The Buckhorn brothers are back in two sizzling classics from New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Lori Foster

SAWYER

The only doctor in Buckhorn County, Kentucky, Sawyer Hudson knows a thing or two about saving lives. But when he rescues the beautiful Honey Malone from a car wreck and nurses her to health at his home, he finds himself dreading the day she’s well enough to leave. Because now that he’s met the woman of his dreams, he’s not about to let her go….

MORGAN

Buckhorn’s big, bad sheriff, Morgan Hudson, wants a wife—one who’s even-tempered, undemanding and content with small-town life. So why can’t he stop thinking about brazen Misty Malone? The dark-haired city girl is downright aggravating—not to mention she’s found herself on the wrong side of the law. But though she may not be perfect, Morgan is hell-bent on convincing her they’d be perfect together!

Praise for New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Lori Foster

“Steamy, edgy, and taut.”

—Library Journal on When You Dare

“The fast-paced thriller keeps these well-developed characters moving.… Foster’s series will continue to garner fans with this exciting installment.”

—Publishers Weekly on Trace of Fever

“Foster rounds out her searing trilogy with a story that tilts toward the sizzling and sexy side of the genre.”

—RT Book Reviews on Savor the Danger

“Foster writes smart, sexy, engaging characters.”

—New York Times bestselling author Christine Feehan

“Intense, edgy and hot. Lori Foster delivers everything you’re looking for in a romance.”

—New York Times bestselling author

Jayne Ann Krentz on Hard to Handle

“Tension, temptation, hot action and hotter romance—Lori Foster has it all! Hard to Handle is a knockout!”

—New York Times bestselling author Elizabeth Lowell

“Lori Foster delivers the goods.”

—Publishers Weekly

Lori Foster

Buckhorn Beginnings

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

The Buckhorn Brothers were originally published back in 2000. Since then, thanks to you, they’ve lived on in reissues and repackaged editions. I often worry about the books standing the test of time; let’s face it, a lot has changed in the past decade!

But one thing that hasn’t changed is the wonderful, giving, caring nature of readers. Many of you have requested the books, so here they are, with the yummiest covers yet! I hope you approve, and I very much hope you enjoy the stories.

Just so you know, here’s the order for the reissues: first is Buckhorn Beginnings, featuring Sawyer and Morgan. Next is Forever Buckhorn, featuring Gabe and Jordan. And last will be The Buckhorn Legacy, featuring Casey.

If you’re curious about the original covers, and the reissued covers since then, check out the Related Books and Series page on my website, under the Booklist tab. www.lorifoster.com/books/related.php#buckhorn.

Happy reading!

Lori Foster

www.LoriFoster.com

Sawyer

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ONE

ONE MINUTE he’d been reveling in the late-afternoon sun, feeling the sweat dry on his shoulders and neck before he could wipe it away.

In the next instant, she was there.

He’d just glanced over at his son, Casey, only fifteen, but working as hard as any man, tall and strong and determined. His smile was filled with incredible pride.

The last two weekends he’d been caught up with patients, and he’d missed working outside with Casey, enjoying the fresh air, using his hands and body until the physical strain tired him.

Summer scents were heavy in the air, drifting to him as he layered another replacement board on the fence and hammered it in. A warm, humid breeze stirred his hair, bringing with it the promise of a harsh evening storm. He’d inhaled deeply, thinking how perfect his life was.

Then his son shouted, “Holy sh—ah, heck!” catching Sawyer’s attention.

Not knowing what to expect, Sawyer turned in the direction Casey pointed his hammer and disbelief filled him as a rusted sedan, moving at breakneck speed, came barreling down the gravel road bordering their property. The turn at the bottom, hugging the Kentucky hills, was sharp; the car would never make it.

Sawyer got a mere glimpse of a pale, wide-eyed female face behind the wheel before, tires squealing, gravel flying, the car came right through the fence he’d just repaired, splintering wood and scattering nails, forcing him to leap for cover. Sheer momentum sent the car airborne for a few feet before it hit the grassy ground with a loud thump and was propelled forward several more feet to slide hood first into a narrow cove of the lake. The front end was submerged, hissing and bubbling, while the trunk and back wheels still rested on solid land, leaving the car at a crazy tilt.

Both Sawyer and Casey stood frozen for several seconds, stunned by what had happened, before ungluing their feet and rushing to the edge of the small cove. Without hesitation, Casey waded waist-deep into the water and peered in the driver’s window. “It’s a girl!”

Sawyer pushed him aside and leaned down.

His breath caught and held. Girl wasn’t exactly an apt description of the unconscious woman inside. In a heartbeat, he took in all her features, scanning her from head to toes. As a doctor, he looked for signs of injury, but as a man, he appreciated how incredibly, utterly feminine she was. He guessed her to be in her mid-twenties. Young, a tiny woman, but definitely full grown.

The window was thankfully open, giving him easy access to her, but water rapidly washed into the car, almost covering her shins. Silently cursing himself and his masculine, knee-jerk reaction to her, he told Casey, “Go to the truck and call Gabe at the house. Tell him to meet us out front.”

Casey hurried off while Sawyer considered the situation. The woman was out cold, her head slumped over the steering wheel, her body limp. The backseat of the car was filled with taped cardboard boxes and luggage, some of which had tumbled forward, landing awkwardly against her. A few open crates had dumped, and items—bric-a-brac, books and framed photos—were strewn about. It was obvious she’d been packed up for a long trip—or a permanent one.

Sawyer reached for her delicate wrist and was rewarded to feel a strong pulse. Her skin was velvety smooth, warm to the touch. He carefully placed her hand back in her lap, keeping it away from the icy cold water.

It took some doing, but he got the driver’s door wedged open. If the car had surged a little deeper into the lake, he never would have managed it. More water flooded in. The woman moaned and turned her head, pushing away from the steering wheel, then dropping forward again. Her easy, unconscious movements assured Sawyer she had no spinal or neck injuries. After moving the fallen objects away from her, he carefully checked her slender arms, slipping his fingers over her warm flesh, gently flexing each elbow, wrist and shoulder. He drew his hands over her jeans-clad legs beneath the water, but again found no injuries. Her lips parted and she groaned, a rasping, almost breathless sound of pain. Frowning, Sawyer examined the swelling bump on her head. He didn’t like it that she was still out, and her skin felt a little too warm, almost feverish.

Casey came to a skidding, sloshing halt beside him, sending waves to lap at Sawyer’s waist. His gaze was narrowed with concern on the woman’s face. “Gabe offered to bring you your bag, but I told him I’d call him back if you needed it.” He spoke in a whisper, as if afraid of disturbing her. “We’re taking her to the house with us, aren’t we?”

“Looks like.” If she didn’t come to on the way to the house, he’d get her over to the hospital. But that was a good hour away, and most people in Buckhorn chose him over the hospital anyway, unless the situation was truly severe. And even then, it was generally his call.

He’d decide what to do after he determined the extent of her injuries. But first things first; he needed to get her out of the car and away from the debilitating effects of the cold water and hot sun.

Luckily, they weren’t that far away from the house. He owned fifty acres, thick with trees and scrub bushes and wildflowers. The lake, long and narrow like a river, bordered the back of his property for a long stretch of shore. The ten acres surrounding the house and abutting the lake were kept mowed, and though it couldn’t be called an actual road, there was a worn dirt path where they often brought the truck to the cove to fish or swim. Today they’d driven down to make repairs to a worn fence.

A crooked smile tipped up one side of his mouth. Thanks to the lady, the repairs to the fence were now more necessary than ever.

Sawyer carefully slid one arm beneath her legs, the other behind the small of her back. Her head tipped toward him, landing softly on his bare, sweaty shoulder. Her hair was a deep honey-blond with lighter sun streaks framing her face. It smelled of sunshine and woman, and he instinctively breathed in the scent, letting it fill his lungs. Her hair was long enough to drag across the car seat as he lifted her out. “Grab her keys and purse, then get the shirt I left by the fence.” He needed to cover her, and not only to counter the chill of the lake water.

He was almost ashamed to admit it, even to himself, but he’d noticed right off that her white T-shirt was all but transparent with the dousing she’d taken. And she wasn’t wearing a bra.

He easily shook that observation from his mind.

Even with her clothes soaked, the woman weighed next to nothing, but still it was an effort to climb the small embankment out of the lake without jarring her further. She’d lost one thin sandal in the wreck, and now the other fell off with a small splash. The mud squished beneath Sawyer’s boots, making for unsure footing. Casey scrambled out ahead, then caught at Sawyer’s elbow, helping to steady him. Once they were all on the grassy embankment, Casey ran off to follow the rest of his instructions, but was back in a flash with the shirt, which he helped Sawyer arrange around her shoulders. Sawyer kept her pressed close to his chest, preserving her privacy and saving his son from major embarrassment.

“You want me to drive?” Walking backward, Casey managed to keep his gaze on the woman and avoid tripping.

“Yeah, but slowly. No unnecessary bumps, okay?” Casey was still learning the rudiments of changing gears, and he used any excuse to get behind the wheel.

“No problem, I’ll just…” His voice trailed off as the woman stirred, lifting one limp hand to her forehead.

Sawyer stopped, holding her securely in his arms. He stared down at her face, waiting for her to regain complete awareness, strangely anticipating her reaction. “Easy now.”

Her lashes were thick and dark brown tipped with gold and they fluttered for a moment before her eyes slowly opened—and locked on his. Deep, deep blue, staring into him, only inches away.

Sawyer became aware of several things at once: her soft, accelerated breath on his throat, the firmness of her slim thighs on his bare arm, her breasts pressing through the damp cotton of her shirt against his ribs. He could feel the steady drumming of her heartbeat, and the way her body now stiffened the tiniest bit. He felt a wave of tingling awareness shudder through his body, from his chest all the way to his thighs. His reaction to her was out of proportion, considering the circumstances and his usual demeanor. He was a physician, for God’s sake, and didn’t, in the normal course of things, even notice a woman as a woman when medical treatment was required.

Right now, he couldn’t help but notice. Holding this particular woman was somehow altogether different. So often, he put aside his tendencies as a man in deference to those of a doctor; being a doctor was such an enormous part of him. But now he found it difficult to separate the two. The doctor was present, concerned for her health and determined to give her the best of his care. But the man was also there, acutely aware of her femininity and unaccountably responding to it in a very basic way. He’d never faced such a pickle before, and he felt equal parts confusion, curiosity and something entirely too close to embarrassment. For a moment while they stared at each other, it was so silent, he imagined he could hear her thoughts.

Then she slugged him.

Though she had no strength at all and her awkward blow barely grazed him, he was so taken by surprise he nearly dropped her. While Casey stood there gawking, making no effort to help, Sawyer struggled to maintain his hold and his balance with a squirming woman in his arms.

Out of sheer self-preservation, he lowered her bare feet to the ground—then had to catch her again as she swayed and almost crumpled. She would have fallen if both he and Casey hadn’t grabbed hold of some part of her, but she still made the feeble effort to shrug them both away.

“No!” she said in a rough, whispering croak, as if her panicked voice could do no better.

“Hey, now,” Sawyer crooned, trying the tone he’d often heard his brother Jordan use when talking to a sick or frightened animal. “You’re okay.”

She tried to swing at him again, he ducked back, and she whirled in a clumsy circle, stopping when her small fist made contact with Casey’s shoulder. Casey jumped a good foot, unhurt but startled, then rubbed his arm.

Enough was enough.

Sawyer wrapped his arms around her from behind, both supporting and restraining her. “Shh. It’s okay,” he said, over and over again. She appeared somewhat disoriented, possibly from the blow to her head. “Settle down now before you hurt yourself.”

His words only prompted more struggles, but her movements were ineffectual.

“Lady,” he whispered very softly, “you’re terrorizing my son.”

With a gasp, she glanced up at Casey, who looked young and very strong, maybe bursting with curiosity, but in no way terrorized.

Sawyer smiled, then continued in calm, even tones. “Listen to me now, okay? Your car landed in our lake and we fished you out. You were unconscious. It’s probable you have a concussion, on top of whatever else ails you.”

“Let me go.”

Her body shook from head to toe, a mixture of shock and illness, Sawyer decided, feeling that her skin was definitely too hot. “If I let you go you’ll fall flat on your face. That or try to hit my boy again.”

If anything, she panicked more, shaking her head wildly. “No…”

After glaring at Sawyer, Casey held both arms out to his sides. “Hey, lady, I’m not hurt. I’m fine.” His neck turned red, but his voice was as calm and soothing as his father’s. “Really. Dad just wants to help you.”

“Who are you?”

She wasn’t talking to Casey now. All her attention seemed to be on staying upright. Even with Sawyer’s help, she was wobbly. He gently tightened his hold, keeping her close and hindering her futile movements. “Sawyer Hudson, ma’am. I’m the man who owns this property. Me and my brothers. As I said, you landed in my lake. But I’m also a doctor and I’m going to help you.” He waited for a name, for a reciprocal introduction, but none was forthcoming.

“Just…just let me go.”

Slowly, still maintaining his careful hold on her, he turned them both until they faced the lake. “You see your car? It’s not going anywhere, honey. Not without a tow truck and some major repairs.”

She gasped, and her entire body went rigid. “You know my name.”

He didn’t understand her, but he understood shock. “Not yet, but I will soon. Now…” He paused as her face washed clean of color and she pressed one hand to her mouth. Sawyer quickly lowered her to her knees, still supporting her from behind. “You going to be sick?”

“Oh, God.”

“Now just take a few deep breaths. That’s it.” To Casey, he said, “Go get the water,” and his son took off at a sprint, his long legs eating up the ground.

Sawyer turned back to the woman and continued in his soft, soothing tone. “You feel sick because of the blow to your head. It’s all right.” At least, he thought that was the cause. She also felt feverish, and that couldn’t be attributed to a concussion. After a moment of watching her gulp down deep breaths, he asked, “Any better?”

She nodded. Her long fair hair hung nearly to the ground, hiding her face like a silky, tangled curtain. He wrapped it around his hand and pulled it away so he could see her clearly. Her eyes were closed, her mouth pinched. Casey rushed up with the water bottle, and Sawyer held it to her lips. “Take a few sips. There you go. Real slow, now.” He watched her struggling for control and wished for some way to lessen the nausea for her. “Let’s get you out of this hot sun, okay? I can get you more comfortable in a jiffy.”

“I need my car.”

Didn’t she remember crashing into the water? Sawyer frowned. “Let me take you to my house, get you dried off and give your belly a chance to settle. I’ll have one of my brothers pull your car out and see about having it towed to the garage to be cleaned…”

“No!”

Getting somewhat exasperated, Sawyer leaned around until he could meet her gaze. Her lush bottom lip trembled, something he couldn’t help but make note of. He chided himself. “No, what?”

She wouldn’t look at him, still doing her best to shy away. “No, don’t have it towed.”

“Okay.” She appeared ready to drop, her face now flushed, her lips pale. He didn’t want to push her, to add to her confusion. His first priority was determining how badly she might be hurt.

He tried a different tack. “How about coming to my house and getting dry? You can use the phone, call someone to give you a hand.”

He watched her nostrils flare as she sucked in a slow, labored breath—then started coughing. Sawyer loosened his hold to lift her arms above her head, supporting her and making it easier for her to breathe. Once she’d calmed, he wrapped her close again, giving her his warmth as she continued to shiver.

She swallowed hard and asked, “Why? Why would you want to help me? I don’t believe you.”

Leaning back on his heels, he realized she was truly terrified. Not just of the situation, of being with total strangers and being hurt and sick, but of him specifically. It floored him, and doubled his curiosity. He was a doctor, respected throughout the community, known for his calm and understanding demeanor. Women never feared him, they came to him for help.

Looking over her head to Casey, seeing the mirrored confusion on his son’s face, Sawyer tried to decide what to do next. She helped to make up his mind.

“If…if you let me go, I’ll give you money.”

He hesitated only two seconds before saying, “Casey, go start the truck.” Whatever else ailed her, she was terrified and alone and hurt. The mystery of her fear could be solved later.

She stiffened again and her eyes squeezed tight. He heard her whisper, “No.”

Determined now, he lifted her to her feet and started her forward, moving at a slow, easy pace so she wouldn’t stumble. “’Fraid so. You’re in no condition to be on your own.”

“What are you going to do?”

A better question was what did she think he was going to do. But he didn’t ask it, choosing instead to give her an option. “My house or the hospital, take your pick. But I’m not leaving you here alone.”

She took two more dragging steps, then held her head. Her body slumped against his in defeat. “Your…your house.”

Surprised, but also unaccountably pleased, he again lifted her in his arms. “So you’re going to trust me just a bit after all?”

Her head bumped his chin as she shook it. “Never.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Lesser of two evils, huh? Now you know I gotta wonder why the hospital is off-limits.” She winced with each step he took, so he talked very softly just to distract her. “Did you rob a bank? Are you a wanted felon?”

