by Cait London
The memory of Jemma’s slender, agile and curved body upon his own stirred Hogan’s shadows. His body had responded too quickly, escaping his cool control for just that instant. That kiss on the mountain pursued him in his dreams, and when he awoke with a painfully hardened body, he immediately hurried into a cold shower.
With a frustrated groan, Hogan drew on his jeans, shoved his feet into his moccasins, and lashed them. He threw on a light denim shirt and left the house.
The night called to him, the slight wind drifting through his hair, moonlight on the rolling pastures— shapes curled around him again, and he allowed them to flow into him.
The shapes stilled and curled into a ball of uneasiness when he spotted moonlight’s gleam on metal....
“So much for peace.” Moments later, riding Moon Shadow, Hogan sat in the moonlight and watched Jemma’s gleaming van glide toward his house.
His hunger for her immediately leaped to life, reminding him of how long it had been since he’d been sensually satisfied— or had he ever, choosing women who played the same game? All he needed to do to start real trouble was to jump into a flammable, sensual relationship before the rules were laid down— and tonight he wasn’t that certain about himself, or his need to kiss those sweet, sassy lips.
Always in control of his emotions, Hogan didn’t like how Jemma could make him stop thinking... or focused on his driving need to warm himself in all her fire. He wanted to keep to his dark shadows tonight— alone.
“After that kiss, she should know better than to come after me. Another woman would— oh, no, not her,” he muttered.
He groaned as the van missed the curve and lumbered down a slight incline. “Oh, hell.”
*** ***
Jemma revved the motor, but the van’s tires remained sunk too deep into the mud.
The incline was not steep, or dangerous, but slanted enough to prevent escape. She only hoped the mud did not contain cow manure. But manure, or the world on fire couldn’t stop her from hunting down Hogan in his lair and talking sense into him. She jerked open the door, gauged the moonlit distance to the ground, and leaped into the night.
Hogan’s solid body and grunt stunned her as he struggled for balance, held her tightly as they toppled to the ground. Winded, she braced herself away, and in the moonlight, his fierce scowl almost frightened her. But she had a mission and she needed him mellow and pliable and agreeable.
“Oh, hi, Hogan,” she managed breathlessly.
Hogan released his grip on her and opened his arms wide on the ground, away from her body. He sighed wearily. “That’s twice you’ve landed on me. The first time I saw you coming.”
After hours of planning how she could run him down and trap him for a private conversation, Jemma struggled not to rapid-fire her concerns at him. Hogan did not react well when pushed too far. In his way, he was like a hot summer thunderstorm rolling across the mountains.
Jemma struggled for a casual tone. “What are you doing here?”
“What does it look like? I’m not having a conversation with you on top of me. Get off me,” he said between his teeth in a tone that reminded her of a yard dog’s warning growl.
“Oh.” Jemma scrambled to her feet and held out a hand to help him. She knew that he wanted her, but she’d put her mission ahead of her safety. Hogan hadn’t made any move to get closer to Ben, and it was time he did so.
Her other reason for coming to Hogan was that she wanted to set up rules about the way he looked at her, those stunning little brushes of his fingertips across her cheeks.
He had her so rattled, she couldn’t keep track of ongoing business and had made too many mistakes her bankbook couldn’t afford. She needed her predator-smart senses, and right now they were focused on Hogan. Whenever he came near her, they were alert, unbalanced, and ready to fire.
Hogan shook his head and came agilely to his feet without touching her. Towering over her he glared down at her, his hands on his hips. “If you want to mash me, do it on something softer.”
Jemma smiled blandly; she forced herself not to think of Hogan, all lean and muscled and dark spread out beneath her.
“I was coming to see you.” She walked around him and brushed off his back side. She jerked her hand away; she’d almost followed the impulse to squeeze that hard butt. “Mud. You’ll have to use spot cleaner before you wash those jeans. I think it will come out though, but if you’re going to throw them away, I’d like them. I’ve got an idea to make jean quilts—”
“Uh-huh.” Hogan shifted warily away from her hand that had just brushed the crushed leaves from his bottom. He faced her, his arms crossed, his expression forbidding, dark jutting planes and long black hair catching the slight night breeze.
