by Leanne Banks
Justin climbed the steps to the front door of his town home in his well-lit, well-patrolled, quietly affluent neighborhood. He strode through the door and listened to the silence. After the noise and chaos of Amy’s home, his house felt a little too quiet.
Justin scowled. That was impossible. Her home symbolized everything he’d always wanted to avoid in his life. Dependents. He’d filled out countless tax forms answering “None” to the question “How many dependents?” Justin had always been determined to keep his answer at the nice safe, round number of zero. As a kid, he’d been disappointed so much by those who’d claimed him as a dependent that he never wanted to be in the position to disappoint.
He felt an odd uneasiness when he thought about Amy and her situation. She was taking on a lot of responsibility without much visible means of support. The memory of his promise to the Almighty wafted through his mind like a feather. Justin still knew he needed to find the reason he’d been put on this earth. Could it be related to Amy and the kids? His stomach clenched and he shook his head. That would involve the D word—dependents. Walking down the hardwood floors of the hall to his den which housed state-of-the-art video and stereo systems, Justin reached for an old James Bond DVD. With its Italian leather furniture and soft light, the room oozed comfort. He could easily imagine the sight of Amy lounging in his den, her lips inviting, her curves seductive. When she’d kissed him, he’d felt a ripple shoot to his groin. Her combination of power and sensuality alternately aroused his admiration and his baser instincts. He remembered she’d smelled like apple juice and sex.
A fleeting image of Amy’s rugrats, cute though they may be, running wild in his peaceful domain made him twitch.
Justin shook off the images and slid the DVD into the player. He’d done her dishes and he would donate a tidy sum to her after-school program, but he was certain there was nothing else in the cards for him and Amy.
Over the next week, Justin pushed Amy from his mind and returned to his daily routine of trading on the stock market. At odd times during the day, however, her smiling face would sneak into his mind, her laughter would ring in his ears, and the remembered sensation of her lips against his would make his mouth buzz. Knowing he was scheduled to meet with the other members of the Millionaires’ Club soon to deliver an update, he left his home office as soon as the market closed and drove to meet her at her after-school program. He rounded the corner just as she was finishing her class.
“P words,” she said, dressed in pink and purple for obvious reasons. She wore a giant pipe cleaner shaped into the letter P on her head. Something inside him lightened at the sight of her.
“Pretty!” yelled one little girl.
“Pirate,” called a boy.
“Pancake,” yelled another.
And so on until Amy held up her hands. “I think you’ve got it,” she said. “It’s time for us to part,” she said, grinning as she emphasized the last word. “You’ve been practically perfect. Ask your parents to talk to you about the letter Q. Bye for now.”
She glanced around the room as the little ones left and her gaze landed on Justin. She met his eyes for a long moment that hit him like a gut punch. He walked toward her.
“You’ve surprised me again,” she said. “Just please tell me you’re not having a recurrence of your ulcer.”
He shook his head. “I’m still clear,” he said, then remembered the original purpose for his visit. “I asked you about your program a few times and what the financial needs were, but you never answered.”
She nodded, the P pipe cleaner bobbing on her head. “And you never told me why you were interested.”
“I know someone who may be interested in helping.”
She brightened. “Oh, that would be great. A blank check would be great, too,” she joked, then her eyes clouded. “A new social worker would be terrific.”
“Ms. Hatcher still causing problems?” he asked.
Amy absently pulled the makeshift P hat from her head and sighed. “Every time I think we’re making progress, she throws something else in front of me. I’m starting to wonder if she really can prevent me from adopting the kids.”
Seeing her discouragement, Justin felt an odd need to fix her situation. He shouldn’t care, he thought, but for some strange reason he did. “I have some connections. Would a different lawyer help?”
“I think I need to be about ten years older and married,” she said wryly. “Got any miracles in your pocket?”
Miracle. The word jarred him. He swallowed over a knot of tension in his throat. Miracles were too closely associated with the man upstairs for Justin’s comfort. “So you’re saying that if you were either ten years older or married, you would have no problem with gaining custody of the children?”
“Both would be nice,” she said. “But either would probably work at the moment.”
“You would give up ten years for those kids?” he asked incredulously.
“Oh, yeah,” she said without pause. “A stable loving parent during childhood can make all the difference in the world.”
She spoke as if she’d experienced a stable loving environment. Justin felt a sliver of envy. “Did yours make a big difference for you?”
She paused and met his gaze. “I didn’t have the most stable upbringing. I always viewed my background as something I would overcome, and for the most part, I think I have. I want something different for my sister’s children.”
In that moment Justin felt a bone-deep connection that reverberated throughout him like shifting plates of the earth’s crust during an earthquake. Justin looked into the fire of Amy’s brown eyes and had the sinking sense that he was staring into the face of his purpose.
