Sleepless in Montana (15 page)

She could not afford to tangle with
Hogan....

She shivered, despite the morning sunlight,
aware that his long look had lowered, stroking her body. He had the
look of a man who could wait for what he wanted, and he wanted
plenty.

He was just too dangerous. She wanted men she
could handle, manuever to her benefit. No way would Hogan ever
soften, he hadn’t in all the years she’d known him.

A carload of teenage boys whistled at Carley
and Jemma as they walked toward Hogan’s extended cab pickup. A
three-year-old girl ran to him, lifting her arms to be held. With a
quick grin, he picked her up, tossed her lightly in the air and
braced her on his hip. An attractive woman, dressed in a green
sweater and jeans, hurried out of the grocery store, obviously in
search of her child who was now sitting on Hogan’s shoulders,
busily braiding his hair. The mother talked with Hogan, obviously
enjoying his company, then lifted the girl down onto her hip. The
girl stretched out her arms and Hogan bent for a kiss.

“Apparently, a woman’s age doesn’t matter.”
Jemma tightened her arms around the cardboard box of paint,
linoleum, and carpeting samples. She refused to look at the man she
still tasted on her lips. She hadn’t anticipated the easy,
seductive brush of his mouth, lifting, testing, and yet never
connecting.

Damn him
, she repeated. Hogan Kodiak
knew how to play a woman’s senses, how to heat them into
hunger.

Jemma knew how to kiss, how to pull back, how
to tempt and yet not give. She wasn’t a tease; she merely refused
to give more of herself than she wanted. But Hogan had made her
come for him, demand from him. She hadn’t expected that slow
seductive touch of his hands, those long fingers tracing her spine,
stopping just above her hips.

His hands had moved over her, lightly, not
caressing, just brushing, sensitizing her body and every nerve
until she ached. She could taste the hunger, his desire, yet he
controlled his body while hers was flung off into the white heat,
aching for each touch.

She turned to glare at him now, and Hogan’s
black stare revealed nothing. Then he began a slow devastating,
taunting smile, and Jemma wished she could pick up the fifty-pound
bag of potting soil and— She inhaled sharply.

She set the rules in her relationships, not
that Hogan was a potential relationship. She chose the men she
liked and never allowed them too close. A few dates, dinner and
dancing, and she’d have enough. That raw edge to Hogan was not
acceptable at all. Nor was the beguiling tenderness she hadn’t
expected.

She had to remember his skill with animals.
He could be seductive, and suddenly he was riding them....

Jemma shivered again, caught by the memory of
Hogan’s tall dark rangy body locked with her pale one. She
swallowed and missed a step down from the sidewalk; she quickly
rebalanced and hefted the box tightly against her sensitized
breasts. Hogan was definitely in pursuit and undaunted by her sharp
barbs, or evasion of him.
He just kept coming.

At the ranch, he’d blocked her exit of the
barn, forcing her to step backward into the shadows. With a wall at
her back, he’d placed his open hands on it, just inches from her
face, his taller body heating hers, blocking out everything but
him.

She’d been forced to look up the inches into
his face, and when she did, Hogan’s long black lashes shadowed the
sensual gleam in his eyes. His thumbs had brushed her temple,
caressing her cheek.

“Get out of my way, Hogan,” she managed, her
throat dry; her voice sounded breathless and sexy.

“You’re all nervous, Jemma. Afraid?” he’d
asked in a husky tone that raised the hair on the back of her neck.
She could have killed him for his knowing grin.

Air heated between them as Hogan’s finger
trailed down her cheek, cool against the flush she hated. “We’re in
this now, Jemma.”

“Oh, no, we’re not. You stay away from me,”
she’d said.

His hard lips had lifted just that bit as
though mocking himself. “Can’t.”

And just that quickly, he’d stepped back. For
a moment, she couldn’t move, her legs weak. When she did, she
managed to glare at him, lift her head and walk out of the barn
into sunlight. And all the way, her backside heated as though Hogan
was taking in every inch of her, devouring her....

She hadn’t expected that hot slap of desire,
nor the tenderness and a feeling of coming home when she’d settled
into his arms after that kiss on the mountain— his hands stroking
her gently, his cheek nuzzling hers. Even more terrifying to her
than his stormy hunger was the sense that he needed her, too.
Hogan had never needed anyone....

