisition, I demand at least that much respect."

  Sawyer stared at her hard, and she couldn't tell if it was amusement, annoyance or sexual awareness that brought on that hardness to his features. His gaze skimmed over her, then lit on her face. "Fair enough. But Casey will stay here to keep an eye on you. Don't even think about running off again."

  He walked away, and she admitted she'd been wrong on all accounts. It was distrust that had been so evident on his face. And she had to admit she'd deserved it.

  ~ 8 ~

  WHEN SAWYER stalked into his room to grab some pants, still angry and doubly frustrated, the first thing he saw was the rumpled bed where she'd lain. Heat drifted over him in waves, making his vision hazy. He wanted her so badly he shook with it, and he knew the wanting wouldn't go away. He hadn't even known that kind of lust existed, because it never had for him before. Unlike Morgan, and even Gabe, he'd always had a handle on his sexuality. He was, more often than not, cool and remote, and always in control.

  And after the way his wife had played him, used him, after suffering such a huge disappointment, he'd made a pact never to get involved again. Yet he'd been involved with Honey from the second he'd seen her in the car. He'd lifted her out, and awareness had sizzled along his nerve endings. He wanted to rail against the truth of that, but knew it wouldn't do him any good. When he'd caught her stealing keys from the kitchen, his only thought was that she was leaving, not about the damn car, not about the danger she'd be in.

  He hadn't wanted her to go.

  He needed to get her out of his system so he could function normally again, instead of teetering between one extreme reaction and another. He didn't like it. He wanted his calm reserve back. But how?

  And then he saw the note and remembered. She'd written a note to explain why she felt it necessary to sneak away from him. His fists clenched, and every muscle pulled taut as he struggled with his fierce temper – a temper he hadn't even known he had until he'd met Miss Honey Malone. Damn, but it filled him with rage. She didn't trust him at all, on any level. Curiosity and resentment exploded inside him, and he took two long strides to the mattress and snatched up the sealed envelope. His name was written across the front in a very feminine scrawl. He started to tear it open, but caught himself in time and carefully loosened the seal instead.

  She'd written on a cash receipt, probably the only paper she could find on his dresser. All stationery was kept in his office. He drew a deep breath, ready to witness her lame excuses for trying to sneak out – and what he read instead made his knees buckle. He dropped heavily to the side of the bed as his heart raced.

  Sawyer,

  I know you won't be happy that I'm leaving this way, but it's for the best. I'm finding I want you too much to stay. Since you made it clear you'd rather not get involved, and I know it wouldn't be wise anyway, I have to leave. I can't trust myself around you.

  His eyes widened as he read the words, amazed that she'd written them and even more so that she'd had the audacity to put a smily face there, as well, as if poking fun at herself and her lack of restraint around him. The little drawing looked teasing and playful and made him hard as a stone. She wanted him? And she thought he should be amused by that?

  He swallowed hard and finished the note.

  To be honest, you're just too tempting. Shameful of me to admit, but it's true. And I'm afraid I'm not sure how to deal with it, since I've never had to before. I hope you understand.

  Please forgive me for taking your car. I'll leave it at the bus station with the keys inside, so bring a spare set to open it. When I get things resolved, I swear I'll send you a check to pay for the damage to your fence, and your incredible hospitality. I won't ever forget you,

  Honey

  He wanted to go grab her and put her over his knee, not only because she would have risked herself in what he now realized was very real danger, but because she'd have been leaving for all the wrong reasons. And she'd offered him a check. He wanted to howl. He didn't want her money and he never had. How many times did he have to tell her that?

  Morgan tapped on the door and stuck his head inside. "You found the note?"

  Sawyer quickly folded it. Since he hadn't put pants on yet he had nowhere to put it. "Yeah. It, uh, it said she'd leave the car at the bus station with the keys locked inside, just like she told us."

  Morgan crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. He still wore only jeans, but he had at least put the gun away. "I don't suppose you'd let me see the note?"

  "Why?"

  "Idle
curiosity?"

  Sawyer grunted. "Yeah, right. More like plain old nosiness." Sawyer kept his back to his brother, more than a little aware of how obvious his erection was at this point.

  His gaze met Morgan's in the mirror over the dresser, and he saw Morgan was struggling to contain his grin. "I gather you got something to hide there?"

  Opening a drawer and pulling out a casual pair of khakis, Sawyer mumbled negligently, "Don't know why you'd think that."

