A Man Apart

by Joan Hohl

  Hannah felt…bedazzled. Where the heck had that almost boyish, impish smile come from? she wondered, feeling an unfamiliar warmth around her heart. What in the world was Justin thinking about to cause that smile?

  “You look pensive,” he murmured, trying to move her closer to him, relenting when she resisted.

  Having lowered his head, his breath tickled her ear, all the way to the base of her spinal cord. Two conflicting thoughts tangled together in her bemused mind-wanting this dance to end soon and hoping it would go on forever.

  Throwing caution aside, she decided to be candid. “I was just wondering where that smile came from…and who it was for.”

  He laughed. Damn, Hannah wished he wouldn’t do that. His laughter had an even more intense effect than his smile. It was low, infectious, relaxed, and scattered the warmth in her chest, setting off minisparklers throughout her body.

  Now he grinned. She swallowed a groan.

  “Actually, I was thinking about having to take down both of my brothers in front of everybody here.”

  Startled by his reply, Hannah stared at him. “But…why would you think of such a thing?”

  His eyes gleamed with devilment. “In self-defense, of course. Why else?”

  The music stopped. She made a move. He didn’t. His hold was unbreakable. She swept a quick look around to see if anyone was watching them. There were three other couples on the floor: his parents, Mitch and Maggie, and Ben and Karla. The three couples were too absorbed in one another to pay any attention to her and Justin. Still, Hannah had just opened her mouth to protest, when the music started again. He moved, taking her with him, and they continued dancing.

  Hannah sighed, heavily so he couldn’t possibly miss it, but she had to ask, “Why on earth would you need to defend yourself from your brothers?”

  “Because they’d jump me for sure,” Justin responded patiently, as if the answer should be obvious.

  Hannah didn’t know whether to hit him or scream at him. She did neither. She sighed again and narrowed her eyes. “Okay, if you want to play games. Why would they jump you?”

  “Because I want to play games,” he explained, the gleam in the depth of his so cool eyes literally dancing.

  “Justin…” Her voice held a gravelly, distinct note of warning.

  “Okay. But don’t say you didn’t ask.” He shrugged. “I figured if I acted on impulse, pulling you tightly against me and ravishing your mouth with mine, Mitch and Adam might think it was their duty to rescue you from the clutches of their womanizing brother.” Laughter skirted on the edges of his serious tone. “And in that case, of course, I’d have little recourse but to sweep out this barn with them.”

  Sweep out this barn? Barn? Hannah sent a quick glance around the well-appointed dining room. But she didn’t question his remark. Her attention had focused on one word. “Womanizing?”

  Justin nodded solemnly, immediately ruining the effect of his somber expression with another one of those breath-stealing smiles.

  She stopped moving so suddenly his big body crashed hard into hers, knocking the breath out of her. Reflexively he tightened his arms around her, steadying her while keeping them both upright, her body crushed to his.

  “Nice,” he murmured, his breath ruffling the tiny hairs at her temple…and her senses.

  “You’re a womanizer?” she blurted without thinking, her voice betraying her shock.

  “No, sweetheart,” he denied, his tone adamant, thrilling her with the casually stated endearment, his lips setting off a thrill as they skimmed a trial from her ear to the corner of her mouth.

  “But, you said…” she began, stirring-not struggling-to put some small distance between them. Her puny efforts proved unsuccessful.

  “I know what I said.” His arms tightened even more. “Stay still. You feel so good.” His mouth took a slow, erotic journey over her surprised, parted lips. “You taste so good. I could make a feast of you.”

  Because she suddenly craved a deeper taste of him, she felt a faint curl of panic. Afraid of the strange sensations churning inside her, Hannah turned and pulled her head back, away from his tantalizing mouth.

  “You’ve got the wrong woman,” she said, somehow managing to infuse a thread of strength into her breathy voice.

  “No.” Justin shook his head, but loosened his hold, allowing her to move back a half step. “I’ve got the right woman.” His smile and eyes were soft, almost tender. “Hannah, I am not a womanizer.”

  She frowned. “Then why did you say you were?”

