A Man Apart (5 page)

 

For someone who was usually calm and collected, Hannah was feeling more than a little rattled. Rattled, excited and annoyed.

No intendeds for me.

What was he trying to tell her with his emphatic statement, the quick negative shake of his head? He had no use for women? Hannah gave a silent but definite “Ha!” Justin obviously had one use for women.

Just then, Maggie found her. “Hannah, I want you to come with me.” Her friend grasped her arm, tugging to get her moving.

Trailing along, thoroughly confused by the urgency in Maggie's voice, Hannah asked, “Where are we going…and why such a hurry?”

“We're going up to the suite Mitch reserved for us for tonight,” Maggie explained—kind of—continuing to tug on Hannah's arm.

“I don't understand.” Now she was more than confused.

“Of course you don't.” Maggie exhaled as the doors to the elevator slid together after they stepped inside. “I want you to help me out of my dress.”

“Me?” Hannah could only stare at her in disbelief. “Maggie, isn't that Mitch's job?”

“Yes, yes, I know all that.” Maggie waved the question aside. “But Mitch is the one who asked me to give you another heads-up.” The doors swished open, and Maggie swished into the corridor. “Besides,” she added over her shoulder, “I would like you to take my dress back to the house for me.”

“I'd be happy to take it with me.” Tired of trailing in her friend's wake, Hannah strode forward to walk with her to the suite. “Heads-up about what?” she asked, with wide-eyed innocence, as if she didn't know damn well it would concern Justin somehow.

“Justin.” Maggie unlocked then flung open the door and ushered her inside.

Who would ever have guessed? Hannah thought, resigned to hearing more negative tidbits about Justin's character, or lack of same. She sighed, might as well get it over with. “What about Justin?”

“Well…” Now, after having given Hannah the bum's rush from the reception room, Maggie hesitated.

“He's a wanted felon?” Hannah asked, facetiously.

“No, of course not.” Maggie tossed an impa
tient look at her. “Apparently, he's something of a…uh…philanderer. You know, the no-strings, love-'em-and-leave-'em type.”

Big shocker. Hannah had figured that one out for herself. If she hadn't, she wouldn't have been about to bid good-night to Maggie and Mitch, wish them happiness, give them both a congratulatory hug and head for the nearest exit.

“I suspected as much,” Hannah said, with self-imposed equanimity, walking around Maggie to unhook and pull the waist-length zipper on her dress.

“You did?” Maggie swung around to face her. “How?”

Hannah actually contrived a reasonable-sounding chuckle. “Dearest friend, Justin has been making…shall I say…explicit suggestions to me since the rehearsal supper last night.”

“Aha,” Maggie crowed. “Mitch was right. He said he thought Justin was hitting on you. That's why he asked me to clue you in.”

“I appreciate the concern.” In point of fact, even though she had figured Justin wasn't looking for a real relationship, Hannah wasn't at all sure she did appreciate the concern, or the information. She gave a frowning Maggie a serene smile. “Where is your bridegroom, by the way?”

“Oh my gosh,” Maggie yelped. “He'll be here any minute. If you don't mind,” she said, stepping out of the dress, “I'm going to toss this into the bag and toss you out of here so I can get ready for him.”

Laughing with genuine amusement, Hannah retrieved the long, heavy plastic dress bag and held it open while Maggie slipped it onto a padded hanger and beneath the garment bag.

“Okay, I'm outta here.”

“Wait,” Maggie ordered, stopping Hannah as she turned toward the door. Bending to a low table, she scooped up her bouquet and shoved it into Hannah's free hand.

“What are you doing?” Hannah demanded. “You're supposed to toss that to the single women downstairs.” She tried to hand it back to Maggie, who refused to take it.

“What single woman?” Maggie backed away. “As far as I'm concerned,
you
are the only single woman here…which means, you'll be the next bride.”

“But, Maggie, you know there is no—”

“I know, I know, but who knows what's in the future? Mr. Right might be just around the corner.” Laughing at Hannah's skeptical expression, Mag
gie backed up another step. “Will you just take it and get out of here?”

Hannah heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, you win. But only because I don't want to be here to cramp his style when Mitch arrives.”

