Sleepless in Montana

by Cait London

  Hogan walked out to the porch, shouldering a door and placing it across the battered wooden sawhorses. He enjoyed sanding and finishing the heavy solid wood, feeling and seeing the grain awake in his hands. Working on the porch, he was free of the battles inside the house.

  May’s air was fresh and cold; steam was shooting from the horses’ nostrils as they pranced in the field. The sprawling porch was cluttered with plant starts, potting-soil bags, and clay pots. He glanced at the cup of herbal tea that Jemma had left near the rocking chair. One wary look at him, and she’d gracefully surged to her feet and hurried inside. For a moment, Hogan luxuriated in the heady sense that for once, he had her on the run.

  He ran his hands across the scarred door, taking the grain into him, feeling its flow beneath his fingers.

  Jemma didn’t know how to take that kiss, but the taste of her haunted him, and he planned another— not quite so hungry. He intended to take the next kiss very slow, dissecting Jemma’s effect upon him. His fierce desire to lock her to him, to take everything, had shocked him.

  When he’d expected resistance, she’d dived into the heat too quickly, the part of her lips surprising him. Jemma liked to hurry, racing through life; he didn’t. He intended to taste her again, to explore what hunger rode him now. He wanted to know why his body tightened when he saw her. She’d blushed just that once when he’d cornered her in the barn and he’d upped the ante by leaning close.

  That blush had winded him. He hadn’t expected that sweet feminine reaction from her, the bossy, fast-talking, on-the-move, money-hungry Jemma wiped away.

  As he worked, Hogan settled into a comfortable mood. He definitely had Jemma on the run after all these years and intended having the upper hand.

  The lingering scent of morning coffee and Dinah’s bacon-and-egg breakfast curled comfortably around Hogan. Maxi Dove had taken the week off, deciding to stay in Savanna’s town apartment.

  Everything beyond the house was peaceful, quiet, as it should be, Hereford cows and baldies grazing in the field. Hogan pulled the sweet morning air and peace around him, sank into it.

  He pushed Jemma’s constant redo-this and move-that demands away from him. She clearly was at her height, organizing, ordering— but she wasn’t bothering him as she had. For a man who had been sought by women, stalking one who tasted like fire and matched his hunger was heady and addictive. An unlikely woman to attract him, Jemma had done just that. He picked up the electric sander—

  “Hogan! Aaron! Mitch! Help!” Jemma yelled from on top of the roof, where she had been cleaning the second-story windows.

  Hogan shook his head, Jemma’s call for help familiar through the years. He noted the order of the names and decided that this time, he didn’t mind being first on the list. He stepped from the porch, shaded his eyes against the morning sun. He found Jemma flattened outside a window, and clinging to the edge of the roof. She was safe enough and impatient as always— he intended to slow her a bit and enjoy the full-blown feminine froth.

  Then Jemma scowled at him. “Don’t just stand there, you idiot. I’m stuck, and you know it. Move the ladder from the back side of the house, so I can get down. It’s easier there.”

  Hogan liked having her at his terms. “Drop. I’ll catch you.”

  “Get the ladder.”

  “I told you to wear shoes with better traction.” He locked his work boots to the ground and crossed his arms, waiting.

  “Oh, that’s just great. I’m about to break my neck, and you’re pulling that ‘I told you so’ business... Ben!” Jemma yelled, searching for an alternate Kodiak male.

  A second-story window jerked open, and before quickly closing it, Ben called roughly, “I’m busy up here. Get one of the boys to help you.”

  “Mitch and Aaron won’t leave their bathroom plumbing job. I’m stuck with you, and I know that stubborn look.” Jemma glared at Hogan, then sprang off the roof.

  Reeling back from the impact of her body, Hogan staggered and went down on the ground, Jemma on top of him. He gasped air into his lungs and tossed away his confident male in pursuit of female, good-morning mood. He realized his hands had immediately gripped her bottom. He’d thought about doing just that— filling both hands with Jemma’s softness and holding her tight against him. He blew away the silky hair teasing his lips. “I said ‘drop,’ not ‘jump.’”

  “And I said to get the ladder. Hogan, your hands are on my butt.” She wriggled upon him, reaching behind her to push his hands away.

