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.