Buckhorn Beginnings (11 page)

“The hell of it is, Morgan never starts fights, he just finishes them. With that scowl of his, he can bring on a lot of attitude that men, especially bullies, generally object to. And to be fair, he always gives the other guy a chance to back off, but there's that gleam in his eyes that taunts. Morgan's always had an excess of energy and he gets edgy real quick. So to burn up energy, he either fights or he…” Appalled at what he'd almost said, Sawyer stemmed his ridiculous outpouring of personal confidences, wondering if he'd already stepped over the line. He was so comfortable with her, a fact he'd only realized, and she was so damn easy to talk to, he'd completely forgotten himself.

She tilted her head, her eyes alight with curiosity. “Or what?”

“Never mind.”

“Oh, no, you don't!” She shook her head even as she fought off a yawn. “No way. You can't just tease me like that and then not tell me.”

She looked sleepy and warm and piqued, all at once. Again he felt that unfamiliar rush of lust and tenderness and knew he was reacting to her when
he shouldn't. But he just couldn't help himself. She drew him in without even trying.

Caught by her gaze, he admitted in a hoarse tone, “Morgan either fights…or he makes love. Either way, he burns off energy.”

Her cheeks immediately colored and her eyes widened. “Oh. Yeah, I guess…I guess that could work.”

Having caught her uncertainty, Sawyer leaned forward to see her averted face. “You don't sound certain.”

She cleared her throat. “Well, it's not like…that is…” She peeked at him, her brow furrowed in thought. “Is it?”

Sawyer stared at her, blank-brained for just a moment, then he surged to his feet. Damn, if she was asking him if sex was really all that vigorous, he didn't think he could suffice with a mere verbal answer. Surely a woman as sexy, as attractive as she would already know! Damn her, she plagued his brain with her contradictions, her looks earthy and sensual, her behavior so modest. Bold one minute, timid the next.

He stared down at the lake for long moments, trying to get himself together and fight off the surge of lust that swamped him. He heard her stand behind him.

“Sawyer?”

“What?” He didn't mean to sound so brusque, but it felt as if she were killing him and his resolve by small degrees. Torturous, but also extremely erotic.

“Can I ask you something?”

Her tone was hesitant and shy, and he prayed her
question wouldn't be about sex. He was only human, and she was too much temptation.

He looked at her over his shoulder and tried to dampen his frustration. “What is it with all these questions? I thought your throat was sore.”

“It is. But your family is so different, so special. It's the way I always thought families should be. I've enjoyed hearing about them. And I have had a few things vexing my mind.”

A grin took him by surprise; she sounded so worried. “Vexing you, huh?”

“Yes.”

“All right.” Turning, he gave her his full attention. The setting sun did amazing things to her fair hair and her blue eyes while making her skin appear even smoother. It was still hot and humid outside, even though it was evening, and she'd removed his shirt. He could visually trace the outline of her breasts beneath the T-shirt, the full shape of them, the roundness, even the delicate jut of her nipples. His abdomen pulled tight in an effort to fight off the inevitable reaction in his body, but he still felt himself harden. He could see the narrowness of her midriff, the dip of her waist. She hadn't tucked the T-shirt in, and still the flare of her hips was obvious and suggestive.

She shaded her eyes with a small hand and blurted, “Why did you kiss me?”

Taken completely off guard, he blinked at her. After a moment, he said, “Come again?”

“Earlier.” She bit the side of her mouth and shifted nervously. “When you kissed me. Why'd you do it?”

She had to ask? He was thirty-six years old, had been kissing females since he was twelve, and yet none of them had ever asked him such a thing. Trying to figure out what she was thinking, he countered her question with one of his own. “Why do you think I did it?”

She looked so young when she turned bashful. He wondered at the man who'd given her up, who hadn't really loved her, as she'd put it. Sawyer had already decided he was a damn fool. Now, seeing her like this, he was glad. She deserved better than a fool, better than a man who'd be stupid enough to let her go.

