A Man Apart (10 page)

“To Wyoming to confer with Adam, then back to Montana,” he said, working hard to control the anger and frustration building inside him.

“So you're driving back to Baltimore tonight…or have you booked a hotel here in the city?”

Justin couldn't read her expression, as she had raised her cup to her mouth, concealing the lower half of her face from him. But her voice was even more detached, cooler. The distant sound of it fanned the flame of his anger. What was she play
ing at, looking, speaking as if they were nothing more than casual acquaintances, when it had been less than a month since they had been passionate lovers?

Well, Justin decided, getting to his feet and circling the table to her, he wasn't about to play along. He had been missing her something fierce from the moment she had driven away from him in Deadwood.

Hell, he had tossed and turned every night, even dreamed about holding her, caressing her, kissing her. Damned if he was going to walk away without tasting her.

Coiling his hands around her upper arms, he drew her up, out of her chair, pulling her body against his.

“Justin…what…” Hannah began, her voice no longer cool, but surprised by his action.

“I think you know what,” he murmured, sliding his arms around her to bring her to him, and lowering his head to crush her mouth with his.

He had meant it to be a forceful kiss, but the instant his lips made contact with hers, he gentled, drinking in the taste, the scent, the feel of her. It was like coming home, where he belonged.

The alien sensation rattled Justin deep inside.
After the blow Angie had delivered, he'd never believed he would feel such a way again.

Justin was on the point of lifting his head, breaking his near-desperate contact with her mouth, when Hannah curled her arms tightly around his neck and speared her fingers into his hair.

Needing to breathe, Justin raised his head just far enough to gaze into Hannah's eyes. “No, I am not driving back to Baltimore tonight, nor have I booked a room here in the city,” he said between quick indrawn breaths. “I was hoping you'd let me spend the night here. With you. In your bed.”

“Justin, I…I…”

Her eyes were warm, almost misty, the way they had looked every time she was aroused. Hannah wanted him, maybe almost as much as he wanted her. Justin knew it. Relieved, he silenced her with the brush of his mouth, back and forth over hers.

“Hannah,” he whispered against her parted lips, into her mouth. “I'm on fire for you. Come to bed with me.”

“Justin…”

He silenced her again, damn near terrified she was going to refuse. He ached, not only from the
steadily growing, hardening of his body, but inside. He stifled a groan when she pulled her head back.

“Justin, wait, listen,” she pleaded, her fingers tangling in his hair, hanging on as though she was afraid he'd let her go. “We haven't cleared the dinner things away—or had dessert.”

He laughed, because it sounded so…Hannah. And because the exultation filling him had to escape.

He smiled and rested his forehead against hers. “It wouldn't be the first time, sweet Hannah. As we did before, many times before, we can clean it up later. And we can have the dessert for breakfast.”

“Dessert for breakfast?” She pretended shock.

Laughing softly, Justin began an exploration of the fine, satiny skin of her face with his lips. “What I brought will do fine for breakfast, or for dessert after breakfast.”

Laughing with him, in a sure sign of her surrender, she tickled his ear with the tip of her tongue. “I have never heard of dessert for breakfast.”

Justin's body nearly exploded at the moist glide of her tongue into his ear. “Errr…Hannah,” he said in a rough croak, “You'd better lead me to
your bedroom before I lose control and take you right here and now.”

“As if,” she retorted, grinning as she pulled away from him, grabbed his hand and started through the living room to a short hallway. “You've never lost control.”

“There's always a first time, sweetheart,” he said, raising her hand to his mouth to press his lips to her fingers. “And I'd sure hate to embarrass myself in front of you.”

Entering her bedroom, Hannah turned her head to give him a wry glance. “That…or are you possibly afraid your loss of control would give me a sense of womanly power?”

“Oh, sweet Hannah, you have no worries in that department,” Justin said, shutting the door behind him and twirling her around into a tight embrace, letting her feel her power in his hard body. “You've got womanly power to spare.”

 

Minutes later, their clothing tossed in all directions of the room, Hannah lay naked, eager, in the center of the queen-size bed that had felt so large, cold and empty for weeks. Also naked, Justin stood next to the bed, tall and proud and magnificent, his turbulent gray eyes watching her as
she watched him sheathe himself in delicate protection.

