A Man Apart (2 page)

“About time.” Maggie laughed with her. “More hot chocolate? A cookie?”

“No, thank you.” Hannah shook her head. “I still
have some chocolate—” she grimaced “—and I've already had too many cookies. They're delicious.”

“Karla baked them.”

Hannah frowned. “Karla?” Then, remembering, she said, “Oh, the woman whose job you took over, the one who's going to stand as matron of honor.”

“Mmm.” Maggie nodded. “She loves to cook, and baked these for Christmas. She brought some with her for us.”

“That was thoughtful of her.” Hannah smiled. “So, she's here already, too. I'm eager to meet her.”

“Yes, she's here in Deadwood. Karla and her husband, Ben, and the baby.” Maggie laughed. “Matter of fact, the whole gang's here.”

“Gang?” Hannah lifted one perfectly arched brow.

“Yes, Mitch's family,” Maggie explained. “They arrived in dribbles and drips over the past two days…”

“Dribbles and drips,” Hannah interrupted, laughing. “Your Pennsylvania Dutch country origins are showing.”

“Whatever.” Maggie shrugged. “Anyway, they're here. Mitch's parents, two brothers, one alone, one with his family, and his sister. You'll
meet them Friday evening at the rehearsal, and get to know them a little at dinner afterward.”

“Dinner?” Hannah swept the room with a skeptical glance. “Where?”

“Mitch made arrangements for dinner at the Bullock Hotel.”

“Oh.” Naturally, Hannah hadn't a clue where the Bullock Hotel might be located, but it didn't matter. “And is that when I'll meet your Mitch?” Now, that did matter, a lot. She had witnessed the hurt and humiliation inflicted on Maggie by her former fiancé. Hannah had never been able to bring herself to trust or like the too-smooth Todd. Subsequently, to her dismay, her suspicions about him had proved correct.

“No.” Maggie shook her head. “You'll meet Mitch tonight. He's going to stop by later. Though he's eager to meet you—I've told him so much about you—he wanted to give us some time alone together, to catch up.” Her eyes softened. “He's so considerate.”

Hmm, I'll be the judge of that, Hannah mused. But it sure sounded like Maggie did have it bad. “How does it really feel? Being in love, I mean?”

“All the things I mentioned before…and perhaps a little scary, too.”

“Scary?” Hannah was at once alert, her protec
tive instincts quivering. Was this Mitch Grainger a bully? She couldn't imagine her independent friend falling for a man who would intimidate her, but then again, Maggie had been about to marry that deceitful jerk Todd.

“Well, maybe not exactly scary,” Maggie said, after giving it some thought. “It's all so new and sudden, and almost too exciting, too thrilling. You know how love is.”

Whoa, Hannah thought, serious stuff here…. Too exciting? Too thrilling? Now she really couldn't wait to meet the man. “Actually, no,” she admitted, wryly. “I don't know.”

Maggie blinked in astonishment. “You're kidding.”

“No, I'm not.”

“You've never been in love? What about that guy you dated in college?”

“Oh, I thought I was in love,” Hannah said. “Turned out it was a combination of chemistry and itchy hormones, commonly called lust.” Her tone was dry, her smile self derisive.

“But…since then…?” Maggie persisted.

“Nope.” Hannah swallowed the last of the chocolate; it had gone as cold as her love life…or lack of same. “There were a couple of infatuations,
some sexual activity, but not much. There was one brief and I thought promising relationship I never told you about. But it really never got off square one, so to speak.” She shrugged. “Nothing even remotely resembling what you've described.”

“Oh, too bad. All this time we've known each other, and I never knew, never even guessed…you've always been so closemouthed about your personal life.”

Hannah laughed. “That's because I didn't have one, at least nothing that warranted discussion.”

“I never imagined…” Maggie sighed, then brightened. “Oh, I can't wait for you to fall in love someday, experience this excitingly scary champagne-bubbly feeling.”

“I'm not sure I want to.” Hannah slowly moved her head back and forth.

“Not want to?” Maggie exclaimed, surprised. “But…why not?”

“Because…” Hannah hesitated, carefully choosing her words so as not to offend her friend by voicing doubt. “I don't think I want to expose myself to that degree.”

“Expose yourself?” Maggie frowned in confusion. “I don't get your point. Expose yourself to what?”

