Millionaire Husband (10 page)

His gaze met hers with a trace of something that looked very close to possessiveness. “Yeah. If there was a wet T-shirt contest, you would definitely win, but I don’t want anyone else seeing you like that.” He pulled his shirt over his head and transferred it to her.

It was such a chivalrous, protective gesture that she didn’t know what to say. With the rain pouring down just two feet away, she stood there staring into Justin’s eyes and a dozen feelings rose within her. Bare-chested because he’d just given her his own shirt, this was the same man who had survived the Granger Home for Boys and had given his money to a kid so he could visit his parents. This was the same man who always knew the bottom line, and this was the same man who had made love to her with a force stronger than the rain. Her husband.

Unable to stop herself, she stretched up on tiptoe and kissed him. She slid her arms around his neck and with her kiss, she tried to tell him things she wasn’t able to articulate to herself let alone to him. She tasted his surprise and desire, and she felt the familiar insistent urge inside her for more.

He pulled back and studied her with hooded eyes. “What was that for?”

Speechless while her body hummed, and her mind and heart raced, she tried to make her brain work. “A thank-you,” she improvised. “For giving me the shirt off your back.”

He paused again, pushing her hair behind her ear. “Maybe you can return the favor sometime.”

Later that night after the kids were tucked in, Justin found Amy downstairs looking out the window
at the full moon. “I wondered if you’d come tonight. You’ve been pretty busy with your stock charts.”

“It’s getting near the end of the trading season,” he told her, but he knew he’d been avoiding her. As he looked at the way the moonlight glimmered on her hair and he remembered the provocative image of her nearly naked breasts, he wondered if he should be avoiding her again tonight.

She looked at him curiously. “Trading season? I thought the stock market was open year-round.”

“It is, but there’s a theory that the best time for trading is between October and May. Since it’s almost May, I keep a close watch on my short-term positions.”

“What do you like most about trading?” she asked.

He enjoyed being the object of her feminine curiosity. “I like the illusion of control. I have no control over the market, but if I study stocks and apply different theories to the charts, then I find my percentage of wins goes up.”

“Do you celebrate when you win?”

He shook his head. “Not usually.”

She studied him for a moment. “You don’t usually celebrate when you win because you win all the time.”

“More often than not,” he said.

She pushed away from the wall and pointed her finger at his chest. “If you’re so good the stockbrokers want you to come talk to them, then ‘more often than not’ must be an understatement.”

Capturing her hand in his, he lifted her impertinent finger to his mouth and gently nipped it, watching her eyes widen. “There’s a fine line between confidence and overconfidence in trading. The difference can cost you a fortune. The reasons I’ve been successful are that I know the difference and I focus on the discipline and process of trading.”

He darted his tongue out to taste and soothe her forefinger. As her gaze locked with his in sensual expectation, Justin wondered what it would take for a woman like Amy to fall for him. He wondered what life would be like to have a woman like Amy loving him. Dangerous thoughts. It was the kind of thing he’d never allowed himself to wish. He was pretty damn sure it wouldn’t be wise to start wishing now.

She stepped closer so that her body barely brushed his every time she breathed. “You’re like a book I never thought I wanted to read, but once I opened, it was hard to stop. Every time I learn something about you,” she said in a low, husky voice tinged with frustration, “I want to know more.”

She was so inviting she reminded him of a flower waiting to be plucked. In the corner of his mind, he remembered how she’d reacted the time they’d
made love, but he allowed himself a kiss. Gently pushing her back against the wall, he lowered his mouth to hers, and she immediately responded by opening her lips and twining her tongue with his.

Her instantaneous, sensual response affected him like an intimate stroke. Aroused, he played with her mouth, tasting her and allowing her to taste him. With each stroke of her tongue over his, a visual formed in his mind of her kissing her way down his body. Her hair skimming over his bare skin, her hardened nipples taunting him with random touches in her movement down to his thighs. Even now, he could feel the tips of her on his chest.

His hands itching to touch her, he slid his hand under her T-shirt and cupped her breast. Her sexy sigh in his mouth was too irresistible an invitation and he slipped his other hand underneath her shirt so that he touched both breasts.

Amy moaned and undulated against him. Instinctively he pressed his arousal between her thighs and when she opened her legs, Justin began to sweat. He knew how she felt, how she tasted.

He felt one of her hands circle the back of his neck, urging his mouth against hers, as if she were hungry for him, as if she couldn’t get enough.

The notion sent a firestorm throbbing through his blood. He rhythmically slid his tongue into her mouth and she suckled him in the same way her
body would squeeze his hardness if he were taking her.

