5
SEXUAL INTEREST CLENCHED Hogan’s muscles and shortened his breath. He looked at Violet, wondering if she meant it, if maybe the pressure was building in her the same explosive way it built in him.
The more they’d worked together, the more sexual their banter had become. It left him frustrated and, at times, annoyed.
Regardless of that, he liked seeing Violet every day. He especially liked stealing a kiss here and there—usually when he could catch her off guard.
Her protests were fewer and farther between. In fact, when he didn’t steal a kiss¸ she found a way to provoke him, as she did now.
She’d been nearly herself by Thursday, and today she looked even better—less tired, more refreshed. Recovered from her illness.
To be sure, he asked, “You’re feeling okay?”
“I feel terrific.”
“Not working yourself too hard?”
“No harder than necessary, definitely no harder than you.” She tipped her head. “What game are you playing now?”
“Game?”
Her look became accusing. “You going to give me that kiss or not?”
Hogan gave it quick thought and decided on a different tack. He held up his hands, now a little messy with seasonings, rub and sauce. “How about you kiss me instead? I believe in equal rights for women. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander, or vice versa. If you want a kiss—”
“Are you challenging me?”
More like testing her, but he only cocked a brow and waited.
Giving it some thought, Violet gazed at his mouth until her own expression warmed, and Hogan knew she’d made up her mind.
Anticipation held him still.
Rising on tiptoe, she lightly touched his lips with a fingertip. He could feel her breath, his own suspended. She leaned forward, caught his bottom lip in her teeth and lightly tugged.
Interest keen, Hogan waited.
She soothed his lip with her hot little tongue and slowly, very slowly, fitted her mouth to his in a kiss that made him half-hard.
He held on to the counter behind him; not only were his hands messy, but if he touched her, he just knew he’d get carried away. They had relative privacy in his prep area, yet they weren’t alone, not in the restaurant with other employees around, customers coming and going.
For only a moment, her breasts pressed to his ribs and her hands held tightly to his shoulders. I want to do this again, Violet, with both of us naked and a bed nearby.
As she eased away she kissed his chin, his jaw and his throat.
In a soft, husky voice, she whispered, “How do you always smell so good?” She brushed her nose along his throat, his collarbone, rested her forehead against his chest for a heartbeat, and then with a sigh, she stepped away.
He was struggling to get his thoughts in order when she said, all brisk business, “I raised the prices on the items we discussed, and so far, no one has even noticed.”
Hogan stared at her. “Damn, you’re good.”
“At kissing? At conversation switches?”
So she’d done it on purpose? He growled. “At making me nuts.”
She gave an unrepentant grin. “I’ve learned from you. God knows you’ve done it to me enough times.”
“Is that so?” Sure, he’d stolen some kisses—and she’d enjoyed it.
Almost as much as he’d just enjoyed it. Damn.
Seeing that he understood, Violet laughed. “I like having you around, Hogan. I really do.” She patted his abs and sashayed away with her own sexy little swagger of triumph.
He had a lot to think about.
Luckily, an upside to grilling at a crowded restaurant was plenty of time to ruminate.
* * *
When Nathan pulled into his driveway at 7:00 p.m., grimy from head to toe and still seething, he paid no attention to his neighbors. He had a cloth wrapped around his bleeding hand and an attitude that could spit nails.
He didn’t notice Brooklin out front until he slammed his car door, and then heard her call out.
“Nathan? Oh my God, what happened?”
Curt, he said, “Nothing.” Which was stupid, given how blood dripped from the soaked cloth and down his forearm. The woman was elusive, but she wasn’t blind.
“Are you okay?”
Just freaking dandy. She never wanted to talk to him, so why now? “Fine,” he said, still terse, and kept walking.
It shocked the hell out of him when, before he could reach his front door, she joined him on his porch.
“You’re bleeding.”
Briefly, he closed his eyes, trying to get his temper under control. “An accident. Nothing major.”
“Let me see.”
“Shouldn’t you be running the other way?”
She pulled her head back, glared at him, then took the keys from his hand and, scowling as much as him, opened his door.
“Go to your kitchen,” she ordered, and now she was the one being abrupt. “Do you have a first-aid kit?”
