The Buckhorn Brothers Box Set: SawyerMorganGabeJordan

by Lori Foster

  She laughed again, nervously this time as he continued to stare. “But I suppose anything is an improvement after the war paint, especially since it had all been smudged. I nearly scared myself when I looked in the mirror.”

  She took another drink of the coffee, then set the mug beside her on the floor. With a loose-limbed dexterity that amazed him, she twisted one leg up across her lap and began massaging her foot. “Now, about our talk.”

  Jordan looked at her foot, so small and feminine, less than half the size of his own. He breathed hard and felt like an idiot. How the hell could her feet raise his fevered urgency to the breaking point? He searched his beleaguered brain for an ounce of logic.

  “You’re going to need some help for the next few days.” Damn, he hadn’t meant to blurt that out.

  She paused, looking up at him with a blank sort of dis-belief. She forced a smile. “We’ll be fine.”

  In for a penny, in for a pound…. “Who will watch your children,” he asked, “while you visit your mother at the hospital? I assume you’ll want to visit her?”

  That got her frowning. “Of course I will! I’m not going to just leave her there….”

  “I didn’t think so.” The love she felt for her mother, the closeness, was as obvious to him as her feelings for her children. It had pained him to witness her worry, her fear. All his life, he’d had his family around him, his mother, his brothers, ready to share any burdens, ready to support him in any way they could. But the one person Georgia had was now ailing, and it turned him inside out trying to imagine how the hell she could cope with that reality.

  His own mother was the epitome of female strength, her love and loyalty unshakeable, unquestionable. She was fierce in her independence, and God help anyone who tried to come between her and her family.

  He knew if it was his mother in the hospital right now, he’d move heaven and earth for her. But Georgia didn’t have his financial or familial resources.

  Georgia needed him, and his mother would be the first to have his head if he didn’t insist on helping. As much as it pained him, he was going to have to put lust aside, at least for the time being.

  “What will you do when you have to work?” Jordan asked. “Do you have any baby-sitters? Other than your mother, I mean.”

  Her head snapped up and she dropped her foot back to the floor. Jordan had a feeling she was ready to pounce on him. He quickly set his own coffee cup on the rickety rattan table and stepped close enough so that she couldn’t come completely to her feet without touching him.

  He waited, hoping, his breath held. But with no more than a wary look, she retreated.

  He settled both hands on her shoulders and gave her his patented stern look. “Is it true, Georgia? Or do you have someone you can call to help out until your mother gets well?”

  They were still speaking in hushed tones, and her voice sounded gruff with emotion when she answered. “Of course I have people I can call.”

  Jordan knelt down in front of her. His long legs encased hers; he surrounded her, wanting her to know he’d protect her, that she could trust him. “Who?”

  Silence filled the room. Jordan loved the way her gray eyes darkened, making her thoughts easy for him to read. Others would consider her eyes mysterious, but he understood her. He knew her.

  Finally, after long seconds, she shook her head.

  His heart swelled painfully. “There’s no one, is there?” She turned away and he whispered, “Georgia?”

  “No.”

  Without conscious decision, he began caressing her shoulders, feeling the smoothness of her, the softness. In a tone so low he could barely hear himself, he said, “Don’t ever lie to me again, Georgia. It’s not necessary. Whatever men you’ve known—”

  She laughed at that, a sound without much humor.

  “—I’m not like them. You can trust me.”

  She stared at his mouth. “Oh, I know you’re different, Jordan. No doubt about it. But don’t you see? That’s part of the problem.”

  “You want to explain that?”

  “Why not?” Her hand trembled when she touched his jaw, and her voice was husky with wonder. “I’ve found it very easy to ignore most men, even the men yelling crude suggestions from the audience when I dance. But I can’t ignore you. You make me feel different. You…affect me.” Then with a frown: “I don’t like it.”

  For the first time in his life, Jordan’s knees felt weak. He sucked in air, trying to fill his lungs enough, trying to dredge up just a little more calm. This was important and he wanted it resolved.