  “Because my brothers tease me about my lifestyle every time we’re together.” He grinned. “Matter of fact, Mitch called me a philanderer just the other day.” He heaved a deep sigh. “It was unkind of him. I was crushed.”

  “Right,” Hannah drawled, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “I know it’s none of my business, but…” she hesitated. It most certainly was her business: Justin Grainger had definite and obvious designs on her.

  “But?” he prompted, a dark brow mirroring hers.

  “What is your lifestyle…exactly.”

  “Pretty damn boring,” he said, releasing her when the music stopped. “I ranch, and I don’t go to town, any town or city, too often.”

  “Have you ever been married?” she asked.

  “I was. I’ve been divorced now for almost five year,” he said, his voice hard and flat. “And no, I don’t want to talk about it. I want to forget about it.”

  Feeling rebuffed, Hannah’s spine stiffened. “I don’t recall asking you to talk about it…or to dance in the first place as far as that goes. Now, if you’ll excuse me?” She didn’t wait for an answer but strode away, head held high.

  A little while later-though it seemed like hours to Hannah-the party began to break up. At last, she thought, rising and scooping up her handbag. After not having exchanged one word with Justin since returning to the table, she not only didn’t say good-night, she avoided eye contact with him.

  Feeling a need to escape the room, and Justin, she found Maggie, who was lingering over saying her farewells to the others, and murmured her intention of getting the car.

  Hannah saw the snow flurries a moment before she reached the hotel exit. Fortunately, only a fine coating of white covered the parking lot. She didn’t notice the thin layer of black ice beneath the snow as she stepped outside.

  She took only three steps before she felt the heel of her right boot begin to slip. Hannah tried to regain her balance, but knew for certain she was going down.

  “Son of a…” she began, her arms flailing.

  “Whoa,” Justin said from right behind her, his strong hands grasping her upper arms to catch her, ease her upright. “Is that any way for a lady to talk?” His hands moved, swinging her around to face him.

  “I wasn’t feeling much like a lady at that moment,” Hannah said, still catching her breath from the near tumble, and not the nearness of the man, she assured herself.

  “I can understand your reaction. That was a close one.” Though it would seem impossible, his voice contained both concern and amusement. “Good thing I was only a few steps behind you.”

  “Thank you,” Hannah said, a bit shakily, forcing herself to look directly into his eyes.

  “You’re welcome.” His smile was a tormenting tease, his eyes held that gleam again.

  He was close, too close. She could smell the clean, spicy, masculine scent of him, feel the warmth of him through her winter coat. “Were you following me?” She attempted a step back; he drew her closer.

  “Yes.” His lips brushed her ear, his warm breath tickling the interior.

  A thrill shimmered the length of her spine; Hannah told herself it was the chill in the air, the feel of the cold fluffy snowflakes kissing her cheeks. “Why were you following me? What do you want from me?” Stupid question, as if she didn’t already know the answer. Nevertheless, when it came, so blunt, so determined, she was shocked…and a lot more than thrilled. She felt allover warm and
excited.

  “Long, hot nights on smooth, cool sheets.”

  Four

  At last the wedding day arrived. The candlelight ceremony was scheduled for six, with the reception following immediately at the hotel.

  To Hannah’s amazement, after the nervous fits Maggie had suffered the day before, her friend had been calm and remained so throughout the day.

  Although she revealed not the slightest hint of it, Hannah felt like the basket case she had expected Maggie to be. Of course, her inner jitters had nothing whatever to do with her encounter with Justin in the parking lot, she kept telling herself.

  Yeah. Right.

  So stunned had she been by Justin’s blatant suggestion-suggestion, heck, it was an outright declaration of intent-Hannah retained only a vague memory of him, chuckling softly as he walked her to her car. And, darn it, how had he been so surefooted, when he’d been wearing heeled boots, too?

  “Time to dress,” Maggie happily announced, ending Hannah’s brooding introspection.

  At last. At last. Hannah smiled, nodding her agreement. She was of two minds about the coming hours; relieved at finally getting it over with, and filled with conflicting amounts of trepidation and anticipation, more of the latter than the former.

