A Man Apart (7 page)

Hannah laughed, at him and at herself. She must be losing her mind, she decided happily, because she not only didn't mind him calling her woman, she was beginning to like it. No doubt about it, her mind was starting to disintegrate. She masked her laughter with an exaggerated groan at the sight of the table still cluttered from their breakfast.

“Yeah,” Justin agreed, propping his hands on his hips. “It's a mess. Tell you what, sweet Hannah. I'll make a deal with you.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “What kind of deal?”

He frowned and shook his head in sad despair of her. “You have a suspicious mind, Ms. Deturk.”

“Damned straight, Mr. Grainger,” she retorted. “What deal?”

“Here's the deal. I'll get dinner, if you'll clean up the breakfast debris.”

“Deal,” Hannah accepted at once, fully aware
she was getting the better end of the arrangement. Crossing to the table, she went to work, while Justin went to the fridge.

 

“That was delicious,” Hannah commended Justin, raising her wineglass in a salute. “You're a very good cook.”

“Either that,” Justin said, inclining his head and raising his own nearly empty glass in acknowledgement of her compliment, “or you actually were famished.”

“I was,” she admitted. “But that doesn't mean I'd have praised anything you set in front of me.” She grinned. “I'd have eaten the meal, but I wouldn't have praised it, or your culinary skill.”

“I wouldn't go so far as to call it a skill. I simply can manage to prepare a reasonably palatable meal. Now, my mother, she's a skilled cook.”

“I like your mother, by the way,” Hannah said. “She is a lovely woman. I admire the way she handles her husband and her overgrown sons…all three of whom I also like.”

“Three?” He appeared crushed. “Just my father, Adam and Mitch? What about me? Don't you like me?”

Hannah's expression and tone went hard and se
rious. “If I didn't like you, Justin, do you really believe for one minute I would be here with you now?”

“No.” He gave a quick shake of his head, his voice as serious as hers had been. “No, Hannah. I don't, for even a second, believe you would be here now, if you hadn't found something about me to like.” The seriousness fled, and the gleam sprang back into his eyes. “What is it that appeals to you? My body? My…”

“Is fantastic,” Hannah interjected, holding back a laugh. “And you use it to advantage.”

Justin arched a brow but continued with what he had started to say, “My personality?”

She mirrored his dark arch with her lighter eyebrow. “I didn't know you had one.”

He laughed.

Her pulse leaped and her senses freaked. How was it possible for one man's laughter to cause such exciting sensations inside her, Hannah mused, loving the feelings, yet scared of them at the same time.

“I like you,” Justin offered the unsolicited opinion. “I like your gorgeous body, too.”

“I kind of figured you did,” she responded wryly.

“But I'd like to do a further exploration of the terrain.” He grinned…more like leered. “Just to be sure.”

“Uh-huh.” She eyed him warily. “But that will have to wait. My plane left hours ago. I've got to phone the airline, see if I can book another flight.”

“You've already missed your flight,” Justin pointed out, his voice soft, persuasive. “Why can't you wait till morning to call and reschedule?”

“I, er…” She faltered at the brazen look of renewed passion in his eyes. At her hesitation, he shoved back his chair and stood.

“Come on, let's get the supper things cleared away,” he said, collecting his plate and cutlery.

Rising, Hannah began to follow his example. “And after the supper things are cleared away, we'll go to the bedroom….”

“Good,” he flashed a self-satisfied grin at her.

“To pick up the clothing we discarded and scattered all over the bedroom floor.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, not meaning one yeah.

Ten minutes later Justin found himself hanging the damp towels on the mounted wall racks in the bathroom. “You know, this could have waited till
morning, as well,” he called to Hannah, who was busy neatly folding their clothing.

“Yeah, yeah,” she mimicked his agreement. “But you'll be thanking me tomorrow.”

In truth, Justin did thank Hannah in the morning, but not for remaining resolute about picking up their stuff. He thanked her with words and caresses and deep, searing kisses for what he swore was the most fantastic night of his life.

