Millionaire Husband (7 page)

“Not yet,” Justin said, the prospect of uncontrolled spending threatening a bout of indigestion. “I bought something today for one of the kids and I’m setting up accounts for their college education.”

Dylan raised his eyebrows. “This sounds like the real thing to me.”

“The kids are very real,” Justin said with a shrug that belied his true feelings. “Kids take a lot of planning. I always knew that. I didn’t know they could be fun, too.”

“And Amy?”

Justin thought about how responsive she’d felt last night and wanted to growl. “Amy could be a lot of fun if she’d quit trying to save the world for fifteen minutes.”

“Maybe you can get her to save you,” Dylan said with a wicked grin.

Amy sat alone in the darkness of her den. The children were blessedly asleep and she was blessedly alone. Justin still hadn’t arrived home. She should be welcoming these precious moments of solitude with open arms.

Instead her gaze wandered to the clock. She wondered where he was and with whom. It was none of her business, she told herself and rose to pace the area carpet. After all, it wasn’t as if they were married in the truest sense of the word. If his idea of going out with friends included seeing a woman who would meet his needs, then that should be fine with her. In sexual terms, she had no claim on him.

So why did the very thought of Justin with another woman make her heart pound with fury? If Amy looked in a mirror right now, she feared a green monster would be staring back at her.

The force of her emotion for him made it even worse. She should not care, she fumed. “This is why I didn’t want to get married,” she muttered. “Caring for a man too much just gets in the way,” she muttered to herself. “Feeling too much for a man muddles the mind and saps the energy.”

She glanced at the clock again. Eleven-thirty. She missed their questions. Her day felt incomplete without them. She missed those few moments when she allowed herself to give in to her curiosity about him. And she was frustrated with herself for caring so much.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she left the den and climbed the stairs. This was why she needed to rein in her feelings at all times. Tonight was a perfect reminder. Amy must depend on herself and no one else. Always.

T
he following afternoon, Amy found herself in a bind. The preschool children for the after-school program would be arriving any moment and her sitter had called with an emergency. She needed Amy to pick up Emily, Nicholas and Jeremy. Amy’s back-up sitter was out of town on vacation.

Although she would almost rather chew nails, she tried to get in touch with Justin, first at his house. To her surprise, she found him at her home instead.

“What’s up?” he asked.

Just hearing the strength in his voice calmed her. “I have a problem. My sitter’s had an emergency, and I’m here doing the after-school program, so I need someone to pick up the kids from the sitter.”

A long pause followed, and she held her breath. Regret seeped in. “Forget it,” she said. “You don’t—”

“For Pete’s sake, give me a minute,” he said. “The market’s still open and I’ve got two possible trades left. I’ll place limit orders. Where does the sitter live?”

Amy quickly gave him the address and directions all the while thinking how much she hated asking for his help at the same time she was heaving a sigh of relief. “I really appreciate this,” she said. “I owe you a—” She broke off before she said “a big one.” The big one had gotten her in big trouble last time.

“We’ll see,” he said. “See ya.”

No sexy tease on the
big one
from him either, she noticed with an odd sense of loss as she slowly hung up the phone. Perhaps he wasn’t so interested in the big one with her now. That was good, she insisted to herself over a huge sinking feeling in her stomach. That was wonderful.

She kept telling herself the same thing during the after-school program and while she ordered burgers at the drive-thru. Ordering burgers, however, reminded her of her wedding ceremony. Brushing aside her sadness, she lugged the paper sacks of fast food to the front door and prayed her day wouldn’t be topped off by the arrival of Ms. Hatcher. Opening the door, she reminded herself to limit her gratitude
to Justin. She didn’t need any more of that kind of trouble.

It only took a second for Amy to hear the tinkling of piano keys. For a half-moment, she wondered if it was a recording, but the sound wasn’t at all professional sounding. She quickly marched through the foyer to the formal living room to find Emily, and her brothers standing on either side like bookends, playing a spinet piano.

Amy nearly dropped the burgers.

“Emily?” she asked. “Where did the piano come from?”

The boys looked up. “Justin!” they chorused.

Emily whipped around on the small bench with a huge smile on her face. “Justin got it for us!”

Justin poked his head around the corner with the phone attached to his ear. He looked at Amy and didn’t speak or wave. He just looked at her from head to toe and back again, making her nerve endings dance on end.

Amy took a deep breath and looked at the piano. Beautifully polished and golden brown with white ivory keys, the instrument fit perfectly in the room without taking up too much space. She couldn’t have made a better selection. How exactly was she supposed to limit her gratitude on this?

Nicholas sniffed loudly and rubbed his belly. “I smell burgers.”

“You can’t have any cuz you puked in Justin’s car,” Jeremy said.