The image would haunt her after he was gone. She knew it, would pay for it, but for now, Hannah could think of nothing except having him beside her, inside her, loving her…if only for this one more night.

She held her arms up to him in invitation. He came to her, stretching his long body next to her own. His mouth hot on hers, his hands implements of exquisite torture.

He couldn't wait, and with a murmur of need he slid his body over hers, settling between the thighs she parted for him. She couldn't wait, either. Wrapping her long legs around his waist, she raised her hips in a silent plea.

Justin's possession of her was fast and hard, exactly as she needed it to be. Their zenith was reached in shuddering, spectacular unison. Though Hannah wouldn't have believed it possible, the climax was more intense, more thrilling than any previous one she had experienced with him.

She loved him, loved him with every living cell within her, as she would love his child, their child, after Justin was gone. For then, weeping silently,
Hannah decided she would never again be a receptacle for his convenience. She just couldn't bear to be one of the women “the bad boy” visited every so often.

Holding him to her, inside her utterly satisfied body, Hannah drifted into the deepest sleep she had known since leaving him in Deadwood.

H
annah woke up at her usual time. A creature of habit, she needed no alarm. She was still tired. She really hadn't slept very much. She ached, but pleasantly so. Twice more during the night, she and Justin had made love.

It had been wonderful. No, it had been more than wonderful. It had been heavenly. Between periods of short naps and long, slow indulgences of each other, they never found time to venture out of the bedroom to clear away the dinner clutter.

Yawning, Hannah pushed back the covers Jus
tin had haphazardly drawn over them after their last romp, and moved to get up. A long arm snaked out to curl around waist, anchoring her to his side.

“Let me up, Justin,” she said, trying to pull back. “I still have to clear the kitchen table, eat something and get ready to go to work.”

His arm held firm, and he rested his cheek on the top of her head. “Take the day off.” His voice was low. “Stay with me until I have to leave for Baltimore.”

Hannah was tempted. Lord was she tempted. But mindful of the vow she had made to herself after their first frantic bout of sex—for that's all it had been, at least for him, she reminded herself—she steeled herself against his alluring suggestion. “I can't.” She shook her head and pushed his arm away. “I can't leave my assistant on her own today.”

“Why not?” His sleepy voice threatened to undermine her resistance. “You did when you went to Deadwood.”

Taking advantage of the momentary easing of his hold, she slipped out from under his arm. “I know, but then I had laid out all the upcoming projects, explained my ideas in detail. There are things pending that need my personal attention.”
While speaking, she had collected her clothes as she made her way to the connecting bathroom.

“Hannah, wait.” Justin jumped from the bed, attractive as sin in his nakedness. He reached for her.

Dodging his hand, she stepped into the bathroom, locking the door before calling out to him, “You can have the shower when I'm done.” She turned on the water full blast to drown out the sound of his muttered curses.

 

Exhausting every curse word he knew, Justin stood stock-still next to the bed, staring at the locked bathroom door. Hannah was closing him out, exactly as she had tried to do last evening. Frustration, anger and an emotion too similar to fear to be acknowledged burned inside him.

He didn't get it. He just didn't get it…or her. One minute she was cool and remote, the next sensual and hungry for him. During the night Hannah had freely displayed how badly she wanted him, again and again.

So what happened between the last time they made love and this morning? And, dammit, they
had
made love, not merely had sex, whether or not she wanted to admit it, either to him or herself.

Shaking his head in bewilderment, he moved
around the room picking up his clothes. They'd have to talk about it, about their relationship, for, like it or not, that's what it was shaping up to be, not a one-night stand, not a slam-bam-thank-you-ma'am, but an honest to God relationship.

It scared the hell out of him. Nevertheless, an in-depth discussion was definitely called for here. He would have to make another stab at convincing her to take the day off.

 

Hannah had never showered and dressed so fast in her life. Her hair still damp, she twirled it all into a loose twist at the back of her head and anchored it with a few well-placed hairpins. Sighing in longing and regret for what might have been, she turned with steadfast determination and went to the kitchen. Justin stood by the kitchen table, and with a nod she indicated that the shower was all his.

She had the table cleared and wiped, dishes stacked in the dishwasher, the coffee brewing, the tea steeping, bacon sizzling and eggs whipped, ready to pour into a warming frying pan by the time Justin walked into the room.

“We forgot to say good morning.” His soft voice crept across the kitchen to slither up her spine.