She moved restlessly against him and he felt her hand slide down to touch him intimately through the fabric of his shorts. He couldn’t withhold a groan. He wanted her naked. He wanted her mouth on him. He wanted her.

“Touch me,” he urged in a low voice against her sexy open mouth.

With unsteady hands, she unfastened his shorts and cupped his aching masculinity in her hand. The touch of her caresses made him feel as if he would burst. Looking into his gaze with eyes dark with desire, she rubbed the honey of his arousal with her thumb and lifted it to her tongue.

The sight was so erotic it nearly made him crazy. “I want to take you,” he told her. “I don’t care much where or how. I just want to take you now.”

Everything about her was one big delicious, inviting
yes.
Justin slid his hands down to her hips. It would be so easy to push down her shorts and find her wetness. It would be easy to lift her and wrap her thighs around his hips. It would be so decadently easy to thrust inside her tight wet femininity.

His mind and body throbbing in anticipation, he took her mouth as he began to unfasten her shorts.

Distantly he heard a high-pitched sound outside the room. He was so intent on Amy that he let it
slide. However, he heard it again. A child’s broken sob.

Despite his raging arousal, the sound tugged at him. It cost him, but Justin pulled back to listen.

“Aunt Amy,” Nicholas cried from the top of the stairs. “I had a bad dream.”

Justin ducked his head and inhaled deeply. He could feel her body humming with the same need he had. He took another deep breath. “You need to go,” he murmured.

A
n hour and half later after a chilly shower, Justin still burned for her. But he wouldn’t go to her. Prowling his small room, he felt caged. As much as he wanted her, his
wife
was an incredibly complex creature. Bold and shy, she somehow also managed to be both fearless and vulnerable. Justin didn’t want her running out on him again. When he made love to her again, he wanted her waking up beside him.

He wondered how their relationship might have progressed if they hadn’t married for the reasons they did. He tried to picture dating Amy, but it was damn difficult with three kids, as good as they might be. He wondered again what it would be like for her to give her heart to him.

His chest grew tight at the thought. He’d never wanted a woman’s heart before. Her body, her attention, maybe, but not her heart. That got messy. But hell, marriage was about as messy as a man could get. The problem with wanting Amy’s heart was that he suspected if she gave her heart, she would want him to give his in return. Justin would almost rather give his wallet.

“Have fun,” Amy called after Justin as he left for the stockbrokers’ dinner. He looked almost as good in a tux as he did naked.

He made a face. “I’m speaking.”

She shrugged. “Well, then break a leg.”

“I’ll try not to. Later,” he said and the door closed behind him.

Amy immediately turned to the kids. “I’m going out tonight, so a sitter will give you pizza.”

“Woo-hoo pizza!” Nicholas yelled.

Emily was more reserved. “Who’s the sitter?”

“Jennifer Stallings. I think you’ve met her. She lives down the street and she’s very nice and experienced.”

Emily nodded hesitantly.

Concerned, Amy bent down and gazed at her niece. “What is it, sweetie? Do you feel sick?”

Emily shook her head. She hesitated again. “You won’t get in an accident, will you?” she asked in a low voice.

Amy’s heart twisted and she pulled Emily into her
arms. “I have every intention of not getting in an accident. I know it’s hard not to feel scared, but we can’t lock ourselves at home. Not you or me.” She pulled back and gazed into her niece’s pensive face. “I tell you what. I plan to be home by around midnight at the very latest, and when I get home, I’ll pop in and give you a kiss. Okay?”

Emily relaxed slightly. “Okay. Where are you going?”

“To surprise Justin,” Amy whispered.

Emily’s eyes widened. “Is it his birthday?”

Amy chuckled. “No, but he’s giving a speech, so I’m going to surprise him by showing up to listen to him. Could you keep an eye on your brothers while I get ready?”

Emily nodded, and Amy raced to her room and jerked open her closet door. Her clothing selection for a dinner party was dismally limited since during most of her life she dressed like an elementary school teacher. Fanning through her hangers, she finally chose a black sleeveless sweater-and-skirt combination. With heels and her trendy new faux pearl necklace, she should pass muster.

She didn’t want to embarrass herself or Justin. Doubts niggled inside her. What if he wasn’t pleased to see her in the audience? What if the reason he had discouraged her attendance was something other than boredom? Like a more experienced woman. Her stomach knotted at the thought.

Nerves rising to the surface, Amy dressed and applied make-up, smearing her eye shadow and reapplying. Horrified when a blob of mascara fell beneath her eye, she quickly blotted it, then approached her hair which balked at every effort she made to tame it.