Amy winced. Oops. Men could be particular about their cars. She was surprised Justin was still in the house. She searched Nicholas for outward signs of illness. “Are you sick, sweetie?”

He shook his head.

“He got into the sitter’s cookie jar and ate too many cookies,” Emily said.

Nick stuck out his bottom lip. “Justin won’t let me have anything to eat cuz he said he doesn’t want me to get sick again.”

Surprised at Justin’s wisdom, Amy felt the force of all three gazes on her as if they were waiting for her verdict. “Justin is right. We need to let your tummy settle down before anything else goes in it.”

Nick eyed the sack of fast food. “But what about my burger?”

“We’ll see. I’ll call the three of you in a few minutes,” she said and headed for the kitchen. She rounded the corner and plowed into Justin. Still talking on the phone, he wrapped his arm around her to stabilize her.

Amy caught a mouthwatering whiff of his aftershave, and remnants of the emotions she’d felt when he’d kissed her rushed through her. Tough to hold a grudge after the way he’d come through for her today.

“Okay. I’ll check my system tomorrow morning
for the correction,” he said, then turned off the phone. “My online trading system listed a wrong trade on my account and I just caught it.”

His green gaze searched hers, and Amy struggled with a deep vulnerability that swept through places she kept hidden inside her. “What made you get the piano?”

His lips twitched ever so slightly. “Who said I got it?”

She smiled and shook her head. “Well, it’s not Christmas, so I know Santa didn’t bring it down the chimney. I thought you told me you were a tightwad.”

“I am,” he said. “This is different.”

“How is it different?”

He shrugged with discomfort and took the food sacks from her arms to the kitchen counter. “Emily wanted to take piano lessons, so she needed a piano.”

“Needed?”

“In the scheme of things, this wasn’t a big deal, so don’t make it one,” he said, narrowing his eyes restlessly.

“It was a big deal for her and for me,” she added, taking a breath and lowering her guard a millimeter. “Thank you.”

Nicholas and Jeremy burst into the room, popping the bubble of intimacy forming between her and Justin. “We want burgers! We want burgers!” they chanted.

“The natives are restless,” he said. “Better feed ’em.”

Throughout the evening, Amy would almost swear there was an air of anticipation between her and Justin. It grew thicker with each passing minute. At unexpected moments, his gaze would catch and hold hers. Her heart was also doing unexpected things like softening toward him. Amy’s emotions swung from attraction and fascination to fear. By the time she put the children to bed, she felt like she was stuck on a carnival ride.

She went downstairs to the den, waiting and wondering which question he would ask her tonight. Which of her many questions about him would she get answered tonight? After waiting several moments, she leaned back on the sofa. Forty-five minutes later she awakened, but Justin was nowhere in sight.

Both disappointed and peeved, she returned upstairs and saw the light under his door. Burning with questions and curiosity, she lifted her hand to knock. She stopped just before her hand connected with the wood. It was better to keep a little distance, she told herself. She needed to rein in her fascination. He might be her husband, but it was in name only.

Justin avoided Amy the following morning. Her eyes might be saying
yes,
but he knew what her mouth would say.
No.
And if he weren’t careful, the
idea of changing her no to a yes could become an obsession. Could? he thought with a mocking chuckle. Who did he think he was fooling?

Hearing the blessed sound of footsteps departing the house and the door closing, he headed to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Spying a bag lunch on the counter, he wrestled with his conscience, then grabbed it and darted out the front door.

Amy was buckling Jeremy into his car seat.

“You forgot something,” he said, running to her side.

She glanced at him and the bag, then shook her head. “No, I didn’t.”

Confused, he looked at the bag. “Isn’t this a lunch?”

“Yes,” she said, sliding into the driver’s seat of her Volkswagen.

“Who’s it for?”

She met his gaze and her lips tilted in a smile so sexy it affected him the same way it would if she were dragging her mouth across his bare abdomen. “It’s for you,” she said and pulled her door closed. “Gotta go. Have a nice day.”

Justin managed, barely, not to gape as she pulled out of the driveway and the kids waved at him. He glanced down at the bag lunch in amazement. Amy couldn’t know that no one had ever prepared a bag lunch for him before.

He opened it and looked inside to examine the contents. Turkey and cheese sandwich on wheat, granola bar and banana. And a note.
No cookies until I know your favorite. Peanut butter or chocolate chip?

That red-haired witch, Justin thought and felt an itchy, impatient sensation crawl over his nerve endings. He’d gone to bed hard and wanting every night since he’d said his marriage vows to Amy. Ever since “I do” had meant “I don’t,” he’d been burning in his bed. He hadn’t known Joan of Arc could be such a tease.

Both. Thanks, J.

For the third time, Amy looked at Justin’s bold scrawl answering her cookie question and couldn’t help smiling. So, she had more than one cookie monster living in her house. She slid the note back into her pocket and stored the information in her brain.