Jemma swallowed as the image of the little girl braiding his hair flipped through her mind and her reaction then— that of thinking Hogan would make a great father.
Of course, he had her senses slanting into oblivion, getting her off-track. And she couldn’t afford that, not for a minute.
Fear enveloped Jemma. Hogan could do just that: get her off track and she’d be lost. She couldn’t go back to that, letting someone else control the reins of her life. She’d fought against that since childhood....
His expression shifted; she sensed him studying her like he did the objects he would place into art. He was considering every nuance of her hair, seeming to study each flowing loose strand, the night wind lifting the waves, swirling it around her.
He was seeing too much....
Jemma’s temper flared. Hogan’s quiet, solemn nature never failed to set her off. She dug in to take him down, trim that cool arrogance from him. “Well, what are you doing out here anyway? I would have thought you would have been working, or relaxing, or sleeping.”
“Don’t try to boss me around now, Jemma. We’re not on Kodiak land, we’re on mine.”
He might have said, My land, not Ben’s. Get used to it.
But she hadn’t agreed to anything, and Jemma always made her own choices. She refused to be pushed by this irritating dark-skinned, black-eyed hard man.
“You are a Kodiak, Hogan. This—” she stamped her tennis shoe and looked down in disgust at the mud that had splattered up her jeans— and Hogan’s. “Is Kodiak land.”
Hogan stared at her for a minute, then slowly looked down to the mud on his jeans.
When he shook his head and started to walk toward his horse, Jemma hurried to follow. “You’re not going to leave me here... alone... at night, are you?”
She listened to an eerie sound that lifted goose bumps on her body. “Is that a coyote howling?”
“Yes.” Hogan gripped the saddle horn and surged up into the saddle. “I’d prefer to leave you here.”
Jemma couldn’t have him get away, not when she had to talk with him. “I was coming to see you,” she repeated. “The least you can do is help me. What if Carley’s stalker gets me?”
“He won’t want you, once you start sassing him. You’ve got two choices— ride my horse back to Ben’s— or wait out the night here. Either way, I’m going back to my place, not taking you to Ben’s.”
“And leave my beautiful van? Or stay by myself out here?” Jemma repeated and wished she hadn’t almost screamed. She found her hand locked on his hard denim-covered thigh.
The muscle beneath the cloth tensed, then Hogan removed her hand. “You have a cell phone— call them.”
Jemma shook her head. “You know reception isn’t good out here. You know what will happen. Ben will find out that you could have helped and you didn’t— I might not be able to keep myself from telling him. You and he will argue. Carley and Dinah will cry. Mitch and Aaron will hunker off somewhere looking like orphans. Then I’ll have to just try harder to get everyone happy again.”
“Uh-huh. And we’d all suffer.” Hogan stuck out a boot and his hand. “If you want to ride back to my place, my tractor can pull you out.”
She hadn’t expected the ease with which he lifted
her into the saddle behind him. Because Hogan made her feel safe and protected, Jemma wrapped her arms around his waist and placed her head on his shoulder. Hogan stiffened within her arms, but said nothing.
“I’m really tired, Hogan, and I just want everything to go well. I think it is going well, don’t you? We’re all learning how to make adjustments.”
He didn’t answer. Jemma couldn’t resist the sudden emotions flying free of her control. She’d been pushing too hard, wanting to protect Carley, and fearing for her. She hated lying to Carley and if she discovered that Ben’s illness was staged—
She hit his back lightly with her fist. “I love this family. You know that, Hogan Kodiak.”
Hogan’s grunt confirmed nothing, but that he’d prefer her to be quiet. Hogan liked silence and shadows and thoughtful answers while she raced on in life, frustrated by him.
She wiped her face against his shirt, drying the sudden tears that leaped upon her when she was too tired. The shadows of her life were there, too, but she could push them back now, riding in the clear moonlit night with her arms around Hogan Kodiak, his horse moving smoothly beneath them.
