Justin's Bride (25 page)

She paused and looked at the clerk. “Why not?”

He got redder. “It ain't, ah, isn't right.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“Megan?” Justin said, still not sure what she was after.

She looked at him. “Come now, Justin. We have things to talk about.”

His gaze narrowed. He took in the fancy gown, the faintly suggestive tone in her voice, the unexpected cleavage. It was hard to think straight when every time she looked at him all he could stare at were her pale white breasts.

Two men entered the hotel. Their conversation came to an abrupt halt when they spotted her. Justin didn't bother turning around. He didn't care who they were. All that mattered was Megan. His gaze drifted down her bare arm to her hand holding onto the banister railing. She was gripping the wood as if she was terrified of falling. Or just plain terrified.

The fog in his brain lifted and he could think again. He looked at her other hand. She was holding on to her bag just as tightly. He could detect a faint tremor in her body. She was out to prove something. But what? Why this way?

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly.

Their eyes met. The hazel irises had faded to gray, but he didn't know what emotion had caused the change. Fear? Anticipation? Determination? He could read all of them there.

She nodded. “For the first time in a long time, I'm very sure.”

She started up the stairs. With three long strides, he was beside her. He offered her his arm. When she took it, he could feel her shaking. At the curve of the staircase, he paused, bringing her to a halt. “There's still time,” he said, motioning to the men openly watching them from the lobby. “You've flaunted yourself, but you haven't come to my room yet. You could go back.”

“I'm never going back.” She straightened her shoulders, and walked calmly to his hotel-room door.

He fumbled with the key. Her closeness was making him as nervous as he'd been his first time. Not that anything was going to happen between them. He didn't know what her game was, but it didn't matter. He wasn't going to play.

“Nothing's going to happen between us,” he said as the key finally slipped into the slot and he opened the door.

She glanced up at him and smiled. Her hazel-gray eyes met his, then skittered away. “I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Yeah, I'm sure, too.” He followed her into the room.

He thought about not closing the door behind them. That would give them the illusion of convention, if nothing else. He shook his head. Who was he kidding? Megan Bartlett had just walked into his hotel room. Half the town already knew about it and the other half would know within the hour.

He shut the door behind him, then stood beside it with his arms folded over his chest. She circled the large bedroom, glancing at the armoire, at the wing-back chairs by the fireplace, then moving over to the bay window and leaning over the window seat to look out.

“You can see the entire town from up here,” she said. She gave him a quick smile over her shoulder, then turned back to the view. “People are stopping and staring at the hotel. Do you think they've already heard that I'm here?”

“I'm sure of it.”

“How fascinating. I suppose I've created a scandal.”

He moved to the foot of the four-poster bed and grasped the column of dark wood. It wasn't just that damned dress, although it was making him hot and hard. Being this close to Megan, seeing her, knowing they were alone and remembering the kisses they'd shared not three hours before was enough to make him want to pull her onto the wide bed in front of him and have his way with her.

He wasn't going to do that. No matter how she tempted him. At least he was going to do his damnedest not to do that, he thought grimly as she placed one knee on the window seat and bent forward to get a better view. Her action raised her bustle, allowing the yards of silk to drape over the length of her legs. The position was provocative. He turned away.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“I thought we could talk.”

“What?” He glanced at her. She'd turned back toward the room and was perched on the edge of the window seat. Her hands were folded modestly in her lap, her gaze firmly locked on the floor. She was the picture of innocence, except for the expanse of pale bosom that rose and fell with each breath. If she took a really deep breath, he wondered if she would pop out, then got disgusted when he realized he was holding his own breath in anticipation. “What do you want to talk about? No. First tell me why you wanted to talk in my room. And why the hell you're wearing that dress.”

She stood up quickly and smiled. “My Worth gown? Isn't is wonderful? I've had it for three years.” She held the skirt out at the sides and glanced down at the fabric. “It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I knew I shouldn't buy it. After all, where was I going to wear it in Landing?” Her smiled faded. “But I bought it, anyway. What was it you said? Another of my guilty secrets.”

She released her skirt and walked across the floor until she stood directly in front of him. He could smell the rose water she'd used in her hair.

