PROLOGUE
IT WAS one of those sweltering hot weekend mornings when a man had nothing better to do than sit outside in his jeans, feel himself sweat and wait for a breeze that wouldn’t come. The sky was the prettiest blue he’d ever seen, not a single cloud in sight. He loved days like this, and looked forward to viewing them from his own house once he finished it. If all went well, it would be ready for him to move in by the end of summer.
Morgan Hudson tilted his chair back and closed his eyes. Everyone was gone for the day, and the house seemed strangely quiet, not peaceful so much as empty. He hoped he didn’t feel that way when he got moved in. Living with three brothers and a teenage nephew got a man used to chaos, especially with his brothers.
Sawyer, the oldest, was the only doctor for miles around, and he had patients coming and going through the back office attached to the house all day long—sometimes even through the night. It was one reason the brothers had all hung around together for so long. Sawyer was an excellent father, but when Casey was little, they’d all pitched in to cover dad duty so the rigors of med school, and later being the town doc, didn’t overwhelm him. It had been a pleasure.
Jordan, his younger brother, was a vet, and that meant the house and yard were always filled with stray animals. Morgan didn’t mind. More often than not he got attached to the odd assortment of mangy, abandoned or just plain homely critters. ‘Course, he didn’t tell Jordan that.
Gabe, the youngest brother, was a rascal, with no intention of settling down anytime soon. And why should he when half the female populace of Buckhorn County, Kentucky would be bereft if he ever did? The women had spoiled Gabe something awful, and he indulged them all. Gabe just plain loved women, young and old, sweet or sassy. And they loved him back.
Casey, Sawyer’s son, was constant chatter. He was at that awkward age of sixteen, half man, half kid, when females fascinated him, but then, so did driving and stretching his independence. Casey, as well as the brothers, was thrilled when Sawyer decided to marry again, adding a female into the masculine mix. The adjustment to Honey Malone had gone surprisingly smooth.
Morgan smiled. Damn, but he liked Honey. Mostly because the woman had snared his brother with a single look. Sawyer had fought it, Morgan’d give him that, but it hadn’t done him a damn bit of good. He’d gone head over arse in love with Honey almost from the first day. And once Casey had decided he loved her, well, that had put a bow on the package. Sawyer would do anything for that boy, so it was a good thing Casey had taken to Honey the way he had.
Morgan wanted to have a son just like Casey some day—if he ever found a woman he wanted to marry. At thirty-four, he figured he’d waited plenty long enough. He almost had the house done, and he sure as hell was settled enough now, despite what his brothers thought. He had a respectable job and plenty of money put away. It was time for him to get on with his life, his hell-raising days long over.
A bird landed on the porch, right next to where Morgan’s bare foot was braced on the railing. He cocked an eye open, whistled softly to the bird, then watched it take flight again. Obviously the bird hadn’t known he was human—or else it’d thought he was dead. With a grin, Morgan closed his eyes again. He was like that, so still sometimes it set people on edge. To Morgan, it was all about control, taking charge of his life and seeing that things fell into place. He had the future mapped out, and he had not a single doubt that things would be just as he wanted them. He controlled himself, he controlled his future.
Whenever possible, he controlled those around him.
* * *
THE MAN was sound asleep when Misty pulled up in front of the huge, impressive log house. It seemed to go on and on forever, sprawling over incredibly beautiful land. On the way in she’d seen a lake surrounded by colorful wild-flowers, an enormous barn and several smaller outbuildings. In the distance, sitting atop a slight rise, was another house, but apart from that, the home was isolated.
Honey had told her a little about the property, but mostly she’d talked of her marriage. Sawyer, her husband-to-be, had rushed things through, and Honey was putting a wedding together in just under three weeks. It had taken Misty a few days to gather her things and join her sister so she could offer some last-minute help. The timing couldn’t have been better, and Misty had given a silent prayer of gratitude that she actually had a place to stay for a short time. Otherwise, she’d have been homeless.
Honey had warned her that the testosterone level would be enough to strangle a frail woman, but still, Misty hadn’t been prepared for the sight of the hard, dark man sitting on the porch. He wore tight faded jeans, the waistband undone—and nothing else. She gulped, seeing a flat, six-pack, slightly hairy abdomen.
Besides being massively built and layered in solid muscle, he was breathtakingly gorgeous. Not that it mattered to Misty, who was twice burned. She’d written men off, and they’d stay written off. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t look. And appreciate what she saw.
She inched closer, wondering exactly how to wake him or even if she should. She’d arrived a day early, so Honey might not be expecting her. But surely there was someone else in the house, and maybe if she knocked quietly…
She was right beside him, practically tiptoeing in her sandals, trying to decide what to do, when suddenly he opened his eyes.