He stepped closer, so tempted to kiss her again, to show her instead of tell her about her appeal. But he knew it wasn't right, that he was taking advantage of her situation and confusion. She stared down at her bare feet. “My sister always told me I was pretty.”

He wanted to see her eyes, but no matter how he willed it, she wouldn't look up. “You're very pretty. But I hardly kiss every pretty woman I see.” And in truth, he'd known women much more beautiful. They simply hadn't interested him; they didn't draw him as she did. “Besides,” he added, trying for some humor, “your face is bruised, and your lips are chapped, and there's dark circles under your eyes.”

“Oh.” She touched her cheeks, then let her hands drop away with a frown.

He waited while she thought about that. “Alden used to tell me I was shaped…okay.”

“Okay?”

She gave a grave nod. “Men can be…enticed, by physical stuff, I know.”

She was attempting to sound blasé, and he barely held back his laugh. Alden must have been a complete and total putz. She was much better off without him. “Honey, you're sexy as hell, and sure, to some men that's all that matters, but again—” He gave a philosophical shrug.

“You don't kiss every sexy woman you see?”

“Exactly.”

She licked her lips, and her expression was earnest, if reserved. “So then why did you?”

Very softly, he admitted, “I shouldn't have.”

“That doesn't answer my question.”

Her cheek was sun-warmed beneath his palm as he tilted up her face, determined to see her eyes, to read her. Besides, he couldn't seem to
not
touch her. “What's your real question, sweetheart?”

Her eyes darkened, and the pulse in her throat raced, but she didn't look away this time. She fidgeted, shifting from one foot to the next. “Did…did you think since I was available, but determined not to be here too long, you could just…you know. Have a quick fling?”

He couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled so much. But she amused and delighted him with her every word—when she wasn't provoking him and pricking his temper. She was both the most open, honest woman he'd ever met, sharing her feelings and emotions without reserve or caution, and the most stubbornly elusive, refusing to tell him any necessary truths. “Anyone who knows me could tell you
I'm hardly the type for a quick indiscreet fling, or any kind of fling. But certainly not with someone who didn't want the same.”

She looked startled. “You think I don't want—”

Interrupting that thought seemed his safest bet. “I don't think you know what you want right now. But it surely isn't to be used.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Meaning?”

“Meaning I'm human, and I get restless like any other man. But I have a reputation here, and a lot of people look up to me. I have to be very circumspect.”

She stared at him, her expression almost awed that such sanctimonious words had escaped his mouth. He felt like an idiot. “Honey, I'm sorry, but I just can't—”

She took an appalled step back. “I wasn't asking you to!”

His mouth quirked again, but he ruthlessly controlled it. “When I get too restless, there are women I know
outside
of town who feel just as turned off by commitment as I do. They're content with physical release and no strings.”

Her mouth formed an O.

Feeling aggrieved, he explained, “They're
nice
women, who are content with their lives, but they get lonely. The world being what it is, it's not easy to find someone respectable who isn't looking for marriage. We suit, and it's simple and convenient and—”

Her face was bright red. He couldn't believe he'd gotten into this.

“I see. So you…indulge yourself with these women
you don't really care about. But I don't fall in that category?”

His teeth clicked together. He wanted to shake her. He wanted to haul her up close and nestle his painful erection against her soft belly. He shook his head, as much for himself as for her. “You most definitely don't fall into that category. You're young and confused and scared. You're not from around here and you don't know me well enough to know I have no desire to remarry. And that's why I said I shouldn't have kissed you.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and took a determined step away. “It won't happen again, so you don't have to worry about it.”

She drew a long, considering breath. “I wasn't worried. Not really. I just wasn't sure…” She bit her lip and then blurted, “Most of the time you don't seem to like me very much. You feel responsible for some dumb reason, and you're kind enough, but…I just wasn't sure what to think about the kiss.”