“Why don’t you put it up on top of your head like you did for the wedding?” Emily asked from the doorway.

Amy shook her head at herself and smiled at Emily. “Out of the mouth of my favorite girl. Perfect solution. What would I do without you?”

Emily beamed beneath her praise. “Do you want me to pick some flowers in the backyard?”

“Dandelions,” Amy murmured picturing the backyard. Not weeds. She spritzed her hair with water, then scooped it up off her neck and began to pin it in place. “Thanks Em, but I have a few sparkly bobby pins I might use instead this time. Maybe you can help put them in?”

Emily did indeed help with the pins and Amy would have to say the five-year-old had far steadier hands than she did tonight. After giving the sitter instructions and kissing each child twice, Amy left.

The meeting was held at an exclusive club in downtown St. Albans. Amidst the luxury automobiles, she handed her car keys to the valet driver who looked at her car askance. Nerves and irritation
bubbled inside her. “It’s a classic,” she said with a smile. “Make sure you take care of it.”

She walked into the opulent lobby decorated with chandeliers, statues, and fountains and she located Justin’s dinner party. Almost all the round tables of eight, including Justin’s table, were filled. After a thorough search, she found one spot at a table near the center of the room and sat down.

Although she felt terribly out of place, she picked at her food and tried to remain invisible as the dinner conversation swirled around her. Stealing glances at the head table, she saw that Justin was seated between two beautiful, perfectly polished women who probably had not needed the assistance of a five-year-old to fix their hair. They were everything she wasn’t, she thought and fought not to feel diminished. The brunette, Amy noticed, kept touching him. She fought a terrible tug of envy.

“It’s packed tonight,” the middle-aged man with the hideous tie beside her said. “Everyone wants to hear what St. Albans’s premier stock stud, self-made millionaire has to say. I say he’s been damn lucky and has just missed the speed bumps most of us hit.”

Indignant on Justin’s behalf even though the brunette was sitting entirely too close and he was smiling too frequently, Amy clamped back a hasty retort.

The young man on her other side shook his head. “I have to disagree. Haven’t you heard? He’s been
trading for years. He didn’t make his fortune overnight or with one big trade.”

“You sound like a Langdon groupie,” Mr. Bad Tie said.

The young man shrugged. “I’m intrigued, like about three hundred other people who are here tonight. If he can share his secret, I’ll be more than happy to cash in on it.”

Mr. Bad Tie grunted. “If it were that easy, everyone would be doing it,” he said then turned to her. “Allan Walters. I haven’t seen you before. Which firm are you with?”

Taken off guard, Amy blinked before she shook the man’s hand. “I’m not with a brokerage. I teach—”

“—business or marketing,” he finished incorrectly for her with a nod of approval. “It’s good for anyone teaching business to be exposed to this kind of thing, but I hope you tell your students this is rare and people can lose the money as fast as they make it.”

“Needs to retire,” the young man beside her murmured for her ears only.

“I hear Langdon goes through women like penny stocks,” Allan said with a sigh as he eyed Amy’s cleavage. “One of the luxuries of being young and wealthy.”

Insulted, Amy bit her tongue, then counted to ten.
“You seem to know a lot about Mr. Langdon. Have you met him?”

“No, but word gets around if you know what I mean.”

“So, most of the basis for your opinion is rumor,” Amy clarified.

Allan with the bad tie adjusted his tie. “Well, it’s clear he plays the field. Look. He’s got a woman on either side of him tonight.”

“The only thing that’s clear is that the seating for his table is arranged male, female, male, female,” she said and tried to tell herself she was totally correct even though a part of her worried.

“Well, I know the guy isn’t married because it would have been in the newspaper.”

“I can’t tell you much about Mr. Langdon’s past romantic life, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t get his stock tips from the newspaper or rumor mill. Perhaps that’s part of the reason he’s so successful.”

“Well said,” the young man on her other side murmured to her. He extended his hand. “Ben Haynes,” he said. “And you are?”

“Amy Monroe,” she said, wondering if she would ever consider taking Justin’s last name.

“You’re not the usual type of woman who shows up for these things,” Ben said as if it were a compliment.

“And the usual type is?”

He grinned. “Think barracuda.”

Amy’s stomach twisted. So her competition, if she were interested in competing for Justin’s attention, which she wasn’t, she assured herself, was a cunning sea animal that gnashed its prey to bits with sharp teeth. Her head started to throb. Maybe this hadn’t been such a great idea after all.

At the head dinner table, Justin stifled a sigh. Despite the fact that he’d flashed his wedding ring and mentioned his
wife
several times throughout the meal, the brunette woman beside him, Gabi, whose name fit her perfectly, had hit on him so much he would need to check for bruises.