She hadn’t expected the leaping of her heart
when she saw him, when he turned and met her eyes as if he knew
they were going to be lovers. Maybe she knew that, too, but making
love with Hogan could be addictive and dangerous, and no easy time
of it. He’d want more, take more than she’d want to give, and then
he’d take even more....

A small boy came to slowly lean back against
the pickup, mimicking Hogan. He studiously adjusted his small body
in the same long-legged stance as Hogan’s, and crossed his arms
over his thin chest. Hogan looked down at the boy and rolled one
shoulder; the boy rolled his. Hogan studied the clear sky, and the
boy lifted his head.

Jemma tried to breathe as the idea of Hogan,
as a father, invaded her. She’d seen his patience with animals, who
responded to him, but she hadn’t seen him win a small child’s
heart. Clearly the boy adored him. She wondered, briefly, if Hogan
had adored Ben in just the same way, watching and copying the
typical western male stance.

Then Hogan reached into his pocket, carefully
unwrapped a small lollipop, and stuck it in his mouth. After a
moment, he gave one to the boy. Hogan crossed his arms again,
clearly relaxed as he leaned against the truck.

The boy stuck the sucker in his mouth,
checked Hogan’s stance, mimicked it, and crossed his small arms.
Both males were clearly enjoying each other, the lollipop shifting
as Hogan smiled. The boy’s sucker moved, and they grinned at each
other. The boy reached into his pocket and showed Hogan a large
white marble. Hogan crouched, took the marble, and shot it expertly
against the storefront, watching it roll back to him. He nodded
approvingly and handed it to the boy, who seemed delighted, running
down the street to catch his mother.

The sight of Hogan, playing with a child, all
long and lean, his hair still braided from the girl hit Jemma like
a truck, the impact taking her breath away.
He’d be a perfect
father....

Jemma shook her head, trying to dislodge the
thought that weakened her knees.

“Jemma?” Carley asked with a frown. “You look
a little woozy. Are you okay?”

“I’m just fine.” Jemma plopped the cardboard
box into the truck bed and hit it with her fist. He knew he was
upsetting her and he was enjoying it. He wasn’t a gentleman at all.
He lacked manners and....
Why did Hogan have to jolt her with
unexpected softness? Why couldn’t he just be the same old dark,
brooding male she loved to torment?

Dinah came out of the feed store and Richard
Coleman, the small town’s only doctor, walked beside her, his arms
full of her purchases. Hogan took them from Richard, placing them
in the truck, and Richard smiled at Carley and Jemma. “Savanna said
you’d come home. Welcome back.”

“Hi, Richard,” Carley said, hoisting the
thick catalog of swatches into the back of the truck.

“Hi, yourself. I don’t suppose you still have
that ring I gave you years ago?”

She nodded. “You were always so sweet.”

“So are you. If that hay fever starts to
bother you when the alfalfa blooms, come in, and I’ll check you for
a prescription.”

“Hi, Richard. Are you still collecting
butterflies?” Jemma asked, and instantly felt sorry for the man who
had taken over his father’s medical practice. Richard was too shy,
but nice, really sweet— unlike Hogan.

Richard’s glasses glinted in the sun, his
hair meticulous. His narrow face brightened at the mention of his
collections. “I’m into antiquity now. You should come to the house
and see my collections. Just got in a Mayan bowl. You, too, Hogan.
I understand you’re quite the artist. Your work might be a good
investment for me. I’d like to see it.”

Hogan nodded and flicked Jemma a lazy look
that said he remembered those sultry minutes they’d shared in the
barn. She sniffed, turned up her nose, and looked away, just to
show him she had no idea what his look meant and that she was
unaffected. But her senses had jumped into high gear, tasting the
kiss once more.
Hogan was coming for her and she feared her
response, because he’d take too much....

Hogan’s body was too close now, heating her
back and his breath stirred the tendrils by her cheek. If she just
leaned back, she’d be in his arms again, and safe....

Did she really want “safe”? With
Hogan?
No way, she couldn’t afford taking that risk, not with
him. Every sense she had, every experience she’d had in her life,
told her that Hogan would take her by storm and the aftermath could
destroy her....