She obviously had no experience with aroused men, to mistake his personal struggles for dislike. And no sooner did he have that thought than he tried to squelch it. It was dangerous territory and would lead him into more erotic thoughts of what he'd like to show her, and just how much he liked her. Instead of explaining, he said, “I'd like you a whole lot more if you'd stop keeping secrets.”

She got her back up real quick, turning all prickly on him. “We agreed we'd talk in the morning.”

“So we did.” He was more than ready to let it drop before he dug himself in too deep. “Why don't you head on in.” If she stood there looking at him even a
minute more, he was liable to forget his resolve and gather her close and kiss her senseless—despite all the damn assurances he'd just given her. These uncontrollable tendencies had never bothered him before; now he felt on the ragged edge, like a marauder about to break under the restraint. The things he wanted to do to her didn't bear close scrutiny. “You look ready to drop,” he quickly added, hoping she wouldn't argue.

Sighing, she turned to go in. “I feel ready to drop.”

Sawyer followed her through the door. The cold air-conditioning was a welcome relief as it washed against his heated skin. It may be evening, but summer in Kentucky meant thick humidity and temperatures in the nineties, sometimes even through the night.

Honey came to an abrupt halt beside the bed and stared at the fresh linens. “Someone changed the bed.”

“I did. I figured you'd want clean sheets.”

She gave him a querulous frown for reasons he couldn't begin to fathom, then sat on the edge of the mattress and reached for the cat. Until she did so, Sawyer hadn't realized the cat was back. Her calico coloring made her blend perfectly with the patchwork quilt.

Honey lifted the cat onto her lap and stroked her, being especially careful with her bandaged tail. “So I know you won't kiss me again, but I still don't know why you did in the first place.”

Watching her pet the cat mesmerized him—until she spoke, breaking the spell with her unsettling
question. He didn't want to answer her because he knew it would somehow complicate things further. But she had that stubborn, set look again, and he figured she wouldn't go to bed until he satisfied her curiosity. He crossed his arms over his chest and studied her while searching for the right words. “I kissed you because I couldn't seem to stop myself.”

“But why?”

He growled, “Because you're quick-witted and sweet and you have more courage than's good for you. And you're stubborn and you make me nuts with your secrets.” Almost reluctantly, he admitted, “And you smell damn good.”

She stared up at him, bemused. “You kissed me because I annoy you with my stubbornness and…and my
courage?
”

He gave a sharp nod. “And as I said, you're smart and you smell good. Incredibly good.”

“But I thought—”

“I know what you thought.” She'd complained about smelling like the lake when to him, she'd smelled like herself, a woman he wanted.

He started to ask her why she'd kissed him back, because she had. She'd nearly singed his eyebrows with the way she'd clung to him, how her mouth had moved under his, the way she'd greedily accepted his tongue, curling her own around it.

He shuddered, then headed for the door, escape his only option. Somehow he knew he'd be better off not knowing what had motivated her. “I won't sleep in here tonight, but if you need anything just let me know. I'm using the front bedroom.”

She rushed to her feet. “I hadn't thought… I didn't mean to chase you out of your own room!”

There was so much guilt in her face, he slowed for just a heartbeat. “You didn't chase me out. I just figured since you were already settled…”

“I'll switch rooms.” She took an anxious step toward him. “You shouldn't have to be inconvenienced on my account.”

He hesitated a moment more, caught between wanting to reassure her and knowing he had to put distance between them. “It's not a problem. Good night.”

She started to say something else, but he pulled the door shut. Truth was, he liked knowing she was in his bed. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to sleep there again without thinking of her—and dreaming.

T
HE HOUSE
was eerily quiet as she slipped the bedroom door open, using only the moonlight filtering in through the French doors to guide her way. Though she hadn't lied about being exhausted, she hadn't slept. The clean sheets no longer smelled of Sawyer's crisp, masculine scent. She'd resented the loss.

