by Lori Foster
To her surprise, he laughed, then kissed her loudly, right there in front of everyone. "Quit scowling, Malone. You're going to get wrinkles."
"Yeah. Or worse, you'll start looking so forbidding, we'll confuse you with Morgan." Gabe ducked when Morgan reached for him, then laughed as he resettled himself in his seat and went back to work on his pancakes.
"Misty is going to help me out around the station."
Sawyer sat back in his seat. "I thought you didn't want to hire a woman because she might get ideas."
"In this case, it's a moot point. The ideas are mutual." He looked at each brother in turn. "Any objections?"
Jordan lifted his glass of milk and said mildly, "With the two of you competing for the darkest frown, who would dare?"
Casey stood and took his empty plate and glass to the dishwasher. "I think it's great. So can I be excused? I want to go into town today."
Sawyer glanced at his son. "A date?"
"Sorta."
Morgan snagged Casey and roughed up his hair. "You're taking after your uncle, boy."
With a twinkle in his eyes, Casey asked, "Oh, yeah? Which one?"
Gabe held out his arms. "If she's gorgeous, then obviously me!"
Honey reached over and slapped Gabe's arm. "Thanks a lot!"
The moment Misty had dreaded seemed to have come and gone without much notice. She was a tad bemused at that.
"No offense, Honey," Gabe said after blowing her a kiss, "but you're married into the family now so I can't make lecherous jokes about you."
Still holding Casey in a way that made Misty wistful over the easy familiarity, Morgan said, "We can give you a ride. Misty and I are going into town ourselves."
Misty, a little surprised that he'd even suggest it, thought she'd have a slight reprieve from Morgan's isolated attentions until Casey shook his head. "Thanks, but I'd rather ride Windstorm. Jordan said she needs the exercise and I was planning on cutting across the field."
Morgan explained to Misty, "Windstorm is a new horse. Jordan brought her home not too long ago."
"I'm meeting up with friends, then we're all going to the lake for a little while."
"Anybody I know?" Morgan asked.
Casey struggled to hide his grin. "Just some girls, mostly." Sawyer took one look at his son's innocent expression and groaned. "Lord, he is like Gabe."
At that, Casey laughed. "We're just going to swim. We won't get into any trouble."
Gabe sent mock glares around the room. "I didn't always get into trouble, you know."
"Just often enough," Jordan said with a raised brow, "to keep everyone on their toes."
Sawyer raised a hand. But before he could interject anything into the conversation, Honey stood and took Casey's arm.
"Never mind your overbearing, interfering uncles." She slanted her gaze toward Gabe. "You're nothing like them, except for the good looks, of course. Go and have a good time, but be careful, okay?"
Casey lifted her off her feet in a bear hug. "I'll be home by three o'clock."
"That's fine." And once he left the room, she glowered at Sawyer. "Quit comparing him to your disreputable brothers. You'll put ideas in his head."
"Would you all quit talking about me like I was the scourge of the area? Disreputable, indeed."
Honey pointed at Gabe. "And proud of it, from what I can tell."
To Misty's surprise, Sawyer didn't look at all put out by Honey's audacity toward his son. Instead, he grinned. "You're turning into a rather ferocious mother hen."
"Oh, no," Misty said, "she's always been that way. Even when she was just a little girl."
There was a round of laughing comments on that, all teasing Honey until she blushed.
Morgan pulled up a chair next to Misty and propped his head on his fist to stare at her. "You look a little numb, sweetheart. You okay?"
She shook her head, watching Sawyer nuzzle on Honey, then Jordan and Gabe roughhousing. She didn't know what to think. "The way you all carry on, it amazes me, and now here I am right in the middle of it."
Honey's lips curled into a big smile. She said to the brothers, "It takes some getting used to, since we were from such a small family. And all our meals were very formal. No one gathered in the kitchen just to chat, and there was never this much joking around."
"I wasn't complaining," Misty said, not wanting them to misunderstand. "It's...nice."
