AllFreeNovel
Share Us
feel safer, but it didn't. She took one more step to the side and the sun illuminated him fully. She wished she'd left him in shade.
His hair was as dark as she remembered, and as long as ever. The dark brown layered lengths reached to the bottom of his white shirt collar. Equally dark eyes flickered over her face and body with all the impersonal appraisal of a horse buyer inspecting a brood mare. But she was too intent on her own study to take much offense. The lines by his eyes had deepened. Was it from the weather or had he had reason to laugh and smile these last seven years? The hollows of his cheeks made his mouth look fuller than she remembered. His square chin and angular jaw were still thrust forward in stubborn defiance. She'd told him that once. He'd asked what other kind of defiance was there.
She'd laughed then, and he'd joined in. Their laughter had led to kisses, and then he'd touched her waist. His hand had slipped higher and—
"So. You've come to welcome me back," he said, taking the straight-backed chair in his hands. He turned it neatly and straddled the seat, folding his arms along the top of the back. "I'm honored. Is it me, or do you welcome all newcomers to town?"
She stared, not quite able to believe that he'd actually taken a seat without offering her one. She shook her head. Why was she shocked? He was behaving exactly like the Justin she remembered.
"Come now, Megan, are you here simply to stare at me? Has it been that long since the carnival came through town? I don't remember your being this quiet."
She gave him her best glare. "Welcome back, Justin. No, thank you for the kind offer of a chair, but I prefer to stand."
He raised his dark eyebrows. "Oh, a temper. I don't remember that, either. Did you want me to get you a seat? You'll have to forgive me. Being the town bastard, I tend to forget my manners."
She flinched as if he'd struck her. Before she could gather herself together enough to think about leaving, he rose to his
feet and grabbed a chair from behind the desk on his right. He carried it over and placed it next to her.
"Please." He motioned to the chair, giving her a mocking half bow.
They stood close, now. Close enough for her to see the pure color of his eyes. No flecks of gold or green marred the deep brown irises. She'd never been able to see what he was thinking, and today was no exception. She was close enough to count the individual whiskers on his cheeks. Close enough to study the scar on his chin. Her fingers curled tightly against her palms as she remembered what it was like to touch that chin. The contrast of textures. The rasp of the stubble, the hard line of the scar, then the damp heat of his lower lip.
His scent surrounded her. The fragrance of his body, a unique blend of man and temptation, filled her lungs and made her knees tremble. It had been so long, she thought as she swayed toward him. So very long. His eyes locked on hers. She felt her fear fade as a fiery weakness invaded her. Her breath caught in her throat and she exhaled his name.
"Sit down, Megan," he growled, holding the chair in one hand and pushing her shoulder with the other. "Sit down and tell me what the hell you're doing in my office."
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.
