MORGAN

by Lori Foster

  Morgan pushed a bare foot against the ground, making the swing sway gently, mindful of the coffee they each held. He kept his gaze on her profile. "You wear glasses."

  She didn't answer him.

  "I guess that answers the mystery of your big blue eyes, doesn't it? I always figured the color was a little too clear, a little too good to be real. Colored contacts?"

  Her shoulders stiffened and she turned to him. Over the rim of the glasses, she glared and gave him a view of those perfect, clear, startling blue eyes, unadorned.

  Morgan stared into her eyes, then whispered, "I guess I was wrong."

  She turned away again, but muttered, "It's not the first time."

  Ignoring that, he touched the rubber band sloppily knotted in her hair. "Rough night?"

  One hand clutched the coffee mug, the other a damp tissue and the top of her housecoat. She hesitated, then slanted him another look over her wire-framed glasses. "If that's what you want to think, why not? I mean, you left before me, so it's entirely possible that once you were gone, I staged an orgy in that nice little gazebo you showed me."

  Morgan sipped his coffee while keeping his gaze on her. His free arm rested over the back of the swing, his fingers almost touching her. Almost. "I somehow doubt your sister would have tolerated that."

  She started to jerk to her feet, but Morgan caught her elbow. "No, don't let me run you off. I didn't come out here to harass you."

  "No, you came to see if I was ready to leave. Well, don't worry. As soon as it's light, I'll get dressed and go. I packed last night so I could get an early start. I just wanted to watch the sunrise first."

  Her words made him feel almost as bad as that time Jordan needed help treating an ornery mule and it kicked him in the gut, breaking two of his ribs. Morgan rubbed a hand over his chest, which didn't do a thing to help this particular ache, then muttered, "It's for the best and you know it."

  "I'm not arguing with you, Morgan."

  "Good, because I didn't come out here to argue."

  "No? Then why?"

  Hell, why had he come out? Whatever warped reasoning he'd used to justify his actions, he couldn't remember it now. Because he didn't have an answer, he tried changing the subject. "You look like you're...upset."

  She shook her head in denial. "No, not at all."

  But there was that tissue clutched in her hand, and her red nose and watery eyes. His conscience bothered him, and that had to be a first. In the normal course of things, he didn't bother with a guilty conscience. He was always rock certain of his decisions. "I don't have anything personally against you, Malone."

  She snorted.

  Morgan clenched his jaw, but he was determined to have his say. "It'll be best for all concerned if you leave soon."

  She sighed, then turned to stare at him. "Yeah, well, you seem to be the only one who thinks so. Gabe spent half the night trying to talk me into hanging around, and Jordan even offered me a job."

  In angry disbelief, he said, "You told them I asked you to leave?"

  His anger didn't faze her. "No. But they knew I'd go sooner or later." Then she mumbled, "Though sooner seems to be on your personal agenda."

  Morgan struggled to control his temper. "What did you tell Jordan?"

  "That I'd think about it."

  His muscles bunched in infuriated reflex. He wanted her gone. He did not want her hanging around his brother. "Like hell."

  She shrugged nonchalantly, egging him on. She had a habit of doing that, deliberately pricking his temper – and his lust. Hell, half the time he was around her he didn't know for sure what he felt, just that he felt it too keenly and he didn't like it one damn bit.

  Jealousy of his brothers was a unique thing, but he absolutely couldn't bear the thought of Misty being with one of them. Besides, he knew if she hung around, they'd eventually be involved, he had no doubt about that at all. Acting on gut instinct, he said, "Forget the job with Jordan. I'll pay you to go."

  Her mouth fell open and she stared at him.

  "How much do you want?" he asked, forcing the words out through his teeth.

  "You're not serious."

  "Why not?" He felt goaded and angry and out of control. He absolutely hated it. "You'd use Jordan, taking his infatuation with you to finagle a job. Well, why not use me instead? Hell, at least I know what I'm getting into. So name a price."