“That sort of emotional vulnerability,” she said.

Maggie's amusement showed with her easy laughter. “You're wacko…you know that? Don't you realize that if I'm emotionally vulnerable, stands to reason Mitch is, too?”

“I suppose so,” Hannah murmured. But is he? She kept the question and her doubts to herself. She had always considered herself a pretty good judge of character, and she had been right about Todd.

Wait and see, she told herself, lifting an eyebrow in question when Maggie, suddenly frowning, nibbled on her lower lip in consternation.

“Is something wrong?”

Maggie lifted her shoulders in an indecisive shrug. “Not really…it's just…”

“Just?” Hannah prompted.

Maggie sighed. “Well, I think maybe I should give you a heads-up on the best man, Mitch's brother, Justin.”

“A heads-up?” Hannah grinned. “Why, is he some kind of ogre or monster?”

Maggie grinned back. “No, of course not. It's just…well…he's different, a little rough around the edges, not nearly as polished as Mitch or their oldest brother, Adam.”

“Like, crude?” Hannah raised an eyebrow.

“No, no.” Maggie shook her head. “Just a little
brusque. I understand he is something of a loner, thinks women are good for one thing only.”

“I don't think I need ask what the one thing might be,” Hannah drawled. A thought occurred that brought a glint of anger into her eyes. “Was this ‘loner' brusque and perhaps a little rude to you?”

“Heavens no!” Maggie exclaimed on a laugh. “Actually, he was quite civil, really very nice.”

“Then, how do you know that he—”

Maggie interrupted. “Because Mitch gave me a heads-up.” She laughed. “He told me I should tell him at once if Justin said one word out of line.” Her laugh turned to a giggle. “Mitch said if he did, he'd mop the casino floor with him. Which, after I met him, I thought was hilarious.”

Thoroughly confused, Hannah was about to demand a fuller explanation when Maggie glanced at the clock, pushed her chair away from the table and stood.

“I think I'd better get dinner started,” Maggie said. “I don't know about you, but I'm getting hungry. And I told Mitch we'd have coffee and dessert with him.”

“Okay. I'll help,” Hannah said, stretching as she stood.

“But…you're my guest,” Maggie protested. “The first one I've had in this apartment.”

“Guest, shmest,” Hannah retorted. “I'm not a guest, I'm a friend…your best friend. Right?”

“Right.” Maggie gave a vigorous nod, then qualified, “After Mitch, of course.”

Oh, brother, Hannah thought. “Oh, of course,” she agreed with a smile, skirting around the table. “What's on the menu?”

“Pasta.”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “What else?” Being Maggie's second-best friend, she was well aware of her passion for past dishes. “What kind?”

“Penne with snow peas, baby carrots, walnuts and a light oil-balsamic-vinegar sauce.”

“Yummy.” Hannah's mouth watered. “And dessert?”

“A surprise.” Maggie's eyes gleamed.

“Oh, come on,” Hannah groused, grinning.

Maggie shook her head. “All I'll tell you is that Karla showed me how to make it.” Her eyes now sparkled with a teasing light. “And it's a delight,” she finished on a suspicious-sounding giggle.

 

After their fabulous meal, Hannah leaned back in her chair. “That was wonderful,” she said, sighing with repletion.

“Thanks.” Maggie arched an eyebrow as she rose to start clearing the table. “How's the career progressing?”

“Right on schedule. I figure by the time I'm eighty or ninety, I'll be the best damn consultant in the entire marketing industry,” Hannah drawled, rising to help clean up.

Maggie shot a frown at her. “No, seriously, how is it going for you?”

“Very well, actually,” Hannah answered, helping Maggie to fill the dishwasher. “I gave myself a raise by raising my fee in November. Not one of my clients objected. My end-of-year earnings have put me into a higher income tax bracket, and I don't even mind.”

“That's great,” Maggie exclaimed, rewarding her with a hug. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Hannah said simply, going on to candidly admit, “At the risk of sounding arrogant, I'm rather pleased with myself at the moment.”

“And why not?” Maggie demanded, her hands planted on her slender hips. “You should be pleased and delighted. You've worked your butt off getting yourself established. I know. I was there. Just as you've always been there for me. Remember?”

