Millionaire Husband (6 page)

That evening Justin didn’t arrive home by dinnertime, making Amy wonder if he was experiencing buyer’s remorse. Probably sensing her edginess,
the kids chose that night for a full-fledged arsenic hour.

Topping it off with a cherry, Ms. Hatcher arrived at the door. Amy just managed to beat Emily to the door. Moving her lips into what she hoped looked like a smile, Amy opened the door and greeted the woman.

“Good evening, Ms. Hatcher. Do come in. You’ve arrived just at dinner time again,” Amy said, cheerfully trying to keep the edge from her voice.

“I nearly tripped over the tricycle on the sidewalk,” Ms. Hatcher grumbled as they headed away from the foyer.

“I’m so sorry,” Amy said, thinking it was a shame the woman hadn’t broken her neck. As soon as the thought whispered across her mind, she winced, hoping she wouldn’t get struck by lightning. “I wish I could offer you dessert, but—”

Amy heard the front door open and close. She glanced past Ms. Hatcher to see Justin. Her stomach flipped. She and Justin hadn’t prepared for this. She didn’t know whether to kiss him or tell him to leave. A visit from Ms. Hatcher was too important to muddle, and she and Justin hadn’t even made plans. “Justin,” she said, biting her lip, “Ms. Hatcher is here.”

“Hi, Justin!” the twins chorused.

Waving to the boys, he quickly surveyed the
scene and walked toward Amy. “Nice to see you, Ms. Hatcher. Has Amy had a chance to share our news with you?”

The woman frowned as Justin put his arm around Amy. “News? What news?”

“We were married over the weekend. You can be among the first to congratulate us.”

Ms. Hatcher’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “You’re married? So quickly?”

He nuzzled Amy’s hair, surprising the dickens out of her. “When it’s right, it’s best not to wait. Amy and I have each other, and the children have two parents.”

“B-b-but, what about your honeymoon?”

Amy stiffened.

Justin skimmed his fingers down the sensitive inside of her arm and laced his long fingers through hers. “I’d like nothing more than to have my bride all to myself, but we thought it would be much better for the children not to leave them for a while.” He squeezed Amy’s hand a little too tightly as if to wake her from a trance. “Right, sweetheart?”

Amy nodded. “Right. The children have really taken to Justin, and I think it will be wonderful for both the boys and Emily to have a successful male role model in the home.” Amy resisted the urge to put her finger down her throat. Give her pearls, heels and a vacuum cleaner and she could have been a 1950s television wife.

“Well, we will need to interview Mr. Langdon and perform our routine check,” Ms. Hatcher said, clearly still struggling with her surprise.

Amy battled another dart of anxiety. What if there was something detrimental in Justin’s past?

“Feel free. It’s important for you to do your job,” Justin said and to Amy’s ears he might as well have said “Have at it, you nosey hag. I have nothing to hide.”

She needed to get Ms. Hatcher out the door. She wouldn’t be able to sustain the 1950s television wife persona much longer. “Was there anything else you needed this evening?” she asked.

“Not that I can think—”

“Then let me escort you to the door,” Justin said. Amy wondered if he’d noticed her squeaky tone of voice. She suspected he knew how tense she was.

He deliberately pried Amy’s fingers from his and took Ms. Hatcher’s arm.

“Thank you,” she said under her breath and felt her shoulder twitch when the woman turned away. A moment later, it twitched again.

Emily looked at her curiously. “Aunt Amy, why are you moving your arm funny?”

“I don’t know, sweetie,” she said, rolling her shoulder. “I think I’m a little tense.”
Or maybe I’m allergic to Ms. Hatcher.

Justin returned and met Amy’s gaze. “She’s gone.”

Amy heaved a sigh of relief and rushed toward him. She impulsively hugged him and pressed her mouth against his, then pulled backed. “I cannot tell you how much I appreciate you showing up at the exact moment you did. Thank you. Thank you. I owe you a big one.”

Justin glanced down her body with a sensual once-over, then seared her from the inside out with a warm, yet challenging gaze. “How big a one do you owe me?”

Oops. Amy felt her heart skip. She wondered if she’d traded the Wicked Witch of the West, Ms. Hatcher, for the Big Bad Wolf, her husband.

A
my felt a tugging sensation on her shorts. She glanced down at Jeremy.