  He resettled them higher on her back and Jemma braced her hands on the dirt beside his head, pushing away from him. The movement sent her breasts against him, and Hogan inhaled, deepening the contact. Jemma’s eyes were steely, her tone cold. “You can let me go now. I’ve got to go take the cake out of the oven.”

  “Do you?” he asked, suddenly fascinated by the sunlight firing her hair, the sweep of her smooth cheeks, and the lush curve of her mouth. Hogan wanted to keep her just a bit longer there in the bright morning sunlight scented of new grass and spring beginnings.

  Heat and sensual tension quivered in the inches between their faces. Then Jemma wriggled upon him again and Hogan fought a groan. He realized his hand was sliding upward to cup her breast, and his body had just taken a sensual jolt.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she asked curiously, peering down at him. “You’re holding me too tight. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. Let go.”

  Just there, on the side of her pale throat, a telling pulse beat too quickly. Hogan wanted to taste that creamy skin, to open his mouth over the flavor of her. “Is that so?”

  “Hogan, let me go. You’re just being perverse as always. This is just like that time you tied me up to keep me from following you Sasquatches.”

  Jemma pushed her hands on the dirt by his head, levering away, her eyes wary before she scrambled to her feet. She hurried toward the house, her loose sweat suit flowing around her long legs. The wary glance over her shoulder both questioned and denied that heated, hungry quiver that had passed between them.

  Left with his frustration, an annoying sense that he had to kiss Jemma, Hogan surged to his feet. His hands flexed with the memory of Jemma’s taut body, his appreciation of her waist and curved hips and the rise of her bottom. Her position over him had excited, her rich red mane cascading down, brushing his face.

  He regretted that momentary tightening of his hands on her hips, the instinctive sensual rise of his body to hers.

  “I said ‘drop’, and she flies at me,” he muttered, aware that he’d wanted her there in the sunshine, his leashes straining. Unpredictable as ever, she could nettle the hell out of him one minute and then make him want to make love with her the next.

  With Jemma around, anything could happen. As if on cue, her window-cleaning spray bottle tumbled down from the roof. With the ease of anyone in Jemma’s vicinity, Hogan automatically reached to catch it in one hand.

  He walked inside the house, a lecture for Jemma storming in his mind.

  “You’re strangling that bottle, and you look as if you’d like to tangle with a bear,” Aaron said inside the living room, heavily scented with pine cleaning agents.

  He tossed a rag into a cleaning bucket and briskly dried his hands on a towel. “To think I left my nice quiet penthouse for this. There is no system whatever in this hell-bent, steamrolling drive to redo the house. It’s been a month of fetch this, do that. Mitch is enjoying the whole mess, so is Jemma. Dammit, I’m in charge of the biggest account in my company, and I’ve left it in a beginner’s hands. That creep better turn up fast, or I’m going after him.”

  Hogan suspected Aaron wasn’t frustrated with his work alone— his mood stemmed more from the growing relationship between Dinah and Ben. Aaron also wasn’t expecting Savanna’s light treatment of him, dismissing his flirtation with her own and then walking away.

  Aaron grinned at Hogan. “Cleaning windows now, are you?”

  “Jemma dropped this—from the roof.” Hogan toss
ed the bottle at Aaron, who set it aside. For once Aaron had no fast return, no grin.

  Aaron’s uneasy mood was matched by the other Kodiaks, each for a different reason. The family coming together amounted to several small battles with the war still to go. At any minute the whole family could be torn apart by the very lies that had brought them together.

  “Whoever attacked her will wait until he feels safe. He’ll come, and he’ll know that we couldn’t use alarms or sensors because of the wildlife and cattle. He’s not going to act soon. He’s getting the rhythm of our schedules. When he’s comfortable with that, he’ll make his move.”

  “I’m going to make him pay for this hell, and if he manages to hurt Carley, I’m killing him,” Aaron stated harshly.

  “He won’t wait long. He’s too hungry, and he’s waited too long. Right now, he’s just waiting for us to settle down into a predictable schedule.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do. Once he feels safe, he’ll make his move and then we’ll have him.”

  He listened to Ben and Dinah arguing upstairs and at Aaron’s tense face. “They’ll work it out.”