“No.”

“If I take you in, will someone recognize you?”

“No.”

The shirt he’d draped around her was now tangled at her waist. He tried not to look, but after all, he was human, a male human, and his gaze went to her breasts.

She noticed.

Warm color flooded her cheeks, and he rushed to reassure her. “It’s all right. Why don’t we readjust the shirt I gave you just a bit?”

She didn’t fight him when he loosened his hold enough to let her legs slip to the ground. She leaned against him while he pulled the shirt up around her, slipping her arms through the sleeves. It was an old faded blue chambray shirt, the sleeves cut short, the top button missing. He’d often used it for work because it was soft and ragged. She should have looked ridiculous in it, wearing it like a robe. Instead, she looked adorable, the shirt in stark contrast to her fragile femininity. The hem hung down to her knees, and it almost wrapped around her twice. Sawyer shook his head, getting his thoughts back on track once again.

“Better?”

“Yes.” She hesitated, clutching the shirt, then whispered, “Thank you.”

He watched her face for signs of discomfort as they took the last few steps to the truck. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “You’re in pain, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m just—”

He interrupted her lie. “Well, lucky for you, I really am a doctor, and for the moment you can keep your name, and why you’re so frightened, to yourself. All I want to do right now is help.”

Her gaze flicked to his, then away. Sawyer opened the door of the idling truck and helped her inside. He slid in next to her, then laid his palm against her forehead in a gentle touch. “You’re running a fever. How long have you been sick?”

Casey put the truck in gear with a rough start that made her wince. He mumbled an apology, then kept the gears smooth after that.

With one hand covering her eyes, she said, “It’s…just a cold.”

He snorted. Her voice was so raspy, he could barely understand her. “What are your symptoms?”

She shook her head.

“Dizzy?”

“A little.”

“Headache? A tightness in your chest?”

“Yes.”

Sawyer touched her throat, checking for swollen glands and finding them. “Does this hurt?”

She tried to shrug, but it didn’t have the negligent effect she’d probably hoped for. “Some. My throat is sore.”

“Trouble breathing?”

She gave a choked half laugh at his persistence. “A little.”

“So of course you decided to go for a drive.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he said, “Look at me,” then gently lifted each eyelid, continuing his examination. She needed to be in bed getting some care. On top of a likely concussion, he suspected an upper respiratory infection, if not pneumonia. Almost on cue, she gave another hoarse, raw cough. “How long have you had that?”

She turned bleary, suspicious eyes his way. “You’re a real doctor?”

“Wanna see my bag? All docs have one, you know.”

Casey piped up with, “He really is. In fact, he’s the only doctor Buckhorn has. Some of the women around here pretend to be sick just to see him.” He smiled at her. “You don’t need to be afraid.”

“Casey, watch the road.” The last thing he needed was his son filling her ears with nonsense, even if the nonsense was true. He had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate the local women’s antics nearly as much as his brothers or son did. Sawyer treated it all as a lark, because he had no intention of getting involved with any of the women, and they knew it.

He had a respected position in the community and refused to take advantage of their offers. Driving out of the area was always difficult, not to mention time-consuming. He’d had a few long-distance, purely sexual relationships when the fever of lust got to him and he had to have relief. He was a healthy man in every way, and he didn’t begrudge himself the occasional weakness due to his sex. But those encounters were never very satisfying, and he sometimes felt it was more trouble than it was worth.

She turned to him, her blue eyes huge again, and worried. She nervously licked at her dry lips. Sawyer felt that damn lick clear down to his gut, and it made him furious, made him wonder if another out-of-town trip wasn’t in order. She was a woman, nothing more, nothing less. And at the moment, she looked pale, on the verge of throwing up, and her mood was more surly than not.

So why was he playing at being a primitive, reacting solely on male instincts he hadn’t even known he had?

Her worried frown prompted one of his own. “You had a lot of stuff stowed in your backseat. Moving?”

She bit her lip, and her fingers toyed with the tattered edge of the shirt he’d given her, telling him she didn’t want to answer his questions. After another bout of coughing where she pressed a fist to her chest and he waited patiently, she whispered, “How do you know my name?”

He lifted one brow. “I don’t.”

“But…” It was her turn to narrow her eyes, and the blue seemed even more intense in her annoyance, shaded by her thick lashes, accompanied by her flushed cheeks. Then the annoyance turned to pain and she winced, rubbing at her temples.

Compassion filled him. Finding out the truth could wait. For now, she needed his control. There was no faking a fever, or that croupy cough. “You’re confused. And no wonder, given how sick you are and that knock on the head you got when your car dove into the lake.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I’ll pay for the damage to your fence.”

Sawyer didn’t reply to that. For some reason, it made him angry. Even the little talking they’d done had weakened her; she was now leaning on him, her eyes closed. But she was concerned for his damn fence? She should have been concerned about her soft hide.

Casey successfully pulled the truck into the yard beneath a huge elm. Gabe sprinted off the porch where he’d been impatiently waiting, and even before Casey killed the engine, Gabe had the truck door open. “What the hell’s going on?” Then his eyes widened on the woman, and he whistled.

Sawyer leaned down to her ear. “My baby brother, Gabe,” he said by way of introduction. She nodded, but kept silent.

To Gabe, he answered, “A little accident with the lady’s car and the lake.”

“Casey told me the lake got in her way.” Gabe looked her over slowly, his expression inscrutable. “What’s wrong with her? And why aren’t you taking her to the hospital?”

“Because she doesn’t want to go.” Sawyer looked down at the woman’s bent head. She was shying away from Gabe, which was a phenomenon all in itself. Gabe was the most popular bachelor in Buckhorn. He smiled, and the women went all mushy and adoring, a fact Sawyer and his brothers taunted him with daily and an accolade Gabe accepted with masculine grace.

Of course Gabe wasn’t exactly smiling now, too concerned to do so. And the woman wasn’t even looking his way. She’d taken one peek at him, then scooted closer to Sawyer, touching him from shoulder to hip.

In almost one movement he lifted her into his lap and stepped out of the truck. He didn’t question his motives; he was a doctor and his first instinct was always to care for the injured or sick. She didn’t fight him. Instead, she tucked her face close to his throat and held on. Sawyer swallowed hard, moved by some insidious emotion he couldn’t name, but knew damn good and well he’d rather not be feeling. Gruffly, he ordered, “Casey, get a bed ready and fetch my bag.”

Casey hurried off, but Gabe kept stride beside him. “This is damn strange, Sawyer.”

“I know.”

“At least tell me if she’s hurt bad.”

“Mostly sick, I think, but likely a concussion, too.” He looked at his youngest brother. “If I can’t handle it here, we’ll move her to the hospital. But for now, if you’re done with the interrogation, I could use your help.”

One of Gabe’s fair brows shot up, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Doing what, exactly?”

“The lady had a lot of stuff in the backseat of her car. Can you go get it before it floats away in the lake or gets completely ruined? And get hold of Morgan to have her car towed out.” She lifted her head and one small hand fisted on his chest. Sawyer continued before she could protest, meeting her frantic gaze and silencing her with a look. “Don’t take it to the garage. Bring it here. We can put it in the shed.”

Gabe considered that a moment, then shook his head. “I hope you know what the hell you’re doing.”

Slowly, the woman looked away, hiding her face against him again. Sawyer went up the porch steps to the house. To himself, because he didn’t want to alarm anyone else, he muttered, “I hope so, too. But I have my doubts.”

CHAPTER TWO

IF SHE HAD her choice, Honey Malone would have stayed buried next to the warm, musky male throat and hidden for as long as possible. For the first time in over a week, she felt marginally safe, and she was in no hurry to face reality again, not when reality meant villains and threats, along with an aching head and a weakness that seemed to have invaded every muscle in her body. In varying degrees, she felt dizzy and her head throbbed. Every other minute, her stomach roiled. She couldn’t even think of food without having to suppress the urge to vomit. And she was so terribly cold, from the inside out.

At the moment, she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and sleep for a good long time.

But of course, she couldn’t.

It was beyond unfair that she’d get sick now, but she couldn’t lie to herself any longer. She was sick, and it was sheer dumb luck that she hadn’t killed herself, or someone else, in the wreck.

She still didn’t know if she could trust him. At first, he’d called her honey, and she thought he knew her name, thought he might be one of them. But he denied it so convincingly, it was possible she’d misunderstood. He’d certainly made no overt threat to her so far. All she knew for sure was that he was strong and warm and he said he only wanted to help her. While he held her, she couldn’t find the wit to object.

But then his strong arms flexed, and she found herself lowered to a soft bed. Her eyes flew open wide and she stared upward at him—until her head began to spin again. “Oh, God.” She dropped back, trying to still the spinning of the room.

“Just rest a second.”

More cautiously now, she peeked her eyes open. The man—Sawyer, he said his name was—picked up a white T-shirt thrown over the footboard and pulled it on. It fit him snugly, molding to his shoulders and chest. He wasn’t muscle-bound, but rather leanly cut, like an athlete. His wide solid shoulders tapered into a narrow waist. Faded jeans hugged his thighs and molded to his…

Face flaming, she looked down at the soft mattress he’d put her on. Her drenched, muddy jeans were making a mess of things. “The quilt—”

“Is an old one. Don’t worry about it. A little lake water isn’t going to hurt anything.” So saying, he pulled another quilt from the bottom of the bed and folded it around her chest, helping to warm her. She gratefully snuggled into it.

That taken care of, he looked over his broad shoulder to the door, and as if he’d commanded it, his son appeared, carrying a medical bag. Casey looked nonplussed to see where his father had put her. “Ah, Dad, I already got a bed ready for her, the one in the front room.”

Sawyer took the medical bag from Casey, then said, “This one will do.”

“But where will you sleep?”

On alert, Honey listened to the byplay between father and son. Casey was earnest, she could see that much in his young, handsome face, but Sawyer had his back to her so she could only guess at his expression.

“Casey, you can go help Gabe, now.”

“But—”

“Go on.”

Casey reluctantly nodded, casting a few quick glances at Honey. “All right. But if you need anything else—”

“If I do, I’ll holler.”

The boy went out and shut the door behind him. Nervously, Honey took in her surroundings. The room was gorgeous, like something out of a Home Show magazine. She’d never seen anything like it, and for the moment, she was distracted. Pine boards polished to a golden glow covered the floor, three walls and the ceiling. The furnishings were all rustic, but obviously high quality. Black-and-white checked gingham curtains were at the windows that took up one entire wall, accompanied by French doors leading out the back to a small patio. The wall of glass gave an incredible view of the lake well beyond.

There was a tall pine armoir, a dresser with a huge, curving mirror, and two padded, natural wicker chairs. In one corner rested a pair of snow skis and a tennis racket, in the other, several fishing poles. Assorted pieces of clothing—a dress shirt and tie, a suit jacket, a pair of jeans—were draped over bedposts and chair backs. The polished dresser top was laden with a few bills and change, a small bottle of aftershave, some crumpled receipts and other papers, including an open book. It was a tidy room, but not immaculate by any measure.

And it was most definitely inhabited by a man. Sawyer. She gulped.

Summoning up some logic in what appeared a totally illogical situation, she asked, “What will your wife—”

“I don’t have a wife.”

“Oh.” She didn’t quite know what to think about that, considering he had a teenage son, but it wasn’t her place to ask, and she was too frazzled to worry about it, anyway.

“Your clothes are going to have to come off, you know.”

Stunned by his unreserved statement, she thought about laughing at the absurdity of it; that, or she could try to hide.

She was unable to work up enough strength for either. Her gaze met his. He stared back, and what she saw made her too warm, and entirely too aware of him as a man, even given the fact she was likely in his bedroom and at his mercy. She should have been afraid; she’d gotten well used to that emotion. But strangely, she wasn’t. “I—”

The door opened and a man stepped in. This one looked different than both Sawyer and the younger man, Gabe. Sawyer had dark, coal-black hair, with piercing eyes almost the same color. His lashes were sinfully long and thick and, she couldn’t help noticing, he had a lot of body hair. Not too much, but enough that she’d taken notice. Of course, she’d spent several minutes pressed to that wide chest, so it would have been pretty difficult not to notice. And he’d smelled too good for description, a unique, heady scent of clean, male sweat and sun-warmed flesh and something more, something that had pervaded her muscles as surely as the weakness had.

Gabe, the one now fetching items from her car, was blond-haired and incredibly handsome. In his cutoffs, bare feet and bare chest, he’d reminded her of a beach bum.

His eyes, a pale blue, should have looked cool, but instead had seemed heated from within, and she’d naturally drawn back from him. His overwhelming masculinity made her uneasy, whereas Sawyer’s calm, controlled brand of machismo offered comfort and patience and rock-steady security, which she couldn’t help but respond to as a woman. Accepting his help felt right, but the very idea alarmed her, too. She couldn’t involve anyone else in her problems.

Now this man, with his light brown hair and warm green eyes, exuded gentle curiosity and tempered strength. Every bit as handsome as the blond one, but in a more understated way, he seemed less of a threat. He looked at her, then to Sawyer. “Casey says we have a guest?”

“She ran her car into the lake. Gabe and Casey are off taking care of that now, getting as much of her stuff out of it as they can.”

“Her stuff?”

“Seems she was packed up and moving.” He flicked a glance at Honey, one brow raised. She ignored his silent question.

“Care to introduce me?”

Sawyer shrugged. He gestured toward her after he took a stethoscope out of his bag. “Honey, this is my brother Jordan.”

Jordan smiled at her. And he waited. Sawyer, too, watched her, and Honey was caught. He’d called her by name again, so why did he now look as if he was waiting for her to introduce herself? She firmed her mouth. After a second, Jordan frowned, then skirted a worried look at his brother. “Is she…?”

Sawyer sighed. “She can talk, but she’s not feeling well. Let’s give her a little time.”

Jordan nodded briskly, all understanding and sympathy. Then he looked down at the floor and smiled. “Well, hello there, honey. You shouldn’t be in here.”

Honey jumped, hearing her name again, but Jordan wasn’t speaking to her. He lifted a small calico cat into his arms, and she saw the animal had a bandaged tail. As Jordan stroked the pet, crooning to her in a soothing tone, the cat began a loud, ecstatic purring. Jordan’s voice was rough velvet, sexy and low, and Honey felt almost mesmerized by it. It was the voice of a seducer.

Good grief, she thought, still staring. Was every man in this family overflowing with raw sexuality?

“A new addition,” Jordan explained. “I found the poor thing on my office doorstep this morning.”

Rolling his eyes, Sawyer said to Honey, “My brother is a vet—and a sucker for every stray or injured animal that crosses his path.”

Jordan merely slanted a very pointed look at Honey and then said to Sawyer, “And you’re any different, I suppose?”

They both smiled—while Honey bristled. She didn’t exactly take to the idea of being likened to a stray cat.

“Jordan, why don’t you put the cat in the other room and fetch some tea for our guest? She’s still chilled, and from the sounds of her cough, her throat is sore.”

“Sure, no problem.”

But before he could go, another man entered, and Honey could do no more than stare. This man was the biggest of the lot, a little taller than even Sawyer and definitely more muscle-bound. He had bulging shoulders and a massive chest and thick thighs. Like Sawyer, he had black hair, though his was quite a bit longer and somewhat unruly. And his eyes were blue, not the pale blue of Gabe’s, but dark blue, almost like her own but more piercing, more intent. She saw no softness, no giving in his gaze, only ruthlessness.

He had a noticeable five o’clock shadow, and a stern expression that made her shiver and sink a little deeper into the bed.

Sawyer immediately stepped over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder, letting her know it was okay, offering that silent comfort again. But she still felt floored when he said, “My brother Morgan, the town sheriff.”

Oh, God. A sheriff? How many damn brothers did this man have?

“Ignore his glare, honey. We pulled him from some unfinished business, no doubt, and he’s a tad…disgruntled.”

Jordan laughed. “Unfinished business? That wouldn’t be female business, would it?”

“Go to hell, Jordan.” Then Morgan’s gaze landed heavily on Honey, though he spoke to Sawyer. “Gabe called me. You mind telling me what’s going on?”

Honey was getting tired of hearing Sawyer explain. She looked up at him and asked in her rough, almost unrecognizable voice, “Just how many brothers do you have?”

Jordan smiled. “So she does have a voice.”

Morgan frowned. “Why would you think she didn’t?”

And Sawyer laughed. “She’s been quiet, Morgan, that’s all. She’s sick, a little disoriented and naturally wary of all of you overgrown louts tromping in and out.”

Then to Honey, he said, “There’s five of us, including my son, Casey. We all live here, and as it seems you’re going to stay put for a spell, too, it’s fortunate you’ve already met them all.”

His statement was received with varying reactions. She was appalled, because she had no intention at all of staying anywhere. It simply wasn’t safe.

Jordan looked concerned. Morgan looked suspicious.