  He cupped her face, pulled her forward to the edge of her seat until her breasts were soft and full against his chest, until he could feel her thundering heartbeat, meshing with his own. “You affect me, too.”

  And then he kissed her.

  Her lush mouth softened, warmed, under his. She made a small sound of confusion and her hands settled on his shoulders, her fingers biting deep into his muscles.

  He tasted her deeply, his tongue pushing gently into her mouth, making them both groan. Jordan was a hairs-breadth away from taking her completely when he forced himself to lift his mouth away. They both struggled for breath. “This is insane,” he whispered.

  She nodded, staring into his eyes with a mix of wonder and fear.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do.” He used the tone that made women agree with him no matter what. He considered it successful, given that she rested her head on his shoulder and her hands still held him tightly.

  “I’ll see to the children,” he insisted, “after I’ve taken care of all my appointments. With a little rearranging, I think I can be done by three each day, which means you’ll have plenty of time to visit with your mother, and then get into work, right?”

  With an obvious effort, she pulled herself away from him. She looked dazed, but said, “Sometimes I waitress in the afternoons, too.”

  Jordan barely resisted the urge to kiss her again. “You work alternate shifts?”

  “No. Sometimes I work both. We…that is, I need the money. This house has a lot of repairs that have to be done and…”

  It seemed the words came from her unwillingly. “Shh. I understand. When I can’t make it, Casey or one of my other relatives will help out. You’ll love them. They’re all terrific with kids.”

  She didn’t reply to that, either to deny or accept his offer. Jordan looked at the weariness etched into every line of her body. It was no wonder she looked so tired, so utterly defeated. “You were finishing up a double shift today, weren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  He lifted one hand to her cheek and used his thumb to stroke her cheekbone. “How many hours do you usually work in a day?”

  “However many I need to.”

  Her matter-of-fact answer hit him like a slap. He looked up at the ceiling, wanting to roar with frustration. Since meeting her, he’d been indulging visions of wild lechery while she was barely able to stay on her feet. He felt like a complete and total bastard, an unfeeling—

  “What is it you do, Jordan? You said you have appointments?

  It wasn’t easy to tamp down his anger at the thought of her working herself into the ground, especially at that sorry place. But her exhaustion was a palpable force, wearing her down, wearing him down, and he couldn’t bring himself to add to it. He reminded himself that she needed his strength, not his temper. Not his lust.

  “I’m a vet.” He moved to sit beside her on the glider and as she turned toward him, he took her hand. The unusual day had brought them a closeness that might normally have taken a week or more to achieve. He’d seen her vulnerability, and her strength. But they’d had little time to actually get to know one another. He’d rectify as much of that as he could right now.

  “I’ve always loved animals and they’ve always loved me. I feel gifted, because they respond to me.”

  “It’s your voice,” she said, and she smiled.

  Jordan shrugged. All his life he’d heard
about his mystical voice, but so far, Georgia had seemed quite capable of resisting him. “Why don’t you have any pets? The yard is plenty big enough and the kids would love it.”

  “So would I. But pets cost money. They need food and shots and…not only would it cost too much, but I don’t have much spare time left. The kids are too young to be solely responsible for a pet, and my mother does enough as it is.”

  Jordan decided to think on that. As isolated as she was in the big house, a dog would be ideal. He said, “I have a clinic not that far from here. That’s why it’ll be easy for me to help you out with the children. They like me, Georgia, so that shouldn’t be a problem. And if you still have any doubts about my character, well, ask around town tomorrow. Anyone can tell you that I’m good baby-sitting material.”

  She looked down at their clasped hands, then tugged gently until he freed her. Scooting over a little to put some space between them, she again pulled her foot into her lap and began rubbing. In a ridiculously prim voice considering they were sitting alone in the darkness and he’d had his tongue in her mouth only moments before, she said, “I don’t want to impose on you.”

  “I’m offering, and besides—” he tipped her face toward him “—what other options do you have?”