  Her lips pinched shut, her eyes narrowed and an angry blush rose from her neck up. Then, as he watched, she gathered herself, and anger was replaced by deliberate belligerence. "Hmm, well now, I know what it was Jordan wanted in exchange for the job. But...exactly what would you expect in return for cash, Morgan? Or do I even need to ask?"

  Her innuendo goaded his temper, but more than that, it stirred his desire for her, sending him right over the edge. He broke out in a sweat, his gut clenched, his body hardened. He reached for her, not even sure himself what he would do once he had hold of her. But she surprised him by her reaction. She leaped to her feet with a gasp. The coffee mug fell from her hand to the soft ground with a dull thud, spilling the coffee and rolling a few feet away. Misty covered her mouth with both hands. Her face was pale, and she swayed.

  Morgan stood also and caught her to him, ignoring her feeble struggles. "Damn it, are you all right?" He shook her slightly, his alarm growing. "What the hell is wrong with you? Answer me, Malone."

  Staring at him in horror, she opened her eyes wide and then pushed away, ran several feet to a line of bushes and dropped to her knees.

  Morgan was dumbfounded. He started after her, but halted when he heard the unmistakable sound of retching. Never had he felt like such a complete and utter ass. He'd been harassing her again, when that hadn't been his intent at all. He'd argued with her after telling her he wouldn't. And she was sick. He made a false start toward her, then pulled back, as uncertain of what to do as he'd been on his very first date.

  He'd hated the feeling then; at thirty-four, he hated it even more.

  She probably drank too much last night, he thought, staring at her slim back as she jerked and shuddered. Some people just couldn't hold their liquor – though he didn't remember seeing her imbibe. Mostly she'd just danced and laughed and driven him crazy with an inferno of lust.

  When she was done being sick, sitting there on her knees on the damp ground, her arms wrapped around her stomach, he inched closer. He felt totally out of his element, not quite sure what to say or do. But he knew he had to do something. She kept her back to him, no doubt mortified. He knew women could be unaccountably funny about such things. Finally, feeling like a fool, he knelt behind her. "You want me to go get you something to drink?"

  She moaned and clutched herself a little tighter. "Just...go...away."

  Morgan hesitated, then lifted one hand to her shoulder, gently rubbing. Touching her made him feel immeasurably better, whether it did anything for her or not. "I bet Sawyer has something he could give you for the hangover."

  She laughed, a raw, broken sound that was close to a moan. "A hangover, Morgan? When I didn't drink a single drop?"

  Way off base with that one, obviously. He nodded. "Okay, not a hangover."

  She shook her head, and more silky strands of midnight hair escaped her rubber band to curl around her cheeks. A few tangled in the armature of her glasses, and he gently pulled them away.

  Without looking at him, she said, "You always think the worst of me, don't you?"

  He didn't know what to say to that.

  "I should be used to it. God knows, men always... Oh, just go away." Her voice was thin, washed out; she sounded too tired to argue.

  He couldn't stop his deep frown or his concern. "If you're sick, then—"

  Her hands fisted on her thighs in a sudden startling display of frustration. Still without looking at him, she hissed, "Damn it, why can't you just leave me alone?"

  He wouldn't let her rile him again. "Look, Malone, my mother would skin my hide if I left a sick woman wallowing out in the dew, with
out—"

  "I am not sick!"

  Her stubbornness annoyed the hell out of him, even as he continued to gently stroke her back. "Oh, then I'm hallucinating? That wasn't you just puking your guts up in my bushes? Because I have to tell you, Malone, if you're hoping to be a martyr to get my sympathy, it's not at all necessary. Hell, I already—"

  She turned to him with a feral growl, momentarily startling him, then practically shouted, "I am not sick, you idiot! I'm pregnant."

  ~ 3 ~

  OH, GOD. MISTY STARED at Morgan, horrified by her statement, and ready to be sick all over again. She slapped a hand over her mouth and gulped air through her nose, determined to hold it back. She'd thought the fresh air would help, and it really had, but then Morgan had joined her....