Hannah smiled, recalling the day the previous June when she had walked into Maggie's apartment to witness her friend slashing the exquisitely beautiful, extremely expensive wedding dress to shreds. “Remember? How could I forget all the pain—and fun—we've shared?”

“Well, while you're here, let's just remember the fun, and say to hell with the pain. Deal?”

Hannah laughed. “Deal.”

They shared a hug and, sliding an arm around each other's waists, strolled to the other side of the room to settle back down on the window seat behind the table, chattering away while they waited for Mitch.

With each passing moment, Maggie's face took on a becoming glow, her eyes shining with anticipation. And with each of those moments, Hannah felt her own anticipation rise, as she wondered what kind of man this Mitch Grainger must be. Not to mention his enigmatic brother.

H
aving listened to Maggie rave, through several long-distance phone calls, about how handsome, exciting, wonderful and flat-out sexy her employer and fiancé was, Hannah was prepared for the visual impact of Mitch Grainger.

So, when he arrived at the apartment a half hour later, she was neither surprised nor disappointed. Mitch appeared to be everything Maggie claimed him to be and then some. His manner was polite. He was gentle and tender with Maggie, and the perfect gentleman toward Hannah.

She couldn't help but notice that every time Mitch looked at Maggie, his eyes gleamed with near adoration, joy and male sexual hunger. Strangely, that gleam of light gave Hannah an odd little twist in her chest.

Surely not envy of Maggie and the emotions the mere sight of her so obviously induced in Mitch?

Envy? Of her very best friend? The very idea was both confusing and shaming. Hannah might have examined her unusual feeling more closely if there had been just the three of them around the small table.

But Mitch had not come to the apartment alone.

While Hannah had been prepared for Maggie's fiancé she hadn't at all been prepared for the impact of Mitch's older brother, Justin.

And what an impact he made. Hannah felt the reverberations in every molecule of her being—felt it and resented it. In looks, the brothers were quite similar, but altogether different in attire.

Mitch was dressed in a navy-blue business suit, ice-blue shirt, a striped, pale-blue and grey tie and a long gray obviously cashmere coat, the walking picture of the conservative businessman. Justin, on the other hand, had removed a brown, well-worn Stetson and shrugged out of a deep-collared suede
jacket. Beneath his coat he wore a blue chambray shirt tucked into faded low-slung jeans plastered to his slim hips and long legs to cover the tops of smart-looking boots.

Justin Grainger towered over Hannah's five foot ten by seven and a half inches. His raw-boned frame was rangy but muscular, a tower of powerful masculinity.

At once, Hannah understood how Maggie had found it hysterical when Mitch threatened to mop the casino floor with his brother if he said one word out of line. While Mitch appeared quite capable of wiping the floor with most men, she knew his brother wasn't one of them.

Justin Grainger had dark hair, streaked with silver at the temples, and a little long at the nape. His eyes were gray, cold as the North Atlantic in January, sharp as a bitter wind, yet aloof and remote. And every time he turned his cold, calculating, but somehow tinglingly sexy sharp-eyed gaze on Hannah, she felt a chilling thrill from the tingling top of her head to the curling tips of her toes.

Hannah's immediate assessment of the two brothers was that Mitch was forceful and dynamic, whereas Justin was a silent but simmering vol
cano of leashed sexuality, with the potential to erupt without warning all over any innocent, unsuspecting female to cross his path.

Fortunately, having survived that one unsuccessful and unsettling relationship two years before—a relationship in which she had been burned so badly she hadn't even confided in Maggie about the affair or aftereffects—Hannah was neither innocent nor unsuspecting. To be sure, she was suspicious as all get-out.

On Maggie's introduction, Hannah accepted Mitch's proffered hand first. It was warm, his grip polite. But she barely registered his greeting, since all she could hear was the sound of static electricity as she took Justin's extended hand. She not only heard it, she felt it zigzag from her palm to every particle of her body.

Hannah slid a quick glance toward Maggie and Mitch only to find that they had moved across the room to the hallway closet to put away the men's coats.

“Miss Deturk.”

That's all he said. Her name. Not even her first name. His voice was low, disturbingly intimate. Hannah's hand felt seared. She hadn't realized his fingers were still firmly wrapped around hers. She
turned her gaze back to his, her mouth going dry at the sight of tiny flames flickering in the depths of his cold gray eyes.