He didn’t know what the hell to think, but having her in his house quickly took the heat from his rage. Wondering what she would do, he said, “Under my bathroom cabinet.”
“I’ll be right back.”
As if she invaded the homes of bachelors every day—bachelors she usually avoided—Brooklin went down his hall. Their houses were set up the same. Hell, most of the houses on the street were the same inside, with only subtle differences outside.
Wondering if he’d picked up his dirty clothes after his shower that morning, Nathan went to the kitchen sink and unwrapped his hand. The pad of his thumb on his left hand had already bruised around the two-inch slice. He threw away the cloth and ran water over his hand so he could see how deep it might be.
“Here, sit down.” Brooklin showed up with his first-aid kit and pulled a chair toward him. She looked at the blood and bruises, assessing the damage, then began cleaning it with an antiseptic. “How’d you do this?”
She held his large, tanned hand in her much smaller, much paler fingers while she worked. Nathan studied the top of her bowed head. “Stupid cat got stuck in a stupid old air conditioner, and I had to get it out.”
“And you stupidly cut yourself on a stupid, jagged piece of metal?”
Her take-charge, sassy attitude lightened his own. “Something like that.”
“The cat?”
“Back in the arms of the old lady who owns his mangy ass.”
“I trust he fared better than you?”
“Not a scratch.”
Once she’d cleaned it, Brooklin carefully prodded. “Since your kit has nylon butterfly bandages, I don’t think you’ll need stitches.”
“I already decided that.”
“I’m going to put some medicine on it, okay? Then the bandages, then I’ll wrap it.”
Nathan was busy noticing that for once she wasn’t in running clothes. She also wasn’t wearing a bra under her tan T-shirt. Heat ran up his spine until his collar felt too damn tight.
So did his pants.
“Sure,” he said. “Knock yourself out.”
Instead of activewear, tonight Brooklin wore loose, striped pajama pants. Her thick hair fell free around her face, half hiding her concentrated expression, occasionally brushing his forearm.
Breathing her in, Nathan enjoyed the scents of floral shampoo and sweet, warm woman. She’d broken with her normal routine and that interested him. A lot. “What were you doing before I interrupted?”
She bent closer to his hand. “Waiting for my toenails to dry.”
He glanced down at her bare feet and saw her toenails painted a sparkly purple. For some reason, that made him smile.
“Does this hurt?”
“No.” Not his hand. Other parts were starting to strain a little. “You a nurse or something?”
She hesitated, frozen, then shook her head. “No.” She wrapped some gauze around the bandages.
With his uninjured hand, Nathan lifted her hair away, then held the thick tresses in a loose fist. Their eyes met. “You don’t sound real convinced.”
She straightened abruptly. He didn’t let go of her hair fast enough and she winced at the tug, but said nothing about it. “All done. I hope you’re right-handed.”
“I am.” This time he brushed her hair back over her shoulder. Her hair was thick and warm and it turned him on. Hell, everything about her turned him on, even her obstinate and secretive attitude.
“Good. Might have been more inconvenient if...” Remembering that she didn’t want to engage in casual conversation, she shook her head. “I should get going.” But she looked around his kitchen.
Watching her, Nathan stood. “I don’t suppose I could impose further and ask you to make some coffee for me while I go change?” He still had blood on his shirt and pants.
Again, she looked around his kitchen. “I suppose I could...”
Not giving her a chance to change her mind, he said, “Thanks,” and headed out of the room, already unbuttoning his uniform shirt.
He wouldn’t put it past her to make the coffee and then skip out, so he rushed through changing into a T-shirt and jeans. Barefoot, he stopped in the bathroom and saw that, luckily, he’d left it tidy. He shoved his now-dirty uniform into the hamper and went after her.
Brooklin was in the kitchen, standing at the sink and looking out into the yard, when he came back in.
She didn’t hear him enter.
The loose pajama pants rode low on her curvy hips. The T-shirt hugged her narrow waist and proud shoulders.
And even with her back to him, he remembered how the soft cotton material had molded to her breasts, even showing the outline of her currently soft nipples.
Drawn to her, he stepped closer. “So you used to be a nurse, but you aren’t now?”
