His anger completed the job his nearness had already begun. Her knees gave way and she sank onto the seat.
“I’m sorry,” she said. Embarrassment flooded her, making her duck her head in shame. How could she have reacted to him that way? She stared at her hands, twisting them together on her lap.
She didn’t hear him move, but when she finally gathered the courage to look up, he was back behind his desk, straddling his chair. Nothing in his expression gave away his feelings, but his anger lingered in the room. She could smell it when she breathed.
“This was a mistake,” she said. “I should never have come here.”
“Why did you?” he asked and folded his arms on the back of the chair.
He wore a black vest over a white shirt. Convention required that all the buttons be fastened, even on the warmest of days. There was still a bite of winter in the air, but Justin wore his shirt open at his throat. She could see the hollow there, his tanned skin and the hint of the dark hairs on his chest. Once, when they’d sat on the edge of the creek on a summer night, once, when she’d sipped from his flask and felt the heat in her belly and the languor in her limbs, she’d kissed that spot. She’d tasted his skin and felt his heat. Once, he’d moaned in her arms.
Foolish memories best forgotten, she told herself. He was angry at her. She couldn’t blame him, of course. He had every right to be angry, more than angry. He should hate her.
“I came to find out if you were really back.” Megan reached up and unfastened her cloak. It slid off her shoulders and onto the chair back. “And you are.”
His gaze narrowed. “Don’t play your games with me, Megan. You could have asked any number of people if I was back,” he said. “Why are you here? What do you want from me?”
“Oh, I couldn’t have asked about you. People would have wanted to know why. I couldn’t have them think—”
She bit back the rest of her sentence, but it was too late. For the second time, he rose from his seat. He didn’t bother concealing his anger. It flared out from him, tightening the line of his jaw and pulling his mouth into a straight line. His arms hung loosely at his sides, but his hands were balled into fists. She shrank back as he approached.
“What couldn’t you have them think?” he asked. He came to a stop in front of the desk.
“I—I didn’t mean to say that, exactly.”
“What did you mean? Exactly.”
She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t bear to see the censure in his eyes. He did hate her. She saw it as clearly as she saw the man before her.
She buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “So sorry for all the things I said.”
“But not for what you did.”
He spoke so softly that at first she thought she’d imagined the words. She looked up. He sat on the corner of the desk in front of her.
“You’re sorry you called me the town bastard, but you’re not sorry you didn’t come with me.”
He said the words flatly, as if they had no meaning. She searched his eyes, hoping for a clue to his feelings. Nothing. The brown depths offered nothing except tiny twin reflections of herself.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” she said, hoping her apology would be enough.
“Oh, no, Megan. It’s not that simple.” He moved quickly, stepping in front of her and crouching down. He stared at her face. “It’s the words you used that bother you. Not the deed.”
“Stop it,” she commanded, but her voice was weak, and she had no power to make him stop. She couldn’t even escape. She would have to push him away. To do that would require her touching him, and as surely as she knew her name, she knew if she touched him, all would be lost. “What do you want from me?”
“The truth, Megan. For once in your sorry life, tell me the truth. I’ll accept that instead of your apology.”
Now her temper flared, quarreling with the confusion inside of her. She didn’t know this angry stranger. He wasn’t the Justin Kincaid she remembered from her childhood, or the young man who had made her fall in love with him seven summers ago. He was hard and frightening, mocking and cold. She wanted to run away and forget she’d ever been here. She wanted to forget the heat of his stare and the scent of his body and the way his hands reached for hers, holding them tight.
“The truth,” he growled. “Say it.”
His fingers squeezed hers. His hands had always been hard from his long hours working in the livery stable. Time hadn’t changed that. He pressed until her fingers dug into her own palms. The sharp pain shocked her into action. She jerked free of his touch and sprang to her feet. Stalking across the room, she drew in deep cleansing breaths.
“Yes,” she said loudly, turning to face him. “Yes, I’m sorry I said those things, but I’m not sorry I stayed here. I’m not sorry I didn’t go with you.”
He stood and smiled at her. There was no humor or kindness in the curve of his lips or the flash of his white teeth. She felt chilled and folded her arms over her chest.
“Are you satisfied?” she asked.
His smiled faded. He returned to his seat. “No,” he said without looking at her. “But you told me the truth. At last. Does your husband know about your habit of avoiding the unpleasant?”
“Husband?” Oh, Lord, he thought she was married. Megan was glad her gloves hid her bare left hand from him. Married. When he found out she wasn’t, was he going to assume she’d waited for him? Oh, he couldn’t. She hadn’t, of course. There were plenty of reasons she hadn’t married, and none of them had anything to do with Justin Kincaid.
“I don’t avoid the unpleasant,” she said, staying well away from him. “What about your wife? Does she know you accost strange women in your office?”
This time his smile was genuine. She’d forgotten about the dimple in his left cheek, and the way his eyes crinkled when he was amused. Against her will, her own lips turned up at the corners. Justin had always had the ability to charm her, no matter how hard she tried to hold on to her anger, or her sensibilities.
“You were hardly accosted, Megan.”