"Of course it is." Honey cuddled against Sawyer's side, and he kissed her ear. "You know, you can't get around it, so now I just chime in, too. You'll get used to it."
Misty hadn't planned on being around long enough to get used to them. But now she was having fun. It had been a while since she'd felt the honest urge to laugh.
Morgan nudged her. "You want some pancakes or do you still want to head straight to town?"
Misty thought about it. Most of her anxiety was gone, and her stomach was starting to rumble. There was still a platter of lightly browned pancakes sitting in the middle of the table, with warmed syrup and soft butter beside it.
She grinned at Morgan, feeling more at ease than she had in ages. "Let's eat."
~ 6 ~
IT WAS ALMOST AN HOUR before they finally left the house. Though she'd never have imagined it, she'd enjoyed breakfast immensely. No one said too much about her pregnancy other than to try to force an extra pancake on her along with a tall glass of milk. And no one pressured her for information on the father of the baby. They seemed to simply accept that she was there, unmarried, and that they wanted her to stay.
True to his word, Morgan played the part of an interested party, holding her arm, opening the door for her. But then she thought about how all the brothers did the same, for both her and Honey, and she realized Morgan likely wasn't playing at all. He was flat out mannerly, no way around it, and she had to admit she rather liked it.
"Are you sure I don't need to change clothes?" She wore her camisole and cut-offs, but Morgan had insisted she looked fine. The way he'd stared at her, though, giving her such a slow, thorough perusal, made her uncertain. She wore what most women wore on such hot days, but they were going to his office, and she'd likely meet a few townspeople.
"You look sexy as sin, which makes me nuts wanting to take you, but I can handle it. When you actually work tomorrow, you'll need to wear something more ... conservative. Maybe jeans and a plain blouse or something. And definitely a bra. I won't get any work done if I know you're not wearing a bra."
Morgan took three more steps before he finally realized she'd stopped. He turned to face her, hands on his hips in an arrogant pose. He lifted one brow. "What's the problem now, Malone?"
As if he truly didn't know. Amazing. Even more amazing was that she felt equal parts furious and aroused. After all the condemnation she'd received from men of late, his open admiration was a balm, whether she admitted to liking it or not.
It was unnerving that of all the men she'd ever known, this particular man could make her feel such depths of excitement at such a rotten time. She didn't want to want him. She didn't want to want any man, but definitely not one who was so bold and ... potent. There'd be no way to control Morgan Hudson, or to control her own erratic heartbeat in his presence.
"If this is going to work," she said, carefully enunciating each word, hoping to hide her trembling, "you have to stop being so...outspoken."
"Getting to you, is it?"
He blocked the sun with his big body, leaving long shadows to dance around her. "Annoying me, actually."
His slow smile was provoking. He strolled over to stand directly in front of her. "Is that why you're all flushed?" he asked. His gaze dropped to her chest and he groaned. Misty looked down, and she wasn't surprised to see that her nipples were pressed hard against the soft material of her camisole. She ached all over, and she couldn't stop her body from reacting.
Desperate, she turned to leave, and Morgan gently clasped her shoulders, halting her. They stood silent, motionless, for several heartbeats and then he s
ighed. "Give me a break here, Malone. I'm doing my best."
His best to seduce her? His best was actually pretty darn good. She turned slowly to face him and stared him in the eye, refusing to let him intimidate her.
Morgan hesitated, then ran a hand over his face in frustration. He ended with a rough laugh, taking her off guard. "You want the truth?"
"No!"
"I'm not used to women pushing me away."
"Oh, please." But she could easily believe it. Morgan had an incredible body, sensual eyes and a devastating smile that he generally hid behind a frown. She imagined any woman he looked at was more than willing to look back – and more.
"I've never known such a contrary woman," he muttered. "You want me, but you keep saying no. You make me crazy, Malone."
He looked so endearing, as if he were baring his soul, she had to fight to keep from smiling at him. She huffed instead. "You were crazy long before I stepped into the picture."
