Millionaire Husband Page 2

  Three weeks later, Justin still had a gnawing sensation inside him but, thank goodness, it had nothing to do with an ulcer. Needing to thank Amy Monroe for getting him to the hospital, he found her address and drove to her house after the stock market closed. He pulled into the driveway behind Amy’s Volkswagen. He scanned the area and noted the large older two-story home in a neighborhood filled with oaks, weeping willow trees and kids, at least a dozen kids.

  Snatching the bouquet of roses from the passenger seat and getting out of his car, he climbed the small, slightly tilted porch and rang the doorbell. A little girl with lopsided pigtails quickly appeared and stared him up and down. “A man is at the door,” she yelled at the top of her lungs.

  Just then, two toddler boys raced to the door and stared at him. One poked his thumb in his mouth. Twins, Justin noted, thankful again that fatherhood was not part of his purpose.

  Amy appeared, dressed in shorts that emphasized her long shapely legs. Affectionately ruffling the hair of one of the twins, she glanced at the flowers and Justin in surprise. Her gaze searched his and she smiled.

  Justin’s heart gave an odd, unexpected jump.

  Amy opened the door. “Come in. I called the hospital a few times to make sure you survived my driving. How are you? Was it an ulcer?”

  “I’m much better,” he said and nodded. “Yes, it was an ulcer. After surgery, the treatment was antibiotics.” He had felt sheepish when he’d learned his emergency could have been prevented with a simple prescription.

  “Guys hate going to the doctor, don’t they?” she mused.

  “This one does,” he said and extended the bouquet of roses. “These are for you. Thank you for saving my life.” Flowers weren’t nearly enough, but Justin wasn’t stopping there. He had other plans for Amy and her after-school program.

  “You’re welcome,” she said, taking the roses in her arms. The two tykes wrapped their arms around each of her legs.

  Justin couldn’t blame the little guys for wanting to be close to her. She radiated a combination of optimism, feminine strength and nurturing that would draw boys, both little and big, and she wore her undeniable sensuality like a spellbinding exotic perfume.

  She glanced down at the boys. “Oops. I’ve forgotten my manners. Justin Langdon, allow me to introduce my kids, Jeremy, Nick and Emily. Smell the beautiful roses,” she said dipping the bouquet to pint-size level, then she turned to Emily. “Would you mind getting me a vase with water, sweetheart? There’s one under the sink. Dinner’s almost ready, so everyone needs to wash up.”

  Faster than a speeding bullet, the twins detached themselves and tore out of the room.

  “Me first!” Nick said.

  “Me first!” Jeremy said.

  “Chicken and dumplings is one of their favorite dinners,” Amy explained. “Comfort food. We’re very big on comfort food since my sister and her husband died.”

  Justin frowned. “Your sister died recently?”

  Amy nodded, sadness muting the lively glint in her brown eyes. “And her husband. The children lost mom and dad in one day.”

  Justin digested the new information. “They’re not your children?”

  “They’re mine now,” she said firmly. “And they’re staying with me regardless of what any social worker says about my age or anything else.”

  Justin got the uncomfortable impression that there was a story here, a story he’d just as soon not hear.

  Emily reappeared and tugged on the hem of Amy’s shirt. Amy bent down while the little girl whispered to her. Amy’s smile emanated amusement and a hint of challenge. “Emily wants to know if you’d like to join us for dinner. The food should be safe, but our dinner table, uh, culture, may test your ulcer medication.”

  Justin glanced at two pairs of brown eyes and was surprised at his visceral response to both. Emily’s gaze held a tinge of sadness that tugged at him. He couldn’t help remembering long-buried feelings of abandonment from his own childhood, and the knowing provocative dare in Amy’s eyes affected him in a wholly different way. He could learn about the after-school program, he told himself, justifying his immediate decision.

  “I’d love to stay,” he said, getting a sly sense of satisfaction from Amy’s double take.

  “You’re sure?” she said, and he had the odd sense she was really saying Are you man enough for this?