And in walked Gabe, toting a box. “Nearly everything was wet by the time I got there, except this box of photos she had stashed in the back window. I figured it’d be safer in the house. Casey is helping to unload everything else from the truck, but it’s all a mess so we’re stowing it in the barn for now. And it looks like it might rain soon. It clouded up real quick. I think we’re in for a doozy.”

Honey glanced toward the wall of windows. Sure enough, the sky was rapidly turning dark and thick, purplish storm clouds drifted into view. Just what she needed.

Sawyer nodded. “Thanks, Gabe. If it starts to lightning, have Casey come in.”

“I already told him.”

“Morgan, can you get the county towing truck in the morning and pull her car out of the lake? I want to put it in the shed.”

Morgan rubbed his rough jaw with a large hand. “The shed? Why not Smitty’s garage so it can be fixed? Or do I even want to know?”

“It’s a long story, better explained after I find out what ails her. Which I can’t do until you all get the hell out of here.”

The brothers took the hint and reluctantly began inching out. Before they could all go, though, Sawyer asked, “Any dry clothes in her things, Gabe?”

“Nope, no clothes that I saw. Mostly it’s books, hair stuff…junk like that.” He dropped the box of framed photos on the floor in front of the closet.

“I don’t suppose any of you have a housecoat?”

Three snorts supplied his answer.

If Honey hadn’t been feeling so wretched, she would have smiled. And she definitely would have explained to Sawyer that the clothes she wore would have to do, because she wasn’t about to strip out of them.

“Any type of pajamas?”

He got replies of, “You’ve got to be kidding,” and, “Never use the things,” while Morgan merely laughed.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Honey thought, No, no, they’re not all telling me they sleep in the nude! She did her best not to form any mental images, but she was surrounded by masculine perfection in varying sizes and styles, and a picture of Sawyer resting in this very bed, naked as a Greek statue, popped into her brain. Additional heat swept over her, making her dizzy again. She could almost feel the imprint of his large body, and she trembled in reaction. She decided it was her illness making her muddled; she’d certainly never been so focused on her sexuality before. Now, she was acutely aware of it.

She opened her eyes and would have shaken her head to clear it, but she was afraid the motion would make her unsettled stomach pitch again.

Casey stuck his head into the room. “I have an old baseball jersey that’d fit her.”

“No, thank you—”

Sawyer easily overrode her. “Good. Bring it here.”

The brothers all looked at each other, grinning, then filed out. Sawyer leaned down close, hands on his hips, and gave her a pointed frown. “Now.”

“Now what?” All her worries, all the fears, were starting to swamp back in on her. She coughed, her chest hurting, her head hurting worse. She felt weak and shaky and vulnerable, which automatically made her defensive. “I’ll be fine. If…if Morgan would pull my car out, I’d be appreciative. I’ll pay you for your trouble… .”

Sawyer interrupted, shaking his head and sitting on the side of the bed. “You’re not paying me, dammit, and you aren’t going anywhere.”

“But…”

“Honey, even if he gets your car out in the morning—and there’s no guarantee, figuring how it’s stuck in the mud and it looks like a storm’s on the way—but even if he did, the car will need repairs.”

“Then I’ll walk.”

“Now why would you wanna do that? Especially considering you can barely stand.” His tone turned gentle, cajoling. He produced a thermometer and slipped it under her tongue, making it impossible for her to reply. “We have plenty of room here, and you need someone to look after you until you’re well.”

She pulled out the thermometer. “It’s…it’s not safe.”

“For you?”

Honey debated for a long moment, considering all her options. But he was trying to help, and with every second that passed, she grew more tired. The bed was so soft, the quilt warm, if she was going to move, it had to be now before she got settled and no longer wanted to. She started to sit up, but Sawyer’s large, competent hands on her shoulders gently pressed her back on the bed.

Not bothering to hide his exasperation, he said, “Okay, this is how it’s going to be. You’re either going to tell me what’s going on, or I’m going to take you to the hospital. Which’ll it be?”

She searched his face, but the stubbornness was there, along with too much determination. She simply wasn’t up to fighting him. Not right now.

“It’s not safe because…” She licked her lips, considered her words, then whispered, “Someone is trying to hurt me.”

Sawyer stared at her, for the moment too stunned to speak.

“Is this something I should know about, Sawyer?” Morgan asked.

He almost groaned. Wishing he could remove the fear from her eyes, he gave her a wink, then turned to face his most difficult brother. “Eavesdropping, Morgan?”

“Actually, I was doing tea duty.” He lifted a cup and saucer for verification. “Hearing the girl’s confession was just a bonus.”

“It wasn’t a confession. She’s confused from—”

“No.” Trembling, she scooted upward on the bed, clutching the quilt to her chest. She chewed her lower lip, not looking at Morgan, but keeping her gaze trained on Sawyer. After a rough bout of coughing, she whispered, “I’m not confused, or making it up.”

Sawyer narrowed his eyes, perturbed by the sincerity in her tone and the way she shivered. If anything, she sounded more hoarse, looked more depleted. He needed to get the questions over with so he could medicate her, get her completely dry and let her rest. “Okay, so who would want to hurt you?”

“I don’t know.”

Morgan set the tea on the bedside table. “Why would anyone want to hurt you?”

Tears glistened in her eyes and she blinked furiously. One shoulder lifted, and she made a helpless gesture with her hand. “I…” Her voice broke, and she cleared her throat roughly. Sawyer could tell how much she hated showing her vulnerability. “I don’t know.”

Agitated, Sawyer shoved Morgan away from where he loomed over her, then took up his own position sitting next to her on the bed. “Honey—”

The sky seemed to open up with a grand deluge of rain. It washed against the windows with incredible force. Within seconds the sky grew so dark it looked like midnight rather than early evening. Lightning exploded in a blinding flash, followed by a loud crack of thunder that made the house tremble and startled the woman so badly she jumped.

By reflex, Sawyer reached out to her, closing his hand over her shoulder, caressing her, soothing her. “Shh. Everything’s okay.”

A nervous, embarrassed laugh escaped her. “I’m sorry. I’m not normally so skittish.”

“You’re sick and you’re hurt.” Sawyer leveled a look on his brother. “And you aren’t going anywhere tonight, so put the thought from your head.”

Morgan promptly agreed, but the curling of his lips showed how amused he was by Sawyer’s possessive declaration. “Sure thing. We can sort everything out in the morning after you’re rested.” He slapped Sawyer on the shoulder. “Let the doc here fix you up. You’ll feel better in no time.”

Casey came in with the baseball jersey. “Sorry, it took me a little while to find it.”

Sawyer accepted the shirt. “Good. Now we can get you out of these wet clothes.”

Jordan lounged in the doorway, a small half-smile on his mouth. “Need any help?”

And once again, Sawyer had to shove them all out the door. You’d think they’d never seen an attractive woman before, the way they were carrying on, when in fact they all had more than their fair share of female adoration. But as Sawyer closed the door and turned back to her, seeing her lounged in his bed, her long hair spread out over his pillow, her wide, watchful gaze, he knew he was acting as out of sorts as the rest of them. Maybe more so. He’d just never been so damn aware of a woman, yet with this woman, he felt he could already read her gaze. And he strongly reacted to it.

That just wouldn’t do, not if he was going to be her doctor.

He laid the shirt on the foot of the bed, resolute. “Come on.” After pulling the damp quilt aside, he hooked his hands beneath her arms, lifted her, then proceeded to unbutton the shirt he’d loaned her as if he did such things every day. She was silent for about half a second before suddenly coming to life. With a gasp, she began batting at his hands.

“I can do it!” she rasped in her rough, crackly voice.

He cradled her face in his palms. “Are you sure?”

For long seconds they stared at each other, and just as his heartbeat began to grow heavy, she nodded.

Pulling himself together, Sawyer sighed. “All right.” He suffered equal parts relief and disappointment. “Get those wet jeans off, and your panties, too. You’re soaked through to the skin and you need to be dry and warm. Leave your clothes there on the floor and I’ll run them through the wash.” He slid open a dresser drawer and retrieved his own dry jeans and shorts, then as he was reaching for the door to leave, he added, “I’ll wait right out here. Call me when you’re done or if you need help with anything.”

He stepped into the hallway and ran right into every single one of his brothers. Even his son was there, grinning like a magpie. He glared at them all while he unsnapped and unzipped his wet jeans. They smiled back. “Don’t you guys have something to do?”

“Yeah,” Gabe said with a wide grin. “We’re doing it.”

“At times you’re entertaining as hell, Sawyer,” Jordan added with a chuckle.

Sawyer shucked off his clothes, content to change in the middle of the hallway since they pretty much had him boxed in. He was annoyed as hell, but unwilling to let them all see it. As he stripped down to his skin, Gabe automatically gathered up the discarded clothes, helping without being asked. Then he handed them to Jordan who handed them to Morgan who looked around, saw no one else to give them to and tucked them under his arm.

After he was dressed again, Sawyer crossed his arms over his chest, returning their insolent looks. “And what’s that supposed to mean, exactly?”

Morgan snorted. “Only that you’re acting like a buck in mating season. You’re looming over that poor woman like you think she might disappear at any minute. You’re so obvious, you might as well put your brand on her forehead.” Morgan pushed away from the wall and ran his hand through his hair. “The problem is, Sawyer, we don’t know who she is or what she’s hiding.”

Sawyer disregarded his brothers’ teasing remarks and frowned over their concerns. He didn’t need Morgan to tell him there were going to be complications with the woman. His own concern was heavy. “So what do you want me to do? Take her back to her car? Do you want to lock her up for the night until you fit all the pieces together? The woman is sick and needs care before her situation becomes critical.”

Casey frowned. “Is she really that bad off, Dad?”

Rubbing his neck, trying to relieve some of the mounting tension, Sawyer said, “I think she has bronchitis, possibly pneumonia. But I haven’t exactly had a chance to check her over yet.”

Just then every window in the house rattled with a powerful boom of thunder, and in the next second, the lights blinked out. It was dark in the hallway, and all the men started to grumble profanities—until they heard a thump and a short, startled female yelp of pain in the bedroom.

Sawyer reacted first, immediately reaching for the doorknob, then halting when he realized all his brothers intended to follow him in. One by one they plowed into him, crushing him against the door, muttering curses. Over his shoulder, Sawyer barked, “Wait here, dammit!” then hurried in, slamming the door in their curious faces.

The wall of windows in his room offered some light from the almost constant strobe of lightning, but not enough. He searched through the shadows until he located her, sitting on the floor by the bed. Her wide eyes glimmered in the darkness, appearing stunned.

But it was nothing compared to how Sawyer felt when he realized her damp jeans and silky panties were around her ankles—and her upper body was completely bare.

The breath froze in his lungs for a heartbeat, every muscle in his body clenching in masculine appreciation of the sweet, utterly vulnerable female sight she presented. Lightning flickered, illuminating her smooth, straight shoulders, her full round breasts. Her taut nipples. Her fair hair left silky trails down her body, flowing sensuously over and around her breasts. He felt the stirrings of a desire so deep it was nearly painful, and struggled to suppress his groan of instant need.

Then, with a small sound, she dropped her head forward in defeat and covered her face with her hands. That was all it took to shake him out of his sensual stupor. Determined, he started forward, dredging up full doctor mode while burying his instinctive, basic urges.

But one fact rang loud and clear in his head.

Damn, he was in deep—and he didn’t even know her name.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE WANTED TO DIE. To just curl up and give up and not have to worry about another thing. She felt beyond wretched, more embarrassed than she’d ever been in her life, getting more so with every second that passed, and she was so tired of worrying, of finding herself in impossible situations, giving up seemed the best option. She was just so damn weak, she couldn’t do anything.

So instead, she got obnoxious. Without raising her head, she asked, “Are you done gawking?” Her voice was a hideous thin croak, a mixture of illness, embarrassment and pain. It was all she could do to keep herself sitting upright.

“I’m sorry.” He crouched down and lifted her as if she weighed no more than the damn cat Jordan had been petting. Very gently, he placed her on the edge of the bed, then matter-of-factly skimmed her jeans and underwear the rest of the way off, leaving her totally bare. In the next instant, he tugged the jersey over her head. He treated her with all the attention and familiarity he might have given a small child, even smoothing down her hair. “There. That’s got to be more comfortable.”

His voice sounded almost as harsh as her own; she couldn’t quite return his smile.

After pulling back the covers, he raised her legs onto the mattress, pressed her back against the headboard with a pillow behind her, then said, “Wait right here while I get some light.”

He was gone only a moment, but from the time he stepped out into the hallway until he returned, she heard the drone of masculine voices, some amused, some concerned, some insistent.

God, what must they think of her? She was an intruder, a pathetic charity case, and she hated it.

Sawyer returned with an old-fashioned glass-and-brass lantern, a flashlight and a small plastic tote of medicine bottles. He closed the door behind him, shutting out the brothers’ curious gazes. For that, at least, she was thankful.

“Now, back to business.” He unloaded his arms next to the bed on the nightstand, turning up the lantern so that the soft glow of light spread out, leaving heavy shadows in all the corners of the room. “The town is so small, we lose electricity with nearly every storm. It’s not something we get too excited over. By morning the lights will be on.”

Morning?

He shook the thermometer, and again stuck it in her mouth. “Leave it there this time.”

Oh, boy. He was done with stalling, now operating in total efficiency status. Well, fine. She didn’t want to talk to him away. Talking took energy, which she didn’t have, and hurt her raw throat and made her stomach jumpier than it already was. She honestly didn’t know how much longer she could stay awake. Lethargy pulled at her, making her numb.

He approached again, sitting beside her on the bed. He was so warm, heat seemed to pour off him. He gave her a stern look. “I’m going to listen to your lungs. Just breathe normally through your nose, okay?”

She nodded, and he opened the neckline of the jersey and slipped his hand beneath. He didn’t look at her, staring at the far wall instead as if in deep concentration. But his wrist was hot, a burning touch against her sensitive skin, contrasting sharply with the icy coldness of the stethoscope.

She forgot to breathe, forgot everything but looking at his profile, at his too-long, too-thick lashes, his straight nose, his dark hair falling over his brow in appealing disarray. The lantern light lent a halo to that dark hair and turned his skin into burnished bronze. His jaw was firm, his mouth sexy—

“Normal breaths, honey.”

Oh, yeah. She sucked in a lungful of air, accidentally filling her head with his delicious scent. She immediately suffered a coughing fit. Sawyer quickly retrieved the thermometer and looked at it with the flashlight. “Almost a hundred and two.” He frowned. “Can you sit forward just a second?”

Without waiting for her reply, he leaned her forward, propping her with his body, practically holding her in an embrace against that wide, strong chest. His arms were long and muscled, his body hard and so wonderfully warm. She wanted to snuggle into him but forced herself to hold perfectly still.

Again, he seemed oblivious to the intimacy of the situation.

She was far, far from oblivious.

He lifted the jersey to listen to her lungs through her back. Honey merely closed her eyes, too mortified to do much else. After a long moment, he made a sound of satisfaction.

He carefully leaned her back and recovered her with the quilt. “You’ve definitely got bronchitis, and if you’d gone on another day or two, you’d have likely ended up with pneumonia. On top of that, I’d be willing to bet you have a concussion.” He gently touched a bruised spot on her forehead with one finger. “You hit the steering wheel hard when the car dove into the lake. I suppose I can only be grateful you were wearing your seat belt.”

He sounded a bit censuring, but she nodded, so exhausted she no longer cared.

“Are you allergic to any medications?”

“No.”

“Can you swallow a pill okay?”

Again she nodded, words too difficult.

He started to say something else, then looked at her face and hesitated. He sighed. “Honey, I know this is hard for you. Being in a strange house with all these strange men wandering about, but—”

“Your brothers are a bit overwhelming,” she rasped in her thick voice, “but I wouldn’t exactly call them strange.”

He smiled. “Well, I would.” He raised his voice and shouted toward the door, “I’d call them strange and obnoxious and overbearing and rude!”

Honey heard one of the brothers—she thought it was Gabe—shout back, “I know a lot of women who’d object to the obnoxious part!” and a hum of low masculine laughter followed.

Sawyer chuckled. “They mean well. But like me, they’re concerned.”

He patted her knee beneath the quilt, then handed her the tea. “You can swallow your pills with this. It’s barely warm now.”

Honey frowned at the palm full of pills he produced. After all, she didn’t really know him, and yet she was supposed to trust him. Even knowing she had no choice, she still hesitated.

Patiently, he explained, “Antibiotics and something for the pain. You’ll also need to swallow some cough medicine.”

“Wonderful.” She threw all the pills down in one gulp, then swallowed almost the entire cup of tea, leaving just enough to chase away the nasty taste of the cough liquid he insisted she take next. Whoever had made the tea went heavy on the sugar—which suited her just fine.

Sawyer took the cup from her and set it aside, then eyed her closely. “The door next to the closet is a half bath. Do you need to go?”