She was quiet, enjoying the ride, until they reached his barn. Hogan dismounted and held the horse, standing back to wait for her. Holding the saddle horn, Jemma was too impatient and got her running shoe caught in the stirrup and hopped with the other foot as the horse pranced nervously. “Hogan!”
His arm looped around her waist and he lifted her free. There was just that tightening of his body, his arm bringing her close and hard, and Jemma stopped breathing, caught by his fierce expression. “What is it?”
Shaking his head, Hogan set her aside gently, walked to the tractor, and started it. Then he slowly drove it out into the moonlit field, leaving her behind.
Hurrying behind him, Jemma was out of breath when he slowed, held down a hand, and levered her up onto his lap. Once his arms closed around her, Jemma shuddered. “You’re a pure beast, Hogan Kodiak. You know I’m terrified of the dark.”
“Just don’t touch anything,” he said, and for a moment there was that low dark curl of amusement in his voice. Jemma sat very still, too aware of the hard male body beneath hers.
Hogan groaned once, his arms tightening and Jemma sucked in her breath.
She shifted a little aside from that hard ridge and he groaned again.
*** ***
“Stand back,” he said later, adjusting a chain to pull the van up onto the road. He glared at her as she stood in the moonlight as if he didn’t trust her and repeated “Stay back. Stay put,” before climbing onto the tractor.
“As if I would want to be crushed by a tractor or my van. He acts as if I don’t have any sense at all. Well, I have plenty,” Jemma muttered as the van was pulled up onto the dirt road.
In a fluid movement, Hogan leaped from the tractor and bent to unloop the chain from her van. “Well, that was easy,” Jemma stated.
When Hogan didn’t answer, she swatted him on the back, just as she’d done before that kiss. A brotherly pat, establishing that she was one of the Kodiaks.
Hogan straightened slowly, then turned to her. “Don’t. Just don’t hit me with your elbow, swat me, punch me, or pat me. I’ve had enough for one day.”
He had that hounded look. And that meant Jemma was in control again. She loved teasing Hogan, watching those dark solemn eyes light with temper and just that little bit of male nostril-flaring was delightful.
She hadn’t realized she was smiling up at him, until the tension spiked between them.
Her smile died. Hogan knew her too well, and he wouldn’t play by her rules. Their kiss and his dark, searing looks, his teasing had shaken her safety. She wanted Hogan to be as he had always been for her— safe and predictable. “I’m doing my best. When you want to get someone’s full attention, it’s best to touch them.”
“That’s the problem. Don’t. Your best is pure trouble.”
His hands-off surprised her; she’d been familiar with him for most of her life. Hogan wanted to withdraw into his lone-wolf, solitary male image; he wasn’t avoiding her, not when she had to talk with him. “I brought you some carrot juice. You left before we could make it. I’d like you to see my new van, Hogan. It’s beautiful inside. I bought it with the idea of filming some cute little camping recipes in my new show. Oh, Hogan, you’ve got to see it. It’s so cute.”
Jemma knew how to maneuver men into business deals, to sweet-talk and “ooo, you’re so smart,” if she had to, but Hogan was another matter. He was a part of her life, a part of the Kodiaks, and his opinion mattered. “I spent a fortune on my van, Hogan. Traded in my Cessna. I want you to tell me that I didn’t make a mistake.”
He smoothed back a strand of hair from her face, studying her, his features rugged, impassive, unable to be read in the moonlight. She caught his wrist. “It’s important to me, Hogan.”
“You should have a fat bank account by now, Jemma. You’ve been wheeling and dealing for years. You’re a good businesswoman with a talent for making money. You shouldn’t worry about failing. You’ve already succeeded. Why can’t you take this time to relax?”
She couldn’t hide her fear from him. She wouldn’t burden Carley and Dinah. With Aaron and Mitch, Jemma made light of her bartering, but not with Hogan, whose shadows were as great as her own. “Hogan, I know what it’s like to have nothing, and I’m never going back there.”
His finger stroked her face, traced her cheekbone, and followed her jawline down to her throat. She should have moved away— she couldn’t, trapped by the excitement racing through her. The night breeze carried a strand of his hair across his jaw and throat, making him appear more intense, more rugged and yet almost mysterious.