"Nope. I was in control, one hundred percent. Now I'm walking around with a semierection."
She gave a groan of frustration. "That's exactly what I'm talking about, Morgan. Your...masculine discomfort is of no concern to me."
"Well, it should be since you're the cause." She would have groaned again, but Morgan added, almost to himself, "You've shot all my well laid plans to hell."
Misty sputtered, both hurt and insulted. It was the hurt that made her sarcastic, because she knew exactly what plans he referred to. "Please, don't let me get in your way! I'll even help in the wife hunt if you want." He looked surprised, then disgruntled.
"No." He leaned over her. "I don't need your help."
"Why not? Tell me what qualities you're looking for and I'll keep my eyes open."
Morgan leaned closer, then lifted her chin with the edge of his fist. "Right now, I don't want a wife. I want you. And if you were honest, you'd admit you want me, too."
She met his gaze just as intently, determined to make him understand before she broke down and proved him right. "Sorry, Morgan, but I've sworn off men."
His hand opened, cradling her face. "That's the hell of it, Malone. You're not giving me a chance." His gaze touched on her everywhere – her eyes, her lips, her breasts. His thumb moved softly over her bottom lip. "It could be perfect, sweetheart. I'd make sure of it."
Misty wondered if she looked in the dictionary for the word temptation if it would feature a picture of Morgan Hudson. She could feel herself shaking inside, could feel her nerve endings all coming alive at his sensual promise – a promise she felt sure he could keep. The man was as seductive and searing as the bold stroke of a warm hand.
Wanting to give him equal honesty, she wrapped her hand around his wrist and shared a melancholy smile. "I have no doubt you ... know what you're doing, Morgan. But I already feel a little used. I don't relish feeling that way again."
His fingers slid over her head to the back of her neck, cupping her warmly. "Oh, babe." His fingers caressed, kindled. His sigh was warm, his words soft. "I would never hurt you."
When she started to speak, he hushed her. "No, don't give me all your arguments. You'll make me morose."
She laughed at that Morgan was so brutally honest, so different from the other men she knew. He didn't try to white-wash what he wanted, which was sex. He made it clear he intended to find a wife soon and that she didn't fit the role – a fact she knew only too well. He kept her aware of what he thought about things, and while she did consider him far too forward and pushy, it was nice not to have to guess about ulterior motives and hidden agendas.
Compared to Kent, a man who'd sworn undying love then dropped her the moment he found out she was pregnant, Morgan's honesty was refreshing. It was still alarming, but she'd trust it over insincere promises any day.
He released her, then rubbed the back of his neck. "You should know I'm not going to quit trying. I figure sooner or later I'll wear you down and you'll admit you want me."
"Why don't you try holding your breath?"
He wagged a finger at her. "Play nice, Malone."
"But you're the one who told me I could make you miserable, right? That's why I agreed to this farce in the first place."
She grinned at him, which made him laugh and shake his head. "Witch."
Misty wasn't offended. Somehow he'd made the name sound like an endearment.
He took her hand and started them on the way again. "Speaking of this farce...I should also point out that the job has nothing to do with your continued rejection." He glanced at her. "I'm not going to fire you if you keep saying no. I won't like it, and I'll do my damnedest to change your mind, but the job is yours as long as you're fulfilling it."
"No blackmail, huh?"
"No. I just wanted to make sure we understood each other."
For some reason, she'd never once doubted that. The way Morgan interacted with his family, treating Casey almost like a son, Honey like a sister, she knew he was too honorable to try forcing her hand. And he'd already proven that night in the gazebo that all it took was a soft, simple no to make him back off. She wasn't afraid of him. She was only afraid of herself when she was with him.
She was still pondering that when Morgan opened the garage door and she got a good look at the official car he expected her to ride in.
She backed up two steps. Granted it wasn't a typical law enforcement vehicle, but it had the lights on the roof and the word Sheriff emblazoned on the side in yellow and blue. Memories flooded back, and she winced.