  Calling herself all kinds of a ditz didn’t do a thing to calm down her seesawing emotions.

  One thing was for certain. Hannah was determined there would be no slipping on black ice. At her advice, both she and Maggie wore low-heeled winter boots and carried their fancy wedding shoes in shoe bags. At least they didn’t have any concerns about holding up their dresses out of the slushy mess, as both garments were cocktail length. Maggie’s dress was a simple and elegant, long-sleeved white velvet, with a nipped-in waist and full skirt. She looked both innocent and gorgeous.

  Hannah’s dress was as simple and elegant-a sheath with three-quarter-length sleeves and a modest neckline.

  They arrived at the church with five minutes to spare until show time. Apparently everyone else, including the groom, was already in place. Karla and Adam were waiting in the small foyer. Adam took their coats, and Karla handed them their bouquets. Maggie’s was made of white orchids. Hannah’s bouquet was the same as Karla’s, a mix of dark-red rosebuds with lacy ferns and delicate white baby’s breath.

  Now Hannah knew why Maggie had insisted she hunt down a dress in forest green. Hers was only a shade darker than Karla’s.

  Music from the organ filled the church.

  Flashing Maggie an encouraging smile, Karla stepped out, heading down the aisle. Offering her own smile to the bride, while drawing a calming breath for herself, Hannah followed two steps behind Karla.

  And there he was, standing beside Mitch, looking devastating in a white shirt, somber tie and dark suit that was fitted perfectly to his wide-shouldered, narrow-waisted, long-legged body.

  As she drew nearer, Hannah lowered her gaze, fully expecting to find black slant-heeled boots. Surprise, surprise. Justin was actually shod in classic black men’s dress shoes.

  When she raised her eyes, her gaze collided with his smoldering stare.

  Good grief! The man was a menace. Hannah felt hot. She felt cold. She felt exhilarated. She felt exhausted. In short, she felt like a woman fiercely physically attracted to a man. A man who didn’t so much as attempt to hide his intention from her.

  Unaware of the ceremony going on about her, she automatically received Maggie’s bouquet.

  Her heart pounding, her pulse racing, finding it increasingly difficult to think straight, Hannah almost completely missed the exchange of vows.

  “With this ring, I thee wed.”

  The firm, clear sound of Mitch’s voice broke through Hannah’s mental fog. She blinked, and just caught the movement of Justin handing Mitch a plain gold ring.

  Her cue. Releasing a soft sigh of relief for coming to her senses in time, Hannah slipped a larger matching gold band from her thumb, just as Maggie repeated the vow.

  Moments later Mitch kissed Maggie, to the applause of the guests, and it was over. They were married.

  Hopefully, till death did them part, Hannah thought, frowning as she saw Justin take Adam’s place in line, leaving his older brother to escort Karla.

  What was the devil up to now? Steeling herself, she took Justin’s arm to follow the newlyweds down the aisle to the church foyer.

  “Your place or mine?” Justin murmured, his eyes glittering with a positively wicked gleam of amusement.

  He knew. Damn the man, he knew exactly how she was feeling, what she was feeling, as if the word ready had magically appeared branded on her forehead in capital letters.

  “I don’t have a place here,” Hannah muttered, riveting her gaze on the back of Maggie’s head. “My place is hundreds of miles from here, in Pennsylvania.”

  He chuckled.

  Hannah cringed, covering it with a tight smile as she hugged first Maggie, then Mitch, wishing them good luck before turning to stand beside Mitch to form the greeting line. Not daring to so much as glance into Justin’s eyes again, she stood stiff, staring directly ahead. It didn’t do her a bit of good, as he continued to torment her in that low, deep, nerve-rattling sexy voice.

  “My permanent place is not as far away. In Montana,” he murmured, his head so close to hers she felt his warm breath caress her ear. “But I have a temporary place here, as I know you do. Conveniently, both places are at the very same location, that beautiful old Victorian house.”