“Thanks, love,” Maggie fervently said, rushing to Hannah to give her a hug. “For everything, especially being my friend. I'll call you after Mitch and I get back.”

“I'll be waiting,” Hannah said, holding the bag up from the floor as she moved to the door. “Be happy.” She smiled, opened the door, then turned back to murmur, “Love you.”

Maggie's return smile was misty. “Back at you.”

A
voiding Justin as she made her escape, Hannah didn't breathe fully until she locked the door behind her in Maggie's cozy attic flat.

Nervous, edgy, both afraid—and secretly hopeful—that she'd hear Justin rap at the door any second, she carefully hung Maggie's dress away before removing her own dress. After a quick shower, Hannah slipped into her nightshirt and robe, then proceeded to collect her stuff. She was leaving, going back to Philly, first thing in the morning.

She was
not
running from Justin, Hannah kept telling herself, knowing all the while she was lying. She knew, without a shred of doubt, Justin would not force any issues or hurt her in any way. Why she was convinced he would honor her decision, whatever that might be, she didn't know, but she felt certain she was right.

So, if she was not running from fear of Justin, what was she running from? She was attracted to Justin, fiercely attracted. She had never, ever wanted a man, his touch, his kiss, his possession as much as she wanted Justin Grainger.

It scared the hell out of her.

He
scared the hell out of her.

Not physically. Emotionally.

As sure as Hannah was that Justin would never physically harm her, she was equally sure he could devastate her emotionally.

She had been warned. Justin himself had told her he was the family “bad boy,” and to protect her, Mitch had instructed Maggie to inform her of his brother's love-'em-and-leave-'em reputation with women.

Perhaps, Mitch had had a heart-to-heart with his wayward brother because, by 2 a.m. he had neither rapped on the door nor rung Maggie's phone.

Hannah knew the exact time, because by 2 a.m., she had not slept, had not so much as closed her eyes. Her restless, wakeful state had nothing to do with not having heard from him, she assured herself. She absolutely did not feel let down, disappointed…damn near bereft.

Sigh. She had done a lot of sighing.

Somewhere around 4 a.m., well, actually, 4:14 to be exact, Hannah faced the cold hard fact that Justin had been amusing himself by teasing her, stringing her along. For all she knew, he simply might have been deliberately coming on to her to rile his brother Mitch.

If that had been Justin's aim, he had scored a direct hit. Problem for Hannah was his barb had scored a direct hit on her, as well.

Her own fault. She had walked fully conscious into the cross-hairs. Served her right if she was feeling the sting of his arrow. She deserved the piercing stab in her chest. She had known full well that his make on her was all about sex, anyway.

So, the hell with Justin Grainger. She'd forget him in no time once she was back in Philly, back to her real life of work and friends.

But first she had to get some rest. She had a lot
of driving in the morning to get to the airport in time for her flight. Sleep, stupid, Hannah scathingly told herself. Clenching her body against the aching emptiness inside, she shut her eyes tight, denying the sting burning her eyelids, and concentrated on the word sleep.

Her alarm went off at seven, approximately one hour and twenty minutes after she had finally drifted off.

Groaning, Hannah levered herself off the cot and stumbled into the bathroom. Even though she had showered last night, to get an early start this morning, she pulled off her nightshirt and stepped under a spray of tepid, wake-up water.

It helped, but not a helluva lot. Heaving a deep sigh, followed by a wide yawn, she brushed her teeth, applied a layer of concealer on the dark half-moons beneath her eyes, and finished with a light application of tinted moisturizer and blush to each cheek.

Frowning at her image in the mirror above the sink, Hannah left the bathroom, made up the cot. Deciding to grab something to eat in the terminal concourse, she skipped breakfast for a fast getaway. Quickly dressing, she stomped into foul-weather boots, pulled on her coat, gathered her
baggage and sent a final glance around the cozy flat, checking that everything was in order.

Swallowing another sigh, which she adamantly refused to admit was of regret, Hannah left the apartment and clattered down the stairs to the second-floor doorway. Yanking open the door, she stepped into the hallway and practically into the arms of Justin Grainger.

“What kept you?” he said, a lopsided smile on his smooth, clean-shaved face.