Jemma moved away from him. But she wanted to
run....

“Mom is planning a party as soon as we can.
You’ll come, won’t you, Richard?” Carley asked.

“Just let me know. I’ll be there. Come to the
house sometime. Mother would like to see you, I know.” He got into
a sedate black Cadillac and spoke through the open window. “Got to
get back to the work. Had to run home to check on Mother. She’s
developed a few problems, but I’m just a call away. If you talk to
her, you’ll note she’s a bit forgetful and says odd things. Age,
you know, and the shock of Father’s dying. I’d better go. Savanna
is holding down the clinic.”

“Poor guy,” Carley said after Richard’s car
rounded the street corner. “His parents always wanted so much out
of him. Savanna likes working with him. She says he’s very good and
patient. He’s never married. He’s so shy, but nice. I remember how
Jemma terrified him. He was never certain of what she would try or
do.”

“I felt sorry for him. I know his father
thought I was an evil influence. That old man had a nasty look I
didn’t like. I once saw him pick up Richard by the back of his neck
and drag him away from us because Richard hadn’t completed his
college-level math project. It was summer and he was only a
sophomore in high school. Savanna was younger than he, but says if
Richard got less than an ‘A’ he was terrified. Mrs. Coleman was
always so nice, but she acted like all the life had been pumped out
of her.”

“You, Jemma Delaney, are an evil influence on
anyone,” Carley agreed with a grin. “And you’re used to acting as
you want. We lesser mortals sometimes have to do what our families
want.”

“Mine didn’t care,” Jemma stated softly, and
shrugged away from the big hand that rested on her shoulder.

She didn’t want Hogan’s sympathy; she didn’t
want anything about him.

*** ***

Chapter Six

Hogan
walked out to the porch, shouldering a door and placing it across
the battered wooden sawhorses. He enjoyed sanding and finishing the
heavy solid wood, feeling and seeing the grain awake in his hands.
Working on the porch, he was free of the battles inside the
house.

May’s air was fresh and cold; steam was
shooting from the horses’ nostrils as they pranced in the field.
The sprawling porch was cluttered with plant starts, potting-soil
bags, and clay pots. He glanced at the cup of herbal tea that Jemma
had left near the rocking chair. One wary look at him, and she’d
gracefully surged to her feet and hurried inside. For a moment,
Hogan luxuriated in the heady sense that for once, he had her on
the run.

He ran his hands across the scarred door,
taking the grain into him, feeling its flow beneath his
fingers.

Jemma didn’t know how to take that kiss, but
the taste of her haunted him, and he planned another— not quite so
hungry. He intended to take the next kiss very slow, dissecting
Jemma’s effect upon him. His fierce desire to lock her to him, to
take everything, had shocked him.

When he’d expected resistance, she’d dived
into the heat too quickly, the part of her lips surprising him.
Jemma liked to hurry, racing through life; he didn’t. He intended
to taste her again, to explore what hunger rode him now. He wanted
to know why his body tightened when he saw her. She’d blushed just
that once when he’d cornered her in the barn and he’d upped the
ante by leaning close.

That blush had winded him. He hadn’t expected
that sweet feminine reaction from her, the bossy, fast-talking,
on-the-move, money-hungry Jemma wiped away.

As he worked, Hogan settled into a
comfortable mood. He definitely had Jemma on the run after all
these years and intended having the upper hand.

The lingering scent of morning coffee and
Dinah’s bacon-and-egg breakfast curled comfortably around Hogan.
Maxi Dove had taken the week off, deciding to stay in Savanna’s
town apartment.

Everything beyond the house was peaceful,
quiet, as it should be, Hereford cows and baldies grazing in the
field. Hogan pulled the sweet morning air and peace around him,
sank into it.

He pushed Jemma’s constant redo-this and
move-that demands away from him. She clearly was at her height,
organizing, ordering— but she wasn’t bothering him as she had. For
a man who had been sought by women, stalking one who tasted like
fire and matched his hunger was heady and addictive. An unlikely
woman to attract him, Jemma had done just that. He picked up the
electric sander—

“Hogan! Aaron! Mitch! Help!” Jemma yelled
from on top of the roof, where she had been cleaning the
second-story windows.