Sleepless in Montana (31 page)

He pushed away from the table and walked
toward her, disliking the anger and jealousy riding him. This
wasn’t sweet, innocent Jemma, but a woman on the prowl— the
chameleon changing as it suited her. She was out to prove that she
could do as she liked— without the confinements of a relationship
with him.

He’d never coerced a woman into fidelity, but
he wasn’t having another man’s hands on Jemma while she looked like
steam heat, her face carefully made up, her lipstick glossy and
waiting. She was still burning about Simone’s call, but Hogan
wasn’t letting that come between them. “You’ve had a long day,
haven’t you? Seems like just this morning you were groaning about
getting up before dawn.”

She crossed her arms and ignored him, tapping
her boot to the music. Then she flicked a long, lazy look at him.
“Maybe it was who I was with.”

Hogan couldn’t resist smiling. Jemma knew how
to handle herself in flirtatious situations; she controlled them
and eased away before her target knew what hit him.

But she hadn’t gotten away this time; Hogan
had staked a very vital claim that he intended to explore with her.
He flicked the dangling citrine-and-carnelian earrings, studying
the glitter reflected upon her smooth jaw. “Red, we both know you
like me.”

“Correction. I tolerate you. I make
allowances for your arrogance, your dark moods, whatever.” She
lifted one sleek eyebrow, eyeing him haughtily as though he was a
stranger she was putting in place. Jemma was very good when she was
cool and cutting. But then, Hogan had seen the other side of her,
all glittering with anger, soft with desire, and Carley was proof
that Jemma loved without reservation, when she gave her heart.

He couldn’t resist laughing, enjoying her
reluctance to admit she liked him. He strolled a finger down her
throat and watched her tense, dark heat flashing up at him. “This
is a little low-class for you, isn’t it? It hardly rates with
Cannes.”

“I’m just a country boy at heart. Are you
going to dance with me, or am I going to have to carry you out of
here?” He loved challenging Jemma. She responded with fire and
storms, igniting easily; everything was right out there, bright as
sunlight, with him, her emotions easily read.

Her eyes widened at that threat, because
Hogan was always controlled. Yet he’d already carried her out of
the house and climbed up on the roof to kiss her. Both
uncharacteristic actions told her that he would carry her out
now.

“I guess one dance wouldn’t hurt. But don’t
think you’re going to do more than that.” A moment later, when he
had folded her close against him and was swaying to the music,
Jemma leaned back to look up at him. “You’re aroused,” she stated
flatly.

“You do that to me. I’m afraid that’s a
constant state when you’re around.” He drew her closer, that
softness he had to have, his body humming with desire. Then he gave
himself to the sheer pleasure of her body moving with his. He
wondered how a man who had never thought about sweethearts and
tenderness could feel so fine, with his arms around one special
woman.

“Any woman would do that to you. I think
you’re easy, and I may have been. But I am not going home with you
tonight, Mr. Hogan Kodiak.”

“Maybe,” he said, giving her a fighting
chance, because he intended to have her in his bed all night,
waking up to her. Hogan smoothed her back, nuzzled his cheek
against hers, and let himself drift in the slow music and the warm,
soft woman in his arms.

She eased the harsh storms within him, kept
them at bay. She was tough, too, determined to succeed, but beneath
that, she was pure, sweet-soft, hot-blooded woman— everything up
front with him. “Carley needed this. You probably had to browbeat
her into it, but it was right. She needs to start life, and, from
the looks of it, Mitch is ready to help.”

He studied his sister, her life trapped back
in the moment of the attack. Carley moved stiffly, wary of the man
holding her body. Mitch’s expression was tender, as if he’d dreamed
of holding her that way.

“I love her,” Jemma said. “But you have no
idea what a pain she can be when dragging her into a new situation.
She shakes, Hogan. The fear in her eyes is worse. I hate the man
who did this to her. I didn’t know if it was the right thing,
coming into town without one of you, but I just had to get her out
where she could feel life.”

“We’ll get him.”

“We will. I believe that with all my heart,”
Jemma said firmly. Then she eased closer, and Hogan placed his
cheek against her soft vibrant hair, letting it settle in a caress
against his skin. He eased into the new emotions within him, the
softer ones she had brought him, and gathered Jemma closer.