Startled, rattled, Hannah stared at him. “Wh–what?”

“I thought you'd never get it together this morning.” His warm gaze caressed her face, settled on her mouth. “I heard your alarm go off all the way down two flights of stairs—what the hell have you got, anyway, a miniature Big Ben?” Before she could open her suddenly tingling lips to reply, he caught her by one arm to lead her along the hall to the other stairs. “I hope you didn't waste time eating. I've been holding breakfast for you.”

“But…but…” Hannah stammered. Dammit, she never stammered. “Why?” she demanded, allowing him to relieve her of her suitcase and carry-on with the other hand as he urged her down the
stairs and to the open door of the apartment where Karla and Ben were staying.

“Why not?” he asked, ushering her inside and firmly closing the door behind them.

More unsettled than she would have believed a man, any man could make her, Hannah ignored his question to ask one of her own. “Where are Karla, Ben and the baby?”

“They left before daylight. I helped them load the SUV. They're going to visit her folks in Rapid City before heading back to the ranch,” he explained.

“So, why were you holding breakfast for me?” But before he could respond, she went on, “And how did you know I'd agree to have breakfast with you?”

Justin held up one finger. “I thought you might be hungry.” He grinned—too darned sexily—and held up another finger. “I didn't know. I hoped. Will you?”

He had done it again. Thrown her off track. “Will I…” she blurted, before she collected her senses. Never in her adult life had a man held the power to so fluster her.

“Share a meal with me.” His grin turned into a sensual smile; his lowered voice was sheer temptation. “Among other even more satisfying pleasures.”

“I, uh…” Damned if she wasn't stammering again. Grabbing a quick breath, she stammered, “I…really…I don't…uh…think that…would be wise,” she finished, all in a breathless gush.

“Maybe so,” he drawled, in that same low, tempting tone. “But it would be fulfilling…for all our hungers.”

“I know.” Hannah blurted out without thinking, amazed at herself for doing so. “But that's beside the—”

“No, that
is
the point,” he interrupted, setting her bags aside to cradle her face in his warm palms. “I want to be with you so bad I ache all over,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to within a breath of hers. “And I feel, no, I know you want to be with me every bit as badly.”

“How…” Hannah swallowed. Her voice was barely there, because suddenly her throat was tight, dry. “How do you know I want what you want?”

“Ahhh, sweet Hannah,” he whispered, his breath slipping between her slightly parted lips and into her mouth. “Your eyes give you away.” His mouth skimmed across hers, setting off a sensation that sparkled throughout her entire being. “Admit it…” His voice gathered a wicked, teasing
thread. “So we can get on with other things, beginning with breakfast, which I can smell is ready.”

It wasn't until he mentioned it that Hannah caught the mouthwatering aroma of freshly brewed coffee, meat sizzling and something she couldn't quite identify, but which tantalized her taste buds.

“Okay,” she said, giving in, not to him, she told herself, but the rumble of emptiness in her stomach. “I'll have breakfast with you.” Chastising her weakness, she hurried on, “But then I must get moving or I'll miss my plane.”

“There'll be other planes.” Very softly, very gently, he touched his mouth to hers.

Hannah couldn't answer. She couldn't breathe. His half kiss had turned the sparkle inside her to tongues of flame.

She stood mute while Justin lifted the strap of her handbag from her shoulder and slid her coat from her arms. She didn't protest when he stashed her coat, handbag and two cases into a small closet. Turning back to her, he smiled, melting what felt like her fire-charred insides, and held out a long-fingered hand.

“Come…let's have breakfast.”

 

Hannah was well and truly stuffed, pleasantly so. Cradling her second mug of coffee in her hands, she sat back in her chair, replete, one hunger satisfied.

“More?” Justin raised one dark brow, smiling at her over the rim of his coffee mug, reigniting another, even more basic hunger inside her.

“Good heavens, no.” She returned his smile, if a bit shakily. “Thank you. Everything was wonderful.”

“You're welcome.” He lowered the mug; his lips were moist from the beverage and much too appealing. “And thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed it.”

“I certainly did. Do you cook a lot?”

“Not often, I admit, but I can cook.”

“A man of many talents?”

“Oh, honey, you'd be amazed.”