Turning, she braced her elbows on the counter and studied him.
This pose was even more enticing, and he couldn’t help but look her over.
She quickly straightened and folded her arms over herself. “You’ve held back all week and now can’t take the curiosity anymore, is that it?”
Nathan had to admit, he loved the way she cut right to the core of things. “Did you appreciate my patience? I jogged with you three times this week, silently, and didn’t ask a single question.”
“No, you didn’t. Your polite understanding of my privacy was a good plan. A solid plan. You impressed me. You should stick with it.”
Hiding his satisfaction, he poured the coffee, one for him and one for her. He’d confused her, probably a good thing. “There’s milk in the fridge. No creamer, sorry.”
“I drink it black.” She took the cup, careful not to touch him, and sipped.
“So did you work in a hospital?” He watched her stiffen, her face tightening as if gathering steam. He pressed her anyway. “For a private practice?”
Her eyes narrowed. “No.”
“Maybe the military? Though you don’t look like any soldier I’ve ever—”
“I worked in a school, all right?”
Huh. Testy about it, too. “A school nurse. Yeah, that fits.” Even firmed in annoyance, her mouth was nice, her lips full and soft. “Was it grade school? High school?”
She shook her head, refusing to answer.
“I take it you’ve left it behind?”
“Yes.” She took a big drink of coffee, burned her tongue, cursed low and set the cup in the sink. “I have to go.”
“Because I’m asking too many questions?” He could have told her that the more defensive she got, the more curious it made him. He lowered his voice, almost suspicious now. “Because I’m too interested?”
“Because you’re too damned pushy!” She headed toward the door.
Nathan followed. “Thank you, Brooklin, for fixing up my hand.” He pretended she wasn’t furious. “I really appreciate it.”
Uncertain, she glanced at him. “You’re welcome. The butterfly bandages should hold, but try not to soak it.”
He looked into her unusual golden eyes. “Okay to take a hot shower?”
She swallowed. “Yes.” Her eyes went to his chest, then away. “But make it fast.”
He resisted the urge to tell her that he preferred things slow. Very slow. “Yes, ma’am. Fast it is.” Following her out on the porch, he watched her trot quickly down the steps and all but run away.
Again.
But he was wearing her down and he knew it. She knew it, too, and that’s probably what scared her so much.
What the hell was she hiding?
* * *
Brooklin was thoughtful as she went across the lawns, ignoring Nathan’s attention as it followed her.
Without looking his way, she went back into her own home, closing and locking the door behind her. Struck with inspiration—all kinds of inspiration—she went straight to her computer and sat down.
Closing her eyes, she pictured Sheriff Nathan Hawley. Over six feet tall, muscular, light brown hair and piercing green eyes. She didn’t feel a smidge of guilt; surely every single lady in Clearbrook had, at one time or another, fantasized about him.
Probably the married ladies, too.
Was there anyone, male or female, in Clearbrook who didn’t know him? Or at least of him?
Being the most imposing man she’d ever met, he would make an impression wherever he went, she was pretty sure.
She’d done her research on him. During the rehab of the neighborhood, he’d been brought in as a result of a special election. His past, working with a SWAT team in Columbus, made him a certifiable badass.
And he knew it.
He knew how damned handsome he was, how he affected people.
How he stirred all the ladies.
Yes, everyone in Clearbrook knew him. There’d be no misunderstandings.
Sometimes, Sheriff, when you push, people push back.
* * *
Violet had expected Hogan to give as good as he got, and she’d looked forward to it. Their verbal sparring always left her feeling alive and energized. Unfortunately, the weekend was so crazy they didn’t have time for teasing. They’d barely had time to breathe.
Even the preceding week was nuts, the usual lulls Monday through Thursday almost nonexistent as families flocked in for the rare treat of ribs on a weeknight.
She couldn’t wait to see how busy tomorrow, Friday, would be.
She loved the business; she really did, but clearly she needed to hire more help now. She also needed more picnic tables for outdoor seating. Some of the more regular customers had started bringing their own lawn chairs. Things were awesomely, wonderfully out of control.
All because of Hogan.
Her independent soul rebelled at the idea that he’d been so good for business.
So good for her.