To stall, she asked Morgan, "What type of sheriff are you?"
He looked up, saw her expression, then glanced at the shiny black four-wheel-drive Bronco. "Just a regular run-of-the-mill county sheriff, why? You don't like my transportation?" He wore a devilish grin.
"I've never seen anything like it." She walked around the truck, looking at it from all angles. "I thought officials drove sedans, not sport utility vehicles."
"It's for off-road driving, but there's no sport to it. There're a lot of hills in these parts. And though we don't have much in the way of big crime, just about anything that happens involves those damn hills. Last fall, a little girl got lost and we spent two days on foot looking for her. A four-wheel-drive would have made all the difference on some of the off-road searches. After that, the townsfolk got together and donated the Bronco."
Misty felt a little sick as she asked, "The child?"
"I found her curled up real tight under an outcropping of rock." His hands curled into fists and his jaw locked. "Her father had given up looking and was back at the station, drinking coffee and letting people dote on him."
He sounded thoroughly disgusted, not that Misty blamed him.
"Sawyer had rounded up about fifty people and we'd been at it all day and through the night. When I found her late the following afternoon, she was terrified, cold and crying for her daddy."
Misty put her hand on his arm, aware of the bunched muscles and his tension. Knowing Morgan as well as she did now, she could imagine how difficult that would have been for him, trying to console a child, hurting when that wasn't possible. "Her father should have been with you."
"He was a damn fool, visiting these parts and camping out when he didn't have a clue as to what he was doing. The weather was too cold for it and he didn't exactly pick the best spot to pitch his tent. The little girl wandered off because he wasn't watching her close enough."
"But she was all right?"
"Other than being a little dehydrated and scared silly, she did great. Cutest little thing you'd ever seen. About five years old." His eyes met hers, diamond bright, and he added, "I know if it had been my kid, I wouldn't have quit looking until I found her."
"I think," Misty said, studying his intent expression, "you wouldn't have let her out of your sight in the first place."
Morgan kissed her nose. "No, I wouldn't have."
Misty wondered if he'd slept at all during those two days, and seriously doubted that he had. She gave him a tremulous smi
le. The man was proving to be entirely too easy to like.
Morgan stared at her mouth, groaned, then pulled the door of the Bronco open. "Let's go, Malone, before I forget my good intentions."
She clasped a hand to her heart. "You have good intentions? Toward me? I had no idea."
Suddenly his eyes narrowed. "Why are you stalling? What's up?"
"Don't be ridiculous." She eyed the truck again, then with a distinct feeling of dread, hefted herself into the seat. Morgan gave her a long look before he slammed the door.
When he climbed in on his own side, he said, "You wanna tell me about it?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about." She stared with feigned fascination at the control panel, the radio. Behind her was a sturdy wire-mesh screen separating the cargo area from the front seat – for prisoners, she knew. Unable to help herself, she shuddered.
Morgan started the engine, then reached for her hand. "When you were arrested, they cuffed you?"
"I don't want to talk about that." She tried to pull away, but he held her hand tight and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. He did that a lot, grabbing hold of her and not letting her go. This time she appreciated the touch. She curled her fingers around his.
"I imagine you were," he said, speaking about the arrest in a matter-of-fact way. "It's pretty much policy these days, for safety reasons."
She chewed her lip, then slowly closed her eyes, giving up. "It was the most degrading moment of my entire life. It was bad enough when Mr. Collins accused me of stealing the money, and I couldn't believe it when he actually called the cops."
"Mr. Collins?"
"My boss at Vision Videos. I kept thinking somehow things would get straightened out, that they'd realize there'd been a mistake."
"They didn't find the money on you?"
"No, because I didn't have it." She glared at him, then asked, "You think I'm guilty, don't you?"
Morgan was silent as they pulled onto the main road. He drove with one hand, still holding onto her with the other. Finally he muttered, "To be honest, I have serious doubts."
"Really?"
He glanced at her. "But if you did do it, I'd understand, okay?"