  "The way you're clutching that note? And acting so secretive and protective?" He laughed. "Don't worry. I won't say a word. Take your time getting dressed. I think I'll just go round up something to eat."

  "Morgan?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Don't mention to her that I have the note."

  "Whatever you say, Sawyer." Then he laughed again and walked away.

  After carefully easing his zipper up and buttoning his slacks, Sawyer smoothed out the note, removing the wrinkles caused by his fist. He neatly folded it and slid it into his back pocket, making certain it was tucked completely out of sight. He'd talk to her about the note – hell, yes, he had a lot to say about it – but that could be taken care of after everything else was straightened out.

  He didn't bother with a shirt or shoes, and when he entered the kitchen, he saw the rest of the men had felt the same. Gabe had on shorts; Morgan and Jordan wore jeans.

  Honey was at the stove cooking.

  His every instinct sharpened at the sight of her. She, too, was barefoot, her hair now pulled back in a long, sleek ponytail that swished right above her pert behind – a smooth, very soft behind he'd stroked with his palms. As he drank in the sight of her with new admiration, he felt like a predator, ready to close in. With that tell-all note, she'd sealed her own fate. He wanted her, and now that he knew she wanted him, too, he'd have her; he wasn't noble enough to do otherwise. After the other issues were resolved, he'd explain to her one more time how he felt about commitment, and then they'd deal with the personal issue of lust.

  He glanced at his brothers who sat around the table like a platoon waiting to be fed, and he frowned. They shrugged back, each wearing a comical face of helplessness. Sawyer growled a curse and stepped up to Honey. "What the hell are you doing?"

  Without raising her head, she barked back, "Cooking."

  His brows lifted. He heard one of the brothers snicker. Crossing his arms over his naked chest, he said, "You wanna tell me why?"

  She whirled, a hot spatula in her hand, which she pointed at his chest, forcing him to take a hasty step back. "Because I'm hungry. And because they're hungry!" The spatula swung wildly to encompass the men, who quickly nodded in agreement to her fierce look. "And I'm tired of being coddled and treated like I'm helpless. You want me to stay, fine. I'll stay. But I'll be damned if I'm going to lay around and be waited on and feel like I owe the lot of you."

  Sawyer leaned away from the blast of her anger, totally bowled over by this new temperament. Cautiously, he took another step back. "No one wants you to feel beholden."

  "Well, I do!"

  "Okay, okay." He tried to soothe her and got a dirty look for his efforts. "You want to cook, fine," he added with a calm he didn't feel.

  "Ha! I wasn't asking your permission. And don't try that placating tone on me because Jordan already did. And he's much better at it than you are."

  He glanced at his brother, only to see Jordan's ears turn red. She was intimidating his brothers! Sawyer crowded close again and opened his mouth, only to meet that spatula once more.

  "And don't try bullying me, because Morgan has been at it since I met him, and I'm not putting up with it anymore. Do you know he told me I wasn't allowed to cook because I was sick? He tried to force me to sit down. Well, I'll sit down when I'm good and ready. Not before."

  Sawyer had no idea what had set her off this time, but he almost grinned, anxious to find out. Now that he'd decided against denying himself, he wanted to absorb her every nuance instead of fighting against her allure.

  "Am I allowed to ask what you're cooking, or will you threaten me with that spatula again?"

  She tilted her head, saw he wasn't going to argue with her and nodded. "Grilled ham and cheese. Do you know Gabe was about to give that box of cookies to Casey? Or at least, the ones he hadn't already eaten. If we're going to do this interrogation, we might as well eat properly rather than shoving sugar down our throats."

  Sawyer looked at Gabe in time to see him sneak a cookie from his lap and pop it into his mouth. He laughed out loud.

  "You think that's funny? And here you are a doctor. You should be telling them about healthy diets and all that."

  "Honey, have you looked at my brothers? They're all pretty damn physically fit."

  She tucked her chin in, and a delicate flush rose on her cheeks. "Yeah, well, I noticed, but Casey is still a growing boy. He should eat better." She put another sandwich on a plate, and it was only then Sawyer noticed there were six plates, meaning she'd made one for him, too. The sandwiches were neatly cut, and there were pickle slices and carrot curls beside them. He honestly didn't think any of his brothers had ever in their lives eaten carrot curls.

