Sleepless in Montana (26 page)

“Oh, well, yes. We all know I’m a bastard,
don’t we?”

Jemma grabbed his jacket front with both
fists and tried to shake him. “I’m not up to those quick, cold
jabs, not now. I can’t battle a Kodiak mood when my head feels like
ten tons of concrete. You were supposed to relax last night, not
me.”

He glanced at her in the barn, tore off her
blanket with a jerk and pushed her arms down into the leopard
jacket she’d been carrying. He ripped the zipper up to her throat.
“You can ride to Ben’s. I’m going camping and fishing. I’ve already
called Aaron. Carley and Dinah are wallpapering in the house for
the next few days, and I’m taking time off.”

She glared up at him from her tangled hair.
“Just up and pack off without warning me? No clean underclothes?
Hogan, I need clean underclothes. I need face cream and
shampoo.”

He shrugged in a typical Hogan gesture,
watching her from beneath his Western hat, his expression
impassive. He tightened the ropes on the packhorse. “I brought
necessities and whatever else you need, you can share mine. Stay or
go. Your choice.”

“I hate you, Hogan Kodiak. You know exactly
how I feel.” She dragged the blanket around her and struggled for
dignity as she tried to mount the saddled mare, and failed. Hogan
reached down to place his open hands on her bottom and lifted her
as she struggled to sit in the saddle. With a last look, he rode
ahead of her on the narrow trail, leading into the foothills.

To add to her humiliation, Aaron and Ben were
seated on their horses along the trail, watching her follow
Hogan.

“Nice day,” Ben said, studying her.

She knew she was evil-looking, a tangled,
rumpled mess with a headache, and she hated them all and the deer
in the meadow and the hawk in the sky. “No, it’s not a nice
day.”

“Are you okay?” Aaron asked her.

“I’m mad,” she said, burning a stare at
Hogan’s expressionless face. “We’re going fishing. There had better
be the biggest fish ever at the end of the trail, or I’m making his
life unbearable. I’m making your life unbearable for even being
related to him. I am going to learn how to dazzle fish with
immature bugs from a hatch if it kills me. And him.”

“I’ll take care of her,” Hogan said quietly,
and in the still of the morning, it sounded like a vow.

Jemma was too angry to note how Ben studied
Hogan, and how Hogan met that dark, quiet look with his own.

“Well, I guess it’s time, then, and you’ve
found what you want,” Ben said quietly, reining his horse back.
With a nod, he rode off into the dawn sweeping across the
pastures.

“I have,” Hogan returned quietly.

“You’ll pay plenty,” Aaron noted with a
grin.

Hogan chuckled at that and nudged Moon Shadow
back onto the trail.

Her head aching, lashed by the rising dawn
sliding between the pine trees, Jemma didn’t know what Ben meant,
and she didn’t care. But she understood Aaron’s remark, and Hogan
would pay plenty.

“I’m not happy,” she called to Hogan, who
didn’t turn back. “I’m not happy,” she called back to Ben and
Aaron, and stuffed another buttered biscuit into her mouth.
“Coffee, anyone?” she asked the deer grazing in the field. “Orange
juice? Granola? A banana?”

She could have killed Hogan when he looked
back over his shoulder and grinned. “You wanted it, you got it,
Red.”

“What’s this ‘Red’ stuff? I’m going to kill
you, Hogan. You’re a beast!”

*** ***

Chapter Ten

Jemma sighed as she moved stiffly to a patch
of thick grass and spread Hogan’s blanket across it. She eased
painfully down on it, whipped the edges of the cloth around her
body, and, from her cocoon, glared at Hogan.

In another instant, she was on her knees,
foraging beneath the blanket and retrieving two rocks, which she
hurled into the smooth-flowing stream. “If those hit my trophy
fish, wake me up after it’s cleaned. That’s just what I’d like to
do with you, Hogan Kodiak—drown you,” she called darkly as Hogan
began to unsaddle the horses.

“Don’t hold anything back, Red. Go for it,”
he said mildly.

“Red?” she protested, outraged that Hogan,
who had never teased, would grin wickedly at her.

She pushed down the temper that her body was
too tired to deliver and settled for a menacing glare at Hogan, who
was clearly enjoying her bad mood.

“You can hand it out, but you can’t take it.
Are you ready to go back now?” he asked quietly, studying her
intently as if trying to read beneath her temper.