Oh, Lord.
She felt snared, like a helpless doe in the headlights of a semi. She stared, swallowed and stared some more. The man seemed as surprised as she was, and then he suddenly moved, jerking upright. He lost his balance, and his chair went crashing backward with jarring impact.
The string of curses that emerged should have singed her ears, but instead it amused her. She smiled widely and leaned down to where he lay sprawled on the polished boards of the porch. “You all right?”
Still flat on his back, he ran one hand through his dark, wavy hair, eyes closed, and Misty had the distinct feeling he was counting to ten. When he turned his head to face her, she prepared herself for the impact of his gaze again.
It didn’t help. The man had the most sinfully beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen.
“Is there some reason why you’re sneaking up on my porch?”
The chuckle came without warning. She was nervous, damn it, and she couldn’t be. She didn’t want Honey to know of her troubles, not when Honey had just found so much well-deserved happiness. Misty had already decided to act as if nothing had happened, to resolve her difficulties—what an understatement—on her own. Having the invitation to stay with Honey for a little while was a reprieve from heaven, and hopefully would give her a chance to get her bearings and make some very necessary plans.
“Now, I didn’t sneak,” she lied easily. “You were just snoring so loud you didn’t hear me.”
His blue gaze darkened to purest midnight. “I don’t snore.”
“No?”
“Any number of women can tell you so.”
Uh-oh. She was on dangerous ground. This obviously wasn’t the kind of man you could easily flirt with. He took things too seriously. And she sensed he wasn’t exactly going to behave like a gentleman. Misty brushed her bangs out of her eyes and gave him a cocky grin. “I’ll take your word for it. Must have been distant thunder I heard.” She looked pointedly at the clear blue sky, and he scowled, quickly prompting her to add, “Did you break anything?”
Without her mind’s permission, her gaze drifted over his big, hard, mostly bare body, and her pulse accelerated.
The man pushed himself into a sitting position off to the side of the chair. He let his arms dangle over his bent knees and narrowed his eyes in what she took to be a challenge. A very small, very sensual smile tilted his mouth. “You want to check me over to see?”
The idea of her hands coming into contact with all that exposed male skin made her fingertips itch. Distance became a priority, especially with the husky way he’d asked it. Misty came swiftly to her feet, but that just redirected his gaze to her legs, so close he could kiss her knee by merely leaning forward.
He looked as if he were considering it.
She quickly stepped back. Perspiration dampened her skin and caused her T-shirt to stick to her breasts. It had to be over ninety degrees, and the humidity was so thick you could choke on a deep breath.
Trying to lighten the suddenly charged mood, she asked, “How in the world can you sleep in this heat?”
He pushed himself to his feet and righted the chair. He was a good head taller than her, with sleek, tanned shoulders twice as wide as hers. She felt equal parts fascination and intimidation. She didn’t like it. She would never let another man affect her in either way. When he looked down at her, his expression somewhat brooding, she gave her patented careless grin and winked. “Out all night carousing and now you’re too exhausted to stay awake?”
He stepped forward, and she quickly stepped back—then had to keep stepping back until her body came into contact with the wood railing. He towered over her, not smiling, taking her in from head to toe. If Misty hadn’t known for a fact that she had the right house, and if Honey hadn’t assured her that all the men were beyond honorable, she’d have been just a tad more worried than she was. “Uh, is anyone else here?”
“No.”
“No?” Now she was getting worried. “What about your brothers? And wasn’t your mother supposed to be visiting, too?”
He frowned, but didn’t back up a single pace. He was so close she could smell the spicy scent of his heated skin.
She held her breath.
“My mother had a slight emergency and she won’t be able to make it after all. My brothers and my nephew are all in town together, enjoying a Saturday off.”
They were alone! She could barely form a coherent sentence with him deliberately crowding her so. She had a suspicion that was why he did it. She swallowed and asked, “What about Honey?”
His gaze sharpened and his dark brows pulled down in a ferocious frown. “She’s with them.” He looked her over again, very slowly this time. To her, it seemed as if he was savoring the experience. Then he asked, “Just who the hell are you, lady?”
His expression was bland, but there was something in his tone, a mixture of heat and expectation. Misty bit her lip, then stuck out her hand, warding him off and offering a belated introduction. “Misty Malone.” Her voice broke, and she had to clear her throat. “I’m Honey’s sister.”
His expression froze, then abruptly hardened as he stepped away without taking her hand. “Ah, hell.” He glared an accusation, then added, “That wasn’t at all what I wanted to hear.”