  Hannah was genuinely shocked. “Maggie’s apartment? I…I couldn’t, wouldn’t dream of it!” she softly protested, suddenly realizing she had not said no to him, but rather to meeting him at Maggie’s adorable little flat on the third floor.

  “Of course not,” he agreed, drawing her startled gaze just as he smiled at Karla who settled in line next to him. His eyes still gleamed with a sinful light. “But I haven’t the least hesitation in using the roomier apartment on the first floor for some fun and games.”

  Fun and games. The overused expression, following the tired line of your place or mine, didn’t sound as worn-out and dated coming from Justin’s sensuous mouth. Truth be told, the soft invitation sounded much too tempting.

  At a loss for a coherent retort, Hannah felt a wave of relief as she turned her head to find the first of the guests, Justin’s parents, who were laughing and crying and hugging Maggie and Mitch in turn.

  Justin merely lowered his head closer to her, his whispered words tickling her inner ear and every nerve ending in her body. “I’ll be moving in for a couple of days tomorrow, right after Karla and Ben vacate.”

  Hannah had to suppress a visible tremor as his tongue swiftly speared into her ear.

  “Feel free to visit at anytime…day or night,” he murmured, increasing the tremor a hundredfold. “Come early…and often-” he chuckled at her quick, indrawn breath, “-and stay late…like a couple of days.”

  Thank goodness, at that moment Justin’s father swept her into a celebratory embrace, as she found it difficult to pull a comeback from her mush of gray matter. The man was nearly as tall as his three sons, but not as strong as them, and not nearly as ruggedly handsome as Justin-darn his too-attractive hide.

  His mother, a lovely woman, and almost as tall as Hannah took her hands and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “You look beautiful in that dress, Hannah,” she said, delicately dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “Both of you do, you and Karla.”

  “Why, thank you,” Hannah responded, lowering her head to kiss the older woman’s still smooth cheek. She had liked Mrs. Grainger from their first meeting. “Maggie picked the color. She insisted I search until I found the perfect dress.”

  “And you did. It’s a perfect color for so soon after the holidays,” the older woman said, smiling as she stepped into Justin’s waiting arms. “It’s lovely on you.”

  Wrong on both counts, Mom, Justin thought as he swept his mother into a hug and planted a kiss on her cheek. That dark green was great against Hannah�
�s blond hair and creamy complexion any time of year. And she didn’t look merely lovely, she looked ravishing. And as for it being lovely on her, he’d rather see it off her. And he intended to…soon.

  Naturally, Justin didn’t say any of that to his mother. She just might have decided to step in and protect the lovely Hannah from her “bad boy” son. He complimented her instead. “As always, you not only look wonderful, Mother, you smell terrific, kinda sexy. I’ll bet Dad loves that scent.”

  “Justin Grainger!” His mother sounded shocked, but she couldn’t quite control the amusement twitching the corners of her lips. “Behave yourself.”

  “He doesn’t have a clue how to do that,” his father drawled, the glimmer in his eyes similar to the light dancing in his son’s. “But, you know what?” he said, drawing his wife from Justin’s loose hold. “He’s exactly right. I do think that perfume’s sexy. It turns me on.”

  His mother gasped and proceeded to scold her grinning husband. Justin thrilled to the soft sound of laughter from the woman by his side. He smiled at Hannah.

  “They’re a trip, aren’t they?”

  “I think they’re perfect together.” Her returned smile caused sudden heat and potentially embarrassing sensations in all parts of his body.

  “I think we’ll be perfect together, too.”

  “To quote a wise woman I recently met, ‘Behave yourself, Justin,’ before you embarrass me,” she said sternly, giving him a brief, pointed look at one particular part of his anatomy, “As well as yourself.”

  He laughed aloud, he couldn’t help it. This gorgeous woman thoroughly delighted him.

  Hannah simply shook her head in despair of him and turned her attention to the line of waiting guests. Then she ignored him until the last couple of guests had finally departed.

  Thinking her advice prudent, at least until he got her on the dance floor at the reception, Justin conducted himself like the perfect gentleman throughout the boring ordeal of being prodded and pushed into position by the fussy photographer during the snapping of the wedding pictures.