The kitchen timer dinged and she pulled the second batch of cookies from the oven. The aroma of fresh-baked sweets filled the air.

“Is it your mission in life to torture me to death?” Justin asked from the doorway.

Amy turned around to look at him and stopped short. His hair attractively damp and mussed from his recent shower, he wore no shirt and a pair of
cotton lounging trousers that tied at the top and rode low on his hips. The sight of his bare torso and abdomen short-circuited her breathing.

“Well, is it?” he asked, moving toward her.

Amy swallowed and shook her head. “No. How am I torturing you?”

“Too many ways to count,” he muttered under his breath and nodded toward the cookies. “The smell is distracting.”

“They’re a thank-you gift.”

“For who?”

“For you.”

He blinked, then shrugged his impressive shoulders and reached for one of the cookies. “I’m not going to argue, but why?”

“Because you picked up the kids for me and I heard your car sustained damage.”

“You’re welcome,” he said and took a bite of the still-hot cookie.

His chest was extremely distracting.

“What are you staring at?”

Embarrassment rushed through Amy, and she swung around to avoid him. “Nothing,” she said in a high-pitched voice while she quickly removed the cookies with a spatula.

“I don’t think so,” he said, his hand squeezing her shoulder. Urging her back around to face him, he studied her face. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she insisted in the same damn unconvincing high-pitched voice.

“I don’t believe you,” he said bluntly. “Answer my question.”

Darn.
“If this is truth or dare, I think I’ll take the dare this time.”

“It’s not truth or dare,” he said, moving closer. “It’s just plain old truth.”

Amy sighed and looked past his right shoulder. “It’s your chest.”

He glanced down. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” she muttered, unhappy with him for forcing her to answer. “That’s the problem.”

He wrinkled his face in confusion. “I don’t get it.”

“You don’t have to,” she said, knowing her cheeks were as red as tomatoes.

He lifted a hand to her face. “You’re blushing.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re so observant.”

Holding her jaw, he studied her for a long moment. She saw the moment the light dawned. “There’s nothing wrong with my chest and that’s the problem,” he echoed in surprise. “You like my chest.”

She bit her lip. “I didn’t really say—”

She broke off when he lifted her palm to his chest. His warm skin and the thud of his heart against her palm wholly distracted her.

“I can’t believe Amy of Arc likes my chest.”

“I’m not Amy of Arc,” she protested, but there was no oomph in her words. He moved her hand in a sensual circle over his skin, over the pectoral muscles, then down the center to his belly.

Amy’s mouth went dry. “You work out.”

“A few times a week.” He released her hand, but she couldn’t quite find the will to remove it. Meeting her gaze, he lifted his hand to her hair, then circled the back of her nape and slowly drew her to him. He dipped his head and his mouth hovered a tantalizing breath from hers. “What do you want?”

She whispered the only word her lips would form. “More.”

Justin’s tongue drew a circle around her inner lips. Amy’s temperature immediately rose ten degrees. He slid his fingers through her hair and drew her against him trapping her hand against his chest so that she felt his rapid heartbeat.

The sensual pleasure of touching his bare skin made her wish she could feel him against her naked breasts. He slid his thigh between hers and the thin cotton of his trousers both tantalized and frustrated her. There was no mistaking the hard bulge of his crotch rocking against her. Amy slipped her fingers to the back of his neck, urging him on. He drew out every carnal urge she’d never thought she possessed. In the eyes of the law, he was her husband. For Amy he was still forbidden territory, but she was finding him too tempting to resist.

She was consumed with his touch, his mouth, his attention. She wanted him to consume her. He guided her in a sweeping, sliding motion over his thigh that teased her, and turned her damp and swollen. She stroked his tongue with hers, unable to swallow a moan.

He slid his hand down over the outside of her breast to her waist, then lower to her bottom. He shifted slightly so his masculinity rubbed against her intimately as he guided her in an undulating provocative rhythm. Amy’s mind grew hazy with desire.

“What do you want?” he asked against her lips, his breath coming as quickly as hers.

“More,” she whispered again.

He dragged his other hand to the hem of her tank top and slowly slipped his fingers up her waist and each rib until he slid one finger just underneath her bra. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” she said, and he unfastened the front clasp.

“You feel so good,” he muttered “I want to taste you.”

Amy shuddered at the dark desire in his voice.

He toyed with her nipples, drawing tiny moans from her throat. Suddenly, he lifted her onto the countertop and raised her shirt to reveal her swollen breasts. For a moment, he stared at them, then met her gaze with an expression of barely restrained passion. He lowered his mouth to her nipple and made
love to it with his tongue. At the same time he slid his fingers inside her shorts, past her panties to where she ached for him.