Why didn’t she simply expire of embarrassment? She was certainly due. “No,” she croaked, then thought to add, “thank you.”

He didn’t look as if he quite believed her, but was reluctant to force the issue. “Well, if you do, just let me know so I can help you. I don’t want you to get up and fall again.”

Yeah, right. Not in this lifetime. That was definitely a chore she would handle on her own—or die trying. “I’m fine, really. I’m just so tired.”

Sawyer stood and began pulling the quilts off her. They were damp, so she didn’t protest, but almost immediately she began to shiver. Seconds later he recovered her with fresh blankets from the closet. He laid two of them over her, tucking her in until she felt so cozy her body nearly shut down.

“Go on to sleep. I’ll come back in a couple of hours to check on you—because of the concussion,” he added, when she blinked up at him. “I’m sorry, honey, but I’ll have to wake you every hour or two just to make certain you’re okay. All you’ll have to do is open those big blue eyes and say hi, all right?”

“All right.” She didn’t really like the idea, because she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink now, worrying about when he’d come in, if she’d be snoring, if she’d even make sense. Usually she slept like the dead, and very little could disturb her, but since this had started she’d been so worried, and she’d had to be on her guard at all times.

At least now she could rest in peace and quiet for a while, and that was more than she’d had recently.

Sawyer tucked a curl of hair behind her ear and smoothed his big thumb over her cheek. The spontaneous, casual touches disconcerted her. They weren’t what she was used to and she didn’t quite know what to think of them. He acted as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to pet her, which probably meant it was merely his way and had no intimate connotations attached. He was, after all, a doctor.

Still, his touch felt very intimate to Honey. Like a lover’s caress.

“Holler if you need anything,” he said gently. “The family room is close enough so one of us will hear you.”

He moved the lantern to the dresser top and turned it down very low, leaving just enough light so she wouldn’t wake disoriented in the strange room. Outside, the storm still raged with brilliant bursts of light and loud rumbling thunder.

He picked up the flashlight and damp quilts and went out, leaving the door open a crack. Honey rolled slowly to her side and stacked her hands beneath her cheek. His bed was so comfortable, the blankets so soft and cozy. And it smelled like him, all masculine and rich and sexy. Her eyes drifted shut, and she sighed. Sleep would be wonderful, but she really didn’t dare. As soon as the storm let up, she had to think about what to do.

Sawyer was a nice man. His whole family was nice; she couldn’t put them at risk, couldn’t take advantage of their generosity and their trusting nature. She supposed she could call a cab to take her into town and buy another used car there. The one she’d been driving didn’t have much value anyway, hardly worth repairing.

But her stuff. They’d unloaded everything into the barn, Gabe said. She hadn’t even noticed a barn, and if she found it, could she retrieve everything without alerting them to her intentions? She had no doubt they’d feel honor bound to detain her, thanks to her illness.

She just didn’t know what to do. Since she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep, she figured she had plenty of time to come up with a plan.

TWENTYMINUTESLATER Sawyer peeked in on her—again. He couldn’t quite seem to pull his gaze away for more than a few minutes, and his thoughts wouldn’t budge from her at all. She was in his bed—and he knew it, on every level imaginable.

It had taken her less than two minutes to fall deeply asleep, and since then, he’d been checking her every few minutes, drawn by the sight of her cuddled so naturally, so trustingly in his bed. He leaned in the door frame, watching her sleep, enthralled by the way the gentle lantern light played over the curves and hollows of her body.

“She doin’ okay?”

Sawyer quickly pulled the door shut as he turned to face Jordan. “She’s asleep, and her breathing sounds just a little easier. But she’s still really sick. I think she needs some rest more than anything else. She’s plain wore out.”

“If you want, we can all spell you a turn on waking her up through the night.”

“No.”

Jordan’s eyes narrowed. “Sawyer, it’s dumb for you to do it alone. We could—”

“I’m the doctor, Jordan, so I’ll do it.” He was determined to get his brother’s mind off altruistic motives and away from the room. “The rest of you don’t need to worry. It’s under control.”

Jordan studied him a long minute before finally shrugging. “Suit yourself. But I swear, you’re acting damn strange.”

Sawyer didn’t refute that. His behavior did seem odd, considering his brother didn’t know why he was so insistent. But when Jordan walked away, Sawyer again opened the door where she slept. Nope, he didn’t want his brothers seeing her like this.

The little lady slept on her stomach, and she kept kicking her covers off; the jersey had ridden to her waist.

Damn, but she had a nice backside. Soft, white, perfectly rounded. The kind of backside that would fit a man’s hands just right. His palms tingled at the thought, and his fingers flexed the tiniest bit.

With a small appreciative smile, Sawyer once again covered her. At least her fever must be lower, or she’d still be chilled deep inside. The fact she felt comfortable enough not to need the blankets proved the medicine was doing its job. Still, he touched her forehead, smoothed her hair away, then forced himself to leave the room.

When he walked out this time he ran into Morgan.

“We need to talk.”

Sawyer eyed his brother’s dark countenance. He’d have been worried, except Morgan pretty much always looked that way. “If you’re going to offer your help, don’t bother. I’m more than able to—”

“Nope. I figure if you want to hover all night over the little darling, that’s your business. But I want to show you something.”

For the first time, Sawyer noticed Morgan was gripping a woman’s purse in his fist. “Our guest’s?”

“Yep. I decided I didn’t like all this secretive business, and being she’s staying here, I was fully justified—”

“You snooped, didn’t you?”

Morgan tried to look affronted and failed. “Just took a peek at her wallet for I.D. I’m a sheriff, and I had just cause with all this talk of someone hunting her and such.”

“And?” Sawyer had to admit to his own overwhelming curiosity. He wondered if the name would match the woman. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“You won’t believe this, but it’s Honey Malone.” Morgan chuckled. “Damn, she sounds just like a female mobster, doesn’t she?”

It took Sawyer two seconds before he burst out laughing. Honey. No wonder she thought he knew her name. He was still grinning when Morgan poked him.

“It’s not that funny.”

“Ah, but it is! Especially when you know the joke.”

“But you’re not going to share it?”

Sawyer shook his head. “Nope. At least, not until I’ve shared it with Miss Malone.”

Since he had the arrogant habit of refusing ever to let anyone rile him, Morgan merely shrugged. “Suit yourself. But you should also know I braved this hellish rain to run out to the car radio and run a check on her. Nothing, from either side of the law. No priors, no complaints, no signed statements. If someone is trying to hurt her, the police don’t know a damn thing about it.”

Sawyer worked that thought over in his mind, then shook his head. “That could mean several things.”

“Yeah, like she’s making it all up.” Morgan hesitated, but as he turned to walk away, he added, “Or she’s more rattled than you first thought and is delusional. But either way, Sawyer, be on your guard, okay?”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“No.” Morgan pointed at him and chuckled. “But you are acting like a man out to stake a claim. Don’t let your gonads overrule your common sense.”

Sawyer glared, but Morgan hadn’t waited around to see it. Ridiculous. So he was attracted to her, so what? He was human, and he’d been attracted to plenty of women in his day. Not quite this attracted, not quite this…consumed. But it didn’t matter. He had no intentions of getting involved any more than necessary to get her well. She was a patient, and he’d treat her as such. Period.

But even as he thought it, he opened the door again, drawn by some inexplicable need to be near her.

Damn, but she looked sweet resting there in his bed. Incredibly sweet and vulnerable.

And once again, she’d kicked the blanket away.

HONEYWOKE slowly and struggled to orient herself to the sensation of being in strange surroundings. Carefully, she queried her senses, aware of birds chirping in near rapture, the steady drone of water dripping outside and a soft snore. Yet she was awake.

Her throat felt terrible, and she swallowed with difficulty, then managed to get her heavy eyes to open a tiny bit. As soon as she did, she closed them again against a sharp pain in her head. She held her breath until the pain ebbed, easing away in small degrees.

Her body felt weighted down, warm and leaden, and a buzzing filled her head. It took a lot of effort to gather her wits and recall where she was and why.

She was on her stomach, a normal position for her, and this time she opened her eyes more carefully, only a slit, and let them adjust to the dim light filtering into the room. As her eyes focused on the edge of a blanket, pulled to her chin, she shifted, but her legs didn’t want to move. Confused, she peered cautiously around the room. The rain, only a light drizzle now, left glittering tracks along the wall of windows, blurring the image of the lake beyond and the fog rising from it. The gutters must have been overloaded because they dripped steadily, the sound offering a lulling, soporific effect. The day was gray, but it was definitely morning, and the birds seemed to be wallowing in the freshness of it, singing their little hearts out.

Frowning, she looked away from the windows, and her gaze passed over Sawyer, then snapped back. She almost gasped at the numbing pain that quick eye movement caused.

Then she did moan as the sight of him registered.

Wearing nothing more than unsnapped jeans, he lounged in a padded wicker chair pulled close at an angle to the foot of the bed. His long legs were stretched out, his bare feet propped on the edge of the mattress near her waist pinning her blankets in place. No wonder her legs didn’t want to move. They couldn’t, not with his big feet keeping her blankets taut.

She remembered him waking her several times throughout the night, his touch gentle, his voice low and husky as he insistently coaxed her to respond to him, to answer his questions. Her skin warmed with the memory of his large hands on her body, smoothing over her, resettling her blankets, lifting her so she could take a drink or swallow another pill.

She warmed even more as she allowed her eyes to drink in the sight of him. Oh, she was awake now. Wide-awake. Sawyer had that effect on her, especially when he was more naked than not, available to her scrutiny. He was a strong man, confident, even arrogant in his abilities. But there was an innate gentleness in his touch, and an unwavering serenity in his dark eyes.

The muscles of his chest and shoulders were exaggerated by the long shadows. She felt cool in the rainy, predawn morning, yet he looked warm and comfortable in nothing more than his jeans. His abdomen, hard and flat, had a very enticing line of downy black hair bisecting it, dipping into those low-fitting jeans. Her heart rate accelerated, her fingers instinctively curling into the sheets as she thought about touching him there, feeling how soft that hair might be and how hard the muscles beneath it were.

One of his elbows was propped on the arm of the chair, offering a fist as a headrest. His other arm dangled off the side of the chair, his hand open, his fingers slack. He was deeply asleep, and even in his relaxed state his body looked hard and lean and too virile for a sane woman to ignore. He appeared exhausted, and no wonder after caring for her all night. She studied his whisker-roughened face a moment, then gave in to temptation and visually explored his body again. A soft sigh escaped her.

She needed a drink. She needed the bathroom. But she could be happy just lying there looking at him for a long, long time.

“G’mornin’.”

With a guilty start, her attention darted back to his face. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his thick black lashes at half-mast, his dark gaze glittering at her. Honey closed her own eyes for a moment, trying to get her bearings. His voice had been low, sleepy, sexy.

Ahem. “Good morning.” The words, which she’d meant to be crisp, sounded like a faint, rusty impersonation.

Sawyer tilted his head. “Throat still sore?”

She nodded, peeking a glance at him and quickly looking away again. “You’re, ah, pinning my blankets down.”

She heard the amusement in his tone when he murmured, “Yeah, I know.”

Then he dragged his feet off the bed and stood and stretched—right there in front of her, putting on an impressive display of flexing muscle and sinew and masculine perfection. Without even thinking about it, she rolled to her back to watch him, keeping her blankets high.

With one arm over his head, she saw the dark silky hair beneath his arm, the way his biceps bulged, and she heard his growled rumble of pleasure. As he stretched, his abdomen pulled tighter and the waistband of his jeans curled away from his body. Her vision blurred. He ran both hands through his hair and over his face, then he smiled.

She tried to smile back, she really did. But then he scratched his belly, drawing her gaze there, and she saw that his jeans rode even lower on his slim hips and that his masculine perfection had changed just a tad. Okay, more than a tad. A whole lot more.

He had an erection.

She didn’t exactly mean to stare, but since he was standing only a foot away from the bed and she was lying down and he was so close, it was rather hard to ignore. Heat bloomed in her belly, making her toes curl.

He reached out and placed a warm palm on her forehead. “Your fever seems to be down. Luckily, the electricity came on in the middle of the night, otherwise, without the air-conditioning, the house would have been muggy as hell. If this rain ever stops, they’re predicting a real scorcher, and with you being sick I’d hate for you to suffer through the heat, too.” He smoothed her hair away from her set face, looking at her closely. “You want to use the john?”

She was so flustered by his good-natured chatter in light of her lascivious thoughts, she couldn’t answer, even though her situation was beginning to get critical.

He solved the problem for her. Whisking the covers aside, he hooked one arm behind her and levered her upright. She scrambled to get the jersey shirt pulled down over her hips, covering her decently. He didn’t seem to notice her predicament.

“Come on. I’ll help you in, then wait out here.”

She didn’t want him waiting anywhere, but he hustled her out of the bed and toward the bathroom, holding her closely, not really giving her time to think about it. He walked her right up to the toilet, then cautiously let her go. “If you need anything, don’t be too squeamish to call out, okay?”

Never, not in a million years. She stared at him, blinked twice, then nodded, just to get him out of the room. With a smile and a touch to her cheek, he backed out and pulled the door shut.

Even in her dazed state, Honey was able to appreciate the incredibly beautiful design of the bathroom. Done in the same polished pine but edged with black ceramic tile, it looked warm and masculine and cozy. The countertops were white with black trim, and there was a shower stall but no tub, a black sink, and a small blocked window with the same black-checked gingham curtains. Amazing that a household of men would have such a nice, clean, well-designed home.

After she’d taken care of business, Honey washed her hands, splashed her face and took a long drink of water. She looked at herself in the round etched mirror over the sink and nearly screamed. She looked horrid. Her hair was tangled, her face pale, the bruise on her forehead providing her only color, and that in shades of gray and purple and green. God, she looked as sickly as she felt, and that was saying a lot!

She glanced longingly at the shower, but then she heard Sawyer ask impatiently, “Everything okay?”

It would take more time and effort than she could muster to make herself look any better. With a sigh, she edged her way to the door, holding on to the sink for support. She barely had the door open and he was there, tall, shirtless, overwhelmingly potent. Without a word he wrapped his arm around her and practically carried her back to the bed.

He tucked her in, then asked, “Would you like some tea or coffee?”

Her mouth watered. Now that she wasn’t so tired, she noticed other needs, and hot coffee sounded like just the thing to clear out the cobwebs and relieve her sore throat. “I’d kill for coffee.”

“When you don’t have the strength to swat a fly? Never mind. Nothing so drastic is necessary. The coffee is already on. Morgan and Gabe are both early risers, so one of them has already seen to it because I smell it. Cream and sugar?”

“Please.”

He started to turn away, and she said, “Sawyer?”

He looked at her over his shoulder. “Hmm?”

“My things…”

“They’re safe. Gabe and Casey got everything stored in the barn before the worst of the storm hit, but if you like, I’ll check on them after I’ve dressed.”

After he’d dressed. The fact of his partial nudity flustered her again, and she felt herself blush. She’d simply never been treated to the likes of a man like him before. Her experiences were with more…subtle men. Sawyer without his shirt was more enticing, more overpowering, than most men would have been buck naked.

She cleared her sore throat. “I’d really like my toothbrush. And…and I’d dearly love to shower and get the lake water off—”

“I dunno.” He gave her a skeptical look and frowned. “Let’s see how you do after eating a little, okay? I don’t want you to push it. You still sound like a bullfrog, and I’m willing to bet you have a bit of a fever yet. But first things first. Let me get the coffee. It’ll make your throat feel better.”

His peremptory manner set her on edge. Straightening her shoulders as much as she could while lying huddled beneath a layer of blankets, she groused, “It’s not up to you to decide what I can or can’t do.”

He halted in midstride and slowly turned to face her. The intensity of his dark gaze almost made her squirm, but after a good night’s rest, she felt emotionally stronger, if not physically, and she couldn’t continue to let him baby her or dictate to her. Now was as good a time as any to assert herself.

Tilting his head, he said, “Actually—I can.”

“No—”

He stalked forward, startling her with the suddenness of it. His bare feet didn’t make a sound on the polished flooring, but he might have been stomping for the expression on his face. Bracing one hand on the headboard and the other on the pillow by her cheek, he leaned down until their noses almost touched. Her head pressed into the pillow, but there was no place to retreat to, no way to pull back.

His breath touched her as he studied her face. “You’re seriously ill, and I didn’t stay up all night checking on you just so you could turn stubborn this morning and set yourself on a decline.”

She mustered her courage and frowned up at him. “I know I’m not a hundred percent well, but—”

He made a rude sound at that statement. “It’s a wonder you even made it to the bathroom on your own. I can tell just looking at your flushed cheeks and lips that you still have a fever. What you need is plenty of rest and medicine and liquids.”

She hated to sound vain, so the words came out in a rough, embarrassed whisper. “I smell like the lake.”