Gritting her teeth against a shiver, Hannah returned his greeting. “You're just in time,” she said with calm detachment, dumping the egg mixture into the pan. “If you want to help, you can set the table.” Without turning to look at him, she dropped four slices of bread into the toaster. She jumped when he plucked the spatula from her hand.

“I'll do the eggs,” he said, his voice and his body too close for her comfort. “Since you know where everything is, it's better if you set the table.”

“Okay.” Hannah was glad to escape, if only to the wall cabinet a few feet from him. After setting two places at the table, she went to the fridge for orange juice and milk. “Do you want jam for your toast?”

“Do you have peanut butter?”

“Yes,” she said, surprised that he also liked the spread on his morning toast.

“Natural or sweetened? I don't like the sweetened stuff.”

“Neither do I,” she said, removing the jar from the fridge.

Other than the odd remark here and there about the food, they ate in silence, each into their own thoughts. Feeling edgy, Hannah saw him raise a brow when she glanced at the clock for the third
time. But he didn't comment on it…until after he had his coffee and she her tea.

“I think you should take the day off,” Justin said, his voice laced with determination.

“I already told you I wouldn't do that,” she retorted, her voice equally determined.

“We need to talk.” Now his eyes were cold as gray ice.

Getting up, Hannah carried her barely touched tea to the sink, dumped it and rinsed it before replying. “No we don't. I need to leave for work.” She walked from the room to the coat closet. “And you need to drive to Baltimore.” She pulled on her coat and grabbed her purse.

“Dammit, Hannah,” Justin said, his tone bordering on a shout. “Listen to me.” He reached out to take her arm, to prevent her from walking out the door she'd opened.

Her nerves and emotions raw, her mind screaming at her to get away before she succumbed to agreeing to be one of his now-and-then women, Hannah avoided his hand as she spun around to confront him. “I won't listen to you, Justin.” She was hurting, and wanting to hurt him back, if that was possible, she lashed out at him. “I have to thank you for giving me so much please,” she said
sarcastically. “But it's over now. You belong in Montana, and I belong here. Whether or not Adam sends you back here, I don't want to see you again.”

“Hannah, you don't meant that.” He sounded genuinely shocked. “You can't mean it.”

“I do mean it,” she insisted, fighting tears and a desire to punch him…hard, for hurting her so much. “I've got to go now.” She backed out through the doorway. “I'd appreciate it if you would lock the door as you leave.” With that last parting shot, she slammed the door on his stunned face.

 

Justin was mad. He was more than mad, he was furious. He just couldn't decide who he was more furious with, Hannah for cutting him dead, or himself for getting too deeply involved with her in the first place.

Dammit, who needed her, anyway? Certainly not him. The last thing he needed was a haughty, overly independent woman. Hell, there were plenty of warm, eager and willing women out there.

Justin repeated the assurance to himself all the way back to Montana and throughout the following three weeks. He repeated it to himself while
he was working, when conferring about the horse farm in Pennsylvania they had decided to invest in, but mostly when he prowled the house at night, unable to sleep for thinking about her, aching for Hannah.

Why the hell had he been so stupid as to fall in love with her? Why had he allowed himself to fall for the Hannah that was not always cold and haughty, but sweet and hot, a tiger in his arms.

Justin knew when he was beaten. To his amazement it didn't even bother him that he'd finally fallen in love—real love. He decided he'd have to do something about it, something more than he had originally planned on back in February.

Going to the phone, Justin placed a call to Adam, his fingers tapping an impatient drumbeat as he waited for his brother to come on the line.

“What's up?” Adam said.

“We need a family meeting about this horse farm in Oley, Pennsylvania.”

“Wait a minute, we've already bought the property,” Adam said. “And it was your idea to begin with. Don't tell me you changed your mind and want us to back out of the deal when we're just days away from settling it.”

“No, no, I haven't changed my mind about the property,” Justin reassured him, “only about who we send east to manage the farm.”

“Not Ben?” Adam sounded shocked.

“Not Ben,” Justin concurred. “I know for a fact that Ben really doesn't want to relocate and that Karla doesn't want to move so far from her family.”

“Then who the hell do you have in mind?” Adam demanded. “One of the men on the ranch?” Before Justin could get a word in, Adam added, “Is there another one of the men capable of running a Thoroughbred farm?”