She listened with her ear at the crack in the door, but there was nothing. Everyone was in bed, as she'd suspected, probably long asleep. She pictured Sawyer, on his back, his long body stretched out, hard, hot. Her heart gave an excited lurch.

He'd kissed her because she was smart.

And sweet and stubborn and… She'd wanted to cry when he'd given those casual compliments. She'd almost married a man who'd never even noticed those things about her, and if he had, he wouldn't have found them attractive. For him, her appeal had been based on more logical assets, what she could bring him in marriage, her suitability as a partner, the image she'd project as his wife.

Occasionally he'd told her she was lovely, and he'd had no problem using her body. But nothing he'd ever done, not even full intimacy, had been as
hot, as exciting, as Sawyer's kiss. God, she'd been a fool to almost marry Alden.

Her father had once claimed she could have any husband she wanted based on her looks and his financial influence, neither of which she'd ever considered very important. Sawyer couldn't be interested in her father's influence, because he didn't know about it and didn't need it, in any case. And from what he'd said, he didn't find her all that attractive. She smiled and touched her cheek. She was a wreck, and she didn't even care. He'd kissed her, and he'd told her she smelled good, and he liked her wit and stubbornness and courage. Such simple compliments that meant so much. Without even realizing it, he'd given her a new perspective on life, a new confidence. She'd no longer doubt her own worth or appeal, thanks to his grudging admission.

She knew she had to leave before she threw herself at him and begged him to pretend she was one of the women from outside of town. Every time she was around him, she wanted him more.

She'd left a note on the bed, made out to Sawyer and sealed in a bank deposit envelope she'd found on his dresser. It was a confession of sorts, explaining how she felt and part of the reasons she had to leave. It was embarrassing, but she felt she owed him that much, at least. She knew he wouldn't be happy with her furtive defection, but from what he'd said, he'd be even less happy if she lured him into an intimacy he was bound and determined to resist.

Her purse had been in the closet, as the brothers
had claimed, and all her credit cards and I.D. were still inside. She was ready to go.

The door was barely open when the small cat leaped off the bed to follow her out. When Honey reached for the cat, meaning to close her back in the bedroom so she wouldn't make any noise, the cat bounded out of reach. Honey wasn't sure what to do, but it was certain she couldn't waste time hunting for the animal in the dark. She'd been through the house, but she wasn't familiar enough with the setup to launch a search; odds were she'd knock something over.

She was halfway down the hallway, moving slowly and silently though the blackness, when the cat meowed. Every hair on her body stood on end while she waited, frozen, for some sign she'd been discovered. Nothing. The brothers slept on.

Honey glared behind her, but could only see two glowing green eyes in the darkness. Again she reached for the cat; again it avoided her. She felt the brush of soft fur as the cat moved past, then back again, always just out of reach. Honey cursed silently and prayed the cat would be quiet, and that she wouldn't trip on it and knock anything over.

The house was so large, it took her some time to make her way to the kitchen, especially with the cat winding around her ankles every few steps. She'd always liked cats, but now she was thinking of becoming a dog woman.

A tiny, dim light on the stove gave scant illumination across the tiled kitchen floor. She could barely see, but she knew the keys were hanging on a peg
on the outside wall, close to the door, so she used the stove light as a compass of sorts, helping her to orient herself to the dark room. Shuffling her feet to avoid tripping on unseen objects, including felines, she made her way over to the door, trying to avoid the heavier shadows of what she assumed to be the table and counter. Once her searching hand located the keys, she had another dilemma. There were too many of them!

Her heart pounded so hard it was almost deafening. Her palms were sweaty, her stomach in a tense knot. The damn cat kept twining around her bare feet, meowing, making her jumpy. She had no idea where the pet food was kept and had no intention of trying to find out.

Finally, knowing she had to do something or she'd definitely faint, she ignored the cat and decided to take all the keys. When she found one that operated the closest vehicle, she'd drop the rest in the grass, leaving them behind.