But she wasn’t a woman who hid from the truth. Before Hogan, the business had steadily grown under her management.
With Hogan, it all but exploded.
If she hoped to maintain the current momentum—and she most definitely did—she needed him.
Blast the man—he’d even done a miraculous job with her bookkeeping.
Did he still want her? Was he as sexually frustrated as she was? Had he given up on her, or was he just biding his time?
God, she didn’t even know what she wanted, not where it pertained to an intimate relationship. When it came to business, she wasn’t nearly so indecisive.
Taking advantage of a fifteen-minute break, maybe the only one she’d get, Violet strolled around back to see Hogan. She paused just inside the prep area, making note of his organizational skills even here. He’d set up the area himself, taking it over without a qualm. An interior door kept the hot summer air from competing with the air-conditioning inside and allowed him to leave the exterior door open so that he could easily move inside and still keep an eye on the grills.
A man of many talents.
Something sweet but uncomfortable crowded Violet’s chest, making her heart ache in an odd way. The emotion was unfamiliar and, damn it, unwanted.
Giving herself a moment, she quietly stood there and watched Hogan, wondering what it was about him, specifically, that affected her in such a startling way.
Gorgeous, yes. No one could deny that. The Guthrie brothers had some amazing genes coasting through their bodies. But there were others in the area who were also very attractive, and Violet knew she’d never been even remotely tempted by any of them. Well, the idea of sex had tempted her, certainly. But not all the other stuff, not the confusing emotions that tried to take priority over her restaurant.
And sex, just for the sake of sex, had never really been her thing. Not in a small town like Clearbrook. Not with men she’d later have to regard as customers in her diner. The idea of sex had been nice but, in the end, just not worth it.
Now with Hogan, the complications would be tenfold, and still she couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Standing in front of one of three grills, an apron tied low on his hips, he turned a rack of ribs. The man had an organizational skill that blew her mind. He never looked frenzied or overwhelmed. Even now, under a broiling sun while tending multiple hot grills, he moved with efficiency.
At the table closest to him, his brother, Jason, and sister-in-law, Honor, sat with neighbors Sullivan and Lexie. Hogan laughed at something Lexie said, then shook his head.
Violet could remember a time when she’d thought something might’ve been going on between Lexie and Hogan. After all, Lexie was an extremely pretty woman with her short, pale blond curls and her very up-front sexuality.
Then Lexie had moved in with Sullivan, and Violet quit worrying about it. Talk about gorgeous—Sullivan, with his inky-dark hair and midnight eyes, killer instincts and ripped body, would keep any woman happy. He was very intense, mysterious and almost intimidating.
He was fantasy material, but not once had Violet been tempted to seek an involvement.
“So admit I was right,” Lexie said to Hogan while turning to Sullivan for backup. “He looks blissfully happy, doesn’t he?”
Sunlight glinted off Sullivan’s black hair as he pretended to survey Hogan. “You know, honey, I think you’re right. Hogan looks peaceful.”
“She’s absolutely right,” Honor chimed in, aligning herself with her best friend. “Seriously, Hogan, you do look somewhat blissful.”
“Peaceful? Blissful?” Jason hugged his wife and said, “I don’t want to be left out, so can I admit that it does seem to suit you, Hogan?”
“It’s a gift,” Lexie claimed. “A real talent. A man should never ignore the calling of a talent.”
Hogan laughed again. “You’re all nuts. Yeah, I enjoy it, okay? But it’s hardly a calling.”
“You’re wrong,” Lexie insisted. “You were meant to do this.”
“This?” Hogan waved his long metal tongs at the grills. “Come off it, Lexie. I can’t see myself working in a restaurant for the rest of my life.”
That smacked of an insult and Violet decided to announce herself. “Something wrong with working in a restaurant?” All eyes turned to her as she stepped out of the preparation area and into the side yard. “It’s not good enough for you?” Am I not good enough?
Hogan took in her frown. “I never said that.”
“Maybe it’s working for a woman that you find objectionable?”
“I work for a woman at the accounting firm, too.”
She hadn’t known that and it threw her, but only for a second. She squared her shoulders, ignored all the others and stared up into Hogan’s eyes. “I think it’s out of your hands. The demand now is too high. You’ve spoiled all the customers—”
Their own little audience cheered at that, sounding very spoiled.