Feeling slightly disoriented, and resenting the sensation, she slid her hand free, murmuring, “Mr. Grainger.”

“Justin.”

“If you wish.” She inclined her head, feeling like an awkward teenager, not having a clue she gave the impression of a haughty queen condescending to acknowledge one of her lowest subjects.

A smile shadowed his masculine, tempting lips. “May I call you Hannah?”

Oh, hell, she thought. His voice was even lower, more intimate, and too damn beguiling. Certain her brain had been rendered into nothing more than a small blob, Hannah could manage only to parrot herself.

“If you wish.”

“Well, ready for dessert?” Maggie's bright voice dissolved the strange misty atmosphere seemingly surrounding her and Justin Grainger.

Thank heavens for small mercies, Hannah thought, turning away from him.

“Do you have coffee?” Mitch asked.

“Of course.” Maggie crossed to the small kitchen area.

Grateful for a moment's respite from Justin's nearness, Hannah hurried after Maggie to help. She served the coffee, careful not to look directly at him. She thought she had herself under control when she again seated herself next to him at the table.

The moment she was settled, she knew she was wrong.

Beneath Justin Grainger's keen gaze, Hannah's enthusiasm waned for the coffee and the surprise dessert promised by Maggie.

“What is it?” Mitch asked, eyeing the dessert dish Maggie set before him, which appeared to contain a mixed-up blob of ingredients.

Maggie grinned. “Karla calls it Heavenly Hawaiian Surprise. It's got pineapple and cherries and pecans and marshmallow and sour cream, and trust me, it is heavenly.”

“We shall see, or better yet taste,” Mitch said, his teasing eyes alight with affection.

His brother beat him to it. Scooping up a spoonful of the mixture, he popped it in his mouth.

“Decadent,” he pronounced. “Delicious.”

Once again Justin's low, ultrasensual tones sent an unfamiliar, unwanted and unappreciated chill
down Hannah's already quivering spine. At the same time, the spark in his eyes caused a strange melting heat deep inside her.

Hannah resented the sensation but, to her chagrin, she felt every bit as attracted to Justin as she was wary of him. All he had to do was look at her to make her, in a word, sizzle.

Dammit.

It had been some time since Hannah had warmed to a man and she had certainly never sizzled for one. But innate honesty compelled her to admit to herself that she did indeed sizzle for Justin.

And she didn't like it at all.

The conversation around the small table was general; for Hannah, desultory. Appearing for all the world comfortable and relaxed, inside she felt stiff, frozen solid.

Later that night, after the brothers had finally left, Hannah lay awake in the surprisingly comfortable roll-away bed Maggie had prepared for her. She examined the conflicting emotions Justin Grainger had so casually and seemingly effortlessly aroused inside her mind and body.

She felt empty, needy. It was almost frightening. How could it have happened? Hannah asked herself. She was hardly the type to become all
squishy and nervy from the mere expression in a man's eyes and the low, sensual sound of his voice.

Certainly, Justin had not said or done anything out of line. He had been every bit as polite and respectful as had his brother Mitch.

Except for his eyes. Dear heavens, Justin Grainger's sharp and compelling eyes.

A shiver trickled through Hannah, and she drew the down comforter more closely around her. She knew it wasn't the coldness of the air but an inner, deeper chill that wouldn't be banished by burrowing under three down comforters.

Hannah decided that getting through the next days—the rehearsal, the dinner, the wedding and reception ought to prove more than a little interesting. In fact, she was afraid it would be an endurance test.

Was she up to the sort of sensual challenge those glinting, gray eyes promised?

Hannah believed she was. She was her own woman, which was why she had struck out on her own, preferring to work her tail off to establish herself rather than work for somebody else.

There was just one tiny flaw in all this—while Hannah
believed
she could handle the situation, return home unscathed by Justin Grainger, she wasn't absolutely certain.

And
that
was frightening.

 

“So what did you think of her?” Mitch asked as he and Justin settled into his car after leaving the large house.

Her? Justin hesitated. “Who?”

Mitch glanced over to give Justin an are-you-kidding? look. “Maggie, who else. You remember—the woman I'm going to be marrying in just a few days.”

“Well, of course I remember,” Justin retorted, feeling like an idiot and not liking the feeling. ‘But if you'll recall, there were two women in the apartment,” he said in his own defense. “Although I did notice you had eyes only for Maggie.”