She tucked her purse under her arm and wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. Carefully, shuddering at every clink and rattle, she lifted the various key rings. There were five sets. She swallowed hard and, clutching the keys in one hand, her purse in the other, she reached for the kitchen door. The cat looked up and past her, meowed, then sprinted away. Honey turned to see where the cat was headed and barely caught sight of a large, looming figure before a growling voice took her completely off guard.

“You were actually going to steal my car!”

She jerked so hard, it felt like someone had
snapped her spine. At first, no sound escaped her open mouth as she struggled to suck in air, then her heartbeat resumed in a furious trot, and she shrieked involuntarily. Shrill. Loud. The cat took exception to her noise, and with a hiss, darted out of the room. Honey seriously thought her heart might punch right through her chest, it was racing so frantically. It didn't matter that the voice was familiar; she'd been sure she was all alone, being incredibly sneaky, and then he was there. The sets of keys fell from her limp hand in a clatter on the tile floor. Her purse dropped, scattering the contents everywhere.

Sawyer was there in an instant, his hands clasping her shoulders and jerking her around to face him, hauling her up close on her tiptoes again. Her body flattened against his, and she could feel his hot angry breath on her face, feel the steel hardness of his muscles, tensed for battle.

“You were going to steal my goddamn car!”

“No…” The denial was only a whisper. She still couldn't quite catch her breath, not after emptying her lungs on that screech.

He took one step forward, and her back came up against the door while his body came up against her front. “If I hadn't been sitting there in the shadows, you'd be sneaking out right now.” He shook her slightly. “Admit it.”

She swallowed, trying to find her tongue. Instead, the damn tears started. He'd been there all along? She'd never stood a chance? She sniffed, fighting off the urge to weep while trying to decide what to say, how to defuse his rage.

She trembled all over, and she couldn't find the willpower to explain. She felt Sawyer practically heaving, he was so angry, and in the next instant he groaned harsh and low and his hands were on her face, his thumbs brushing away the tears, his mouth hungrily searching for hers. The relief was overwhelming.

She cried out and wrapped her arms around him. He'd said it wouldn't happen again, that not only didn't he want her for a fling, he didn't want her for anything. She'd told herself that was for the best. She'd told herself she hadn't cared. But inside, she'd crumbled.

Now he wanted her, and she was so weak with fear and excitement, all she could do was hold on to him.

One of his hands slid frantically down her side, then up under her shirt. He bit her bottom lip gently and when she opened her mouth, his tongue thrust inside, just as his long, hot fingers closed over her breast.

She jerked her mouth away to moan at the acute pleasure of it—and the kitchen light flashed on.

Blinded, Honey shaded her eyes while Sawyer jerked her behind him and turned to face the intruder.

“Just what the hell is going on?” There was two seconds of silence, then, “Ah. Never mind. Stupid question. But why the hell is she screaming about it?” Morgan's voice.
Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my
God.
Honey peeked around Sawyer, then yelped. Good grief, the man was buck naked and toting a gun!

Sawyer shoved her back behind him again with a curse. “Damn it, Morgan, put the gun away.”

“Since it's just you, I will. That is, I would if I had any place to put it.” Honey could hear his amusement, and she moaned again.

Sawyer muttered a low complaint. “You could have at least put some shorts on.”

“If I'd known you were only romping in the kitchen I would have! But how the hell was I supposed to know? She
screamed,
Sawyer. I mean, I know you're rusty and all, but damn. You must have completely lost your touch.”

Honey clutched at Sawyer's back, her hot face pressed to his bare shoulder. This couldn't be happening.

Sawyer crossed his arms over his chest. “She screamed because I caught her trying to steal the car keys.” He kicked a set toward Morgan. The sound of them skidding over the floor was almost obscene. Honey didn't bother to look to see if Morgan picked them up. The man was blatantly, magnificently naked, and didn't seem to care. She shuddered in embarrassment and burrowed closer against Sawyer, pressing her face into his hot back, trying to blot the vision from her mind.