  Her eyes closed and she sighed. “Options? I don’t have many, do I? I’ve often wondered what my life would be like with more options.”

  Jordan growled out a sigh. She was the most exasperating woman he’d ever met. “I’m trying to give you some options, sweetheart.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  Jordan ignored her order. “I want you to be able to visit your mother and work without having to worry about Lisa or Adam.”

  Her eyes slanted his way, heavy with fatigue. “You don’t approve of me.”

  Fighting the urge to shake her, Jordan frowned. “Wrong. I don’t approve of where you work. They’re two entirely different things.”

  She laughed at that, and focused on flexing the arch of her left foot with intense concentration.

  Jordan caught her wrists. “What are you doing?”

  “My feet hurt.” Her tone was abrupt, as if that particular question had annoyed her more than anything else. “Try staying on your feet all damn day—in high heels no less—and your feet’ll hurt, too.”

  He flexed his jaw. He told himself to just leave. He even cursed himself privately in the silence of his own mind. But it didn’t make one whit of difference. He was already so far off track, he had no idea where he was going, but was just as intent on getting there.

  “Lay down.”

  She reared back as if he’d struck her. “What?”

  Jordan caught her hips and pulled her toward him so that she landed flat on her back on the flowered cushions. She was stunned for a moment, not moving, and before she could gather her wits he deftly flipped her onto her stomach. He had her feet in his lap and his gaze glued to the sight of her rounded ass in the loose shorts, by the time she started to struggle. He must have masochistic tendencies, he decided, tightening his grip on her ankles, holding her secure.

  Georgia levered up on stiffened arms, gasping in outrage—until his fingers moved deeply over the arch of her left foot, then up and over her toes. She gave a long, husky, vibrating groan.

  The sound of her unrestrained pleasure made Jordan break out in a sweat. Her shoulders went limp and her head dropped forward as if her neck had no strength to hold it up. “This isn’t fair.”

  “What?”

  “A voice that seduces, perfect coffee, and now a foot massage.” She groaned again. “Ohmigod, that feels good.”

  Jordan closed his eyes and applied himself to giving her the best damn foot rub she’d ever had in her life. “Relax,” he ordered, though he was so rigid a mere touch would have shattered him.

  She obeyed. She dropped flat to the glider and rested her head on her folded arms. Every few seconds she moaned in bliss, stretching her toes like a cat being petted.

  Jordan was so hard he hurt. He desperately wanted to slide his hands up the backs of her firm thighs, to slip his fingers beneath the loose hem of the shorts she wore. Probably, he reasoned, she’d thought the shorts to be unappealing because they were old and gray and faded. But the material hugged her curves and they were loose enough in the legs that he could now see all the way to the tops of her thighs.

  He slid his hands up her warm, resilient calves. She had excellent muscle tone, and even as he stroked her, kneading her flesh, feeling her muscles relax, he admitted he was beyond pathetic when a woman’s muscle tone brought him to the edge.

  Feeling like a damn lecher, he lifted one of her legs and was even able to see the edge of her panties, which—contrary to all he’d been telling himself—nearly made him erupt with carnal greed.

  In a rasp totally unlike his normal seductive tone, he said, “Agree to my help, damn it.”

  She sighed, adjusted her head more comfortably and murmured in a barely there voice, “It wouldn’t be right.”

  Affronted, Jordan realized she was on the verge of sleep. Conflicting emotions bombarded him. Lust was there, tearing at his resolve, making his guts cramp, but there was also a throbbing explosion of tenderness, enough to expand his heart and tighten his lungs.

  “I want to help you, Georgia.”

  She sighed, and in the next instant started to snore softly. A reluctant smile curved his mouth. Never in his benighted life had a woman fallen asleep on him. It was a novelty he could have lived without, but then it occurred to him that perhaps this was exactly what he needed to gain the upper hand.

  “Georgia?” He continued working the tendons in her feet, something he knew from experience that all women seemed to enjoy. Personally, if a female was going to rub him, he could think of better places than his feet.