Across the bar, in a shadowy corner, a man
sat studying the Kodiaks and that witch, Jemma. She was pushing his
Celestial Virgin into that Chicago lowlife’s bed, and she’d have to
pay. In the dim light, Carley looked up at Mitch, her soft smile
proving her enjoyment of the slow easy dance, their bodies barely
moving.

The man’s fist hit the table, jarring the
glass he’d just emptied. Carley was his, and he’d send her a
warning to remind her.

He’d deal with the Kodiaks, too, for coming
between him and his Celestial Virgin. Then he’d show her the caves
where the Chinese women had serviced their masters... just as
Carley would tend him.

*** ***

Aaron braced himself above Savanna, his body
taut and slick with sweat, racked with the sexual explosion that
had just passed.

Savanna hadn’t asked about his dark mood;
she’d opened the door to her apartment and when he was inside,
she’d silently stripped away the dark red satin robe, letting it
pool to her feet. Naked and slender, she’d turned to him. As
teenagers, they’d been lovers, bodies burning, but now her slender
body, her sleek black hair spilling over her softly curved body was
more sensual, more arousing. Aaron had carried her to her bedroom,
and they’d made love silently, hungrily. Now her hair lay in glossy
stripes across the black-satin pillowcase. She smiled softly and
traced his mouth. “Better?”

His body eased, but not his emotions, Aaron
slid away, lying on his back beside her on the black satin
sheet.

Savanna smiled and patted his chest. “You’ll
get over whatever it is. Just another Kodiak moment, or rather
war.”

He’d known her all her lifetime. She knew
Aaron as well, knew that he enjoyed women. Savanna had never pushed
him; she’d always listened and knew exactly how the stormy family’s
dynamics affected each member. She was the only woman he could talk
to honestly, skipping the bull. “Dad is going down for the count,
looking at Mom. She’s not going to stay past the danger to Carley.
Mom is pure city.”

“Give her credit, Aaron.” Savanna rose out of
the bed they had thoroughly mussed and pulled on a robe. She
smoothed her long hair over her shoulder, and it gleamed down to
her hips, swaying as she walked out of the bedroom.

Aaron lay there, aware that Savanna was the
only woman who ever walked away from him. Irritated by Hogan, by
Ben and Dinah, by Carley fighting life, and Mitch determined to
root her out into a life, Aaron jerked on his jeans and followed
Savanna.

“Coffee at this hour?” he asked when he found
her making coffee in the small kitchenette.

“It looks like a long night, and I have to
open the clinic at six. Richard takes care to see that his mother
gets her medication and is comfortable before he leaves the house.
It’s a convenient arrangement for me. I get time off in the middle
of the day to catch up on shopping and whatever.... May as well
drink coffee now and save time.”

Savanna’s actions said she could take or
leave him, and her light treatment irritated. “Help yourself to
whatever you want,” she said. “I’m taking a shower.”

“Savanna, do you sleep with Richard?” Aaron
had to ask and disliked the jealousy rising within him. There was
something about the two of them, their heads together, an intimacy
that Aaron could not define—

Her answer was smooth and thoughtful, a woman
who knew her mind and made her own decisions, blaming no one for
her fate. “He hasn’t asked. But I’ve had men. I’m not the Celestial
Virgin you dreamed of as a boy, Aaron. You were my first, but not
my last. I enjoy my body, and I have needs, just like you, Aaron.
And I want a home with children and everything that comes with it.
The way I see it is I’m just spending time until the right man
comes along, and then there won’t be anyone else but him. I’m just
culling them out for now, seeing what fits right.”

That winded Aaron: the thought of Savanna
holding another man, wearing his wedding ring, bearing his child.
He didn’t like the picture.

Savanna smiled at him as though reading his
thoughts. “We’re not getting any younger, Aaron. You’ve been
married, and it didn’t work, and you’ve been engaged, and that
didn’t work, either. You might end up marrying some sweet young
thing— eventually, but I want a man who is mine, who I can tend to
in the good times and the bad. When I find him, I’m never looking
back or at another man. He’ll be everything to me. Ben gave me an
example of a man who is faithful and kind and generous. I think
Hogan is like that, deep down, but he isn’t interested in me. Mitch
is that way, too, and he’ll be a wonderful husband and father, but
it isn’t there between us. Someday I’ll find who I want, and he’ll
just fit, and that will be it... Click, like that.”