  “He’s a rough old geezer.”

  “She can handle him. Take it easy, Aaron.”

  Aaron shook his head, then came back with a tease. “Look who’s talking. You look at Jemma like a hungry dog after a bone.”

  Hogan stared at him, and Aaron grinned. “She’s got you hooked. Poor old Hogan.”

  *** ***

  In the living room, Carley was arguing with Mitch about moving the bookcase again.

  With a surprising display of temper, Carley had hooked her foot behind Mitch’s and tossed him to the hardwood floor. Hands on hips, she looked down at him. “You do not have all the answers to my life, Mitch. I am not a neat freak. I just think that we should take everything out of the living room before we try to redo the hardwood floor. It only makes sense, Dumbo.”

  Mitch stood up slowly, rubbed his butt, and planted his hands on his hips, towering over her. Carley, dressed like Jemma in sweatpants and a T-shirt, raised a furious face to him. “Don’t try that older brother bully-stuff on me. Lay off,” she ordered.

  “You’re working me to death and expect me to take it?” he raged. “Where did you learn that self-defense move?”

  “Jemma and I have trained for years. Expect a lot of sitting on your butt if you try to muscle me around,” Carley stated as she bent to roll a large braided rug.

  “Oooh. I’m so scared.” Mitch said, studying her as she tramped away. He glanced at Aaron and Hogan who had come into the room, and wiggled his eyebrows in a leer. “She’s so sexy when she gets mad.”

  Upstairs, Ben raged, “What do you mean I’ve ‘been living in a cave’? I get out... I go to the tavern—”

  “You are not hiding out at the Lucky Dollar, Ben Kodiak. If I have to, I’ll come after you this time. Don’t you dare walk out of here,” Dinah yelled furiously. “You’re going to fill all those nail holes and sand them. You’re the one who made all the bullet holes. Light seafoam green is just the perfect color for this bedroom. Once the brass is polished on the bed, it will pick up the light from the window. Here— use this window cleaner and rag—”

  Silence preceded Ben’s explosion. “I’ve got better things to do than act like a mop-boy. Hell, no. I’m not cleaning windows. I’ve got a ranch to run.”

  Aaron’s expression was grim. “Home sweet home. Just like old times. She’ll take off.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Hogan returned, remembering how Ben had greeted his ex-wife, like the love of his life. “Dinah is tough. She started and built a good business.”

  Aaron’s tone was bitter. “She had help from the man she married after Dad. She left a man who needed her and moved on with her life. She tore apart our family.”

  “She had little choice. Ben wasn’t sweet back then, to any of us. I remember him saying that Kodiak men didn’t have good luck with wives.”

  “The old man was right. None of us are married. My ex-fiancée had a lot to say about my not fitting the bill as a husband. Then let us not forget that I was actually married— you were the best man.”

  Hogan nodded. “I’m sorry that didn’t work out. I thought maybe with Christina you would find what you needed. She was a sweet girl.”

  “That’s the problem. She was too sweet and giving. I kept tearing her up all the time, and I reminded myself of Dad. I didn’t like the image. She’s better off without me and I heard that she married a nice guy and they’re expecting their third baby. I didn’t want kids... I wasn’t ready to settle down.”

  “Are you now?” Mitch asked with concern.

  But Aaron was looking out the window to Savanna’s car, just pulling up to the house. He headed toward her.

  Mitch looked at Hogan. “Guess that answers my question. Never figured that one.”

  “Things change. What’s going on with you and Carley?”

  Mitch shifted restlessly and they watched Aaron open Savanna’s pickup door, bending down to talk with her.

  “I like Carley, always have. But you’re right, things change.” He turned to meet Hogan’s eyes. “I’ll be careful with her, Hogan. She’s special and the feeling.... Well, the feeling is real sweet, just like her.”

  *** ***

  “Here.” Jemma leaned out of the kitchen and handed a bowl filled with frosting mix and water to Hogan. She slapped a large wooden spoon in his free hand. “You’re an artist. Mix. Think of it as paint or clay or something.”

  Teasing as she had always done when he frowned at her, Jemma grinned up at him and dipped a finger into the chocolate mix and stuck it into his mouth. Hogan caught her finger between his teeth, just for an instant, just to let her know she’d better stop teasing him.

