Baby Of Fortune. Shirley RogersЧитать онлайн книгу.
took every ounce of his willpower to restrain from storming into the room, grabbing the jerk by his collar and throwing him out of the house. Dammit! Heather was still his wife!
“Paul stopped by to discuss some…committee decisions we need to make.”
Justin sent his wife a questioning glance. “Committee decisions?” His throat tightened as his gaze shifted with lightning speed to her companion. “Is that what you were discussing with my wife?” he asked pointedly. He put his hands on his hips, and it gave him a bit of pleasure to note a trace of fear in Dailey’s eyes.
“We, uh, I…yes.” Paul Dailey cleared his throat several times, and his hands flitted about nervously, as if disconnected from his arms. “Heather, we…uh, we can continue our discussion tomorrow at school.” He snatched his briefcase from the floor and clutched it against his chest like a shield of armor. Without looking at her, he cautiously approached the door, his eyes watchful of the man challenging him.
Justin didn’t move, forcing Dailey to squeeze his slender body through the small opening created between Justin and the doorjamb. Before Dailey was through the door, Justin reached out and flattened his hand against the jamb, preventing his escape.
“My wife is off-limits to anyone but me. In the future, you’d be smart to remember that.” The threat of Justin’s words was reinforced by his grave tone. He hesitated a moment, then dropped his arm. He heard the man’s hurried footsteps, then a car door, and finally a revving engine and squealing tires. If he wasn’t so irritated with his wife, he might have been amused.
As it was, Justin stared at the woman he’d married seven years ago, his heart slamming hard against the wall of his chest. Damn, just seeing her again after a year apart made his pulse race. Heather had always had that effect on him. She was still as beautiful as the day he’d met her on the campus of Penn State during his last year of school.
Watching him with uneasy eyes, Heather cautiously stepped closer, stopping just in front of him. She put her hand on the door, then leaned her hip against it, hiking her short brown skirt higher on her thighs. Her auburn hair fell in curls around her face and shoulders. Black shoes with three-inch heels complemented her shapely calves. Justin’s muscles tightened as he remembered the last time he’d stroked her legs, the last time they’d been intimate. His blood pressure rose a notch.
Damn, a year was a long time without sex.
Apparently, it had been too long for Heather, also, he thought, outrage pulling at him.
“That was uncalled for,” she stated, her voice sounding more stable as she began to absorb the shock of seeing him. Small brackets formed a frown around her full lips.
“Was it?” Justin shrugged one big shoulder. “The wimp wanted to have you. I made sure he understood he wouldn’t.”
He heard her intake of breath as her green eyes darkened with emotion.
“You have no right to interfere with my life.” Her features tightened as she glared at him, a line between her eyes becoming prominent.
“You’re still my wife,” Justin reminded her. “Apparently you’ve forgotten that.”
“I haven’t forgotten that we’re still married.” She faced him squarely, her shoulders visibly tightening. “But I easily could have. I haven’t heard a word from you in a year.” The reminder was spoken sharply, and hurt lingered in the shadows of her eyes. After she’d miscarried their baby, Justin had withdrawn from her. Eventually their marriage had suffered irreversible damage, and he’d chosen to leave her. The pain of his rejection still had the power to make her heart ache.
Justin stated the obvious. “I’m here now. May I come in?”
As she stared at her husband, Heather’s whole carriage stiffened. Her heart tripped over itself as his gaze held hers captive. He was so handsome that he literally stole her breath. Impeccably dressed in a white shirt and dark business suit, he looked as if he’d come straight from work. Justin always had a presence about him, something about him that commanded attention wherever he was, whoever he was with.
She glanced back up at his face. His well-groomed dark brown hair was combed back from his face, and his blue eyes were blatantly perceptive as they studied her. Though she could never quite read what Justin was thinking, she wished now, more than ever, that she had such power.
What was he doing here? Could it be that he still loved her? Flushing at the foolish thought, she dismissed it. She’d given up that hope long ago. Besides, she wasn’t going to let him hurt her again. There was no way in hell she could stand the torture of losing him again.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she told him, then frantically glanced behind her and into the living room, praying that none of her baby’s things were visible. It was the one area of the house that she tried very hard to keep straight.
A flash of guilt swept through her, temporarily paralyzing her. She’d never told him that when he’d walked away from her, he’d left her pregnant. He had no idea that he had a three-month-old son. Knowing Justin, if she’d told him, he would have felt obligated to come back to her—and Heather hadn’t wanted him back on those terms. A child wasn’t a good reason to keep a marriage together. She’d learned that cold hard fact when her own father had deserted her and her mother when she was thirteen.
Her husband’s unexpected arrival on her doorstep unnerved her. Was it possible he’d learned of Timmy’s existence? Panic seized her—the hard, gripping kind that twisted and tortured every muscle in her chest.
“I’d like to talk to you.” Justin spoke with obvious control. Though he appeared calm, the underlying determination in his tone spoke volumes.
Heather glanced at her watch and realized she was very late picking up Timmy. Nerves made her stomach tighten as she weighed the consequences of allowing Justin inside. She was thankful she’d had a few errands to run after school, and hadn’t swung by her mother’s for her baby.
“Maybe some other time,” she suggested coolly, dropping her hands to her side. Dispassionately, she continued, “I have another appointment in a few minutes.” It was the wrong thing to say.
Justin stared directly at her, his curiosity apparently piqued. “What kind of appointment?”
“Just something I need to take care of,” she offered vaguely. She combed her hair away from her face with her fingers. “Look, can’t this wait?”
“It’ll only take a few minutes,” he insisted, stepping closer. “What harm could there be in inviting me in?”
His words made her skin burn hot, and Heather immediately assured herself that her reaction was only from seeing him so unexpectedly, not at all because of his nearness or the familiar scent of him. No, she couldn’t afford to let her heart respond to him.
“None, I assure you,” she retorted, then wished she hadn’t let him provoke her.
“Then let me in—” his lips curved ever so slightly “—since you have nothing to be afraid of.”
Heather thought about it for a moment. Well, technically he was still her husband, even if she didn’t want to acknowledge that fact to him. That they’d been separated for a year apparently meant nothing at all to him. And she really couldn’t refuse, since he still owned the house they’d shared through six years of marriage.
She shifted and moved away from the door. “All right. For a few minutes.”
Justin stepped inside, and then he shut the door behind him. As he entered the foyer and then the living room, his gaze slowly swept it, as if cataloging every item in minute detail.
His scrutiny made Heather edgy, and she glanced about, again searching the room to be sure it was free of anything that belonged to her son. Then she walked over to the sofa and stopped beside it. “Would you like to sit down?” She gestured toward the chair across from her.
“I’ll