At first his brows lowered and he stared at her. Then, almost against his will it seemed, he leaned closer and his nose nearly touched her throat beneath her ear. She sucked in a startled breath, frozen by his nearness, his heat, the sound of his breathing. He nuzzled gently for just a moment, then slowly leaned away again, and his gaze traveled down her throat to her chest and beyond, then came back to her face, and there was a new alertness to his expression, a sensual hardness to his features.

She swallowed roughly and croaked, “Well?” trying to hide the effect he’d had on her, trying, and failing, to be as cavalier.

His lips twitched, though his eyes still looked hot and far too intent. He touched her cheek, then let his hand fall away. “Not a single scent of lake, I promise. Quit worrying about it.”

She couldn’t quit worrying, not when he stayed so close. And she knew a shower would revive her spirits, which she needed so she could think clearly. She tried a different tack. “I’m not used to going all day without a shower. I’ll feel better after I clean up.”

He continued to loom over her, watching her face, then finally he sighed. “Somehow I doubt that, but then, what do I know? I’m just the doctor.” When she started to object, he added, “If you feel such a strong need to get bathed, fine. I’ll help you, and no, don’t start shaking your head at me. I’m not leaving you alone to drown yourself.”

“You’re also not watching me bathe!”

He started to grin, but rubbed his chin quickly instead. “No, of course not. The shower is out because I doubt you could stand that long. And as wobbly as you seem when you’re on your feet, I’m not taking the chance. But this afternoon, after I’ve seen a few patients, I’ll take you to the hall bath. We have a big tub you can soak in. By then I’ll have your clothes run through the washer, and you can wear your own things. We’ll manage, I think.”

Worse and worse. “Sawyer, I don’t want you doing my laundry.”

“There’s no one else, Honey. Morgan has to go into the office today, and Jordan is making a few housecalls. Casey has never quite learned the knack of doing laundry, though I’m working on him, and if I know Gabe, he’ll be off running around somewhere.”

She stared at him, dumbfounded, then shook her head. “Let me clarify. I don’t want any of you doing my laundry.”

“The clothes you came in are wet and muddy. By now, they probably do smell like the lake. Unless you want to continue living in Casey’s shirt, someone needs to do it, and you’re certainly not up to it.” She started to speak, and he held up a hand. “Give over, will you? I doubt doing a little laundry will kill me. If it did, I’d have been dead a long time ago.”

She seemed to have no options at all. With a sigh, she said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

His continued good humor made her feel like a nag. Trying to get back to a more neutral subject, she asked, “Do you see patients every day?”

He straightened from the bed. “Don’t most doctors?”

“I really don’t know.”

“Well, they do. You can take my word on it. Illness has no respect for weekends or vacations. And since I’m the only doctor around for miles, I’ve gotten used to it.”

Nervously pleating the edge of the blanket, she wondered if this might be her best chance to slip away. It was for certain if he didn’t want her up to shower, he wouldn’t want her up to leave on her own. “Do you have an office close by?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Very close.”

“Oh?” She tried to sound only mildly interested.

“You’re not going anywhere, Honey.”

Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

“Don’t look so shocked. I could see you plotting and planning.”

“But…how?” She’d kept her expression carefully hidden. At least, she thought she had.

“I can read you.”

“You don’t even know me!”

He looked disgruntled by that fact. “Yeah, well, for whatever reason, I know you well enough already to see how your mind works. What’d you think to do? Hitchhike into town when we were all away from the house?”

She hadn’t, simply because she hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. But it might not have been a bad idea. She’d be able to tell by the license plates if the driver was local or not, ridding the risk of being picked up by the people who were after her.

When she remained quiet, he shook his head and muttered, “Women.” He went out the door without another word, and Honey let him. She had a lot to think about. This might be her only chance to save Sawyer and his family from getting involved. She’d left in the first place to protect her sister. The last thing she wanted to do was get someone else in trouble.

Especially such an incredible man as Sawyer.

CHAPTER FOUR

SAWYER TAPPED on the door and then walked in. Honey was in the bed, her head turned to the window. She seemed very pensive, but she glanced at him as he entered. He saw her face perk up at the sight of the tray he carried.

Grinning, he asked, “So you’re hungry?”

She slid higher in the bed. “Actually…yes. What have you got there?”

He set the tray holding the coffee and other dishes on the dresser and carried another to her, opening the small legs on the tray so it fit over her lap. “Gabe had just pulled some cinnamon rolls from the oven, so they’re still hot. I thought you might like some.”

“Gabe cooks?”

Sawyer handed her the coffee, then watched to make sure it was to her liking. Judging by the look of rapture on her face as she sipped, it was just right. “We all cook. As my mom is fond of saying, she didn’t raise no dummies. If a man can’t cook, especially in a household devoid of women, he goes hungry.”

She’d finished half the cup of coffee right off so he refilled her cup, adding more sugar and cream, then gave her a plate with a roll on it. The icing had oozed over the side of the roll, and she quickly scooped up a fingerful, then moaned in pleasure as she licked her finger clean.

Sawyer stilled, watching her and suffering erotic images that leaped into his tired, overtaxed brain. His reactions to her were getting way out of hand. Of course, they’d been out of hand since he’d first seen her. And last night, when she kept kicking the covers away, he’d almost gone nuts. Pinning them down with his feet had been a form of desperate self-preservation.

He hadn’t had such a volatile reaction to a woman in too many years to count. No, he’d never been entirely celibate, but he had always been detached. Now, with this woman who remained more a stranger than otherwise, he already felt far too involved.

He cleared his throat, enthralled by the appreciative way she savored the roll. “Good?”

“Mmm. Very. Give my regards to the chef.”

She sounded so sincere, he almost laughed. “It’s just a package that you bake. But Gabe really can do some great cooking when he’s in the mood. Usually everyone around here grabs a snack first thing in the morning, then around eight they hit Ceily’s diner and get breakfast.”

“If they can cook, why not eat here?”

He liked it that she was more talkative today, and apparently more at ease. “Well, let’s see. Gabe goes to town because that’s what he always does. He sort of just hangs out.”

Her brows raised. “All the time?”

With a shrug, he admitted, “That’s Gabe. He’s a handyman extraordinaire—his title, not mine—so he’s never without cash. Someone’s always calling on him to fix something, and there’s really nothing he can’t fix.” Including her car, though Sawyer hadn’t asked him to fix it. Not yet. “He keeps busy when he wants. And when he doesn’t, he’s at the lake, lolling in the sun like a big fish.”

Gabe stuck his head in the door to say, “I resent that. I bask, I do not loll. That makes me sound lazy.”

Sawyer saw Honey gulp the bite in her mouth and almost choke as she glanced up at his brother. As a concession to their guest, Gabe had pulled on frayed jean shorts rather than walking around in his underwear. He hoped Jordan and Morgan remembered to do the same. They each had more than enough female companionship, but never overnight at the house, so they were unused to waking with a woman in residence.

Gabe hadn’t shaved yet, and though he had on a shirt, it wasn’t buttoned so his chest was mostly bare. Sawyer shook his head at his disreputable appearance. “You are lazy, Gabe.”

Gabe smiled at Honey. “He’s just jealous because he has so much responsibility.” Then to Sawyer, “Now, if I was truly lazy, would I plan on fixing the leak in your office sink this morning?”

Sawyer hesitated, pleased, then took a sip of coffee before nodding. “Yeah, you would, considering you can’t go to the lake because it’s raining.”

“Not true. The best fishing is done in the rain.”

He couldn’t debate that. “Are you really going to fix the sink?”

“Sure. You said it’s leaking under the cabinet?”

Sawyer started to explain the exact location of the leak, but Honey interrupted, asking, “Where is his office?”

Gabe hitched his head toward the end of the hallway. “At the back of the house. He and my dad built it on there after he got his degree and opened up his own practice. ’Course, I helped because Sawyer is downright pathetic with a hammer. He can put in tiny stitches, but he has a hell of a time hitting a nail or cutting a board straight.”

Honey carefully set down her last bite of roll. “Your dad?”

“Yep. He’s not a military man, like Sawyer’s dad was, but he is a pretty good handyman, just not as good as me.”

Standing, Sawyer headed toward Gabe, forcing him to back out of the doorway. He could see the questions and the confusion on Honey’s face, but it was far too early for him to go into long explanations on his family history. “Go on and let her drink her coffee in peace.”

Gabe put on an innocent face, but laughter shone in his eyes. “I wasn’t bothering her!”

“You were flirting.”

“Not that she noticed.” He grinned shamefully. “She was too busy watching you.”

That sounded intriguing—not that he intended to dwell on it or to do anything about it. Likely she watched him because he was the one most responsible for her. “I’ll be at the office after I’ve showered and gotten dressed.”

“All right. I’ll go get my tools together.”

Sawyer stepped back into the room and shut the door, then leaned against it. Just as Gabe had mentioned, Honey watched him, her blue eyes wide and wary. He nodded at her unfinished roll. “You done?”

“Oh.” She glanced down at the plate as if just remembering it was there. “Yes.” She wiped her fingers on the napkin he’d provided and patted her mouth. “Thank you. That was delicious. I hadn’t realized I was so hungry.”

Eating less than one cinnamon roll qualified as hungry? He grunted. “More coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

Her continued formality and good manners tickled him. Here she was, bundled up in his bed, naked except for his son’s jersey, and with every other word she said please. She still sounded like a rusty nail on concrete, but she didn’t look as tense as she had last night. Probably the need for sleep had been more dire than anything else. As he refilled her cup, emptying the carafe, he said, “I have spare toothbrushes in my office. If you’d like, I can give you one. I’d go get yours, but I’m not sure which box it’s in.”

“I’m not sure, either.”

“Okay, then. I’ll fetch you one in a bit.” He finished his own coffee while leaning on the dresser, looking at her. “Before I start getting ready for my day, you want to tell me who you are?”

She went so still, it alarmed him. He set down his empty cup and folded his arms over his chest. “Well?”

“I think,” she muttered, not quite meeting his gaze, “that it’ll be simpler all around if I don’t involve you.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“Trust a man I’ve known one day?”

“Why not? I haven’t done anything to hurt you, have I?”

“No. It’s not that. It’s just…Sawyer, I can’t stay here. I don’t want to endanger you or your son or your brothers.”

That was so ludicrous he laughed. And her lack of trust, regardless of the time limits, unreasonably annoyed him. “So you think one little scrawny woman is better able to defend herself than four men and a strapping fifteen-year-old?”

Her mouth firmed at his sarcasm. “I don’t intend to get into a physical battle.”

“No? You’re going to just keep running from whatever the hell it is you’re running from?”

“That’s none of your business,” she insisted.

His jaw clenched. “Maybe not, but it would sure simplify the hell out of things if you stopped being so secretive.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. Sawyer felt like a bully. Just because she’d sat up and eaten a little didn’t mean she was up to much more than that. He sighed in disgust—at himself and her—then pushed away from the dresser to remove the tray from her lap.

She glanced at him nervously. “I…I don’t mean to make this more difficult.”

He kept his back to her, not wanting her to see his frown. “I realize that. But you’re going to have to tell me something sooner or later.”

A heavy hesitation filled the air. Then he heard her draw in her breath. “No, I don’t. My plans don’t concern you.”

Everything in him fought against the truth of her words. “You landed in my lake.”

“And I offered to pay for the damages.”

He turned to face her, his muscles tense. “Forget the damn damages. I’m not worried about that.”

She looked sad and resolute. “But payment for the damages is all I owe you. I didn’t ask to be brought here. I didn’t ask for your help.”

“You got it anyway.” He stalked close again, unable to keep the distance between them. “No respectable man would leave a sick, frightened woman alone in a rainstorm. Especially a woman who was panicked and damn near delusional.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You slugged my son. You were afraid of me.”

She winced again, then worried her bottom lip between her teeth. His heart nearly melted, and that angered him more than anything else. He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hands in his. “Honey, you can trust me. You can trust us.” She didn’t quite meet his gaze, staring instead at his throat. “The best thing now is to tell me what’s going on so I know what to expect.”

She looked haunted as her gaze met his, but she also looked strong, and he wasn’t surprised when she whispered, “Or I can leave.”

They stared at each other, a struggle of wills, and with a soft oath Sawyer stood and paced away. Maybe he was pushing too fast. She needed time to reason things through. He’d wear her down, little by little. And if that didn’t work, he’d have Morgan start an investigation—whether she liked it or not.

One thing was certain. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight until he knew it was safe.

With his back to her, his hands braced on the dresser, he said, “Not yet.”

“You can’t keep me here against my will.”

“Wanna bet?” He felt like a bastard, but his gut instincts urged him to keep her close regardless of her insistence. “Morgan is the town sheriff, and he heard everything you said. If nothing else, he’d want to keep you around for questioning. I’m willing to give you some time. But until you’re ready to explain, you’re not going anywhere.”

He could feel her staring at his back, feel the heat of her anger. She wasn’t nearly so frail as he’d first thought, and she had more gumption than the damn old mule Jordan kept out in the pasture.

Despite the raspiness of her voice, he heard her disdain when she muttered, “And you wanted me to trust you.”

His hand fisted on the dresser, but he refused to take the bait. He pulled open a drawer and got out a pair of shorts, saying over his shoulder, “I need to shower and get dressed before patients start showing up. Why don’t you just go on back to sleep for a spell? Maybe things’ll look a little different this afternoon.”

He saw her reflection in the mirror, the way her eyes were already closing, shutting him out. He wanted to say something more, but he couldn’t. So instead he walked away, and he closed the door behind him very softly.

SHESLEPT the better part of the day. After taking more medicine and cleaning up as much as she could using the toothbrush he provided and the masculine-scented soap in the bathroom, she simply konked out. One minute she’d been disgruntled because he was rushing her back to bed, and the next she was sound asleep. Sawyer roused her once to take more ibuprofen and sip more water, but she barely stirred enough to follow his directions. He held her head up with one hand, aware of the silkiness of her heavy hair and the dreamy look in her sleepy eyes. She smiled at him, too groggy to remember her anger.

Fortunately for him, since he couldn’t stay by her side, she hadn’t kicked off her blankets again. He’d worried about it, and gone back and forth from his office to her room several times during the day, unable to stay away. After Casey had finished up his chores, he promised to stay close in case she called out.

She hadn’t had any lunch, and it was now nearing dinnertime. When Sawyer entered the room, he saw his son sitting on the patio through the French doors. He had the small cat with him that Jordan had brought home. Using a string, he enticed the cat to pounce and jump and roll.

This time Honey was on her back, both arms flung over her head. He could see her legs were open beneath the covers. She was sprawled out, taking up as much room as her small body could in the full-size bed. In his experience, most women slept curled up, like a cat, but not Honey. A man would need a king-size bed to accommodate her.

He was still smiling when he stepped outside with Casey. “She been sleeping okay?”

“Like the dead.” Casey glanced up at him, then yelped when the cat attacked his ankle. “She looks like someone knocked her out, doesn’t she? I’ve never seen anyone sleep so hard. The cat got loose and jumped up on the bed and before I could catch her, she’d been up one side and down the other, but the woman never so much as moved.”

“She’s a sound sleeper, and I think she was pretty exhausted, besides. Thanks for keeping a watch on her.”

Sawyer saw a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned. Honey was propped up on one elbow, her hair hanging forward around her face, her eyes squinted at the late-afternoon sunshine. Most of the day it had continued to drizzle, and now that the sun was out, the day was so humid you could barely draw a deep breath.

Honey looked vaguely confused, so he went in to her. Casey followed with the cat trailing behind.

“Hello, sleepyhead.”

She looked around as if reorienting herself. The small cat made an agile leap onto the bed, then settled herself in a semicircle at the end of Honey’s feet, tucking her bandaged tail in tight to sleep. Honey stared at the cat as if she’d never seen one before. “What time is it?”

“Five o’clock. You missed lunch, but dinner will be ready soon.”

Casey stepped forward to retrieve the new pet, but Honey shook her head. “She’s okay there. I don’t mind sharing the bed.”

Casey smiled at her. They all loved and accepted animals, thanks to Jordan, and it pleased his son that their guest appeared to be of a similar mind. “You want something to drink?”

She thought about that for a moment, then finally nodded. “Yes, please.”

Sawyer was amused by her sluggish responses and said, “Make it orange juice, Case.”

“Sure thing.”

Once Casey was gone, Sawyer studied her. She yawned hugely behind her hand, then apologized.

“I can’t believe I slept so long.”

He resisted the urge to say, I told you so, and stuck to the facts instead. “You’ve got bronchitis, which can take a lot out of you, not to mention you’re just getting over a concussion. Sleep is the best thing for you.”

She sat back and tucked the covers around her waist. After a second, she said, “I’m sorry about arguing with you earlier. I know you mean well.”

“But you don’t trust me?”

She shrugged. “Trust is a hard thing. I’m not generally the best judge of character.”

