Sleepless in Montana Read Online Free PDF

these babies, maybe pour plaster over them or something and mass
produce them for tourist shops. I know...make candles like this.
Put some sage or wildflower scent into them.”
    With a sigh, Hogan took the statue away from
her. An early piece, Crying Woman held his young whimsy and dreams;
he’d kept it to remind him of when he’d wanted a home and family of
his own. Now, he felt old and worn and restless, and he didn’t like
the hard, quick way Jemma appraised his work, calculating dollars
and profit. “What television pilot?”
    She grinned at him. “That’s the beauty of it.
Carley thinks I need her support when I make my pilot effort. With
Ben’s illness going for us, one backup plan or the other will keep
Carley here, and she’s looking forward to her favorite Sasquatches
turning up. Until this is over, we’re all going to be one happy
family, like it or not.”
    Hogan leveled a look at her. “You keep
forgetting that you’re not one of the family.”
    Familiar with Jemma’s money-making schemes,
Hogan studied her. He’d seen her work, driving hard; he’d seen her
play men to give nothing and get everything. Jemma could be
seductive and feminine, and sometimes she played that game with his
brothers, who obviously enjoyed her teasing. Hogan didn’t. Jemma’s
agile mind almost frightened him.
    “Don’t tell me. You’ve found some
hot-pants-for-brains backer for another can’t-lose project. You’re
going to make money while we’re protecting Carley. Waste not, want
not, right?”
    “I just love it when you look like that, as
if waiting for a ton of bricks to fall on you and not knowing which
way to run.”
    She threw out her arms, and her husky
laughter echoed in the shadowy room. “You got it. I’m going to be
‘Fly Fisher Woman.’ If this works out, I’ll be peddling a weekly
television segment on Montana fly-fishing. You know, teach women
how to do it. Who knows? Maybe I can set up vacation fly-fishing
schools, get my name on rods and reels? How’d you like that idea,
Jemma’s Rods and Reels?”
    Hogan closed his eyes for a moment. For a
moment, he almost felt dizzy. He reached for his glass of wine and
quickly took a sip.
    Her eyes gleamed at him as she shot out her
hands. “I could develop a whole resort idea off this. Health
retreats, meditation, couple getaways...”
    Hogan stared at her. Jemma always could stop
his thoughts. When they started to move again, he tried for a calm
tone and realized it came out strangled. “Unless you’ve changed,
you’ve never liked the outdoors. When did you learn how to fly
fish?”
    “Phooey, smooey. I never have. I’ve never
known how to do most of the things I’ve done, including working on
a trawler off the coast, or shucking oysters. But all of you
Kodiaks know how to fish just great. I’ve got until July to learn.
Les doesn’t want to get caught in a freak snowstorm, and I’ve
promised him beautiful weather. I remember watching all of you
while I was lying on the bank reading fashion magazines.”
    When she looked at him and blinked her
lashes, a cold chill ran up Hogan’s back. Jemma always had that
look when she was playing someone.
    “You were the best,” she said, “or at least a
close second to Ben. I don’t want him mad at me— he’s got that thin
Kodiak patience— so you’re the logical choice. Mitch and Aaron are
likely to lose it too quick. You’ve always been the coolest of the
lot, though you’ve lost it once or twice with me. You get to teach
me, bud.”
    Hogan almost choked again; he had just sipped
wine to steady his nerves. The idea of Jemma slinging a fly rod,
line, and hooks around his head gave him the chills. “Not a
chance.”
    “I want to be here for Carley, Hogan,” Jemma
said softly. “I can’t afford to take time away from work—”
    He eyed Jemma. She’d never failed to slash
through the easy, planned rhythms of his life. “You should have
that first million by now, the way you’re going. What