“W
hat about Beth?” The gleam in his eyes grew brighter. “Didn't you like her?”

It took a few minutes for Hannah to make the connection. She and Justin were in the middle of breakfast. This time he had cooked oatmeal, served with brown sugar. He was watching her, waiting for the dawn of comprehension to break over her sleep-and sex-fogged mind.

“Oh, your sister, Beth.” Hannah felt like a dull wit. At least she hadn't said, “huh?” “I like her, very much. She stopped by Maggie's apartment a
few days ago. We had a nice chat. Besides being warm and friendly, she's a gorgeous woman, a striking combination of your mother and father.”

“Yeah, she is,” Justin agreed, popping another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. After swallowing the oatmeal, he downed half the orange in his glass. “Adam's wife, Sunny, is no slouch either.”

Nodding, Hannah took a ladylike sip of her juice. “She's lovely, and their daughter, Becky, is absolutely adorable. I immediately fell in love with her.”

He chuckled around the last of his cereal. “She has that effect on everybody.” He arched a quizzical dark eyebrow. “You like kids?”

“Very much.” Finished eating, she dabbed her mouth with the paper napkin she had spread over her lap, and gave him a teasing smile. “Some of my best friends have kids.”

“So,” he said, getting up to fetch the coffee carafe to fill their cups. “What about you?”

Frowning, Hannah gave him a blank look. “What about me?”

“Don't dodge, sweet Hannah,” he chided. “I've told you about myself. Now it's your turn.”

Her mind may have been a little slow that morning—apparently a wild night of unbelievably fan
tastic sex had that effect on her—but it hadn't come to a complete stop. “You did no such thing,” she retorted. “You quizzed me about my opinion of your family.”

“Well, I sure couldn't give you my opinion of your family, since I haven't met them.”

“Now who's dodging, Mr. Thinks-He's-So-Clever Grainger?” She grinned as she mimicked his one eyebrow lift.

He took a careful sip of his steaming coffee and grinned back at her. “Okay, what do you want to know…all my deep, dark secrets?”

“Do you have any?”

“No.”

Hannah laughed, she couldn't help it. She just loved… Whoa, hold it. Loved? Don't go there, Hannah, she cautioned herself. Avoid that word like the plague.

“Are you really the bad boy your mother called you?” she asked. Not that she believed he'd confess to her all about his philandering ways.

“Of course not. I'm worse.”

“Indeed. In what way?”

“You know,” he drawled, “I don't know what you do for a living, but you should be in police interrogation.”

“I'm in marketing,” she said wryly. “And don't try changing the subject. It won't work. I want to hear all the lascivious details.”

“Lascivious?” Justin tilted back his head and laughed. “You are really something, woman.”

Woman. Again? Time to drag the knuckle-dragger into the twenty-first century. “Yes, actually, I am something. And don't call me woman. My name is Hannah.”

He looked astounded. “You're not a woman? Damn, you could have fooled me. Yesterday morning and last night. Mostly last night. And I'll call you woman whenever I want to.”

“Okay.” Hannah pushed back her chair and stood. “I'm out of here.” Turning away, she walked to the phone mounted on the kitchen wall.

“Wait a minute.” His hand covered hers on the telephone receiver, holding it still.

She hadn't even heard him move.

“Hannah, sweetheart,” he crooned into her ear. “I was only kidding. What are you doing?”

“Precisely what I said I was going to do today,” she said. “I'm going to phone the airline to book another flight, hopefully for tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“Hannah,” he murmured, his voice a low, coax
ing siren song. Releasing her hand to cup her shoulder, he turned her into his arms. “Don't go.”

She raised her eyes and dropped her guard. His gaze was shadowed, compelling. Oh, heavens, she had to get out of there, away from him, because if she stayed with him…she could wind up being hurt. Hannah knew her thinking was right and yet. And yet…

“Hannah.” Justin slowly lowered his head, to brush her mouth with his. “Don't go. Stay here, with me, for a week, or at least a few more days.”

His tongue outlined her lips, and Hannah was a goner. Against her better judgment. Against everything she had believed about the folly of a rushed relationship, she knew it was too late to stop, too soon to bolt.