This sounded interesting, so he pulled up a chair and made himself comfortable. “How so?”

She gave him a wary look, but was saved from answering when Casey came back in. He handed her the glass of iced orange juice and a napkin.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” He turned to Sawyer. “I’m going to go down and do some more work on the fence.”

“Only for about an hour. Dinner will be ready by then.”

“All right.”

As Casey started out, Honey quickly set her glass aside and lifted a hand. “Casey!”

He turned, his look questioning.

“I noticed your shoulders are getting a little red. Have you been out in the sun much lately?”

“Uh…” He glanced at his father, then back to Honey. “Yeah, I mean, I’ve been outside, but there hasn’t really been much sun till just a bit ago.”

“I know it’s none of my business, but you should really put on a shirt or something. Or at least some sunscreen. You don’t want to burn.”

Sawyer frowned at her, then looked at Casey. Sure enough, there was too much color on his son’s wide shoulders and back. Casey looked, too, then grimaced. “I guess it was so cloudy today, I didn’t think about it.”

She looked prim as she lectured. “You can burn even through the clouds. I guess because I’m so fair, I’m especially conscious of the sun. But I’d hate to see you damage your skin.”

Casey stared at her, looking totally dumbfounded. Too much sunshine was probably the last thing the average fifteen-year-old would have on his mind. “I’ll, uh…I’ll put some sunscreen on. Thanks.”

Sawyer added, “And a shirt, Case.”

“Yeah, okay.” He hurried out before he drew any more attention.

Sawyer looked at Honey. She was smiling, and she looked so sweet, she took his breath away. He didn’t like her interference with his son, but since she was right this time, he couldn’t very well lecture her on it.

“You have a wonderful son.”

He certainly thought so. “Thank you.”

“He doesn’t really look like you. Does he take after his mother?”

“No.”

She looked startled by his abrupt answer, and Sawyer wished he could reach his own ass to kick it. He didn’t want her starting in on questions he didn’t want to answer, but his attitude, if he didn’t temper it, would prompt her to do just that.

“I got your clothes washed. If you’re feeling up to a bath, we can get that taken care of before dinner, then you can change.” Not that he wanted her trussed up in lots of clothes when she looked so enticing wearing what she had on. But he knew it’d be safer for his peace of mind if she at least had panties on.

Except that he’d already seen the tiny scrap of peach silk she considered underwear, and knowing she wore that might be worse than knowing she was bare, sort of like very sweet icing on a luscious cake.

Luckily he’d done the laundry while no one else was around. He didn’t want his brothers envisioning her in the feminine, sexy underwear. But he knew they would have if they’d seen it. He could barely get the thought out of his mind.

“I’m definitely up for a bath. I feel downright grungy.”

She looked far from grungy, but he kept that opinion to himself. “We’ll use the hall bath. Morgan’s room opens into it, but he isn’t home yet. I think he’s on a date. And Gabe only uses the shower in the basement.”

Her eyes widened. “Good grief. How many bathrooms do you have?”

She looked confused again, and he grinned. “As many as I have brothers, I guess. Little by little we added on as everyone grew up and needed more room.”

“It’s amazing you all still live together.”

He lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “My father left us the house, and my mom moved to Florida after Gabe graduated. Morgan stays here in the main house with me and Case, but he’s building his own place on the south end of the property. It should be done by the end of the summer.”

“How much property do you have?”

“Around fifty acres. Most of it’s unused and heavily treed, just there for privacy, or if any other family decides to build on it. Morgan’ll have his own acreage, but still be close enough, which is the way we all like it. Jordan’s settled into the garage. He converted it to an apartment when he was around twenty because he’s something of a loner, more so than the rest of us, but with his college bills, he couldn’t really afford to move completely out on his own. Now he could, of course, since there’s even more call for a vet in these parts than there is for a doctor, but he’s already settled. And Gabe has the basement, which runs the entire length of the house. He’s got it fixed up down there real nice, with his own kitchen and bath and living room, and his own entrance, though he usually just comes through the house unless he’s sneaking a girl in.”

“He’s not allowed to have women over?”

“Not for the night, but that’s not really a rule or anything now, just something my mother started back when Gabe was younger and kept trying it.” Sawyer grinned, remembering how often he and his brothers used to get in trouble. “Gabe has always attracted women, and sometimes I think he doesn’t quite know what to do with them. Dragging one home for my mother to get rid of seemed to be a favorite plan of his.”

Honey chuckled, and he could tell by her expression she didn’t know he was serious. He grinned, too. She’d get to know Gabe better, then she’d realize the truth.

“Keeping women out is just something that we’ve all stuck to. Especially with Casey around. He’s old enough now not to be influenced, but he was always a nosy kid, so you couldn’t do much without him knowing. He has a healthy understanding of sex, but I didn’t want him to be cavalier about it.”

She pulled her knees up and rested her crossed arms on them. Smiling, she said, “I guess your wife wouldn’t have liked it much, either, if a lot of women had been in and out of the house.”

Annoyance brought him to his feet, and he paced to the French doors. The topic shouldn’t be a touchy one, and usually wasn’t. But Honey didn’t know all the circumstances, all the background. He said simply, “My wife never lived in this house.”

She didn’t reply to that, but he knew she now felt awkward when that hadn’t been his intention. He glanced over his shoulder, saw her worried gaze and grimaced at his own idiocy. He’d opened a can of worms with that confession, and he didn’t know why. He never discussed his ex-wife with anyone except his family, and then only rarely.

“I got divorced while I was still in medical school. In fact, just a month after Casey was born. She was still pretty young and foolish and she wasn’t quite up to being a mother. So I took complete custody. My mother and Gabe’s father really helped me out with him until I could get through medical school. Actually, everybody helped. Morgan was around nineteen, Jordan fifteen and Gabe twelve. In a lot of ways, Gabe and Casey are like brothers.”

She looked fascinated, almost hungry for more information. He walked over to her and sat again. “What about you? You have much family?”

“No.” She looked away, then made a face. “There’s only my father and my sister. My mother passed away when I was young.”

“I’m sorry.” He couldn’t imagine how he’d have gotten through life without his mother. She was the backbone of the family, the strongest person he knew and the most loving.

Honey shrugged. “It was a long time ago. I’m not very close with my father, but my sister and I are.”

“How old’s your sister?”

“Twenty-four.”

“How old are you?”

She looked at him suspiciously, as if he’d asked for her Social Security number. After a long hesitation, she admitted, “I’m twenty-five.”

He whistled. “Must have been rough for your father, two kids so close in age and your mother gone.”

She waved that away. “He hired in a lot of help.”

“What kind of help?”

“You know, nannies, cooks, tutors, pretty much everything. My father spent a lot of time at work.”

“Didn’t he do anything with you himself?”

She laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in the sound. “Not a lot. Dad wasn’t exactly thrilled to have daughters. I think that’s what he hated most about Mother dying—she hadn’t given him a son yet. He thought about remarrying a lot, but he was so busy with his business, and he worried that someone would divorce him and get part of it. He was a little paranoid that way.”

Sawyer looked her over, searching her face, seeing the signs of strain. She’d put up a brave front, but he could see the hurt in her blue eyes and knew there was a lot about her life that hadn’t always been satisfactory. “Sounds like a hell of a childhood you had.”

Color washed over her cheeks, and she ducked her face. “I didn’t mean to complain. We had a lot more than most kids ever do, so it wasn’t bad.”

Except it didn’t sound like she’d had a lot of love or affection or even attention. Sawyer had always appreciated his family, their support, the closeness, but now he realized just how special those things were. They came without strings, without restriction or embarrassment, and were unconditional.

She was still looking bashful over the whole subject, so he decided to let it drop. At least for now. “I guess if you’re going to take that bath, we should get on with it or you’ll miss dinner. And Jordan really outdid himself tonight for you.”

“Now Jordan’s cooking?”

He shrugged. “We take turns. Nothing fancy. I told him to make it light since I wasn’t sure what you’d feel up to. He’s got chicken and noodles in the Crock-Pot, and fresh bread out of the bread machine.”

She shook her head. “Amazing. Men who cook.”

Laughing, Sawyer reached for her and helped her out of the bed. She clutched at the top blanket, dragging it off the mattress and disturbing the cat, who looked very put out over the whole thing. Honey apologized to the animal, who gave her a dismissive look and recurled herself to sleep.

“You’ll have cat hair in the bed.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t. It’s your bed.”

“You’re sleeping in it.”

They stared at each other for a taut, electric moment, then Honey looked away. Her hands shook as she busied herself by wrapping the blanket over and around her shoulders. It dragged the ground, even hiding her feet.

He supposed that was best; even though the jersey covered her from shoulders to knees, he didn’t want his brothers ogling her—and they would. They were every bit as aware of an attractive woman as Sawyer, and Honey, in his opinion, was certainly more attractive than most. His brothers might not comment on the sexy picture she made with her hair disheveled, her feet bare and her slender body draped in an overlarge male shirt, but they’d notice.

She seemed steadier now, but he kept his right arm around her and held her elbow with his left hand, just in case. She was firmly in his embrace, and he liked it.

To get his mind off lusty thoughts and back on the subject at hand, he asked, “Don’t you know any men who cook?”

She sent him an incredulous look. “My father’s never even made his own coffee. I doubt he’d know how. And my fiancé took it for granted that cooking was a woman’s job.”

They’d almost reached the door, and Sawyer stopped dead in his tracks. His heart punched against his ribs; his thighs tightened. Without even realizing it, his hands gripped her hard as he turned her to face him. “You have a fiancé?”

Her eyes widened. The way he held her, practically on her tiptoes, pulled her off balance, and she braced her palms flat against his chest. He saw her pupils dilate as awareness of their positions sank in. “Sawyer…”

Her voice was a whisper, and he barely heard her over the roaring in his ears. He pulled her a little closer still, until her body was flush against his and her heartbeat mingled with his own. “Answer me, dammit. Are you engaged?”

She didn’t look frightened by his barbaric manner, which was a good thing since he couldn’t seem to get himself in hand. That word fiancé was bouncing off his brain with all the subtlety of a bass drum. If she was going to be married soon…

“Not…not anymore.”

“What?” He was so rattled, he wasn’t at all sure he understood.

“I’m not engaged, not anymore.”

Something turbulent and dangerous inside him settled, but in its place was a sudden blast of violent heat, an awareness of how much her answer had mattered to him.

He looked down at her mouth, saw her parted lips tremble, and he went right over the edge. He leaned down until he could feel her warm breath on his mouth, fast and low, and the vibrancy of her expectation, her own awareness.

And then he kissed her.

CHAPTER FIVE

HONEY CLUTCHED at him, straining to make the contact more complete. Her blanket fell to the floor in a puddle around her feet. She barely noticed.

She didn’t think about what was happening, and she didn’t think about pulling away. Overwhelmed by pure sensation, by heat and need she’d never experienced before, she wanted only to get closer. She’d thought the attraction was one-sided, but now, feeling the faint trembling in Sawyer’s hard body, she knew he was affected, too.

Sawyer’s mouth was warm and firm, and he teased, barely touching her, giving her time to change her mind, to pull back. Until she groaned.

There was an aching stillness for half a heartbeat, then his mouth opened on hers, voraciously hungry, and his hands slid around to her back, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe. She felt the hot slide of his tongue and the more brazen press of his swollen sex against her belly. A delicious sensation of yearning unfurled inside her, making her thighs tingle and her toes curl. Her fever was back, hotter than ever.

A knock sounded on the door.

They both jumped apart, Sawyer with a short vicious curse, Honey with a strained gasp. She almost fell as her feet tangled in the forgotten blanket, and would have if Sawyer hadn’t reached out and snagged her close again. He stared down into her face, his expression hard, his gaze like glittering ice, then called out, “What?”

The door opened and Jordan stuck his head in. He took one look at them, made a sheepish face and started to pull it shut again.

Sawyer caught the doorknob, keeping the door open. “What is it?”

Honey fumbled for the blanket, wishing she could pull it completely over her head and hide. It was so obvious Jordan knew exactly what he’d interrupted. Yet she’d only known Sawyer a day and a half, less if you counted how much she’d slept.

It didn’t matter to her body, and not really to her heart.

“Dinner’ll be ready in about ten minutes.” Jordan glanced at her, gave a small smile at her fumbling efforts to cover herself and again tried to sidle out.

“Can you make it twenty?” Sawyer asked, apparently not the least uncomfortable, or else hiding it very well. “She was just about to bathe.”

Jordan slanted her an appraising look, and Honey wanted to kick Sawyer. She was off balance, both emotionally and physically. That kiss…wow. She’d never known anything like it. How the hell could he stand there and converse so easily when she could barely get the words to register in her fogged brain? And how could he manage to embarrass her like that?

Firmly, but with a distinct edge to her croaking voice, she said, “I don’t want you to hold up dinner on my account.” She made a shooing motion with her free hand, trying to be nonchalant. “Just go on and eat. Really.”

Jordan caught her fluttering hand and grinned. “Nonsense. We can wait. Morgan is running a little late, anyway. He had some trouble in town.”

She felt Sawyer shift and tighten his arm around her. “What kind of trouble?”

“Nothing serious. A cow got loose from the Morrises’ property and wandered into the churchyard. Traffic was backed up for a mile.”

Honey tilted her head, thrilled for a change of topic. “The cow was blocking traffic?”

“No. Everyone just stopped to gawk. Around here, a cow on the loose is big news.” Then, with a totally straight face and a deadpan voice, Jordan added, “Luckily, the cow wasn’t spooked too badly by all the attention.”

Honey bit back her smile.

At that moment, the cat leaped off the bed to twine around Jordan’s ankles. Without even looking down, he scooped up the small pet and cuddled her close, encouraging the melodic, rumbling purr. To Honey, he said, “Go on and take your bath. There’s no rush.”

They stepped into the hallway en masse, two powerful men, an ecstatic cat and a woman wrapped head to toes in a blanket. They nearly collided with Casey, who was liberally caked in mud. He’d removed his shoes so he wasn’t tracking anything in, but mud was on his legs clear to his knees. The shirt he’d worn, thanks to her interference—she still didn’t know what had come over her—was dirt- and sweat-stained. He looked more like a man than ever.

Holding up both hands, Casey said, “Don’t come too close. The fields are drenched and muddy as hell…uh, heck. And half that mud is on me.”

Jordan clapped him on the back. “Well, you’ll have to use Gabe’s shower, because the little lady wants a bath.”

Casey stared at her.

Honey deduced that the phenomenon of having a female bathing in the all-male household warranted nearly as much attention as a cow on the loose.

Her face was getting redder by the second. If she didn’t have a fever, she soon would. Never in her life had bathing been such an ordeal, or been noted and discussed by so many males.

The front door slammed, and not long after, Morgan rounded the hall, already stripping his shirt off with frustrated, jerky movements. Powerful, bulky muscles rippled across his broad shoulders and heavy chest as he stamped around the corner of the hall. He had his hands on the button to his tan uniform slacks when he realized he had an audience.

He didn’t look the least discomforted at being caught undressing in the middle of the day, in the middle of the house, in front of a crowd.

“Sorry,” he grumbled without an ounce of sincerity, and yanked his belt free. “I’m just heading for the shower. It must be ninety out there, and the damn humidity makes it feel like a sauna.” He pointed an accusing finger at Jordan. “It was only the thought of a cool shower that kept me from kicking that damn ornery heifer, who no matter what I tried, refused to budge her big spotted butt.”

Jordan laughed out loud, gleefully explaining, “Your shower will have to wait because—”

Honey, knowing good and well he intended to announce her bath once again, pulled loose from Sawyer and stomped on Jordan’s toe. Since he had on shoes and she didn’t, he looked more surprised than hurt. He stared down at his foot, but then so did the rest of the men. They all looked as if they expected to see a bug to account for her attack. When no bug was found, all those masculine gazes transferred to her face, and she lifted her chin. Just because they were men didn’t mean they had to wallow in insensitivity.

Jordan blinked at her, one brow raised high, and she quickly stepped back to Sawyer’s side.

Her bravado wilted under Jordan’s questioning gaze. Oh, God, she’d assaulted him! In his own home and in front of his family. Sawyer chuckled and put his arm around her.

Morgan stared at her with bad-tempered amusement. “Wanting a long soak, huh? I suppose I can use Gabe’s shower…”

Casey stepped forward. “After me. I claimed it first.”

“I’m older, brat.”

“Doesn’t matter!” And then Casey took off, racing for the shower. With a curse, Morgan started after him.

Honey wanted to slink back to bed and hide. The bath, which had sounded so heavenly moments before, now just seemed like a form of public humiliation. She was tired and her throat hurt and her head was beginning to ache. She turned to Sawyer, stammering, “I can wait.”

Sawyer stared at her mouth.