“You could not tear me away from here, no
matter how evil you are.”

She tossed upon the hard ground, furious with
herself for letting Hogan set the terms; she was furious with Hogan
for forcing her to run after him. She flipped over to glare up at
him as he crouched by her side, smoothing her tangled hair. “You
are truly a fascinating woman, Jemma Delaney. Especially when
you’re wide-open, stormy-hot, nothing held back.”

She shook her head, closed her eyes, and
firmly drew the blanket over her face, blocking out his sexy
smile.

Hours later she awoke to a burning-hot
mountain sun, stiff muscles, and the sight of Hogan putting away
his fishing gear. He turned toward her and held up a stringer of
five fat trout. If she hadn’t been so dazzled by the sight of him,
she could have killed him for the boyish grin, for the pleasure on
his face.

Without his shirt, sleek and perfect, pooled
in sunlight and with a background of glittering water and pine and
juniper trees, Hogan was beautiful. He dipped his hands into the
clear water and splashed his face, then crouched to study the water
as it drifted through his fingers. Clearly at peace in the rugged
mountain clearing, the stream gurgling through it, Hogan seemed
more like a man from the Old West than a sophisticated world
traveler.

Feeling rumpled and dirty, Jemma flung back
the blanket and groaned when she tried to rise. He watched with
interest as she struggled slowly to stand, stretching her aching
body. “Need help?” he asked.

“Not yours.” She snorted and didn’t care what
he thought as she grabbed her backside with two hands, walking
stiffly to his expensive canvas-and-leather bag. Crouching
painfully, she dug into the contents, tossed aside what she didn’t
need, and retrieved Hogan’s clean T-shirt and jeans. She glared at
Hogan as she flopped the clothing over her shoulder.

Digging into another bag, she tore away a
washcloth, towel, and soap. Jamming everything under her arm, she
grabbed a flattened-out roll of toilet paper and made her way to
the stream. She groaned when she bent to pull a bucket through the
water, filling it.

She shot Hogan another dark, warning look,
and hobbled slowly off into the Hogan-free privacy she badly
needed.

She took her time, cursing Hogan roundly and
then returned to his light, “Feeling better?”

“Not a bit,” she lied, and ripped a flannel
shirt from his pack. She jammed her arms into the sleeves and
gingerly rolled them up. “If you’re expecting to send me packing,
think again. We camped by streams when I was growing up. There
wasn’t running water in those migrant cabins. I can take care of
myself. All I need from you is— oh! Food!”

She took the turkey sandwich he’d just handed
her and settled down on the grassy bank to devour it.

“I make you nervous, don’t I?” Hogan asked as
he settled down beside her.

“Of course not,” Jemma lied, panic skittering
up her back and radiating out to her trembling fingers as every
cell of her body went on Hogan-alert. He smelled fresh, of juniper
and pine, and grass, an intoxicating blend. “But you know what you
did last night— you deliberately set out to make me drunk— rather
to relax me. For my part, I only wanted to be friendly when I
filled your glass That’s an old act, Hogan, getting a girl drunk.
You were playing with me, seeing just how I’d react. You probably
don’t even feel bad. Then, this godawful morning you forced me to
run after you, and how you must have enjoyed the whole nightmare,
Hogan Kodiak. I have never in my life ever chased a man anywhere.
You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Mmm, I truly am. I wondered what you’d be
like, all relaxed, and now I know.”

He began to work his fingers through her
tangled hair. The movements were seductive, calming, and just for a
moment, Jemma gave herself to the luxury of Hogan’s soothing
hands.

She wanted to push him away, but decided that
she needed a bit of pampering. His hands were marvelous, soothing,
and for his evil treatment, he deserved to wait on her. She ate the
second sandwich and realized that now her hair was separated into
two thick braids, and Hogan’s marvelous touch was massaging the
taut cords at her nape. She rotated her head, rolled her stiff
shoulders, and forgave him just a bit as he sat behind her, his
legs running along hers.

He began to massage her stiff back, finding
the knots and working them out; the warmth of his thighs along hers
helped her strained muscles. He pushed her head down gently; her
forehead rested in his hand as his fingers eased the tenseness in
her neck. As she began to relax, she decided that each time he
touched her, she came more easily into his hands, trusting him to
treat her gently.