“What’s a honeymoon?” he asked.

Her shoulder twitched again. “It’s when the bride and groom take a special trip.”

His eyes lit up. “To Disney World?”

“Yes, or the beach. It could be anywhere.”

“I think we should go on a honeymoon!” he said.

“Yeah!” Nicholas chorused. “Let’s go on a honeymoon.”

Emily rolled her eyes in sisterly superiority. “We can’t go on a honeymoon, you guys. Kids don’t get to go. Just grown-ups.”

Jeremy frowned. “That stinks.”

“Exactly,” Amy said. “We would miss you too much, so we’re not going on a honeymoon.”

Jeremy’s face cleared. “Okay. Do we have any cookies?”

“Did you eat your peas?” Amy asked, glancing at the table.

Jeremy squirmed. “Two of ’em.” He slid a glance toward Justin. “Do you eat peas?”

“Yes, I do. Peas make you tall.”

Jeremy’s eyes widened and he took in Justin’s height. “They do?”

Nick smiled. “I’m gonna be tall,” he said. “I eat ’em with catsup.”

Amy turned away from the kids and whispered to Justin, “Peas make you tall?”

“Can’t hurt,” he said with a shrug, and nodded toward the kitchen table. “It worked.”

Amy turned around to see Jeremy eating his peas. “Amazing,” she muttered. “Teaching the twins the boy-way to pee, scaring away Ms. Hatcher, and now getting Jeremy to eat his vegetables.” She glanced at him. “I’d almost have to recommend you for sainthood.”

“Oh, no,” Justin said, raking her from head to toe with another glance that turned up her body temperature. “I guarantee I’m no saint. I look forward to collecting the big one.”

Amy tried very hard to prevent her mind from
venturing into forbidden territory at his mention of the big one, but she would just bet Justin had…. Her face heated. She definitely needed to chill out. “Ice cream,” she said brightly. “Who wants ice cream?”

Later that evening, Amy collapsed on the sofa in the den and closed her eyes. She heard Justin’s footsteps and felt his presence in the room, but kept her eyes closed. There was an air of expectancy between them. She ran her thumb over her wedding band, then lifted her hand in the air. “Why did you get me such a nice ring? You could have gotten me cubic zirconia.”

A brief silence followed. “How do you know it’s not cubic zirconia?”

Amy popped her eyes open and stared at him. “Is it?”

His lips lifted in a wry half-smile. “No, it’s not. I’ve been called a tightwad, but even I know it wouldn’t be appropriate in this case.”

She pulled herself up into a sitting position. “In a way, it would be very appropriate,” she said. “Our marriage isn’t normal.”

He raised his eyebrows. “From what I hear, normal isn’t always that great. The ring is more a reflection of you. I think you’re genuine, so I think you deserve a genuine stone.”

Touched, Amy looked down at her ring, and the meaning of the band grew on her. It was one of
nicest, sincerest things a man had said to her and it made her feel vulnerable and a bit confused. She slowly lifted her gaze to him again, too aware of her confusing feelings, too aware of the way his jeans fit his body and long legs like a lover’s hand. Her fingers itched to trace the slight wave of his hair and the hard line of his chin. Her mind longed to know the secrets behind his eyes. Dangerous, she thought, and searched her mind for a safe subject. “How was your day at the market?”

“Profitable,” he said. “My turn. What is a big one?”

Her stomach did a little dip. Not that again, she thought. “It’s a relative term. Your idea of big and my idea of big could be very far apart.”

“What about duration?” he asked, sitting beside her.

Amy’s heart picked up at his nearness. “Again, relative. I would guess no longer than, say, three minutes,” she said, betting that three minutes of anything with Justin couldn’t get her into too much trouble. Three minutes wasn’t long enough to—Well, if three minutes was long enough, it wouldn’t be very good. Her cheeks began to feel hot again.

“Three minutes,” he said.

She nodded, mesmerized by the intent look in his eyes.

“Of anything?”

“Within reason,” she said.

“Okay, I want the big one tonight,” Justin said.

Her heart stuttered. “So soon?”

“I told you I wasn’t a saint.”

She swallowed. “But if you use up the big one, you won’t have it for later.”

“That’s okay. Three minutes,” he said.

She swallowed again. “Three minutes of what?”