Tossing him a grin, Mitch flicked on the motor. “I do recall that there were two, smart-ass,” he chided. “I also recall that you seemed to stare at Hannah a lot.”

Justin shrugged in what he hoped was a carefree way. “Hey, she's an attractive woman.”

“Yes, she is,” Mitch agreed. “But, that doesn't answer my question. What did you think of Maggie, your future sister-in-law?”

“She is both beautiful and nice, as you well know,” Justin answered, relieved to have the topic back on Maggie and off Hannah. “And she is most
obviously head-over-heels in love with you. Although I can't imagine why.”

“Because I'm sexy as hell?”

Justin gave him a droll look. “Since when?”

“Since I was fifteen,” Mitch shot back, as he shot out of the parking lot at the rear of the house. “Of course,” he qualified, “I was following your bad example.”

“Hmm. Bad example, huh?” he drawled. “Personally, I never considered it bad to be sexy.”

After returning to the hotel, Justin closed his room door behind him and leaned back against it. He inhaled deeply and released the breath on a soft “Whew.”

Old fashioned? Prim? Proper? Virginal? And probably plain? Had he really held such a preconceived opinion of who Hannah would turn out to be?

“Hah.” Shaking his head as though he had just taken a blow to the temple and was still groggy in the mind, Justin pushed away from the door muttering to himself.

“Hannah Deturk is the most cool, composed, beautiful, long-legged woman this ol' son's weary eyes ever landed on.”

He chuckled. “And you, Justin Grainger are talking to yourself.”

Well, at least he wasn't cursing, Justin consoled himself, releasing a half groan. He was surprised at his unexpected emotional, and physical, reaction to the blond goddess.

Sure, it had been a while since he'd been with a woman, but not nearly long enough to explain the immediate surge of lust he'd experienced at first glance. He'd felt like a teenager in the throes of a testosterone rush.

In that instant Justin decided he had to have Hannah Deturk, in every way possible. Either that or he just might expire from the mind-blowing need.

The tricky part was; how and when? Well, he knew exactly how, Justin mused, a smile twitching the corners of his mouth. But the trick was when. Time was limited.

There were only a few days to go until the wedding. As Maggie and Hannah hadn't seen each other for six months, they'd likely be spending most of those days—and nights—together, chattering away.

Poor Mitch was going to be sleeping alone from now until his wedding night. He'd probably be a
bear until then, working overtime to conceal his feelings.

Then Justin realized something—Mitch wouldn't be the only man working to control strong urges.

Damnation.

He mulled over the problem of private time and place with Hannah as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his best pair of boots. Standing to shuck out of his clothes, he folded them neatly before sliding them into the plastic laundry bag provided by the hotel. His mother had been a real stickler about neatness.

Naked as a newborn, he stretched his length between the chilled sheets, doused the bedside light and started up at the ceiling. Of course, he really couldn't see the ceiling, as the closed drapes shut out even the tiniest glimmer of moonlight and the room was as dark as pure nothingness.

It didn't matter to Justin, because he could still see a shimmering image of Hannah Deturk.

“Oh, hell,” he muttered, his breathing growing shallow as his body grew hard. “Think, man. When are you going to have the chance to approach her?”

The days leading up to the big event were out. There was the rehearsal late in the afternoon the
day before the wedding, to be followed by the rehearsal dinner. That night was out, as well. Justin knew full well his family would make a lengthy celebration of the dinner.

Naturally, the actual day of the wedding was out.

The day—or night—after the wedding? Justin mulled over the problem, allowing his body to cool down a few degrees. He was in no hurry to get back to the ranch, he could spare a few days for fun and games.

Not in a hotel room. Justin gave a sharp shake of his head against the pillow. Not with Hannah. He didn't want to delve into why it mattered. It never bothered him before where he spent time romping with a woman—a hotel room, motel room, her apartment, it made no difference to him. This time, if there were to be a time with Hannah, it did matter.

So then, if not the hotel, where?

He could probably have the use of Mitch's apartment, seeing as how he and Maggie were off the day after the wedding to one of those island resorts exclusively for couples.

No, that wouldn't do. Mitch's apartment was on the top floor of the casino, and there was no way
Justin would escort Hannah either through the front entrance of the casino or up the back stairs.