“Yeah. One,” Justin drawled, thinking the answer should be obvious to Adam, of all people.

“Who?” Adam snapped impatiently.

“Yours truly, brother mine,” Justin said, grinning when he heard Adam sigh.

“I'll call a meeting,” Adam said. “Of course, Beth will send her proxy, as usual.”

Justin was now chuckling. “To me, as usual.”

“Goodbye, Justin.” Adam hung up.

Justin laughed out loud, inwardly praying for success in the East Coast endeavor. Not with the farm—Justin felt confident he could succeed with that. Hell, without conceit he knew he was nearly a damn genius when it came to horses. No, the
challenge was convincing Hannah that he was the man for her. His plan had to work; he'd make it work…somehow.

 

It was the middle of March. The days were growing milder. Instead of taking the bus as she usually did, Hannah had begun walking the two-plus miles back and forth from her apartment to her office. The exercise and fresh air were good for her.

Without conscious thought, Hannah's hand slid down in a protective gesture over the small rounded mound of her growing belly. Her pregnancy had been confirmed by her doctor. Her due date was in mid-October; another season, another life.

A thrill shot through Hannah at the thought of the tiny person awakening inside her body. She hadn't felt any movement from her baby yet, but she knew it would not be long before she did.

Hannah had told Jocelyn the day after she had seen the doctor. Over a month ago.

“Does the father know?” her assistant asked, her expression a mixture of stunned delight.

“No,” Hannah admitted, shaking her head. “I don't think he'd want to know.”

“Not want to know?” Jocelyn said indignantly. “What kind of a user is the son—”

“Jocelyn,” Hannah interrupted her, unwilling to hear her curse Justin. “I knew what I was getting into. What Justin and I had was just a fling.” She managed a wry smile. “One might say a close encounter of the sexual kind. He never asked for anything more and I expect nothing from him. This is my baby. I'll take care of it.”

“And I'll be right beside you,” Jocelyn said staunchly, giving Hannah a reassuring hug.

Although Hannah had taken full responsibility for her pregnancy, she still had nagging doubts about not telling Justin. Not to seek financial support for his child—she didn't need his money. She just felt that he had every right to know he was to become a father.

Justin loved children. He would make a good father…if he cared to do so. That was the dilemma Hannah was feeling.

Arriving home refreshed from the brisk walk, Hannah kicked off her shoes and went straight to the phone. She had to tell him, she'd never be able to live with herself if she didn't.

After getting his ranch's number from information, she punched it in and forced herself to breathe normally. It was difficult, especially with the phone continuing to ring. Finally, when she was
about ready to hang up, an unfamiliar voice answered.

“Yes, is Justin there, please?” she asked, wondering why Karla hadn't answered.

“No, he isn't,” came the brisk reply. “Would you like to leave a message?”

Declining the offer, Hannah pressed the disconnect button, then stood staring at the instrument in her hand, unsure what to do next. Blinking against a sting of tears, she hung up the phone just as the doorbell rang.

Doorbell?
Her doorbell never rang without her being notified by the security guard in the lobby.

Hannah hesitated, puzzled by the oddness of the situation. The bell rang again.

Hannah went into the living room and looked through the peephole. She went absolutely still.

Justin.

The bell rang once more, quick, sharp, as if punched by an impatient or angry person.

Drawing a deep, steadying breath, Hannah disengaged the lock and pulled the door open. She backed up as he aggressively stepped forward.

“Justin…” She had to swallow to moisten her bone-dry throat. “What are you doing here?”

Dropping the same bag he had carried before,
he walked right up to her and caught her face in his hands, holding her still.

“Dammit, woman,” Justin said, his voice rough. “I love you, that's what I'm doing here. I didn't want to love you. I didn't want to love any woman, ever again. But I do love you.” His voice softened to a gentle purr. “Oh, sweet Hannah, I love you. I want to marry you.” His stormy gray eyes grew bright with that heart-melting devil light. “And if you don't say you love me, too, want to marry me, live with me and have my babies, I'm going to curl into a ball of misery on the floor and cry for a week.”

“Only a measly week?” Hannah was already crying, and laughing.

“Well, maybe two,” he conceded, lowering his head to hers. “But I'd rather not. Hannah, sweetheart, say it. Say you love me before I go completely crazy.”