Morgan gave a rude grunt. “I see. She was stealing one of our cars. And so you kissed her to stop her?”

“Don't be a smart-ass.”

Suddenly she heard Casey say, “What's going on? I heard someone scream.”

Honey thought if there was any luck to be had for her, she would faint after all. She waited, praying for oblivion, and waited some more, but no, she remained upright, fully cognizant of the entire, appalling predicament she'd gotten herself into.

Sawyer's body shifted as he gave a heavy sigh. “It's all right, Casey. Honey was just trying to sneak off in the night. She was going to steal a car.”

“I was not!” Honey couldn't bear the thought of Sawyer's son believing such a thing about her. She cautiously peeked around Sawyer and saw Jordan and Gabe amble into the room.
Just what she needed.
Morgan, bless his modest soul, had sat down behind the bar. All she could now see of him was his chest. But that was still more than enough, especially since the gun remained in his hand, idly resting on the bar counter.

Gabe held up a hand. “I already heard the explanations. Damn, but she has a shrill scream. I had to scrape myself off the ceiling, it startled me so bad.”

Jordan held the cat in the crook of one arm, gently soothing it. “I even heard her all the way out in the garage. When I got here, the poor cat was nearly hysterical.”

Ha!
Honey eyed them all, especially that damn traitor feline, and tried to muster up a little of that courage Sawyer claimed she had. At least they weren't
all
naked, she told herself, then shuddered with relief. Casey had pulled on jeans, and Gabe had
on boxers. Jordan had a sheet wrapped around himself, held tight at his hip with a fist.

She felt remarkably like that damn cow in town who'd drawn too much attention.

“I wasn't stealing the car.” They all stared at her, and the accusing look on Casey's face made her want to die. She wiped away tears and cleared her throat. “I left a note on the bed, explaining. I just wanted to get to town and I thought it'd probably be too far to walk. I would have left the car there for you to pick up.”

Jordan frowned. “What'd you want in town that one of us couldn't get for you?”

“No, you don't understand. I was going to take the bus.”

Morgan shook his head in a pitying way. “We don't have bus service in Buckhorn,” he explained with little patience. “You'd have gotten to town and found it all closed up. Around here, they roll the sidewalks up at eight.”

Her heart sank. “No bus service?”

Gabe pulled open the refrigerator and pulled out the milk. He drank straight from the carton. “The only bus service is in the neighboring county, a good forty miles away.”

Honey watched him with a frown. “You shouldn't do that. It's not healthy.”

Sawyer turned to glare down at her, his face filled with incredulous disbelief. She shrugged, feeling very small next to him. In a squeak, she said, “Well, it isn't.”

Gabe finished the carton. “I knew it was almost empty.”

“Oh.”

Sawyer flexed his jaw. “What about your car? Your stuff? You don't even have any shoes, remember?”

He was still so furious, she took a step back. And even though Casey had looked wounded by what she'd attempted to do, he came to her side. He didn't say anything, just offered his silent support by standing close. She sent him a grateful smile, which he didn't return.

She shifted. “After I got things taken care of, I'd have sent for my stuff.”

“Taken care of how?”

She'd known Sawyer was large, but now he seemed even bigger, his anger exaggerating everything about him. There was no warmth in his dark eyes, no softness to his tone. She wasn't afraid of him, because she knew intuitively that he'd never hurt her. None of the brothers would hurt a woman; that type of contemptible behavior just wasn't in their genetic makeup. But she was terribly upset.

She opened her mouth, hoping to put him off until she wasn't quite so rattled, and he roared,
“No, God dammit, it will not wait until the morning!”

She flinched. Silence filled the kitchen while she tried to decide how to react to his anger. Jordan stepped over to her, flanking her other side. “For God's sake, Sawyer, let her sit down. You're terrorizing her.”