“—and now no one is going to want to give up having your ribs whenever they want them.”
The grill hissed and spit, flames licking upward. Turning away, Hogan rearranged the meat and adjusted the heat.
When Violet glanced at the others, she saw they wore varying expressions of encouragement, amusement, agreement—and worry. The last was from Jason.
Did he expect his brother to bully her? Ha. Not likely.
In front of all those rapt faces, she demanded, “Well?”
Occupied with the grill, Hogan asked, “Well what?”
“Sign on. Agree to work here for a full forty-hour week.” She gave that quick thought then amended, “Maybe a little more than forty given how crazy the weekend gets.”
He didn’t look at her when he said, “What makes you think you can afford me?”
He wasn’t saying an outright no? Hope blossomed. Hope and something else. “Let’s discuss it.” Thanks to Hogan, she not only had a better grasp of her own finances, but she was making more per week. She could give him a bump in pay, no problem.
Finally, he set aside those long sturdy tongs and faced her. “You want to negotiate right now? In front of them?” He nodded toward their friends.
His mood seemed off. The idea of trying to discuss this, alone, made her tingle. Could he keep to business?
Could she?
They hadn’t had any alone time in far too long now. And damn it, she missed him. She saw him every day, but not like she had while being sick.
Dumb as it seemed, she missed having him touch her.
She missed him holding her while she slept.
At her long internal debate, he gave her a mocking grin. “Having second thoughts?”
“Tonight.” Risky. Once she had him alone, or he had her alone—but this was too important. “After we close up.”
“Ohhh,” Lexie whispered, sotto voce, “to be a fly on the wall during that meeting.” Then she squeaked, thanks to Sullivan’s squeeze.
“All right,” Hogan said. He turned back to his grill. “If you see Colt, have him come out on his break, okay? I haven’t seen him yet today.”
Relief flooded through Violet until she almost felt light-headed. Hogan hadn’t flat out refused. “If I can pry him away from the girls, sure.” While Hogan might be great for her adult customers, Colt was equally great for the younger crowd. And that got her thinking. She needed to do something special for the school, something that would draw in even more young people during the less insane time between dinner and the cocktail hour.
Conversation did not resume.
Hogan busied himself filling a massive platter.
Since he wasn’t being totally disagreeable, Violet decided to push her luck. “I was also thinking, maybe you need an apprentice, a trainee of sorts who could learn what you do and how you do it so that if you ever—”
“No.”
The abrupt refusal irked her. She put her hands on her hips. “What do you mean no? You won’t even think about it?”
“Not right now, no.”
“Then when? After you get sick or hurt and I’m left in the lurch?” Only half teasing, she said, “Don’t be selfish, Hogan. If you don’t want to share your sauce with anyone else, maybe you could just share it with me.”
Jason choked and Sullivan snorted.
“Hey,” Violet protested. “I’m capable.”
Honor and Lexie, both grinning, rushed to agree.
With their backup, she decided to take another turn at Hogan. “You can trust me, you know. I wouldn’t share your secrets. But if you teach me, then at least—”
As if much put upon, Hogan sighed, straightened away from the grill and turned to her. They stared at each other, him impatient, her defiant.
Before she could guess his intent, he bent and put his mouth over hers in a firm, no-nonsense kiss that lingered a few seconds too long.
Violet heard the collective breath of the audience, but she couldn’t seem to pull away. In fact, she leaned into him. The cat’s out of the bag now.
Against her now-tingling lips, Hogan whispered, “You may be the boss, but no is still no.” And just like that, he gave his attention back to his grills.
Feeling all eyes on her, Violet fought off a blush, turned on her heel and headed back inside.
She heard Hogan say firmly, “Tonight, Violet.”
And suddenly laughter broke out. Wow.
So maybe she shouldn’t have pushed him after all.
* * *
After Sullivan and Lexie left, and Honor went inside to find Colt, Hogan decided it was now or never.
He could feel Jason watching him, though, and as soon as they were alone, he asked, “So you and Violet, huh?”