  “Beast,” she muttered, scowling at him.

  When she soared upstairs, Aaron began to laugh. “Hogan, my man, you should see your face. If it weren’t you, I’d say the expression was pure lust.”

  “I’ve lusted a few times in my day,” Hogan said, uncomfortable that his brother had so easily read his desire for Jemma.

  “Not me. I’m pure as the driven snow,” Aaron returned with a cheeky grin that said he wasn’t.

  Just then Dinah came down the stairs, her expression glowing. Ben followed, whistling a cowboy tune. He patted Hogan on the shoulder.

  “You boys need to lighten up,” he said cheerfully. “Women need to be understood.”

  “They’re killing us, Dad,” Aaron muttered.

  “I imagine we’ll all live. They’re just making their nests. Women do that before they can settle down. You’ve got chocolate on your mouth, boy.” He studied Hogan, who was holding the frosting bowl and glaring at him. Ben quickly turned away, shielding a grin.

  “What’s that?” Mitch asked, strolling over to Hogan. He dipped a finger into the frosting, tasting it. “Mmm. How much does she need for the top of a little cake anyway?”

  “Let’s adjourn to the barn. Grab the poker deck,” Hogan said quietly, and walked out the door, carrying the frosting bowl. Feeling cornered, assigned tasks by Jemma and unsettled by Ben’s cheery turnaround, Hogan had had enough of the Kodiak household for the moment.

  Forty minutes later, Aaron spread his royal flush upon the hay bale, raked up the dollar bills, and studied the near empty bowl. “We’re dead men.”

  “One of us is,” Mitch agreed, nodding toward the barn’s window.

  Jemma stormed out into the ranch yard, her hands on her hips. One swipe of Mitch’s finger took that last of the frosting before he called, “Hey, Jemma! Hogan ate all the frosting.”

  Hogan rose slowly to his feet, collected the empty bowl, and walked to meet Jemma.

  He jerked open the barn door just as she pulled the handle on the other side. “Is this what you want?” he asked.

  At first her expression said she wanted to murder him. Then, as he studied her, her eyes widened and she backed up a few steps.

  Hogan moved toward h
er and extended the bowl toward her. “Well?”

  “I... I... Yes, thank you,” she said unevenly as he admired all that glorious color, the sun blazing in her hair, the sweep of her cheek, the curve of her lips.

  Jemma grabbed the bowl and hurried away.

  Hogan traced the sway of her hips and inhaled roughly. Damn it. She fascinated him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  *** ***

  A week later, the mid-May night was fragrant outside Hogan’s home, and he tried to concentrate on the promotion of his new Kodiak “Autumn” line.

  Showered, naked and comfortable after working on his barn roof, he padded into the living room. Across the small valley, the lights of Kodiak house were ablaze.

  His need for Jemma sprang alive at every turn, and she was too aware of him, blushing when she looked at him and hurrying in the other direction. The tension dancing between them was new to Hogan, making him feel alive. He was giving her so much time and then—

  On his drawing board, his new sketch for Kodiak’s Fire Feathers collection waited. His new line of jewelry was intended to be light and flexible, but what had stirred beneath his drawing pencil was vibrant, almost alive, and almost pagan. He preferred the subtle light designs, not the bold layered, almost flamelike, feathers.

  The past day of the Kodiaks’ emotions firing at every turn, tempers battling, flashing over the dinner table had taken their toll upon his creative mood.

  Tranquility was not a Kodiak family trait. During the day, tempers soared. Adults, no longer children and coming back to their home place, demanded equal respect. Ben was clearly on edge, but for once he hadn’t run for the safety of ranch work.

  A huge truck had brought a huge moonlike disk for receiving television programs, and a big-screen television; Aaron said he needed his “sports fix.” After a battle with Carley and Jemma about soap operas— which Ben had strangely begun to watch in the afternoons with Dinah— Aaron moved the big screen setup to the bunkhouse.

  Old Joe Blue Sky spent most of his time catching up on Western movies. He made notes about the mistakes on the portrayal of Native Americans. Joe’s damning of the Italian actors, who played the warriors’ parts, could blaze at any moment.