Justin wasn’t chomping at the bit to step in front of this crowd. Although he knew many admired and respected him, just as many resented his success. They were professionals. He wasn’t, therefore he wasn’t supposed to be successful.

“Oh, Justin,” Gabi continued, but he turned off his listening ear as he took a drink of water and the association’s president climbed the small stairway to the platform.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the man began. “It is my privilege to introduce our guest speaker for the Spring meeting of the Virginia Stockbrokers’ Association. This man started out on a shoestring budget trading low-dollar stocks, eventually building to high-dollar profits. His net worth is now well into the multiple six figures….”

Justin stifled a yawn and surreptitiously glanced at his watch. Another moment passed and the president finally said, “Ladies and gentlemen, I now present Justin Langdon.” The applause seemed to fill every corner of the huge room, surprising the dickens out of Justin. He stood and climbed the stairs to the stage to stand behind the podium. The room was packed and the lighting so dark he couldn’t make out many faces.

As if he were attending a twelve-step recovery meeting, he said, “Hello, my name is Justin Langdon, and I’m a—” he paused for effect “—tightwad.”

In the audience, Amy’s heart swelled with pride and something that felt very close to love. Justin was such an incredible man.

The crowd laughed, and Justin continued with his speech. “I know it must irritate the dickens out of most of you to know that I built my fortune off the stock market without the assistance of a stockbroker. More importantly, no stockbroker benefited with commission. But all I’ve done is become my own expert. My system of trading is designed specifically with me in mind—my goals, my never-ending study of the market, knowing how much I can risk and still sleep at night, and my commitment to trade with a minimum of emotion. You have to figure this out for each of your clients, and unfortunately, your clients aren’t clones.”

With the exception of the tightwad remark, everything he said resonated with his actions. From the beginning, Amy had sensed he was a man who knew himself well. He had been tested and tried and had grown stronger because of it. Amy sensed many people admired him for the money he’d made. She admired him for the man he’d become.

“Most of your clients aren’t like me at all,” Justin said, “so parts of my plan won’t work for them. But I’m going to help you with a response for the next time one of your clients says something annoying like, ‘I’ve read about how Justin Langdon turned his portfolio from three digits to seven digits all by himself. Maybe I should try that.’

“Here is the step-by-step process for how to do what Justin has done. Number one, cheap housing. Live in a one-room efficiency in an area of town where your lullabye each and every night will be the sound of fights in the streets followed by police sirens.

“Two, eat cheap. Your regular menu should consist of cans of beans and packaged macaroni. You’re allowed to splurge and go out to eat once a year. To McDonald’s.” The sound of the crowd’s chuckles rose to the podium. They thought he was joking, Justin thought, but he knew better. He had lived it.

“Three, no car for three years. Walk or take the bus. Every penny you would have spent on pay
ments, maintenance, gas and parking goes into your trading account.

“Four, say goodbye to your sleep. After you start making significant money on the market, get a job working the midnight shift so you can stare at your monitor all day, then work all night.

“Five, no social life for three years straight. Beer is a luxury, decent wine is a dream.” Justin smiled to himself figuring he’d eliminated ninety percent of the people who wanted to “do what Justin Langdon had done.”

“Six, no dating for three years straight. Dating costs money and if you want to do what Justin did, you have to put every penny into the market.”

He took a drink of water and surveyed the crowd again. Light glimmered on red hair about halfway back. He paused, narrowing his eyes.
Amy?

His heart hammered with an odd kick of joy and confusion. When had she arrived? Why hadn’t she let him know she was here? She glanced from side to side, then met his gaze and smiled as if she knew he was looking at her.

He took another drink of water and noted she was dressed in a man-killer black number that faithfully followed every curve. It looked like the men on either side of her were noticing her curves, too.

He continued with his speech a bit more quickly than he’d intended. Justin wanted his questions answered. When the older guy beside Amy locked his
gaze on her cleavage, Justin had to resist the urge to jump down from the stage and punch him. Justin took a slightly more civilized course, deviating from his prepared remarks.

“I’d like to take this opportunity to introduce you to my wife. She came in a little late.” Justin watched her face turn the color of her hair and her eyes shoot daggers. “Amy, don’t be shy. Wave to everyone.”

She did reluctantly, but her expression told him there would be hell to pay. Wrapping up his talk, he nodded to acknowledge applause, shook hands with the president, then strode directly to Amy’s table.

A young man beside her stood and offered his hand. “Mr. Langdon, I’m a longtime fan.”