Since that was what Hogan wanted to talk about, he should have had a better answer, but all he said was “I don’t know.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means it’s complicated.” Hogan checked each grill, was satisfied and took a seat next to Jason. “I’ve been interested since the day I met her. No secret there.”
“Definitely not a secret,” Jason agreed.
“She’s always rejected me.”
“You’re not one to give up easily.”
“No.” Hogan looked out over the seating area. Neighbors, friends, people he’d met, people he liked, were all enjoying the day. And his food. He felt a sense of satisfaction over that. “Violet couldn’t be more different from Meg.”
“True.” Jason shooed away a bee. “That’s a problem?”
“I don’t know. I used to understand what I wanted, but that’s all gone now, and this—living in Clearbrook, being close to you, hell, even the sunrises and sunsets—they’re all nice.” Far nicer than he’d expected.
“I’m glad to hear it. Honor and I love having you and Colt next door. It would break her heart if you moved too far away. You know she never had real family until us, so she takes it very seriously now.”
Us. Yes, Honor definitely considered him and Colt a part of her family. “I know.” Meaning every word, he said, “Honor is special, not just to you, but to Colt and me, too.” He stood to slather more sauce on the ribs, then reseated himself, his legs stretched out in front of him, the sun hot on his back. “Violet is also unlike any of the ladies I’ve been with recently.”
“Amen to that.”
Hogan had to grin. “Your disapproval is showing through.”
“Not disapproval,” Jason protested. “It’s just that none of those ladies made you happy. Like you’ve said, you knew what you wanted and a string of meaningless hookups wasn’t it.”
“I liked it.”
Jason laughed. “I’m sure you did. Hell, you’re alive, and a lot of guys envied you the variety.”
“Not you.”
“No.” Still being honest, Jason said, “I was worried about you, and I was especially worried about Colt. At the time, though, I think the attention was what your ego needed.”
Damn, that made him sound pathetic. He laughed. “Meg definitely shredded the old ego, that’s for sure.”
“No. She just dented it a little. You’re okay now.”
Was he? As a grown man, Hogan figured he had a right to do as he pleased. But he detested the idea of being weak, and yet that’s what he’d been. Weak, hurt and stupidly using sex to bury the pain. “Needing something—” Someone. “It’s not a good thing.”
Jason tipped his head back to stare at the sky. “I need Honor.” He straightened and frowned at Hogan. “Hell, I need you and Colt, too. That doesn’t make me weak.”
Leave it to Jason to cut right through his bullshit. “Maybe.” He’d have to think about it, but for now he’d get back on track. “The thing is, I can’t look at Violet as a casual one-nighter. Like you said, she’s light-years away from those other women. But I won’t look at her as a possible wife, either.”
“Does it have to be one extreme or the other?”
Again, he said, “I don’t know.” He was starting to think he didn’t know much at all. “It’s like this power struggle thing between us. Violet is...independent.”
“No kidding.”
Hogan glanced at his brother, younger by three years. “And that’s another thing.” Talking about it was even more uncomfortable than thinking about it. “You know Violet better than most.”
Jason didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I do. But I swear to you, Hogan, it didn’t mean anything. Not to either of us.” He sat forward, his forearms on his knees. “Violet gets lonely, you know? She works around the clock, so I’m sure it’s tough for her to date. I think I was convenient. Maybe trustworthy, too. She knew me well enough to know I wasn’t psycho, or a stalker.”
“So what was your motivation?”
“That’s a joke, right?”
The plain speaking put Hogan more on edge.
“Violet’s not only nice, smart and sweet, she’s also hot. At the time, I didn’t need more motivation than that.”
Hogan slanted him a disgruntled look. “So she was convenient for you, too?”
“That sounds awful, doesn’t it? Just goes to show you that you aren’t the only guy to make a knuckleheaded mistake.” Jason clapped him on the shoulder. “Luckily, our temporary stupidity didn’t mess up the friendship. That’s all there ever was between us.”
“Honor knows?”
“Knows, accepts it and doesn’t worry about it.” Jason stood. “If she can handle it, Hogan, then you should be able to, right?”
Sure. Maybe. But that still didn’t solve his problem: what to do with his boss, that redheaded hottie who turned him inside out, when the two main choices were both impossible.