  Justin felt the click inside him. It was a quality he kept hidden from most people, a deadly serious determination to meet a goal, to prove himself. He’d experienced the sensation only a few times in his life and learned it was like flicking a lighter in a room filled with gasoline. It was what had won him a scholarship to college and what had kept him going during his years of eating cans of beanee weenees before he’d made his first million.

  Something about Amy Monroe brought the same flame to life. She was a woman with sunshine in her eyes, a body with dangerous curves and even more dangerous dependents—children. He didn’t know why, but he had the inexplicable urge to show Amy he was man enough for anything she might need.

  Two

  “I’d like to expand the program to at least five more elementary schools in this district,” Amy said, responding to Justin’s question about her after-school program at the same moment she saved Jeremy’s cup from a spill. “I’d really like to make it county-wide, and if you want to know what I wish before I blow out the candles on my birthday cake, I’d love to see this spread all over the state, then the whole country.” She paused, studying Justin’s face. She knew some people felt overwhelmed by her dreams, but she sensed he understood at the same time he was amused.

  “Amy, the Empress of Literacy,” he said.

  He made it sound more sexy than mocking, but perhaps that was just because he was sexy.

  “I can’t deny it,” she said. “Two and a half hours per week could make a huge difference in the lives of the children who participate in the program.”

  “What do you need to make it happen? Money?”

  “That would help,” she said. “Teachers interested in helping with the program would find it more inviting to know their time and experience would be rewarded. The program also needs more exposure. It would be great if we became the darling of a women’s organization, or a corporate sponsor decided to take us on, but since I became a mom,” she said, smiling at Nick, Emily, and Jeremy, “I’ve had three of the best distractions in the world living with me.” She noticed Nick squirming in his seat. “Bathroom?”

  The little boy nodded. “I don’t wanna miss dessert.”

  “Scoot. I promise to save some for you.” After Nick left, she met Justin’s inquiring gaze. “He waits a little too late sometimes,” she explained. “Are you allowed to eat chocolate?”

  His lips twitched, and his eyes flickered with a dangerous sensuality. “I’m allowed to eat anything I want,” he said in a low voice that made her wonder what it would be like to be the subject of his undivided attention.

  Distressed at her thoughts, Amy bit her lip and banished a wayward provocative image from her mind. If this was how she reacted to being dateless for six months, how would she act after a year? She cleared her throat and stood. “Good, then you can have a piece of the candy bar cake Emily and I made this afternoon.”

  Nick skidded into the room. “I’m back.”

  “Did you wash your hands?”

  The little boy paused too long.

  Amy chuckled and patted his head. “Finish the job and use soap.”

  “Are you a teacher like Aunt Amy?” Emily asked Justin.

  As curious as her niece, Amy glanced over her shoulder to watch his response.

  He shook his head. “I trade stocks.”

  “Which brokerage?” Amy asked.

  He gave a casual shrug. “I trade online.”

  She gave him a second glance. He didn’t look like a gambler. “What do you do when the market goes down?”

  “When the market goes down, I short stocks.”

  Amy fr
owned as she placed a slice of cake on a plate. “Short?”

  “I’m not gonna be short,” Nick interrupted. “I’m gonna be tall.”

  Justin chuckled. “This doesn’t have anything to do with height. Shorting a stock technically means you borrow the stock at one price hoping to replace it at a lower price. You place your order at a hopefully high price, then get out when it goes down. It’s called shorting a stock.”

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Only in America can you make or lose money on something you don’t technically own. It’s not for the faint of heart,” Justin wryly said.

  “Oh, makes for ulcers?” she asked.

  He paused. “Partly,” he grudgingly admitted. “But not making money at all would make more ulcers.”

  “What’s an ulcer?” Emily asked.

  “It’s something in your tummy that makes it hurt,” Amy said.

  “When my tummy hurts, I throw up,” Jeremy said, then eyed the cake and quickly added, “but my tummy doesn’t hurt now. My tummy is smiling because it’s going to get cake.”

  “My tummy is smiling bigger,” Nick said.

  “Is not,” Jeremy said.

  “Is too,” Nick said.