  She frowned, her queasy stomach almost forgotten. It was all his fault, and she said, without the demonic tone this time, "I don't suppose you'll just forget I said that?"

  Dumbly, he shook his head, his eyes still wide, his jaw still slack. For once he wasn't scowling. He looked too stunned to scowl. "Uh, no. Not likely."

  Her temper snapped. "Oh, of course not. That would be too easy, wouldn't it?" She frowned ferociously, wishing she could hit him over his hard head. "Well, it's none of your business, anyway. And if you tell my sister, I swear I'll make you regret it."

  Morgan's expression hadn't changed. It was a comical mix of surprise, chagrin and helplessness. Something else, too, something bordering on anger, but she couldn't be sure. He blinked, but didn't say a word. With a sound of disgust, Misty rolled her eyes and started to get to her feet. "Look, I'm sorry about your bushes. Really. Do you think anyone will notice?" Before he could answer, she added, "But in a way, you are the one to blame. If you hadn't kept prodding me... But that doesn't matter now. I'm feeling much better, fine, in fact, so I'll just go get dressed and get on my way. Please thank your brothers for me. And tell Honey I'll be in touch."

  She was rattled, which accounted for the way she was blathering on and on. She wanted to bite her tongue off. She wanted more coffee.

  She wanted away from Morgan Hudson.

  He'd slowly stood when she had, and now he stepped in front of her, blocking her attempt at a strategic retreat. "I don't think so, Malone. You're not going to make a confession like that and then just creep off."

  She was too tired, too mind weary to deal with him now. As if speaking to an idiot, she said, "I didn't exactly have creeping in mind. I thought I'd dress, pick up my bags, walk out the front door and drive away. There's a big difference."

  "You were crying. Your eyes are all puffy."

  He said it like a heinous accusation. She waved a negligent hand, not about to explain herself to him. "Don't be silly. I always look like hell in the morning. Lucky for you, you won't have to get used to it."

  She started around him again, and this time he picked her up. She would have screamed her head off, she was so exasperated, except she sure as certain didn't want the other brothers witnessing her this way.

  Gabe was such a comedian, he'd probably start joking about the whole thing. And Jordan, with that mesmerizing voice Honey claimed could put a cow to sleep, would do his best to comfort her, which would make her cry again.

  And Sawyer – she had no idea how he'd react to his new wife's sister showing up pregnant.

  So instead of screaming, she held herself stiff and tried to ignore how easily Morgan carried her, his incredible strength, the delicious way he smelled this morning and her twinge of ridiculous regret when he sat her on the swing.

  It had been so long since she'd been held, so long since she'd felt anything like caring or concern or gentleness, she was almost starving for it. Even Morgan's aggressive, demanding concern felt like a balm.

  But she was also more savvy now, and she knew beyond a shadow off a doubt that Morgan Hudson was not a man to take comfort from.

  "Uh, Morgan..."

  Hands on his thighs, he leaned down in front off her until their noses nearly touched. "I'm going to go get you some juice. If you move so much as your baby toe before I get back, you won't be happy with my reaction. I mean it, Malone."

  He looked more serious than she'd ever seen him. Not that she was afraid of him and his threats, but again, a ruckus might wake everyone else.

  She turned her head away. "Bully."

  "Damn right."

  He sauntered off, but as if he hadn't trusted her to stay put, he was back in less than a minute. Misty hadn't moved, only because she was so tired. For weeks now she'd been trying to come up with a solution, but the problems just kept adding up, and she hadn't a clue what to do. Finding a job was obviously top of the list. Then she could sell her car to make the first month of rent once she found a place she could afford.

  Borrowing money from her father was out of the question. She wouldn't ask him for a nickel. They had never been close and she knew without approaching him what his reaction to her most recent problems would be. Probably even worse than his reaction to her pregnancy, which predictably had been disappointment. He'd give her money, but that's all he'd ever give, never understanding or emotional support. She had enough to deal with without his overwhelming condemnation on her shoulders.

  No, she'd rather go it alone than go to her father.

