by Leanne Banks
“Aunt Amy?” he asked in a husky voice, giving a hiccup.
“It’s me,” she said, stroking his face. “You’re okay.”
“I had a scary dream. I was at Chica’s Pizza and everybody left me. I was all by myself and I couldn’t find you.”
“That’s not gonna happen,” she said. “You’re stuck with me. Do you want to get a drink of water and use the bathroom?”
He nodded. “Can I pee the way Justin taught me?”
Justin smothered a chuckle and stepped forward. “Yep, and I’ll help,” he said, offering his hand to Nick.
Catching Amy’s look of surprise, Justin guided the wobbly child to the bathroom and held him up so he could drink from the faucet, then helped him finish with the toilet. He returned the boy to Amy.
“He has never shown this much motivation to use the bathroom,” Amy murmured.
“That Y chromosome comes in handy when you least expect it.”
She shook her head, but smiled. “I’ll tuck him in.”
“What about me?” he asked, figuring he could blame his audacity on the late hour.
“What about you?” she asked.
“When are you going to tuck me in?” he asked. “It’s my first night here. I might have a bad dream.”
“Count sheep,” she said.
Justin wondered how such a woman who was so warm and generous with the kids could be so heartless with him. He knew, however, that Amy resented needing him to accomplish her goal.
And so began the inauspicious, passionless marriage of Amy and Justin. The following day was a flurry of activity with Justin continuing to get help from the children setting up his computer. The boys fastened themselves to him like glue, and in the corner of her mind, Amy wondered about them growing attached to him.
That evening, he met her again in the den. This time she was ready for him. She crossed her legs Indian style so he wouldn’t work his voodoo on her ankle again. “Why couldn’t your mother take care of you? Was she sick?”
He walked behind the couch and touched her hair. She turned her head to look at him.
“She wasn’t physically ill,” he said. “Or mentally ill in the true sense. She just couldn’t manage money. Every month she would receive a check for child support from my father and she would spend it all within three days. Bills piled up, the landlord threw us out, our electricity was cut off too many times to count. She would stay out all night sometimes. A neighbor found out and called social services. Not long after that, I started living at Granger.”
Her heart twisted at the picture he’d drawn of his childhood. Amy’s upbringing may not have been a fairy tale, but her mother was usually around even if she’d passed out drunk more nights than not.
“Neglect,” she murmured. “How old were—”
He shook his head. “—one question. My turn. What made you decide you wanted to change the world?”
Her lips twitched. More than one friend had teased her for her crusader orientation. “I don’t have to change the world, really,” she said. “Although that would be nice. I can just be satisfied working on my little corner of it.”
Justin shrugged. “You didn’t answer my question. What made you decide—”
Amy waved her hand. “Okay. When I was about thirteen or fourteen, I observed that there were two kinds of people in the world. People who make a difference and people who waste their lives. I saw too many people waste their lives to know I didn’t want that for myself.”
She could see the follow-up questions on his face, but he just nodded. “Okay, good night.”
The same irritation spiced with indignation she’d felt last night prickled through her. He clearly had more control and less curiosity than she did, blast him. “Good night,” she said, trying to keep the edge from her voice.
Justin glanced over his shoulder. “It’ll be a helluva lot better for both of us when you stop being angry that you accepted my help. Sleep tight,” he said and climbed the stairs.
Amy gaped after him. Angry! Me, angry? She had half a mind to chase him up those stairs and show him what angry was. While it may be true that she was exasperated with the legal system, and she resented the fact that getting married would make it easier to gain custody of the children, she wasn’t angry with Justin. She wasn’t pleased she’d had to marry a stranger, and the marriage was turning her life upside down, but her anger was directed at lawyers and a certain social worker. Not Justin. Right.
Monday presented the usual problems associated with the first day of the week. Justin left early saying he would work at his home during market hours until he got the kinks out of his new computer system. Emily missed the school bus, Nick had an accident, and when Amy arrived at school, she faced a class with so many children sick from a virus her classroom should have been quarantined.
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 m
uch 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.
Six
Amy 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 stren
gth 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.