She patted his cheek and walked toward the
bathroom, already stripping away her robe. Aaron tried to push down
the nettling fact that he didn’t meet her standards for a husband.
That was fine; he wasn’t in a marrying mood anyway, not after a
divorce and escaping the charade of a bloodless society wedding.
But the label “cull” scraped him raw.

Minutes later, Aaron stepped into the
steaming shower and gathered Savanna to him, his body ripe with
desire. “You said to help myself to anything.... I am.”

She laughed huskily, and found him with her
hand. “You’re awfully good at that,” Aaron said with a long slow
groan.

Savanna smiled slowly, knowingly, sleek and
feminine in the stream of water and steam and sank to her knees.
And then Aaron forgot everything—

In the morning, he awoke to an empty bed and
the unsettled sense that he wasn’t all that appealing to Savanna.
She’d made it plain that she’d had other lovers since they were
teenagers, and the thought burned in him. For a man who enjoyed
women, he didn’t like the feeling that Savanna could take or leave
him. He really didn’t like that waiting for a perfect husband
remark, or the exclusion from the perfect-male class. He didn’t
like feeling like a “cull” from the marriageable-males shelf.

*** ***

Chapter Twelve

Jemma slept with childlike innocence. Hogan
lay still, enjoying her awakening in his arms, absorbing the fit of
her curved body against his, yin and yang.

He’d been a solitary man, protecting his
private life. He was surprised that he enjoyed sharing the first
quiet moments of the day, cuddling Jemma, watching the dawn slowly
touch her face.

He ran his hand over the jut of her hip, a
woman’s narrow waist contrasting the curve of her hips—a woman’s
hips made for passion and for bringing life into the world. Natural
and almost fawnlike in sleep, Jemma’s body seemed poised to spring
into action.

Hogan realized he was smiling softly,
floating in gentle pleasure and harmony that he’d never
experienced. He hadn’t suspected that this on-the-go, pushy woman
could be so delectable when she slept. Her hair slid on his
shoulder, tips prickling his skin just enough to be exciting.

He eased closer to the soft nudge of her
breast against his side—her nipple hardening slightly with the
friction. He shifted his thigh to enjoy the slender one tangled
with his, to feel the nestled heat of her womanhood burn his skin.
He inhaled her scent, blended with their lovemaking, and opened his
palm upon her bottom.

An unfamiliar emotion sawed through him—that
of a man who wanted to keep and hold a woman as his own. To bind
her to him, so that she wouldn’t fly away. He realized that his
fingertips were digging slightly into the softness.

That softness tensed, as Jemma lifted, bumped
his chin and braced her elbow against his chest; she pushed her
wildly tangled hair away from her eyes. Hogan raised his lips to
the strand sliding across them; he let his body awaken to the
tantalizing, erotic movement of her body and hair moving over his
skin.

He smiled, hearing the echo of her laughter
as he’d tossed her upon his bed, where she should be every night.
Playfully wrestling, testing each other led to frantic hurried
lovemaking that slowed and lingered and explored.

“I’m dead,” Jemma announced desperately,
sleep clinging to her voice. “I have conference calls scheduled for
nine this morning, and it’s already eight.... And I’ll probably
have to protect you from Carley. She’s pretty angry with you, and
so are the rest.”

Jemma rolled over him on her way to the
bathroom and Hogan grunted, her knee coming too close to his
already hardening body.

“Why should they be angry? Because you’re
here with me?” He wasn’t keeping away from Jemma. His need for her
was greater than his pride. He grabbed her ankle and tugged her
back to him.

Sprawled beneath Hogan’s body, she glared up
at him. “You’re holding my wrists, Hogan, and you look like a
thundercloud. Goodness, you can be so intense. I’ve got a big deal
going down this morning.”

After a night of lovemaking, Hogan had come
in second to making money. He wanted more... and he wanted to serve
Jemma breakfast in bed. He’d had a plan, a romantic one, and
typically, she’d sliced through it with her money-sword. His
attempt to explore Jemma and himself, and enjoy the day with her,
was dying before it began. “They’ll call back.”