“Are you still collecting those buttons?” he asked.
“I brought them. They’re still in the van, little bits from clothing of people I’ve known and loved. Don’t you dare make fun of me.” But Hogan had never laughed at her love of remembering people who had touched her life.
“Show me,” he said quietly.
*** ***
In the clutter of Dinah’s new and still-disorganized upstairs office, the best place for viewing the distance between the Kodiaks and Hogan, Mitch put aside the binoculars he’d been using to trace Jemma’s night trek.
He cut a slice of Jemma’s unfrosted chocolate cake and took a bite. “I knew she was up to something. She was too quiet after Hogan left, steaming about something. Jemma is usually all out there, every emotion defined. He’s pulled her van onto the road with his tractor. Now they’re in it.”
Unsettled by his telephone call to Jimmy, a ten-year-old boy who needed him, Mitch needed Montana and the Kodiak family. Burned out and raw, he had to refresh— or a part of him would tear away, and he’d never be able to help kids again. He’d wired Jimmy money for food and prayed that Jimmy’s mother wouldn’t get it. Mitch looked down at his hands, locked into fists, and knew that once Carley was safe, he’d be going back into the nightmare.
Aaron yawned and turned off the laptop he used for business. If he wasn’t there to make deals, at least he could input and watch the fun. Like Mitch, he cut a slice of cake and ate it from his hand. “See? I told you Hogan would help her. If we would have charged out there and pulled that seduction van onto the road, Hogan would have gotten a whole night to himself, to relax, like I need to. He’s a good sacrifice. A whole day of our family together is worse than ten major accounts wanting action at the same time.”
Dinah, dressed in a long black-satin robe, tied at the waist, came into the office. “What’s up?”
Mitch lifted the cake, a signal his mouth was too filled to talk. Carley, dressed in loose men’s flannel pajamas, padded into the room. “There’s what’s left of the cake. Give me that.”
She scooped up the plastic container and tucked it under her arm. “Why are we here?”
“Well, little girl, Jemma has just gotten Hogan into her van. She’s up to something,” Mitch said, as he
took in Carley’s rumpled look and loved it, as always.
“Don’t say anything about how I look, or I’ll flatten you,” she hurled at him.
Mitch’s shadows evaporated at Carley’s fierce expression. She gave him an eagerness for the bright side of life and its goodness. Caught in her own nightmare, she wasn’t ready to accept him as a man, but one day.... “You can try. Now I know about the self-defense stuff.”
Ben paused at the doorway, scanned the room filled with his family, and slowly took in Dinah’s robe. He swallowed, flushed, and said shakily, “I’ve got to check that injured calf in the barn. Need to put salve on those barbed-wire cuts.”
“I’ll help you,” Dinah offered, moving toward him.
“No,” Ben snapped, hurrying down the hall.
“He’s so stubborn,” Dinah muttered. “I’m going out to that barn if it kills me. Don’t tell him that Jemma has Hogan in her van. He still thinks you’re all children. He’ll rush out there and probably ruin the first peace anyone has had around here today. If you’re still hungry, go down and make sandwiches. There’s a beef roast perfect for slicing, but don’t tell Jemma. I hid it behind that stack of tofu.”
“I love that woman,” Mitch exclaimed after Dinah left the room. “With Jemma around, beef is scarce and guilt-ridden. Mixed grains do not a hamburger make.”
Carley picked up the binoculars and found Jemma’s van. “What do you suppose she’s up to?”
“Who wants to bet on which one comes out of that alive?” Aaron asked with a chuckle. He was hoping to get Savanna in a small, tight place, and very soon.
He could feel the heat simmering off her body, and her looks at him said she felt the same.
“Jemma has always gotten the best of Hogan, you know that.”
“Maybe not this time,” Aaron purred in the tone of a man who recognized another man in pursuit of a woman.
Carley turned to glare at Mitch’s closed expression as he studied her, too slowly and too carefully. She didn’t like anyone trying to see inside her, where she had been hurt and felt dirty. “What’s wrong with you?”