She wanted more of him. It was as simple and frightening as that. Surrendering more to her own needs and desires than to Justin's plea, Hannah raised her arms, curling them around his strong neck to draw his lips to her hungry mouth.

 

“You said you had been married.”

“Hmm,” said Justin.

Hannah couldn't see his face, since she lay tightly against him, her cheek resting on his chest.
Justin's angled body was curled almost protectively around her. The fingers of his one hand played with a strand of her long hair. The protective position of his long body sparked a memory of the night of the wedding reception.

After leaving Maggie in the bridal suite, Hannah had returned to the hotel lobby and gone straight to the coat-check counter. Draping the garment bag containing Maggie's gown over the counter, she exchanged her high heels for the boots she had worn earlier. Shrugging into her coat and toting the garment bag and the shoe bag, she considered slipping away, before Justin began looking for her.

She started for the lobby doors, but with a sigh, changed direction to go to the banquet hall where the reception was being held. Hannah had been brought up the old-fashioned way. Good manners dictated she say goodbye to Justin's family, thank his parents—whom she had learned had footed the bill for both the rehearsal dinner and the reception—for a lovely time at both events.

Peeking inside the hall, Hannah's determination faltered. Justin was standing next to the table, talking and laughing with his father and Adam, and looking far too tempting.

She was on the point of turning to leave when little Becky had come up to tug at his pant leg. Gazing down at her, his laughter changed to a tender smile, and instead of kneeling to talk to her, he bent down, his body curved protectively over her. With her pretty little face turned up to her uncle, Hannah saw her mouth move, saw Justin's move in reply before, with a laugh, he swept her up into his arms and headed for the edge of the crowded dance floor.

Hovering in the doorway, Hannah had watched, expecting Justin to whirl Becky around the floor. He hadn't. Setting her on her feet, he'd bowed like a proper gentleman, taken her tiny hands in his and danced her onto the floor.

For some ridiculous reason the sight of Justin, so careful and caring of his niece, had brought a lump to Hannah's throat and a hot sting to her eyes.

With a firm shake of her head, a stiffening of her spine—and her resolve—Hannah had used those few precious seconds while the music played to pay her respects to the Grainger family, then steal away from the hotel, and Justin.

Hannah was brought back to the present when a thought struck her. “Justin, do you have children of your own?”

Heaving a sigh, he rolled onto his back, spreading his arms wide in surrender. “No, Hannah.” He opened his eyes to look at her, his expression somber. “Angie…my ex-wife, said she wanted to wait a little while before starting a family.” His lips twisted, as if from a sour taste in his mouth. “Before the ‘little while' was up, she put on her running shoes and sprinted away with another man.” He made a rude, snorting noise. “Would you believe, a traveling computer-software sales rep? Pitiful, huh?”

“I'm sorry,” she said in a subdued tone. “I shouldn't have pried.”

“No.” Justin moved his head back and forth on the mattress; the pillow had somehow wound up on the floor. The icy look in his eyes had thawed…somewhat. “It's okay, Hannah, you may ask anything that comes to mind.”

“Did you—” Hannah hesitated, before taking a chance of making him angry, bringing back the frost. “Did you love her very much?”

He managed a slight smile. “We didn't know each other very well at the beginning. You could say it was a whirlwind thing. But yes, at the time, I loved her.”

Despite his omitting the words
very much,
Han
nah had to fight to control herself from betraying the sharp twinge of pain in her chest. “Are you still in love with her?” It would explain his love-'em-and-leave-'em attitude toward women.

“No.” He stared directly into her eyes, his voice firm. “You want the truth?” he said, not waiting for a reply before continuing, “I realized I wasn't really in love with her a month after we got married.”

She frowned. “But then…” She broke off in confusion.

Justin moved his shoulders in a shrug. “She was hot, and I was horny.”

Hannah didn't know quite how to respond to his frank admission, so she circumvented that particular subject. “Have you ever truly been in love?”

“No,” he answered with blunt candor. “Have you?”