“One thing,” he said. “A three-minute kiss.”

Amy’s breath stopped in her throat. “That’s a long kiss.”

“Depends on who you’re kissing,” he said and leaned closer.

Her heart hammering, Amy inched backward.

“Scared?”

Pride roared through her. She lifted her chin. “Of course not, it’s just a kiss. Should I get a timer from the kitchen?”

He chuckled. “I have a timer on my watch. I can set it,” he said, and pushed a few buttons on his watch.

Then he looked at her, lifted his hands to slide his fingers through her hair and pulled her to him like a bunch of flowers. As if the clock weren’t ticking, as if he were in no rush, he rubbed his lips back and forth against hers, savoring the sensation of her mouth.

She sighed at his relaxed approach. He suckled her bottom lip into his, rimming just the inside with the tip of his tongue. Secret longings twisted inside
her. Gently tilting her head, he stroked her scalp with his fingertips while his tongue toyed with hers.

Her breasts glanced his chest and his groan vibrated sensually inside her. Deepening the kiss, he trailed one hand down to massage her jaw.

A burning sensation built inside her. Inhaling his musky, male scent, she struggled with a restless need to take his mouth the way he was taking hers, to touch him, to get closer. She balled her fists to keep from reaching for him at the same time she opened her mouth farther for his exploration.

In a second, the tone of the kiss changed from lazy to hot and compelling. He tasted like sex. Consuming her lips, he slid his hand down her throat to her arm, urging her to touch him.

Her breasts felt swollen and her nerve endings buzzed with forbidden excitement. Her mind clouded with arousal, she leaned into him and lifted her hand to his shoulder. His strength lured her. Amy had told herself she always had to be the strong one, but his power surrounded him like a cloak, and the temptation to lean into him and absorb his power was overwhelming. Justin meshed his chest against hers, and the heat of him aroused her further. His fingertips grazed the side of her breasts, and Amy suckled his tongue deep into her mouth.

She burned. She wanted. He rubbed his thumb in a teasing movement on the outer edge of her breast. She wanted more. She wanted him to slide his hand
under her shirt and cup her fully. She wanted him to rub her aching nipple, to take it into his mouth.

His finger edged closer and a moan vibrated in her throat. As if he could read her need, he moved slowly, ever closer to the stiff peak of her breast. So close.

Beyond the rush of arousal crashing in her bloodstream, she heard a tiny pinging sound. Justin paused and swore under his breath. The pinging grew louder. He pulled back, and she fought the instinct to follow his mouth with hers.

The alarm, Amy realized. The alarm had gone off. Three minutes had passed. Her body screaming for more, she disentangled herself and inhaled sharp breaths. The sound of her breaths mingled with his in the darkness like a hot sultry night, emphasizing the thick atmosphere of impending intimacy.

Rattled by the way he’d affected her in just
three minutes,
she stood and wrapped her arms around her waist. She knew without a doubt that the way he tempted her was more than sexual; it was also emotional. The knowledge frightened her so much her hands shook. She clasped either arm to halt the trembling.

Her mind whirled. She had always suspected Justin could be dangerous to her. His combination of strength, intelligence, and the underlying thread of his sexuality was entirely too compelling. She closed her eyes to calm down.

He touched her shoulder and she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Don’t!” she whispered and held her breath. She was more sensitive than if she’d been sunburned. “Please don’t touch me.”

He didn’t touch her, but his low murmur was almost worse. “Okay,” he said, so close to her ear, she could almost feel his lips again. A shiver ran through her. “I want to do much more than touch you. I want to listen to your body instead of that damn alarm. I want to kiss you all over, but three minutes wouldn’t be enough time. Three hours wouldn’t be either,” he said and the sensual promise of his words might as well have been an intimate caress in all her secret places.

“Sleep tight,” he said, but it sounded more like a sexy taunt or challenge. Amy suspected she wouldn’t be sleeping well tonight. She had grossly underestimated the effect he had on her.

An hour later, Justin rolled over for the twentieth time. He was still aroused. Although he’d sensed Amy was a passionate woman, he’d had no idea her response would burn his control to cinders so quickly.