Jordan stepped up and steered them both down the hall as if they were nitwits who needed direction. “Nonsense. Go take your soak. You’ll feel better afterward.” He limped pathetically as he walked, and Honey had the sneaking suspicion he did it on purpose, just to rattle her, not because she’d actually hurt him.

They were a strange lot—but she liked them anyway.

WARMWATER covered her to her chin, and she sighed in bliss. Finally, she felt clean again.

Where Sawyer had found the bubble bath, she didn’t know, but she seriously doubted any of his brothers would lay claim to it. She smiled, wondering what they all thought of her. From the little bit she’d seen of them, they had a lot of similarities, yet they were each so different, too.

Of course, that might make sense considering their mother was evidently remarried. Honey couldn’t imagine marrying once, much less twice. After the way her fiancé had used her, she wanted nothing to do with matrimony.

“You all right in there?”

“I’m fine. Go away.”

“Just checking.”

She smiled again. Sawyer had been hovering outside her door for the entire five minutes she’d been in the tub. He was something of a mother hen, which probably accounted for his chosen profession. He was meant to be a doctor. Everything about him spoke of a natural tendency to nurture. She liked it; she liked him. Too much.

The ultrahot kiss… Well, she just didn’t know what to think of it. Her lips still tingled and she licked them, savoring the memory of his taste. She’d almost married Alden, yet he’d never kissed her like that. And she’d certainly never thought about him the way she thought about Sawyer.

She’d known Alden two years and yet had never really wanted him. Not the way she wanted Sawyer after less than two days.

What would have happened if Jordan hadn’t interrupted? Anything, nothing? She simply wasn’t familiar enough with men to know. Not that familiarity would have helped, because she knew, even in her feverish state and even without a wealth of experience, Sawyer was different from most men. He was unique, a wonderful mix of pure rugged masculinity and incredible sensitivity.

He’d run the bathwater for her, placed a mat on the floor and fresh towels at hand and stacked her cleaned jeans and T-shirt on the toilet seat. All without mentioning the kiss and without getting too close to her. After he’d gotten everything ready, he’d looked at her, shook his head, then left with the admonition she should take as long as she liked, but not so long she got dizzy or overtired herself.

She intended to linger just a few minutes more. In all likelihood, the brothers would hold dinner for her. From all indications they enjoyed the novelty of having a woman underfoot and wouldn’t pass up this opportunity to make her the center of attention again, as if she alone was the sole entertainment. She wasn’t used to it, but she supposed she’d manage. For now, they were probably still organizing their own bath schedule, but how long would that take? Alden had always taken very short showers, his bathing a business, not a pleasure, whereas she’d always loved lingering in the water, sometimes soaking for hours.

She drained the tub and stepped out onto the mat. The steamy bath had relieved her throat some, and her muscles felt less achy after the soak. The towel Sawyer had provided was large and soft, and she wrapped herself in it, wishing she could just go back to bed and sleep for hours but knowing she wouldn’t. She wanted to learn more about the brothers, she wanted to see the rest of the house and she needed to decide what to do.

She saw the edge of her peach panties showing from under the shirt, and she blushed. Somehow, the fact that Sawyer was now familiar with her underwear made their entire situation even more intimate, which meant more dangerous if she was honest with herself. How long would it take someone to figure out she was here? In a town this small, surely news traveled fast. Any strangers in town would have no problem finding her.

If she were smart, she’d forget her attraction to Sawyer, which weakened her resolve, and hightail it away as soon as possible.

“You about done in there?”

There was a slightly wary command to Sawyer’s tone now. She grinned and called out, “Be right there. I’m getting dressed.”

Silence vibrated between them, and Honey could just imagine where his thoughts had gone. She bit her bottom lip. Sawyer was too virile for his own good.

She heard him clear his throat. “Do you need any help?”

She almost choked, but ended up coughing as she finished smoothing her T-shirt into place. She pulled the door open and said to his face, “Nope.”

His gaze moved over her slowly, from the top of her head, where she had braided her long hair and then knotted it to keep it dry, to her T-shirt and down her jeans to her bare feet.

She bit her lip. “I don’t know what happened to my sandals.”

“Gone.”

“Gone?”

He shook himself, then met her steady gaze. “Yeah. One fell off in the lake and sank. The other might still be in your car—I dunno. At the time, I wasn’t overly worried about it, not with an unconscious woman in my arms.”

“Ah.”

“You’re not wearing a bra.”

“You can tell?” She quickly crossed her arms over her chest and started to go back into the bathroom to look for herself in the mirror. Sawyer caught her.

He slowly pulled her arms away and held them to her sides. She didn’t stop him. Everything she’d just told herself about staying detached faded into oblivion under his hot, probing gaze.

There they stood in the middle of the hallway, only a foot apart, and somehow fear, sickness and worry didn’t exist. All she could think of was whether or not he’d kiss her again, and if he found her satisfactory. She’d always been pleased with her body, but then, she wasn’t a man.

In a hoarse tone, he noted, “You have goose bumps.” Gently, his big, rough hands chaffed up and down her bare arms.

“The…the house is cold.”

He lifted one broad shoulder. “We keep the air-conditioning pretty low this time of year. Men are naturally warmer than women. Especially when the woman is so slight. I’ll get one of my shirts for you to put on.”

Excitement at the way he watched her made it impossible to speak. She nodded instead.

“You two going to stand there all day gawking? I’m starved.”

Sawyer swiveled his head to look at Gabe. He still held Honey’s arms. “How can you be starving when you didn’t do anything all day?”

“I cooked rolls this morning, fixed your leak, then visited three women. That’s a busy day in anyone’s book.” He grinned, then asked, “Should I just drag the table in here so we can all gather in the hallway? Is that what we’re doing?”

Sawyer narrowed his gaze at his brother, but there was no menace in the look. “I have an appointment with Darlene tomorrow so she can get her flu shot. Maybe I’ll mention your fondness for Mississippi mud pie. I hear Darlene’s quite a cook.”

Gabe took a step back, his grin replaced with a look of pure horror. “You fight dirty, Sawyer, you know that?”

Honey was amazed at the amount of grudging respect in Gabe’s tone, as if fighting dirty impressed him. And then he stomped away. Sawyer laughed.

She wondered if she would ever understand this unique clan of men. She looked up at Sawyer. “What in the world was that all about?”

A half smile tilted his mouth. “Darlene has the hots for Gabe and she’s looking to get married. She’s been chasing him pretty hard for a while. Gabe has this old-fashioned sense of gallantry toward women, so he can’t quite bring himself to come right out and tell her to leave him alone. He remains cautiously polite, and she remains determined.”

“So if you mentioned a pie…”

“She’d be here every day with one.” He grinned again and gently started her on her way. He moved slowly to accommodate her. The bath had tired her more than she wanted to admit, even to herself. Being sick or weak wasn’t an easy concept to accept. Not for Honey.

“Why doesn’t Gabe like her?”

“He likes her fine. She’s a very attractive woman, beautiful even. Gabe went through school with her. I sometimes think that’s the problem for him. He knows all the women around here so well. Gabe doesn’t want to get serious about anyone, so he tries to avoid the women who are too obvious.”

“Darlene’s obvious?”

Sawyer shrugged. “Where Gabe’s concerned, they all are. Darlene was just the first name to come to mind.”

“Then she won’t really be here tomorrow?”

“Nope.” He put his arm around her waist and offered his support. “Come on, let’s get that shirt and get to dinner so the savages can eat. If I leave them hungry too long, they’re liable to turn on each other.”

SAWYERWATCHEDHER nibble delicately on her meal. And he watched his brothers watch her, amused that they were all so distracted by her. She looked uncomfortable with all the notice, but she didn’t stomp on any more toes.

He doubted she had the energy for that. Her face was pale, her eyes dark with fatigue. Yet she refused to admit it. She had a lot of backbone, he’d give her that. As soon as she finished eating, he planned to tuck her back up in bed where she belonged.

He sat across from her—a deliberate choice so he could watch her. Gabe sat beside him, Casey sat beside her, with Morgan and Jordan at the head and foot of the table.

She’d been all round eyes and female amazement as she’d looked at the house on the way to the kitchen. Her appreciation warmed him. Most women who got through the front door were bemused with the styling of the house, all exposed pine and high ceilings and masculine functionality. The house wasn’t overly excessive, but it was certainly comfortable for a family of large men. It had been his father’s dream home, and his mother had readily agreed to it. At least, that’s how she liked to tell it.

Sawyer grinned, because in truth, he knew there were few things his mother ever did readily. She was a procrastinator and liked to think things over thoroughly. Unlike his guest, who’d barreled through his fence and landed in his lake and then proceeded to try to slug him.

Sawyer noticed Morgan staring at him, and he wiped the grin off his face.

He returned his gaze to Honey and saw her look around the large kitchen. They never used the dining room, not for daily meals. But the kitchen was immense, one of the largest rooms in the house, and the place where they all seemed to congregate most often. For that reason they had a long pine table that could comfortably seat eight, as well as a short bar with three stools that divided the eating area from the cooking area. Pots hung on hooks, accessible, and along the outside wall there was a row of pegs that held everything from hats and jackets to car and truck keys. The entire house had black checked curtains at the windows, but the ones in the kitchen were never closed. With the kitchen on the same side of the house as his bedroom, there was always a view of the lake. His mother had planned it that way because, she claimed, looking at the lake made the chore of doing dishes more agreeable. After they’d gotten older and all had to take their turn, they’d agreed. Then they’d gotten a dishwasher, but still there were times when one or more of them would be caught there, drinking a glass of milk or snacking and staring at the placid surface of the lake.

Honey shifted, peeking up through her lashes to find a lot of appreciative eyes gazing at her. She glanced back down with a blush. She was an enticing mix of bravado and shyness, making demands one minute, pink-cheeked the next.

He liked seeing his shirt on her, this one a soft, worn flannel in shades of blue that did sexy things for her eyes. And he liked the way her heavy hair half tumbled down her nape, escaping the loose knot and braid, with silky strands draping her shoulders.

She didn’t look as chilled, and he wondered if her nipples were still pebbled, if they pressed against his shirt.

His hand shook and he dropped his fork, taking the attention away from Honey. To keep his brothers from embarrassing him with lurid comments on his state of preoccupation, he asked Honey, “How come your car was filled with stuff, but no clothes?”

She swallowed a tiny bite of chicken and shrugged. She’d drunk nearly a full glass of tea but only picked at her food. “I left in a hurry. And that stuff was already in my car.”

Sawyer glanced around and saw the same level of confusion on his brothers’ faces that he felt.

Morgan pushed his empty plate away and folded his arms on the edge of the table. “Why was the stuff already in your car?”

She coughed, drank some tea, rubbed her forehead. Finally she looked at Morgan dead on. “Because I hadn’t unloaded it yet.” She aligned her fork carefully beside her plate and asked in her low, rough voice, “Why did you decide to become a sheriff?”

He looked bemused for just a moment, the customary scowl gone from his face. “It suited me.” His eyes narrowed and he asked, “What do you mean you hadn’t unloaded it? Unloaded it from where?”

“I’d just left my fiancé that very week. All I’d unloaded out of the car were my clothes and the things I needed right away. Before I could get the rest of the boxes out, I had to leave again. So the stuff was still in there. What do you mean, being a sheriff suits you? In what way?”

Her question was momentarily ignored while a silence as loud as a thunderclap hovered over the table. No one moved. No one spoke. All the brothers were watching Sawyer.

He drew a low breath. “She’s not engaged anymore.”

Gabe looked surprised. “She’s not?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Morgan demanded. “What happened?”

Before Sawyer could form an answer, Honey turned very businesslike. “What do you mean, being a sheriff suits you?”

A small, ruthless smile touched Morgan’s mouth as he caught on to her game. He leaned forward. “I get to call the shots since I’m the sheriff. People have to do what I say, and I like it. Why did you leave your fiancé?”

“I found out he didn’t love me. And what makes you think people have to obey you? Do you mean you lord your position over them? You take advantage?”

“On occasion. Did you love your fiancé?”

“As it turns out…no. What occasions?”

Morgan didn’t miss a beat. “Like the time I knew Fred Barker was knocking his wife around, but she wouldn’t complain. I found him drunk in town and locked him up. Every time I catch him drinking, I run him through the whole gambit of sobriety tests. And I find a reason to heavily fine him when I can’t stick him in jail. He found out drinking was too expensive, and sober, he doesn’t abuse his wife.” He tilted his head. “If you didn’t love the guy, why the hell were you engaged to him in the first place?”

“For reasons of my own. If you—”

“Uh-uh. Not good enough, honey. What reasons?”

“None of your business.”

His voice became silky and menacing. “You’re afraid to tell me?”

“No.” She stared down her nose at him. Even with dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes and her hair more down than up, the look was effectively condescending. “I just don’t like being provoked. And you’re doing it deliberately.”

Morgan burst out laughing—a very rare occurrence—and dropped back in his chair. The way Jordan and Gabe stared at him, amazed, only made him laugh harder.

Sawyer appreciated the quick way she turned the tables on his dominating brother. It didn’t happen often, and almost never with women. Evidently, Morgan had been amused by her, too, because he could be the most ruthless bastard around when it suited him. Sawyer was glad he hadn’t had to intervene. He wouldn’t have let Morgan badger her, but he had been hoping Morgan could get some answers.

He found Honey could be very closemouthed when it suited her. It amazed him that she could look almost pathetically frail and weak one moment, then mean as a junkyard dog the next.

Gabe waved his fork. “Morgan does everything deliberately. It’s annoying, but it does make him a good sheriff. He doesn’t react off the cuff, if you know what I mean.”

Jordan looked at Sawyer. “Not to change the subject—”

Morgan snorted. “As if you could.”

“—but do we have anything for dessert?”

“Yeah.” Sawyer watched Honey as he answered, aware of her new tension. She wasn’t crazy about discussing her personal life, but he had no idea how much of it had to do with her claimed threats or the possibility of a lingering affection for her ex. His jaw tightened, and he practically growled, “Frosted brownies.”

Jordan sat back. “They’re no good?”

“They’re fine. And in case none of you noticed, there’s a new pig in the barnyard.”

Honey started, the tension leaving her as confusion took its place. “A pig?”

“Yeah.” Casey finished off a glass of milk, then poured another. He was a bottomless pit, and growing more so each day. “Some of the families can’t afford to pay cash, so they pay Dad in other ways. It keeps us Adam’s apple high in desserts, which is good, but sometimes we end up with more farm animals than we can take care of. We have horses, and they’re no problem, but the goats and pigs and stuff, they can be a nuisance.”

Jordan looked at Sawyer. “The Mensons could use a pig. They had to sell off a lot of stock lately to build a new barn after theirs almost collapsed from age.”

Sawyer continued to watch Honey, concerned that she was pushing herself too hard. At the moment, she didn’t look ill so much as astonished. He grinned. Buckhorn was a step back in time, a close community that worked together, which he liked, but it would take some getting used to for anyone out of the area. “Feel free, Jordan. Hell, the last thing I want is another animal to take care of.”

“They’ll insist on paying something, but I’ll make it real cheap.”

“Trade for some of Mrs. Menson’s homemade rock candy. Tell her I give it away to the kids when they come, and I’m nearly out.”

“Good idea.”

Honey looked around the table at all of them as Casey went to the counter to get the brownies. Her face was so expressive, even before she spoke, he knew she was worried. “You know everyone around here?”

With a short nod, Sawyer confirmed her suspicions. “We know them, and most people in the surrounding areas. Buckhorn only boasts seven hundred people, give or take a couple dozen or so.”

Suddenly she blurted out, “Have you told anyone about me?” and Sawyer knew she was talking to everyone, not just him. What the hell was she so afraid of?

Casey dropped a brownie on the side of her plate, but she barely seemed to notice. Her hands were clenched together on the edge of the table while she waited for an answer.

“Dad told me not to say anything to anyone,” Casey offered, when no one else spoke up. “So far, I’d say no one knows about you.”

“Why do you care?” Sawyer waited, but he knew she wouldn’t tell him a damn thing. “Is it because you think these people you claim want to hurt you might follow you here?”

Morgan, still lounging back in his chair, rubbed his chin. “I could run a check on you, you know.”

She snorted over that. “If you can, then you already have. But you didn’t find anything, did you?”

He shrugged, disgruntled by her response to what had amounted to a threat. She didn’t threaten easily.

Jordan leaned forward. “You say someone is after you. Could it be this fiancé of yours?”

“Ex-fiancé,” Sawyer clarified, then suffered through the resultant snorts and snickers from his demented brothers.

“I thought so at first. He…well, he wasn’t happy that I broke things off. He was actually pretty nasty about it, if you want the truth.”

“Truth would be nice.”

She glared at Sawyer so ferociously, he almost smiled. But not quite.

“I think it wounded his pride or something,” she explained. “But regardless of how he carried on, my father is certain it couldn’t be him.”

“Why?”