  She didn’t reply and after he gently placed her foot in his lap, he reached up and shook her shoulder.

  She never stirred.

  Jordan sat back with a grin. She’d said her children were very sound sleepers and now he knew that it was an inherited trait.

  Beyond his feelings of triumph—because he really did have her now—it dawned on him that she was as vulnerable as a woman could be with a man, so she must trust him to some degree. And he wasn’t above taking advantage of it.

  He stroked her hair, silky soft and warm. He indulged his need to touch her, to learn the textures and curves of her face, her neck, her shoulder. Her spine was graceful, leading down to that superior rump that looked so damn tantalizing there before him, like an offering.

  He was an honorable man, so he kept his hands on safe ground, but he looked at every inch of her, then whispered, “I’ve got you now, sweetheart.”

  And still she didn’t move.

  It took a lot of willpower to walk away from her, to find a blanket to cover her with and then to walk out of the room. But he managed it; he had a lot of fortitude when something really mattered.

  And this mattered. Much as he hated to admit it, it mattered too damn much.

  6

  GEORGIA WOKE with the sunlight bright in her face. She didn’t move, at first making an attempt to orient herself. Something wasn’t right. She squinted; why was there so much light?

  As her eyes adjusted, she saw the huge oak in her backyard through dirty windows, stately and still, not a single leaf stirring. There must be no wind, she thought, now that the dreadful rain had obviously ended.

  And then it dawned on her that she wasn’t in her own bed where she should be, or she certainly wouldn’t be looking at the backyard. She was, as incredible as it seemed, in the enclosed patio curled up on the glider under a quilt.

  She was still putting those thoughts together in the cobwebs of her mind when she heard a faint, muffled laugh. Lisa, then Adam. They sounded happy and for just a moment she thought everything was as it was supposed to be, as it had been the day before. Her mother, an early riser, was probably making coffee and the kids liked to hang next to her, waiti
ng for cereal, chattering nonstop. Georgia always got up when she heard the kids, even though she was still exhausted and even though she knew her mother would complain and tell her to sleep more—and then she heard another deeper, more masculine laugh.

  Jordan!

  She jerked upright so fast the glider rolled, nearly spilling her onto the floor. Her heart racing, she remembered everything, her near arrest, her mother’s illness—that orgasmic foot rub Jordan had been giving her late last night.

  She twisted to face the kitchen behind her, and sure enough, that was Jordan’s rough-velvet voice whispering, “Shhh. We don’t want your mother to wake up yet. She had a long night.”

  Adam, sounding a bit blurry as if he hadn’t been awake long himself, said, “Mommy always gets up with us, even when grandma grouches at her ‘bout it.”

  Lisa bragged, “She won’t hear anything, but she always hears us. Even when we’re quiet. Grandma says that’s a mommy’s sixth sense.”

  “You’ve got an excellent mommy.” Jordan said that with conviction, and Georgia wondered if he meant it. More likely he was merely trying to appease the kids. “But today we’ll try to let her catch up on sleep.”

  Lisa asked, “Can I have the next pancake?”

  Pancake?

  “Absolutely. I can’t believe you’ve eaten two already. Are you sure they’re in your belly? You didn’t hide one behind your ear?”

  Lisa laughed again and Adam joined her.

  Georgia nearly choked. She’d been sleeping so soundly one minute, and jarred awake the next, that she felt nearly drunk as she staggered to her feet in righteous indignation and groped her way toward the kitchen. Jordan was feeding her children? He had invaded her kitchen? What in the world was he doing here so early? The kids knew better than to go anywhere near the doors without her or their grandmother. She’d reminded them again and again that they were never ever to open the door to anyone.

  Georgia stopped in the entryway, her thoughts scattering at the sight of Jordan. He looked…gorgeous. Sinfully gorgeous. His light brown hair was mussed, his jaw rough with beard stubble, his sleeves rolled back over his thick forearms. And he wore an apron around his waist.