Every time he closed his eyes, he tasted her lips and remembered the sensation of her tongue. He felt her breasts begging for his touch. He recalled the way her restlessness signaled her arousal. Every little move she’d made had wound his spring tighter
and tighter. It would have taken so little to go further, to push up her shirt and stare at her full breasts before he tasted her nipples with his tongue. It would have taken so little for him to push aside her shorts and feel the inviting moistness between her thighs.

She was his wife.

But she might as well not be.

Giving in to insomnia, Justin pushed back the covers, rose from his bed and flipped on his desk lamp. Turning on his computer, he scrubbed his face with his hand. If he couldn’t sleep, he may as well study stock charts.

The following morning, Amy felt vulnerable and she was angry with herself for the vulnerability. She shouldn’t have gotten so worked up over a kiss.
But what a kiss,
her honest, feminine and currently unhelpful mind said. She banged her glass of orange juice down, and it sloshed all over the counter.

“Oops,” Nicholas said.

Jeremy giggled. “Oops.”

Together, they chorused, “Oops.”

Her frayed nerves stretched tighter when the twins joyfully chorused, “Justin!”

They were always so happy to see him, she thought, and made a face in the direction of the sink. The problem was she often felt just as childishly happy to see him as the children did.

“Good morning,” Amy said in a muted voice, noticing that his eyes were a little more narrowed than usual, and his hair was slightly mussed. Maybe he hadn’t slept any better than she had, she thought hopefully at the same time she was ashamed for having such dark thoughts. He looked pretty darn good for having had a rough night.

“Morning, boys,” he said cheerily, then offered the same muted tone back at Amy with a nod, “Good morning.”

“G’mornin’, Justin,” Emily said in her sweet, sleepy tone as she spooned cereal into her mouth.

Justin returned the greeting. Amy’s heart softened and she stroked her niece’s hair. “I’ll ask the Colemans if you can borrow their piano again today. Okay, sweetie?”

Her mouth full, Emily smiled and nodded.

“Who are the Colemans?” Justin asked.

“A family down the street. They’ve been kind enough to let Emily use their piano. I think she’s interested in taking lessons.” Amy hadn’t figured out how she would afford a piano or the lessons, but she supposed that was a challenge for another day.

Justin nodded thoughtfully. “I’m heading over to my other home office, and I’m meeting some friends tonight, so I won’t be home until late. You guys, give it your best shot to have a good day.” He paused and met her gaze. “You too, Amy,” he said
in a deeper, almost intimate tone that tugged at something deep inside her.

That night, for the sake of sanity, Justin revisited his bachelor roots. He met Dylan at O’Malley’s for beer and a burger.

“Michael will be late,” Dylan said as he joined Justin at a table perfectly positioned for watching the wide-screen television playing the Baltimore Orioles game.

“Problem?” Justin said.

Dylan made a face. “Yeah, he’s getting a home-cooked meal instead of a burger. I wouldn’t be surprised if Kate has another baby soon.”

“So soon?”

“I think they want a big family,” Dylan said, and the look on his face reminded Justin of time spent at the Granger Home for Boys.

“Remember when everybody wanted a big family?” Justin said, taking a drink of beer.

“A big nuclear family,” Dylan said. “We wanted Dad and Mom and a bunch of brothers and a sister or two to attract the girls when we were teenagers.”

“It may not be nuclear, but you technically have a big family,” Justin pointed out. “You’re part Remington, so you’ve got two half-brothers and a half-sister.”

Dylan laughed shortly. “Half is the operative word. Nothing would make them happier than if I
disappeared. Especially Grant. He’s the oldest and I know he thinks I’m trying to take over the entire company.”

Justin quirked his mouth in a partial grin. For the most part, Dylan concealed his competitive nature with a well-honed, cool untroubled air. “And you’re not?”

Dylan gave him a sideways glance. “Careful, someone might find out I give a damn after all. I don’t want control of the entire company, just part of it,” he said in a voice that reminded Justin of a shark.

“No wonder Grant doesn’t sleep well at night.”

“Enough about me. How’s married life? How are the perks?” he asked with a sly grin.

“Amy and I haven’t known each other very long, so we’re not to the perks stage yet.” He gave a sigh of frustration. “Besides I’m married to a descendent of Joan of Arc, so she doesn’t believe she has any human needs.”

Dylan winced. “Sorry, bud. But you know even Joan of Arc burned in the end. How’s the rest of it? Are you spending money like water?”