  “Is—”

  “If your tummies don’t shut up, you might not get cake,” Emily pointed out.

  Complete silence followed. For sixty seconds.

  The doorbell rang.

  “Is not,” Jeremy whispered.

  “I’ll get it,” Emily said, bounding from the kitchen.

  Amy frowned as she set plates of cake in front of each twin. “Who could that—”

  “It’s Ms. Hatcher,” Amy yelled from the foyer.

  Amy’s stomach sank.

  She felt Justin’s curious gaze on her. “Hatcher?”

  “One of the social workers,” she whispered. “I don’t think she likes me.”

  He stood. “Why do you need a social worker? You’re the closest living relative, aren’t you?”

  Amy nodded. “Yes, but my sister didn’t have a will, so it’s complicated.” She glanced at the cake and winced. “She won’t approve of the cake.”

  “Cake?” Justin echoed in disbelief. “What’s wrong with cake?”

  Amy shoved her hair from her face with the back of her arm. “She’ll find something.”

  At the sound of heavy footsteps, Amy greeted the social worker with a bright smile. “Ms. Hatcher, what a surprise. We were just having dessert. Would you join us?”

  The older woman gave a sharp glance to the boys and the messy chocolate cake. The boys’ faces and hands were covered with chocolate. She sniffed in disapproval. “Sweets at this time of night will make it difficult for the children to sleep.” She looked down her nose at Amy. “And it’s unsafe for little Emily to answer the door. You should know better.”

  “I was cutting the—” Amy began and stopped. She didn’t know why Ms. Hatcher so easily succeeded in making her feel inadequate. Amy had been trained to teach, and although she hadn’t been trained to mother, she was determined to be the mother her niece and nephews desperately needed. “I’m sure you noticed that Emily may answer the door, but she doesn’t open it unless she knows the visitor. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  “The health department will be making an inspection next week,” Ms. Hatcher grudgingly reported.

  Amy felt a trickle of relief. Progress, at last. “That’s great news. That means we’re one step closer.”

  “There are other steps in the process,” Ms. Hatcher reminded her, glancing at Justin.

  He extended his hand. “Justin Langdon. I met Amy through her after-school program. I’m sure you’re familiar with the impressive results of her work.”

  Surprised at the alliance he offered, Amy met his green gaze and sent him a silent thank-you.

  “I’m aware that Ms. Monroe has set a full plate for herself,” Ms. Hatcher said. “You may see me to the door,” she said to Amy.

  Amy followed the woman to the foyer and endured Ms. Hatcher’s lecture. After the social worker left, Amy leaned against the door. It was amazing how one person’s presence could suck all the joy out of the air. Amy resented it. She didn’t understand what Ms. Hatcher had against her. Although their first encounter hadn’t been stellar, the woman couldn’t seem to get past it. Amy knew the woman didn’t approve of her. She disapproved of Amy’s youth and the fact that she wasn’t married. She seemed to disapprove of everything about Amy, yet the woman clearly didn’t have valid grounds to prevent Amy from gaining custody of the children. The only thing Ms. Hatcher could do was make things difficult for Amy, and that was what the woman was doing.

  Amy sighed and returned to the kitchen. The twins were licking their fingers and Emily had eaten the frosted perimeter and left the un-frosted center on her plate. All three faces were smudged with chocolate, all three content. Amy’s heart twisted. Heaven help her, she loved these kids.

  “We hated it,” Justin said in a deadpan voice, lifting his empty plate and meeting Amy’s gaze with a knowing look in his eyes. “You should have given us gruel instead.”

  “What’s gruel?” Emily asked.

  “Yucky, gross soup,” Amy said, her lips twitching at Justin’s joke. “Now you need to prove Ms. Hatcher wrong and get ready for bed.”

  All three groaned in unison.

  “Why is that lady always so cranky?” asked Nick.

  “She’s mad at Aunt Amy because Aunt Amy slammed a baseball into her windshield and broke it,” Emily said.

  Amy felt Justin’s intent gaze. Heat rose to her cheeks. “I apologized and paid for the repair,” she felt compelled to say.