“If you’d ever met Alden, you’d know he doesn’t have a physically aggressive bone in his body. He’d hardly indulge in a dangerous chase. He’s ambitious, intelligent, one of my father’s top men. And my father pointed out how concerned Alden is with appearances and that he’d hardly be the type to cause a scene or run the risk of making the news.” She shrugged. “That’s what my father likes most about him.”

Sawyer curled his lip, more angered at her father’s lack of support than anything else. “Alden? He sounds like a preppy.”

“He is a preppy. Very into the corporate image and climbing the higher social ladder, though I didn’t always know that. My father scoffed at the idea that Alden would chase me because regardless of his temper, I wouldn’t be that important to him in his grand scheme of things.”

He watched her face and knew she was holding something back, but what? Sawyer pushed her, hoping to find answers. “Even though you walked out on him?”

“I left, I didn’t walk out.”

“What the hell’s the difference?”

She sighed wearily. “You make it sound like I staged a dramatic exit. It wasn’t like that at all. I found out he didn’t care about me, I packed up my stuff, wrote him a polite note and left.”

Her body was tense, her expression carefully neutral. Sawyer narrowed his gaze. “Why did he ask you to marry him in the first place if he didn’t care about you?”

She closed up on him, her face going blank, and Sawyer knew she still didn’t trust him, didn’t trust any of them. It made him so angry his hands curled into fists. He wasn’t the violent type, but right now, he would relish one of Morgan’s barroom brawls.

Sawyer surged to his feet to pace. He wanted to shake her; he wanted to pull her up against his body, feel her softness and kiss her silly again until she stopped resisting him, until she stopped fighting. He tightened his thighs, trying for an ounce of logic. “How in hell are we supposed to figure this out if you won’t even answer a few simple questions?”

Morgan leaned back and stacked his hands behind his head. Jordan propped his chin on a fist. Gabe lifted one brow.

“You’re not supposed to figure anything out.” Honey drew a deep breath, watching him steadily. “You’re just supposed to let me go.”

CHAPTER SIX

SAWYER’S DARK EYES glittered with menace, and his powerful body tensed.

Watching him with an arrested expression, Morgan murmured, “Fascinating.”

Jordan, also watching, said, “Shh.”

Honey turned to Gabe, ignoring the other brothers, and especially Sawyer’s astounding reaction to her refusal of help. She couldn’t look at him without hurting, without wishing things could be different. She’d known him almost no time at all, yet she felt as if she’d known him forever. He’d managed, without much effort, to forge a permanent place in her memory. After she was gone, she’d miss him horribly.

Gabe grinned at her. It seemed they all loved to be provoking, but she wasn’t up to another round. All the questions on Alden had shaken her. She’d tried to answer without telling too much, juggling her replies so that Sawyer might be appeased but at the same time wouldn’t learn too much. Alden had been so vicious about her refusal to come back to him, to continue on with the marriage, she didn’t dare involve anyone else in her troubles, especially not Sawyer, until she better understood the full risk, and why it existed in the first place.

She’d been looking blankly at Gabe for some time now, and she cleared her throat. “Does your handyman expertise extend to cars?”

“Sure.”

Jordan kicked him under the table. Honey knew it, but in light of everything else they’d done, it didn’t seem that strange or important.

While Gabe rubbed his shin and glared daggers at Jordan, Sawyer stalked over to her side of the table. With every pump of her heart, she was aware of him standing so close. She could feel his heat, breathe his scent, unique above and beyond the other brothers, who each pulsed with raw vitality. But her awareness, her female sensitivity, was attuned to Sawyer alone. Her skin flushed as if he’d stroked those large, rough hands down her body, when in fact he’d done no more than stand there, gazing down at her.

When she refused to meet his gaze, he propped both hands on his hips and loomed over her. “Gabe can fix your car, but you’re not going anywhere until I’m satisfied that it’s safe, which means you’re going to have to quit stalling and explain some things.”

Honey sighed again and tilted her head back to see him. Sawyer was so tall, even when standing she was barely even with his collarbone. Since she was sitting, he seemed as tall as a mountain. She really was tired of getting the third degree by overpowering men. “Sawyer, how can I explain what I don’t understand myself?”

“Maybe if you’d just tell us what you do understand, we could come up with something that makes sense.”

Leave it to a man to think he could understand what a woman couldn’t. Her father had always been the same, so condescending, ready to discount her input on everything. And Alden. She shuddered at her own stupidity in ever agreeing to marry the pompous ass. Now that she’d met Sawyer and seen how caring a man could be…

With a groan she leaned forward, elbows on the table, and covered her face with her hands.

She was getting in too deep, making comparisons she shouldn’t make. Morgan was right, he could start tracking her down. And since she didn’t know what the threat was, only that it was serious, it was entirely possible he’d accidentally lead the threat to her—and to this family. She couldn’t have that.

Car keys hung accessible on the wall by the back door. Sawyer wouldn’t be sleeping in the same room with her tonight; there was no need. She’d have to take advantage of the opportunity. She’d borrow one of their vehicles, go into town and then get a bus ticket. She could leave a note telling Sawyer where to find his car.

Just the thought of leaving distressed her on so many levels, she knew she had to go as soon as possible, whether she felt up to it physically or not.

Sawyer evidently wanted her for a fling; he’d made his interest very obvious with that last kiss. He’d also indicated he found her to be a royal pain in the backside, and no wonder, considering she’d wrecked his fence and left a rusted car in his lake, along with taking his bed and keeping him up at night. When he wasn’t watching her with sexual heat in his dark eyes, he was frowning at her with unadulterated frustration.

She felt the same incredible chemistry between them, but she also felt so much more. He had the family life she’d always wondered about, the closeness and camaraderie, the sharing and support that she’d always believed to be a mere fairy tale. So often she’d longed for the lifestyle he possessed. And he was that special kind of man who not only accepted that lifestyle, but also contributed to it, a driving force in making it work for everyone.

She found Sawyer very sexually appealing, but he also felt safe and comforting. Security was a natural part of him, something built into his genetic makeup. And after the way her engagement had ended, she would never settle for half measures again, not when there was so much more out there.

She heard the shifting of masculine feet, a few rumbling questions, then Sawyer leaned down, his hand gently cradling the back of her head. “Honey?”

With new resolution she pushed her chair back, forcing Sawyer to move. “You’re not going to let up on this, are you?”

Morgan snorted. Sawyer shook his head.

“All right.” With an exaggerated sigh, she looked down, trying to feign weary defeat when inside she teemed with determination. “I’ll tell you anything I can. But it’s a long, complicated story. Couldn’t it wait until the morning?”

She peeked up and caught Sawyer’s suspicious frown. With a forced cough that quickly turned real, she said, “My throat is already sore. And I’m so tired.”

Just that easily, Sawyer was swayed. He took her arm and helped her away from the table. “The morning will be fine. You’ve overdone it today.”

By morning, she’d be long gone. And once she got to the next town, she’d contact her sister and let her know she was all right, then she could go with her original plan. She’d hire a private detective and pay him to figure out what was going on while she stayed tucked away, and those she cared about would stay safely uninvolved. She’d never forget this incredible family of men…but they would quickly forget her.

“Sawyer…” Morgan said in clear warning, obviously not pleased with the plan. Honey knew that particular brother couldn’t care less if she was sick. Even though she wasn’t really that sick, not anymore. But he didn’t know it.

“It’s under control, Morgan.” Sawyer’s tone brooked no arguments.

Morgan did hesitate, but then he forged on. “I know Honey’s still getting over whatever ails her, but we really do need—”

With a loud gasp, she froze, then stiffened as his words sank in. Slowly, she turned to face Morgan. “You know my name.”

There was no look of guilt on his hard, handsome face, just an enigmatic frown.

Sawyer shook his head in irritation while glaring at Morgan. “Around here, everything female is called honey.”

Casey nodded. “We’ve got an old mule out in the field that Jordan named Honey because that’s all she’d answer to.”

She almost laughed at the sincerity on Casey’s face, but instead she pulled free of Sawyer’s hold and blazed an accusation. “He wasn’t using an endearment. He was using my name.”

Morgan shrugged. “Honey Malone. Yeah, I went through your purse.”

Her eyes widened. “You admit it? Just like that?” She nearly choked on resentment and coughed instead.

While Sawyer patted her on the back and Casey hurried to hand her a drink, Morgan said, “Why not?” He rolled his massive shoulders, not the least concerned with her ire. “You show up here under the most suspicious circumstances and you claim someone is trying to hurt you. Of course I wanted some facts. And how could I run that check on you if I didn’t have your name? I thought you’d already figured that out.”

Her mouth opened twice, but nothing came out. She should have realized he’d already gone through her things, only she’d been so busy trying to hold her own against him, and she’d taken his words as an idle threat, not a fait accompli. She was making a lot of stupid mistakes, trusting them all when she shouldn’t.

Tonight. She had to leave tonight.

Then she remembered her bare feet and wanted to groan. She couldn’t very well get on a bus without shoes. Maybe she could swipe a pair from Casey. She glanced at his feet and saw they were as large as Sawyer’s. Good grief, she was in a house of giants.

Sawyer tipped up her chin. “He only looked in your wallet to find your name. He didn’t go through every pocket or anything. Your privacy wasn’t invaded any more than necessary. Your purse is in the closet in my room, if you want to check and make sure nothing is missing.”

She ground her teeth together. “It isn’t that.” The last thing she was worried about was them stealing from her. She had little enough with her that was worth anything.

“Then what is it?”

She thought quickly, but trying to rationalize her behavior while the touch of Sawyer’s hand still lingered on her face was nearly impossible. Everything about him set her off, but especially his touch. No matter where his fingers lingered, she felt it everywhere. “I…I don’t have any shoes.”

He frowned down at her bare feet for a long moment. “Are your feet cold?”

She wanted to hit him, but instead she turned away. Her brain was far too muddled to keep this up. If she didn’t get away from him, she’d end up begging him to let her stay. “I’m going to bed now. Jordan, thank you for dinner.”

He answered in his low, mesmerizing voice, no less effective for the shortness of his reply. “My pleasure.”

She glanced at him. “I’d offer to help with the dishes, but I have the feeling—”

“Your offer would definitely be turned down.”

Sawyer released her, but added, “I’ll be in to check on you in a few minutes.”

The last thing she needed was to be tempted by him again. “No, thank you.”

He stared at her hard, his gaze unrelenting. “In a few minutes, Honey, so do whatever it is you feel you have to do before going to bed. I left the antibiotics and the ibuprofen on the bathroom counter so you wouldn’t forget to take them. After you’re settled, I want to listen to your chest again.”

There was a lot of ribald macho humor over that remark. Jordan choked down a laugh, and this time Gabe kicked him.

With a glare that encompassed them all, Honey stalked off. She was truly weary and wondering where in the world she was going to find shoes for her feet so she could steal a car and make her getaway from a group of large, overprotective, domineering men whom she didn’t really want to leave at all.

Gads, life had gotten complicated.

HEKNOCKEDon the door, but she didn’t answer. Sawyer assumed she was mad and ignoring him, not that he’d let her get away with it. He opened the door just a crack—and saw the bed was empty. She was gone. His first reaction was pure rage, tinged with panic, totally out of proportion, totally unexpected. He shoved the door wide and stalked inside, and then halted abruptly when he saw her. His gut tightened and his heart gave a small thump at the picture she presented.

Honey sat on the small patio outside his room. She had her feet curled up on a chair, her head resting to the side, and she was looking at the lake. Or maybe she wasn’t looking at anything at all. He couldn’t see her entire face, only a small part of her profile. She looked limp, totally wrung out, and it angered him again when he thought of her stubbornness, her refusal to let him help her.

No one had ever refused his help. He was the oldest, and his brothers relied on him for anything they might need, including advice. Casey got everything from him that he had to give. Members of the community sought him out when they needed help either with a medical problem or any number of other things. He was a figurehead in the town, on the town council and ready and willing to assist. He gave freely, whatever the need might be, considering it his right, part and parcel with who and what he was. But now, this one small woman wanted to shut him out. Like hell.

Her physical impact on his senses was staggering. But it was nothing compared to the damn emotional impact, because the emotions were the hardest to fight and to understand. If it was only sex he wanted, he’d drive over the county limits and take care of the need. But he wanted her specifically, and it was making him nuts.

Being summer, it was still light out at eight o’clock, but the sun was starting to sink in the sky, slowly dipping behind a tree-topped hill across the lake. The last rays of sunshine sent fiery ribbons of color over the smooth surface of the water. A few ducks swam by, and far out a fish jumped.

Sawyer went back and closed the bedroom door silently, drawn to her though he knew he should just walk away. As he passed the bathroom, he noticed her toothbrush, still wet, on the side of the sink, along with a damp washcloth over the spigot, and his comb that he’d lent her. Those things looked strangely natural in his private domain, as if they belonged. She’d evidently prepared for bed, then was lured—as he often was—by the incredible serenity of the lake.

Though the house had a very comfortable covered deck across the entire front and along one side by the kitchen, he’d still insisted on adding the small patio off his bedroom. In the evening, he often sat outside and just watched the night, waiting for the stars or the clouds to appear, enjoying the way mist rose from the lake to leave lingering dew on everything. The peacefulness of it would sink into his bones, driving away any restlessness. Many times his son or one of his brothers would join him. They didn’t talk, they just sat in peace together, enjoying the closeness.

He’d never shared a moment like this with a woman, not even his wife.

He approached Honey on silent feet. She looked melancholy and withdrawn, and for a long time he simply took in the sight of her. He’d seen her looking fatigued with illness and worry, and he’d seen her eyes snapping with anger or panic. He’d watched her cheeks warm with a blush, her brow pucker with worry over his son. He’d even seen her muster up her courage to embrace a verbal duel with Morgan. Sawyer had known her such a short time, but in that time, he had truly related to her. Whereas hours might be spent on a date, her health had dictated they bypass the cordial niceties of that convention, and their relationship had been intimate from the first. The effects were devastating. He’d already spent more time in her company than most men would through weeks of dating.

Every facet of her personality enthralled him more than it should have. He wanted to see her totally relaxed, without a worry, finally trusting him to take care of her and make things right.

And most of all, he wanted to see her face taut with fierce pleasure as he made love to her, long and slow and deep.

He slid the French door open, and she looked at him.

There were two outdoor chairs on his private patio, and he pulled one close to her. He spoke softly in deference to the quiet of the night and the quiet in her blue eyes. “You look pensive.”

“Hmm.” She turned to stare back out at the lake, tilting her head at the sound of the crickets singing in the distance. “I was…uneasy. But this is so calming, like having your problems washed away. It’s hard to maintain any energy out here, even for irritation.”

“You shouldn’t be irritated just because we want to help.”

Her golden brown lashes lowered over her eyes. “Dinner with your family was…interesting. Around our house, there was only my sister and me. It was always quiet, and if we talked, it was in whispers because the house was so silent. Dinner wasn’t a boisterous event.”

“We can take a little getting used to.”

She smiled. “No, I enjoyed myself. The contrast was wonderful, if that makes any sense.”

That amused him, because meals at home were always a time to laugh and grouse and share. She’d probably find a lot of contrasts, and he hoped she enjoyed them all. But it also made him sad, thinking of how lonely her life must have been. “It makes perfect sense,” he assured her.

“Good.”

Because it had surprised him, he added, “You held your own with my brothers.”

She laughed, closing her eyes lazily. “Yes. Morgan is a bully, but I have the feeling he’s fair.”

Sawyer considered her words and the way she’d spoken them. “Honorable might be a better word. Morgan can be very unfair when he’s convinced it’s for the best. He’s a no-holds-barred kind of man when he’s got a mission.”

Her long blond hair trailed over her shoulder all the way to her thigh, catching the glow of the setting sun as surely as the lake did. She tilted her chin up to a faint warm breeze, and his blood rushed at the instinctively feminine gesture and the look of bliss on her face. “It was so cold inside,” she whispered, “I wanted to feel the sunshine. I came out here to warm up, then couldn’t seem to make myself go back in.”

They did keep the air low, but not so much that she should be uncomfortable. He reached over and placed his palm on her forehead, then frowned. “You could be a little feverish again. Did you take the ibuprofen I left in the bathroom?”

“Yes, I did. And the antibiotic.” She blinked her eyes open and sighed. “Did I thank you for taking such good care of me, Sawyer?”

A low thrumming started in his veins, making his body throb. He could feel his own heartbeat, the acceleration of his pulse—just because she’d said his name. “I don’t know, but it isn’t necessary.”

“To me it is. Thank you.”

He swallowed down a groan. He wanted to lift her onto his lap and hold her for hours, just touching her, breathing in her spicy scent, which kept drifting to him in subtle, teasing whiffs. Right now, she smelled of sunshine and warmth and the musky scent of woman, along with a fragrance all her own, one that seemed to be seeping into his bones. It drove him closer to the edge and made him want to bury himself in the unique scent.

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