Always before, Hannah had resented a man calling her honey, yet, somehow, coming from Justin, it didn't bother her. The fact was, she rather liked it.

“Refill?” he asked, raising his mug.

“I don't think so.” She shook her head before swallowing the last of the coffee and setting her mug on the table. Hannah stood, telling herself to
get moving before she gave in to the desire to stay and indulge herself. “I've got to go home.”

“Why?” he asked with a grin. “I was tempted to say—Home is where the heart is—but,” he shook his head. “I decided that was a bit too obvious.”

Though she really tried, Hannah couldn't contain a smile. “And practically everything you've said to me, every suggestion you've made, wasn't obvious?”

He pulled a long face—an attractive long face. “And here all the time I thought I was being subtle.”

She burst out laughing. “Subtle? Justin Grainger, you are about as subtle as a jackhammer.”

“You deeply wound me.” His words were belied by the devilish light in his eyes. He set his cup aside and started toward her. “Is that any way to being an affair?”

“Affair?” Hannah felt a thrilling jolt. “We, uh…we're not beginning an affair.” She took a step back. He took two steps forward. “We hardly know each other.” She held up one hand…as if she actually believed that would stop him.

Of course it didn't. Justin kept moving, slowly backing her up until her spine made contact with
the kitchen wall. He raised his hands to cup her face. His palms were warm, gentle. His long fingers stroked her cheekbones.

“Justin.” Hannah would have drawn a deep breath, if she could have found anything other than the most shallow wisp of air. “Don't.” Her breathless voice was a mere half-hearted whisper, hardly a deterrent.

Still, Justin paused, his mouth within inches of hers. He sighed, as if held motionless by that one word don't. “Oh, sweet Hannah, don't tell me no,” he murmured. “If I don't kiss you soon, I'll explode.”

Hannah raised her hand to his shoulders to move him back. She felt the muscles grow taut beneath her suddenly gripping fingers. And then, amazing herself with her boldness, she slid her hands to the back of his neck, grasped his hair, and pulled his head to hers to devour his mouth.

Justin did a fantastic job of devouring in return. Holding her head still with gentle fingers, he angled his mouth over hers. His tongue outlined her lips, teased the sensitive inner skin, before exploring deeper, engaging her tongue in an erotic dance.

Hannah could barely breathe, and she didn't
care. His mouth was heaven, his tongue a seeking, probing, ravenous instrument of sensual torment.

His hands deserted her head to glide down her spine, cup her bottom, draw her to the fullness of his body. All rational thought dissolved, swept away by a torrent of sensation, part agony, part pleasure, all terribly exciting and arousing.

He could have this effect on her with one kiss? Hannah marveled, in an obscure corner of her disintegrating mind. What would making love with him do to her?

On the spot, without having to give it a moment's thought—which was good, since she couldn't think anyway—Hannah knew she had to find out, possess him while she experienced his possession of her.

“Hannah, sweet Hannah,” Justin groaned into her mouth, lifting his head to stare into her pleasure-clouded eyes. “You can't kiss me like that then tell me you must leave, that we're not beginning an affair.”

“I know,” she admitted in a raw whisper.

Justin drew back another inch to study her expression. “You want me, don't you, sweet Hannah?”

She didn't answer at once, but stood staring
back at him. Able to breathe a little, and almost think, Hannah was struck by the realization of having lost count of the times he had called her “sweet Hannah.” She had been called many things in her life, from “squirt” by her older brother, to “the cool one” by her friends, to “beautiful,” even “stunning” by hopeful lovers but never “sweet.” If anybody had said she was sweet, she'd have bristled, been annoyed. Babies were sweet, not mature, adult women.

So, then, why did she melt at the endearment murmured through Justin's so-tempting lips?

“Hannah?” The thin, sharp edge on his voice yanked her from her muddled reverie.

She blinked. “What?” Then she remembered his question. “Oh…yes,” she answered with complete honesty. “I do want you, Justin,” she confessed, spearing her fingers into his thick dark hair.

His soft laughter had a joyous ring. Releasing her bottom, Justin flung his arms out to his sides. “Then take me, sweet Hannah. I'm all yours.”

Hannah accepted his invitation by pressing her mouth to his.