Three
“No, no and no,” Justin muttered as he entered O’Malley’s bar later that night. “This has got to be a joke,” he said to himself. To God. “I thought we had this settled. You know more than anyone that I am not a choice candidate for marriage or anything involving kids.” Continuing his conversation with the Almighty, Justin made his way to the opposite end of the bar where Michael and Dylan were seated. “I realize you’re perfect and you don’t make mistakes, but this looks like the makings of a whopper to me.”
“Justin, who are you talking to?” Dylan asked.
Justin shrugged. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Did you get the research taken care of?” Dylan grinned. “I realize how much you hate to part with your green, but we’ve been talking about the after-school reading program for months.”
“I talked to the woman in charge of the program and she gave me a figure. I think it’s low, though.”
Dylan and Michael stared at him in surprise.
“Low?” Michael echoed. “Does that mean you think we should kick in more?”
Justin nodded. “Yeah, and maybe we can find a ladies’ club or something to sponsor the program. It needs some visibility.”
Dylan shook his head. “I never thought I’d see the day when you’d suggest we give more. I never thought I’d hear the word more come out of your mouth in association with giving away your money.”
Justin shrugged. Giving away another thirty thousand bucks was the least of his worries at the moment. “Things change.”
Dylan frowned. “What’s happening with the market lately?”
“It’s up and down like it always is. Why?”
“Are you still doing okay with it?”
Better than okay, actually, Justin thought. “Most days,” he said. “Why? Do you need a tip?”
“No, you just seem different.”
Justin accepted the beer Michael offered him. “I am different. It’s not enough for me to make money and hoard it. It never felt right to spend it for the sake of spending.”
“Like me,” Dylan said, his eyes glinting with dark challenge. For all his fun and games, Justin knew Dylan had a deeper side.
“Let’s just say you haven’t had the same hang-ups about spending that I’ve had,” Justin
said wryly and took a long swallow of beer.
“I’ve had more time to spend my inheritance. Up to now, my position on the board of my dear departed father’s company has been nonexistent. That’s about to change, though,” Dylan said, his voice holding a thread of steel.
“What brought this on? The trip to Belize?” Michael asked. “Without Alisa?”
“Belize was great,” Dylan said. “No paved roads, not much to do except dive and pet nurse sharks. The breeze blows all the crap from your head. Alisa may be the one that got away, but the seat on the board is mine and it’s time I took ownership.”
“Watch out, Remington Pharmaceuticals,” Michael said, lifting his bottle in salute. “If you guys would get married and have a kid, your lives would be a helluva lot better. Speaking of which, I’ve got new baby pictures of Michelle.”
Justin and Dylan groaned. “Just because things worked out with you and Kate doesn’t mean the rest of us should get married.” Dylan elbowed Justin. “Right? Justin my man is the poster boy for a forever bachelor. Right?”
Justin paused, hearing M words ring in his ears like a discordant bell. Miracle. Marriage. There was a reason both came to mind at the same time. As far as Justin could see, a successful marriage took a miracle.
Dylan elbowed him again. “Right?”
“Right,” Justin muttered and took another long swallow of beer. He felt Michael’s curious gaze on him and had no interest in answering any more questions. “The after-school research is done, so it’s your turn with the medical research,” he said to Dylan.
“No problem,” Dylan said. “Any other business?”
“None from me except Kate wanted me to invite you two for a cookout this weekend.”
“Will Alisa be there?” Dylan asked.
“I don’t know,” Michael said with a shrug. “I thought you said that was over.”
“It is,” Dylan said in a cold voice.
“Think you can make it?” Michael asked Justin.
“I’ll let you know. You never know when a family emergency can crop up.”
Michael screwed up his face in confusion. “But you don’t have any family.”
“Exactly,” Justin said, thinking of Amy and her brood. If he ended up with a family, it would definitely be an emergency. “I’ve got some charts I need to check. Later,” he said and left the bar knowing his two friends were shaking their heads over him.
James Bond didn’t do the trick tonight. After Justin studied a few stock charts, he tried a DVD, but his mind kept wandering to Amy. He told himself he would write a check for the after-school program and get the best lawyer he could find, but his thoughts sat on his brain like an undigested meal. He finally went to bed and after an hour of tossing and turning, he fell asleep.
The Scrooge dreams returned with Amy’s kids featured as poor and needy. Little Emily never smiled and the sparkle vanished from the twins’ eyes. Ms. Hatcher played an evil housemother, but the star fool bore an uncanny resemblance to himself. He was the one who could have changed everything and made life better for Amy and her kids, but his reluctance kept him from it, and he died before he could change his mind. Desperate to gain custody of the children, Amy agreed to marry a man who would kill her spirit.
With sickening horror, Justin watched in Technicolor as Amy took her vows to such a man. Everything within him rebelled. No. No. “No!”
Justin sat straight up in bed, his body in a cold sweat. The image disturbed him so much his heart pounded with his fury.
Taking several deep breaths, he cleared his head. He rose from the bed, naked, and walked to his window. He pushed aside the curtain and drank in the moonlight.