  “She’s still mad,” Emily said, sadly shaking her pigtails.

  “She needs to eat more cake,” Jeremy suggested. “Can I have one more piece?”

  “May I,” Amy corrected. “And no, sweetie, you may not. First person ready for bed gets to pick the first bedtime story.”

  The three stampeded from the kitchen, leaving the room in abrupt silence.

  Justin chuckled and shook his head. “You broke her windshield the first time you met her.”

  “It was an accident,” she said, clearing the dishes from the table. “And it was technically before I met her.” She shrugged. “How was I supposed to know she was going to pull into my driveway?”

  “She reminds me of someone,” Justin said.

  “Named Atilla?” Amy asked, turning on the faucet to rinse the dishes.

  “Close,” he said. “I thought a house had already fallen on her.”

  Amy smiled at his reference to the witch in The Wizard of Oz. “I’m sure that somewhere underneath her gruff exterior—”

  “—lies a heart of stainless steel.” His expression turned serious. “Can she prevent you from getting custody of the kids?”

  Amy felt a ripple of unease. “I don’t think so,” she said. “She can just make things difficult. She doesn’t approve of me.”

  “Any reason besides the baseball?”

  “I’m too young, too employed, too single.” Amy figured she would remain single for the rest of her life, and that was fine.

  “And you smile too much,” he said in that deadpan voice that made her smile at the same time her stomach danced. “You laugh too much. And her biggest objection is probably that you aren’t ugly enough.”

  Not ugly enough. A forbidden pleasure rippled through her. “I’m not?”

  He shook his head and stepped closer. “You need warts and an extra eye.”

  “You suppose she would like me then?”

  “Maybe,” he said. “You still might not be ugly enough even with warts and an extra eye.”

  She looked into his green eyes and wished she had a little more time and just a smidgeon more freedom. He was the most interesting man she’d met in a long time, and his mere presence in her house reminded her she was female. Amy heard Nick gargle. She had no time and no freedom, so she’d best just store up this moment
for a rainy day.

  “Thank you for coming tonight, Justin Langdon,” she said and following a wayward impulse, she kissed him. Her mouth should have landed on his cheek. Instead, she pressed her lips against his surprised mouth. In two seconds, she caught a hint of his fire, his musky scent, and the taste of chocolate. The combination was seductive. She pulled back.

  “Do you kiss every man whose life you save?” Justin asked.

  Surprised at herself, Amy struggled for breath. “I don’t save many lives. I used the Heimlich maneuver on a first grader when he tried to swallow an entire hot dog and he cried on me.” She bit her lip. “Thank you for putting in a good word for me with Ms. Hatcher.”

  “Aunt Amy!” the twins chorused.

  Regret and relief warred inside her. “I need to go. Can you let yourself out?”

  He nodded, looking at her thoughtfully.

  “G’night,” she said. “And don’t get your shorts in such a twist that you get another ulcer.” She left him and the dishes, knowing the dishes would be there when she returned, but he would not.

  Three stories, five songs, and lots of hugs later, Amy tucked first the boys, then Emily into bed, and softly closed the door. Sinking against the hallway wall, she crossed her arms over her chest and drank in the peace in the silence and darkness.

  She struggled with the weariness that tried to settle on her shoulders. “I can do this,” she whispered. “I can be what those children need me to be.” Although Amy had always considered herself a fighter, strong enough for herself and anyone weaker, she was surprised at how tiring being a mom was. She was even more surprised by the loneliness.

  Pushing away from the wall, she resolved to keep her weariness to herself. In time, it would fade. She hoped it would fade. Rounding the corner to the kitchen ready to face the dinner dishes, she stopped short at the sight that greeted her. She’d been right about one thing, wrong about the other. Justin Langdon was long gone. But he’d done the dishes.

  Her heart twisted. She skimmed her fingers over the clean counter. Justin was an enigma. She found him extremely compelling. Another time, she might try to solve some of the mysteries she saw in his eyes. Amy thought of the kids and shook her head. In another life.