Hannah smiled. Turnabout was fair play, she supposed. “No,” she said, equally frank and candid. “But, like you, I thought I was for a time.” Her smile turned into a small grin. “But unlike you, instead of a measly month, I believed that I was in love for almost a full year.”

“So, what happened? That no-orgasm thing?”

Hannah felt her neck and face grow warm. This blushing was getting pretty damned annoying. Her
expression must have revealed her feelings, because he grinned in a manner of sheer male hubris. She really couldn't challenge him on it, for he certainly had cured that
thing.
Many times.

“Partly,” she admitted, on a sigh. “But that wasn't the major issue.”

“What!” Justin exploded, jackknifing up to sit facing her. “Was he an idiot…or were you?” As before, often before, he didn't allow her time to answer. “Not the major issue? If you believed you were in love, I would think it would be the most important issue.”

“Yes, I believe you would,” Hannah said, her tone patient, her silent sigh sad. “Justin, there are more things to a relationship than sex, at least if there's any hope of the relationship lasting.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he brushed off her scold. “Compatibility, similar likes and all the rest of that jazz. But good sex is a very large component, and great sex even more so.”

Yes, indeedy, Hannah thought, without a trace of humor but with a large amount of disappointment. Justin Grainger definitely was sexually motivated.

She sighed again. “Turned out, we weren't very compatible,” she explained. “He was altogether
career oriented. He ate, drank and slept his career, and it got worse with every move he made up the corporate ladder. There was no time for fun, friends, long, deep conversations.”

“Or even the fun of longer, deeper, lovemaking,” Justin interjected.

Hannah chose to ignore his opinion, then doggedly continued. “Understand, I was recently out of college and devoted to the marketing business I was getting off the ground. But I was often able to leave my business concerns in the office when I locked up for the night.”

“And he couldn't do that?”

“No.” She shook her head, at the same time wondering why she was bothering to explain all this to him when they obviously weren't going to be seeing each other again after she returned to Philly and he went back to breed horses in Montana. But she soldiered on, “I didn't simply quit, you know. I tried to make it work. I even learned to cook, a chore he knew I wasn't exactly crazy about.”

He laughed.

She bristled. “Well, I never could understand why anyone would put so much time and effort into preparing an elaborate meal for someone to
consume in fifteen minutes, leaving the cook to clean up afterward.”

Justin laughed harder. “I'm sorry. I'm not ridiculing you.”

Hannah glared at him. “Then what's so damn funny?”

“The fact that you've put my own feelings about the culinary art so elegantly into words.” He had brought the laughter to a more acceptable grin. “If I want an elaborately concocted meal, complete with fine wine and candles on the table, I'll go to a fine restaurant and let an expert prepare it.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Hannah concurred, grinning back at him, not for a minute realizing that they were in the midst of the kind of deep conversation she had just complained about being missing from her previous relationship. Maybe that was because she never considered she and Justin ever would be in any kind of relationship…other than the physical one they were briefly conducting.

“So, what do you say we consign whoever-he-was to the dull life he deserves and get on with our own pursuits?” His grin slid into an invitingly sexy smile.

“Which are?” she asked, suddenly aware of
them sitting there, naked to the waist, and the thrill of expectation dancing along her exposed spine.

“The dreaded kitchen duty first.” The sexy smile reverted back to a grin. “Then a shower.” He hesitated. “And I think it's time I stripped the bed and tossed these sheets into the washer.”

“Okay.” Though she readily agreed, Hannah was disappointed. Drat the man and his sensually teasing ways. “I'll remake the bed.”

“You're on.” Springing from the bed, he scooped up his crumpled jeans and put them on before reaching for the same sweater he'd worn the day before.

Quickly sliding from the bed, Hannah picked up the robe he had earlier flung aside, and slipped into it, belting it securely, while admiring the back he turned away to gather his clothes.

Justin Grainger was a magnificent specimen, his broad muscular back, his slender waist, the tightness of his butt, the long muscles of his thighs and calves. She sighed. Hell, she even thought he had handsome feet!