“You know what I mean.” Cautiously, she approached the chair he’d given her. She sank onto the edge of the seat, prepared to spring up at the least provocation.
“No, she doesn’t know I accost women in my office.”
His words shouldn’t have surprised her, but she felt as punctured as a pincushion. Who would have thought he had married? She recalled her worries of that morning. How she’d wondered what she would do when she came face-to-face with him. She’d been torn between hoping he would remember what had gone on between them, and fearing that he would want to continue the relationship. Now there was no question of that. Married.
“Who is she?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t notice that her smile had faded.
He folded his arms over the chair back. “Who?”
“Your wife.”
He gave her a lazy wink. “What wife?”
She sighed. “Justin, even you cannot treat your wife with such disrespect. Who is the woman you married?”
She could see his humor fade, and with it the man that she remembered. The cold, angry stranger returned. “You mean, even the town bastard should know how to treat a lady? What makes you think I married a lady?”
“Your time away has taught you a quickness I cannot match.” She picked up her cloak and drew it over her shoulders. “I apologize for any insult I may have spoken. It was, I assure you, unintentional. I wish you and your good wife well.”
“There is no wife, Megan. A widow woman tempted me once, but I managed to escape.”
Her anger was gone, battered by his overwhelming presence. She wasn’t afraid, what with half a room and his desk between them. Her knees still trembled from his handsomeness, but she would be able to overcome that weakness. Which left only confusion. Why did he toy with her? Was this his punishment for her actions seven years ago?
No. If he sought punishment, that would mean he still cared for h
er. It couldn’t be true. Even if it was, nothing had changed. He was still Justin Kincaid and she was—
The door flew open. “Megan Bartlett, what on earth are you doing here with that...that man?”
Her sister, Colleen, swept into the room with all the fiery determination of an angel entering the devil’s domain. Megan wanted to crawl under the desk but there wasn’t time. Or room, she thought practically, knowing she would never be able to slip past Justin, even if Colleen hadn’t seen her.
“Ah, Miss Bartlett,” Justin said, approaching her and smiling. “How good to see you again.”
“It’s Mrs. Estes, sir. What do you think you’re doing here with my sister?”
“Why we were just...talking.”
Megan groaned and sank lower into her chair. There had been enough of a pause between the words just and talking to give Colleen reason for concern. When combined with Justin’s suggestive smile and the wink he shot her, she knew her fate was sealed. Colleen would lecture her for the next three weeks. Megan had always regretted being the sister-in-law to the town minister, but never more than right now.
Just when Megan was telling herself it couldn’t get any worse, Justin reached for Colleen’s gloved hand and brought it to his mouth. Before the woman could snatch her hand back, he kissed it. Colleen squealed.
“Unhand me, sir. Do you know who I am? Megan, tell this...this creature who I am.”
Megan looked up at him. Behind the mocking facade, behind the quick smile and easy charm lurked anger. She saw it in the stiffness of his body and the lines around his mouth. Like a wolf sunning himself on a warm day, Justin would revert back to the wild at any moment. No one would be given any warning, least of all her.
Justin Kincaid was back in town. The tingling in her fingertips told her nothing was ever going to be the same again.
CHAPTER TWO
Justin glanced from Megan to her sister and back. There was a time when the Bartlett girls had looked so much alike strangers had trouble telling them apart. Time had changed that. Colleen had grown matronly. Her once-pretty smiling face seemed pinched, her expression sour, as if the fragrance of life was more than she cared to smell.
As for Megan, she’d grown more beautiful. Justin should hate her for it. Instead, he hated himself for giving a damn. Why couldn’t she have become old and ugly in the seven years he’d been gone? Or at the very least, why couldn’t she have married and moved away?
He looked at her and caught her staring at him. With his left eye, he gave her a wink.
She flushed and bit her lower lip.
He knew Megan was wondering if he’d caught her sister’s salutation. He saw it in the panicked expression in her eyes. She was hoping he hadn’t noticed Colleen had called her Megan Bartlett, instead of by another man’s name. He’d noticed. She hadn’t married while he’d been gone. He moved his gaze down to her full bosom, then back to her heart-shaped face. It wasn’t her looks that had kept the suitors away. He remembered the taste of her mouth and the passion she hadn’t been able to control. That wouldn’t have contributed to her unmarried state, either. Seven years ago she hadn’t known exactly what went on between a man and a woman but she’d been eager to experience as much as convention allowed an unmarried couple. She’d even been willing to experience a little more, he remembered, then cursed the heat that flowed to his loins. So why hadn’t she married?
“I say, do you know who I am?” Colleen demanded a second time.
Justin had grown bored with the game. He walked back to his desk, turned the chair around and sat in it. He moved the box to one side and picked up a sheet of paper.
“I remember everything about you, Colleen, including the Sunday you went running out of church so fast that you didn’t see the pile of horse manure right below the steps. You slipped and got green muck all over your dress. You cried because you smelled, and no one would sit next to you.”