“You look like a child,” he said, close to
her ear. “Like you used to. Sweet and wild.”

He caused her skin to tingle, her lower
stomach to contract, and turned her body into one taut knot.
Supremely sexy when he tried, Hogan could be devastating. Clearly,
he was interested in Jemma as a woman, and that was terrifying.

She could handle him, she thought; she’d
always controlled relationships. “Well, those days are long ago. I
really needed my face cream, Hogan. You could have at least let me
have time to pack what I needed. Sun ages, so does wind.”

“Here—” He turned her face, gently smoothing
cream into her skin, his fingers slow and relaxing.

She closed her eyes, and realized that she
was once again melting beneath Hogan’s ministrations. “More around
the eyes.”

“Perfect, expressive eyes. Like flashing
steel one minute, thunder and lightning the next, and glittering
with laughter the next. Mmm.” He looked at her critically. “There
is just a little line, right there. But it’s perfect. You’ll age
well.”

“Only you would dare tell me I am aging. Put
some more cream on there, and don’t tell me about one more line on
my face. I miss my makeup,” she mumbled, too shy of this new
Hogan.

His close inspection caused her to turn away.
She didn’t like anyone seeing too deep, and Hogan knew more than
anyone about the shadows that haunted her. His lips drifted along
her nape, just a brush of heat that caused her nerves to tense and
shiver. In the next moment, he’d removed the flannel shirt. His big
hands moved slowly down her back, finding the taut muscles and
working them.

“None of this is fair,” Jemma muttered,
surprised by the ease with which her body moved to the flow of his
hands. “I’m in pretty good shape, and now even my toes hurt.”

“You truly are in good shape and very soft,”
he returned in a drawl that lifted the hair on her neck. He circled
her with his arms, drawing her back against him. He placed his
cheek along hers, and murmured, “Deer on the other side of the
stream? See?”

His head tilted, urging hers to turn toward
the sight, again his body directing hers. “Oh, they are beautiful,
Hogan.”

“Look below that fallen branch, into the
shadows of the stream. Those are big juicy trout and we’re going to
catch them.”

She tensed and started to rise, eager to
learn. “Let’s hurry, Hogan, before they get away.”

She turned then, to look back at him, and
found his face too close and too inviting. His lips brushed hers,
and what she saw in his eyes terrified and enchanted her.

A fish leaped and plopped back into the
water.
Or was that her heart leaping, settling into a heavy,
excited thud that rippled throughout her body?
“What do you
want?”

“You.” Hogan tugged her hand, unbalancing
her, and she fell upon him. His hand slid higher, easing beneath
the T-shirt, to close over her bare breast.

When she met his kiss, she turned slighty to
trap him close and warm against her, to step into the magic. Hogan
leaned back and eased her over his body. He cupped the back of her
head, drawing her mouth down to taste and to tempt.

The heat growing between them seemed so
natural, as if it had always meant to be, and there was Hogan, his
lips soft upon hers, his tongue suckling hers, and hers tasting
him. The hard rise of his desire against her bare stomach told her
what he wanted, his hands soothing her, lifting her shirt away.

She’d never been touched like that, nor
allowed the caress, despite marital sex that she’d wanted to end
quickly. Her body moved against his, flowing into his hard planes
as if she were meant to be with him.

Hogan easily turned her beneath him, a
natural movement, his weight settling above her. She managed to
lift her lids, to see his expression— dark, intense, heated— as he
looked down at her. When she moved to cover herself, his hand drew
hers away; his dark eyes were soft upon her, the tip of his finger
touching her lightly and her breast hardened, aching. “You’re
beautiful— perfect. Cream and dark rose...”

“Hogan?” she wanted to run, she wanted to—
“Oh!”

When his lips closed upon her breast, gently
tugging at her, Jemma almost cried out; her body tensed, a tiny
explosion hitting her lower abdomen. They were on the sunlit
blanket now, Hogan’s skin smooth beneath her touch, his mouth
moving upon her, taking her other breast, caressing her.

His gentle bite shocked her, threw her hips
hard against his. Jemma shivered, fighting the unexpected desire
jolting her, and yet wanting more. Trusting Hogan, giving herself
to the floating magic, she held him close, his hair dragging across
her skin, tormenting her as he moved lower, a flick of his tongue
sensitizing her navel, sending more shock waves through her.