He wasn’t dead. Amy and the kids were still safe. It had only been a dream. Only a dream.
“Yeah, right,” Justin muttered and shook his head. This was no dream. This was a kick in the butt. No more running. Justin knew his purpose was clear. Heaven help him, he was supposed to marry Amy.
“You think we should what?” Amy said, unable to believe her ears as she stared at Justin. He’d called her and asked to come over to speak to her after she put the kids to bed. Although she’d been tired, she agreed.
“I think we should get married,” Justin said. “You said you needed a husband to get custody of the children. I’m the one you need.”
Her stomach took a dip at his words. “But we don’t love each other.”
“Exactly,” he agreed.
“We don’t really even like each other.”
“I don’t agree with that,” he said. “I like you.”
Amy dipped her head and covered her face with her hand. “I like you. Let’s get married,” she whispered to herself. She lifted her gaze to his again. “This just doesn’t make sense to me. Why would you do this? I mean, you don’t need a green card or anything, do you?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m a U.S. citizen,” he said, then looked away. “This is hard to explain.”
“Try me,” she said.
“You know how you have this strong feeling that part of your purpose in life is to help those disadvantaged preschoolers?”
Amy nodded, but the connection eluded her. “Yes.”
Justin stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. He walked restlessly to the other side of her den. “Well, when I had that medical emergency, I had a weird dream and I kinda got the message that there was a reason I’m on this earth and I needed to find out what it was.”
“And?” she prompted, still not making any connection.
He turned to face her. “I had another weird dream last night. This one was about you and the kids, and I think—” His jaw hardened. “I know I’m supposed to marry you.”
“Omigoodness,” she said, realization sprinkling through her like a cold rain shower. “You think marrying me is your mission.”
“I wouldn’t say mission,” he said, wincing.
“Then what would you call it?”
“The same reason you gave me when you took me to the hospital. You are one of my reasons for being on this planet.”
He spoke with such rock-solid certainty that she blinked. She almost believed him. She would have believed him if the notion had not been so totally insane. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but does your family have a history of mental illness?”
His laugh was short and wry. “No. This is more sane than it appears. You need a husband, and I need to keep my deal with the Almighty.”
“I didn’t make your deal with the Almighty,” she pointed out.
“But you made a deal with yourself to get custody of your sister’s children and give them a loving home.”
He was right, and Amy wasn’t sure she liked him for it. “But I don’t really need you to keep the deal I made with myself.”
Justin just met her glare with an uplifted brow.
“I shouldn’t need you,” she said, standing and looking up at him. At the moment, she didn’t like his height, and she didn’t like the strength in his face. She especially didn’t like the fact that he seemed far less rattled by this than she did. “I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know if you have a criminal record.”
“I don’t.”
“I don’t know what your education level is,” she continued.
“I graduated from St. Albans with a B.S. in Finance.”
“I don’t know if you have a drinking problem.”
“I don’t.”
His gaze was so open and level she couldn’t not believe him. Desperation trickled through her. “Children are very expensive. You may not make good money. I can’t afford to feed and house another person.”
His eyes flickered with a touch of humor. “I make okay money.”
“Children are expensive,” she insisted.
“I make very good money,” he said, his left eye twitching.
Amy felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. She would bite her tongue in two before she asked the obvious question.
“I’m a mil
lionaire,” he finally, reluctantly said.
Stunned, Amy blinked at him. “Pardon?”
“Million, six zeroes,” he said.
She sucked in a quick breath. “But you don’t look like a millionaire.”
His lips twitched. “How does a millionaire look?”
“I don’t know,” she said, thinking Justin was entirely too attractive. “Bill Gates?”
“He’s a billionaire,” he said.
“Oh,” she said. “Well, when you get up to six zeroes, who’s counting?”
“A billion has nine zeroes.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, waving her hand and looking at him sideways. “Are you sure you’re not a kook?”
He met her with the most level, sane gaze she’d ever seen. “I’m not a kook. I’m proposing marriage because—”
“—it’s your mission.”
“Because I believe it’s one of the reasons I’m here on earth,” he said. “As crazy as it sounds, I bet you can respect that.”
She could respect it. “Kinda,” she agreed and rubbed her eyes. She felt as if she were in some other-worldly zone.
“Saturday okay?”
Amy sighed. “For what?”
“For getting married,” he said in a calm voice.
Her eyes flew open. “That’s four days away.”
“Did you want to do it sooner?” he asked, again in a voice so calm she questioned his sanity.
Her heart shot into her throat. “No!” She shook her head. “I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if it’s a good idea. I’m going to have to think about it.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “I had a tough time with it at first, too.”
She eyed him curiously. “What did you do?”
“Shook my head, said no a lot, broke out in a cold sweat.”
“You don’t look at all upset now,” she said, and barely kept the accusation from her voice.
“It’s right,” he said. “I never thought I would say that, but it is.” He leaned forward and squeezed her arm. “Sleep on it, but remember Ms. Hatcher.”