Colleen flushed an unbecoming shade of red. From the corner of his eye, he saw Megan’s shocked look. Justin sighed. Maybe he had gone too far with the story, but he didn’t care. Colleen had been younger than most of the other children Justin had gone to school with, but her tender years hadn’t gentled her spirit. He recalled how, during recess, she’d stood with the older children and taunted him. At five, when her soft voice had still lisped like a baby’s, she’d sung the singsongy school yard refrain of “Justin is a bastard.” Megan had been one of the few who hadn’t joined in. She’d turned away from the taunting children.
The mocking song had continued until he was strong enough to beat up any boy too dumb to shut his mouth and until he’d become good-looking enough to distract the girls. But he’d never forgotten.
Colleen tugged at her cloak and approached his desk. Rage radiated from her. He wasn’t impressed, although Megan seemed bothered by her.
“My husband is an influential man in this town,” Colleen said.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Justin leaned back in his chair and smiled.
“You’ll never be sheriff here, Justin Kincaid. I’ll see to that.” She pointed at the box on his desk. “Don’t bother unpacking. You’ll be gone before sundown.” She turned to glare at Megan. “I’m glad Papa’s dead and not here to see you shame the family this way.”
With that, Colleen spun on her heel and marched out of the room. Justin stared after her. When he’d first seen Landing on his return to town, he’d realized there had been a lot of changes in the time he’d been gone. New buildings had sprung up along Main Street. Most of the people he’d seen were strangers to him. But he counted on some things to be the same. He’d expected trouble and had assumed old man Bartlett would still be around to give him hell. He’d spent his whole life trying to hate that man, but found he couldn’t even dislike him. The man was Megan’s father. Justin knew that if he had a daughter like her, he wouldn’t have wanted a boy like him around her, either. He’d always understood Mr. Bartlett’s feelings, even though he’d never let on.
“I’m sorry about your father,” he said. “I didn’t know he was gone.”
Megan looked surprised. “Thank you,” she said cautiously, as if she wondered if he was going to say something else. “He passed on about five years ago.”
“Who runs the store? Colleen and her husband?”
Megan laughed. The sound hit him square in the chest, like an unexpected blow. Her laughter always made him think of summer. He didn’t know why, but even now he pictured the two of them on the banks of that stream east of town. Her blond hair streaming around her shoulders, her hazel eyes gazing up at him in adoration. He shook his head to banish the memory. He had no time or interest in the past and if he remembered anything, he would do better to recall their last hour together before he left town. That would be enough to cure any man of dreams.
“Colleen married a minister.” She leaned forward in her seat and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Mr. Estes. I think he was here before you left. He’s a few inches taller than you, but he has no hair.” She giggled. “He did have hair then, I think. Or parts of it.”
Justin smiled in return. “A minister? Figures. I’m surprised you didn’t marry one, yourself. Megan Bartlett.”
She swallowed. The blush climbed rapidly from the collar of her dark blue dress up her pale throat to her cheeks. Unlike the flush of rage that had made Colleen look harder, this pink hue made Megan more beautiful. He studied her mouth. It was uneven, with the bottom lip fuller than the top. He’d teased by telling her that it made her look as if she was always pouting. When she’d become self-conscious, he’d whispered all the things her pout made him think about doing with her.
Stop! he commanded himself. He couldn’t keep doing this. He couldn’t keep going into the past and finding the good memories. He had to hold on to his anger until he could come to grips with seeing Megan again.
“I never said I was married,” she said, smoothing her hands over her full skirt. “You assumed.”
“So neither
of us married.”
“I didn’t wait for you,” she said hastily, as she raised her chin higher. “Don’t think I did.”
Her words brought another revelation. After all this time, Megan still had the power to hurt him. Of course she hadn’t waited. She’d made it very clear what she thought of him and his marriage proposal. He gripped his hands so tightly, he thought he would split the skin over his knuckles. He forced himself to relax. Eventually, he wouldn’t care anymore. Time away from Landing had taught him that.
“I never thought you waited for me,” he said mildly and rested one ankle on the opposite knee. “Until you mentioned it.”
“Justin.” Megan shook her head. “You haven’t changed at all.”
“Oh, but I have, sweet Megan. I’m a different man. Much more dangerous.”
“I suppose you’re right. There are parts of you that seem the same, but other things are different.” She studied him. He liked the way her gaze lingered on his face, focusing on his mouth. It was almost like being touched by her. The steady glance, the sudden panic as she realized she was staring. The careful looking away, only to have her eyes flicker back again and again.
“What has changed?” he asked, liking the way he flustered her. She might not have waited for him, but she hadn’t forgotten what they’d been to each other.
“You used to be nicer.”
He’d expected many comparisons but not that one. He threw back his head and laughed. “Nicer? I was never nice.”
“You were to me.”
His humor fled and with it his desire to continue this conversation. “Are you surprised? After what happened?”
“You’re still angry with me.”
He wanted to deny it, but what was the point? They both knew the truth. “Yes. I am still angry. It’s been seven years, and I figure I should have forgotten it by now, but I haven’t. If nothing else, Megan, you were supposed to be my friend.”
“I was.” But her actions then belied her words. She dropped her gaze to her lap, where her fingers twisted together nervously.
Justin's Bride Page 2