  She'd turned the coffeepot off and poured glasses of milk instead. Sawyer started carrying plates to the table, since his brothers had evidently been ordered to sit, given that none of them were moving much. They all looked uncomfortable, but then, they weren't used to getting waited on. Their mother hadn't been the type to mollycoddle once they'd all gotten taller than her, which had happened at the tail end of grade school.

  "Casey gets more physical exercise than most grown men. And he gets a good variety of things to eat. My mother harped on that plenty when he was first born."

  Casey grinned. "And they're all still at it. I get measured almost daily to make sure I'm still growing like I should be, and because Grandma calls and checks. She says the good part is, they all eat more vegetables and fruits because they keep the stuff around for me."

  Honey looked slightly mollified by their explanations. Sawyer held her chair out for her, and as she sat, he smoothed his palm down the tail of her hair, letting his fingers trail all the way to the base of her spine, where they lingered for a heartbeat. He imagined her incredible hair so silky and cool, loose over his naked body as she rode him, his hands damped on her hips to hold her firm against him. A rush of primal recognition made his breath catch. He wanted to pick her up from the table and carry her off to his room.

  Of course he wouldn't do that, so he ignored the startled look she gave him and forced himself to step away.

  Everyone waited until she'd taken her first bite, then they dug in with heartfelt groans of savory appreciation. It was good, Sawyer had to admit, even the damn carrot curls.

  Sitting directly across from her, he couldn't help but watch as Honey took a small bite of her own sandwich. His thoughts wandered again to the note. She wanted him. He forgot to chew as he watched her slender fingers pick up a sliver of carrot, watched her soft lips close around it. He saw her lashes lower, saw soft wisps of blond hair fall over her temple.

  Gabe nudged him, and he choked.

  "I don't mean to drag you from whatever ruminations you were mired in, but don't you want to ask her some questions? I mean, that is why we're all up at two in the morning, gathered around the table eating instead of sleeping, right?"

  Sawyer drank half his milk to wash down the bite of sandwich and nodded. "Come on, Honey. 'Fess up."

  She sent him a fractious glare, but she did pat her mouth with her napkin, then folded her hands primly as if preparing to be a sacrifice. She didn't look at anyone in particular, but neither did she lower her face. She stared between him and Gabe, her chin lifted, her shoulders squared.

  "I found out my fiancé had only asked to marry me to inherit my father's assets. All his stock, his company, the family home, is willed to my future husband, whoever the man might be."

  There was a shock of silence as they all tried to comprehend such
a mercenary act, but Sawyer was more tuned to her features. This was such a blow to her pride; he saw that now. He shouldn't have forced this confrontation, certainly not in front of everyone.

  "Honey..."

  "It doesn't matter." She still hadn't looked at him. Her fingers nervously pleated her napkin, but her chin stayed high. "My father and I never got along. I love him, but I don't like him much. I think he feels the same way about me. He's always resented having daughters instead of sons." Her gaze touched on each of them, and she gave a small smile. "He'd love the lot of you, a household full of big, capable men. But my sister and I never quite measured up."

  "I have to tell you, I don't like your father much."

  She laughed at Jordan. "Yeah, well, he's had hell putting up with me. We've butted heads since I was sixteen. When I refused to get involved in the business, which is basically electronics, new computer hardware and very state-of-the-art sort of things, he cut me out of his will. I knew it, but I didn't care. What I didn't know is that he'd changed the will to benefit the man I'd someday marry." Her mouth tightened and her eyes flickered away. Then in a whisper, she finished. "When Alden started pursuing me, I thought it was because he cared. Not because he had discovered my father's intentions."

  There was, of course, the natural barrage of questions. Sawyer got up and moved to sit beside her but remained silent, letting his brothers do the interrogating. He no longer had the heart for it. He picked up her cold hand from her lap and cradled it between his own. She clutched at him, squeezing his fingers tight, but otherwise made no sign of even noticing his touch.

  Gently, Gabe asked, "Why didn't you want to be in your father's business?"

  She answered without hesitation. "It's a cutthroat environment. Company spies, takeovers, social climbers. It kept my father away from home the entire time my sister and I were growing up. I hate the business. I'd never involve myself in it. I wasn't even keen on marrying a man who worked for my father. But Alden led me to believe he was content with the position of regional manager, that he didn't aspire to anything more. It seemed...like a good idea."