  She was still frowning, deep in thought, when Morgan handed her a tall, cold glass off orange juice. The juice looked wonderful, and she accepted it gladly. Sipping, she said, "I thank you – at least for the drink."

  Morgan seated himself beside her and crossed his long arms over his massive chest. With his dark frown and set jaw, he looked belligerent and antagonistic. She didn't like his attitude at all.

  She liked him even less.

  Knowing he hated it when she acted brazen, and hoping he'd go away and leave her alone with her misery, she said, "You know, you really should show a little more decorum. Running around half naked is almost barbaric. Especially for a man built like you."

  He blinked in surprise, and his brows smoothed out. "A man built like me?"

  "Yeah, you know." She glanced at his hard, hair-covered chest, felt a shot of heat straight through the pit of her stomach and raised her brows. "All muscle-bound. You do that to attract the women? Because while I appreciate the sight of your sexy body, I'm not at all attracted."

  He narrowed his eyes. "Are you trying to distract me, Malone?"

  She sighed. "No, I'm being honest. You're an incredibly good-looking man, Morgan. And evidently a pushy one, too. But I'm not interested in any man, for any reason. I'm through with the lot of you – for good. Besides, I'm leaving today, and with any luck, you'll be long married with kids of your own and moved away before I ever visit again." She nodded at his chest once more. "You're wasting the excellent display on the likes of me."

  "Oh, I don't know about that, considering most of what you just said was bunk. You are interested – at least in me." His voice dropped, and he looked her over slowly. She felt the touch of his gaze like a stroke of heat, from the top of her thighs to the base of her throat. "Last night proved that."

  Misty swallowed hard, feeling a new sensation in her belly that wasn't at all unpleasant. "Last night was an aberration. I've had a lot on mind and you took me by surprise."

  He let that slide without comment. "The part about me moving out is true enough, though. But I won't be far. The house on the hill? That's mine. It'll be ready to move into soon."

  She couldn't see the house from here, but she remembered admiring it when she first arrived. It wasn't quite as large as this one, but it was still impressive. She wondered if he already had the wife picked out, too, but didn't ask. "Good for you."

  Tilting his head, his look still far too provocative, Morgan said, "I'm curious about this professed disinterest of yours, especially considering your condition."

  "My condition?" She hated how he said that – just as her father had, just as her fiancé had – with something of a sneer. She wanted the baby and she wouldn't apologize for havin
g it, not to anyone, and certainly not to him. "It's not a disease, you know."

  His gaze hardened. "When're you getting married, Malone?"

  The words were casual, almost softly spoken, but they sounded lethal. And his stare was so intent, so burning, she looked at his chest instead of meeting his eyes. "None of your business."

  "I'm making it my business."

  The juice did wonders for settling her nausea and she finally felt more herself. Morning sickness was the pits, and she hoped she got past that stage soon, though now that the worst had happened and she'd been sick in front of Morgan, anything else had to be an improvement. "You do that a lot, do you? Butt in where you've got no business being? I bet that's why you took the position of sheriff. It gives you a legal right to nose around into other people's affairs."

  He looked off to the distance, and Misty, following his gaze, saw that the sun was beginning its slow climb into the sky. It was a beautiful sight, sending a crimson glow across the placid surface of the lake, bringing a visual warmth that had her feeling better already. She sighed, knowing she'd never forget this place and how incredibly perfect it seemed.

  Then Morgan spoke again, reminding her of a major flaw to the peaceful setting. Him.

  "We can sit here until everyone else joins us if you want, but I got the impression you're keeping your departure a secret."

  She sighed again, actually more of a huff. "You've got no right to badger me about something that is none of your damn business, Morgan."

  "You're family now," he explained with a straight face. "That gives me all the rights I need."

  Something that ludicrous deserved her undivided attention. She stared at him, almost speechless, but not quite. "Family? Get real."

  He looked her over slowly, and she knew, even before he told her, that he was making a point. "Oh, you're family, all right, because if you weren't, we'd never have left that damn gazebo, that is, not until things ended in a way that we'd both have enjoyed. A lot."