“I don't expect you to understand,” she said quietly. “You think I'm playing a game, but I assure you, I'm quite serious. I've realized that I'll be judged no matter what happens, so I want to do something wicked. Just once. All my life I've done the right thing. The expected thing. I know you can't understand that, either. You've always flouted convention.”

“I do understand,” he said, risking contact by taking one of her gloved hands in his. At least he couldn't feel her soft skin, even if the heat of her was enough to drive him mad. “More than you might think. But are you sure this is what you want? Have you given enough thought to what you're doing?”

“No.” Her soft laughter made him smile in return. Megan's almond-shaped eyes glowed with humor as she wrinkled her nose. “I haven't thought about it at all. That's the perfect part. I'll stay an hour. Long enough to ruin myself. Then I'll go home. I hope you don't mind.”

“That you're using me as the method for your social demise?” Oddly enough, he did mind. He tried to keep the edge from his voice, but he knew she'd heard it. She withdrew her hand from his.

“You're angry.”

“No, disappointed. You didn't give me a choice. Did it ever occur to you that one of the things I liked best about you was your innocence and pure reputation?”

She backed up slowly. “I wasn't sure you liked me at all, anymore. As for my reputation, why would you care about that? You've always scolded me for caring about what other people think. You've mocked my concerns for respectability.” When she reached the window seat, she sat down in a cloud of silk and flowers. She glared at him. “Make up your mind. Either you like my position and standing in this town, or you want to help me dispose of it. You can't have both.”

She was right, he thought, chagrined. Her willingness to let her life be governed by what other people would think made him furious, and frustrated. If not for what her family would have said and done, she would have left with him seven years ago. He studied her, the fire in her eyes, the faint color on her cheeks. Or would she? Perhaps she had simply used her family as a convenient excuse. Maybe she'd never planned on marrying him at all. Maybe...

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. He could go crazy thinking about this. The past was long over. He would never know what could have been. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered except the fact that coming back to Landing had been a mistake. Williams had been dead wrong on this one.

“You want a drink?” he asked suddenly, crossing the room to the tray Alice kept set up beside the fireplace.

He poured two fingers' worth of brandy into an expensive crystal glass, then turned and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Megan blinked. “I've never had spirits before.” She blushed. “Except for that sip from your flask. It wasn't very good.”

He thought of the cheap liquor he'd barely been able to afford. “This is better,” he promised.

She looked doubtful, then nodded.

He carried the drink to her, then returned and poured himself a slightly more generous serving. After capping the decanter, he raised the glass. “To your soiled reputation.”

She smiled tightly and took a tentative sip. She didn't gag, but her grimace had him fighting back a smile.

“Yes, it's much better,” she lied, and quickly leaned forward to place the drink on the nightstand.

She didn't fall out of her bodice. He was torn between being grateful and disappointed. It was going to be a long hour. He glanced around the room, searching for the safest place to sit. Probably outside, he thought humorlessly. He settled on one of the velvet wing chairs by the fireplace.

“What are we going to talk about?” he asked as he rested one booted ankle on the opposite knee.

She looked at the ceiling as if searching for a topic. Her fingers tapped together. “Bonnie!” she said at last. “She's learning to read. Just yesterday...”

But he didn't listen to what Bonnie had done just yesterday. He took another sip of the brandy and watched Megan speak, without hearing the words. Her mouth moved, and she smiled often. Her arms raised as she used her hands to describe something. Her bare skin gleamed like the silk dress she wore. A shudder raced through him as he thought of how she would feel if he was to touch her, stroke her, love her into mindlessness.

With her hair done up so intricately and her dress billowing around her, he thought how he'd like to take her in his arms and dance with her. Around and around the room until they were too exhausted to do anything but hold each other.

His direct gaze unnerved her. He could tell by the way she darted quick glances at him, then looked away. Her presence here would start a scandal the likes of which Landing hadn't seen in years. Probably not since he'd left. He shouldn't have let her come in his room. She'd caught him so off guard, he hadn't been thinking. It was too late now, he told himself. The cards had been dealt and she would have to play the hand. As he had seven years ago.

“You're not listening to me,” she said.

“Sorry. What were you saying?”

“It doesn't matter. Is there any news on the investigation into Laurie's murder?”

He shook his head. He didn't like thinking about that, but it was better than wondering if Megan was wearing her French silk and lace undergarments. “Nobody here knows anything, either about Laurie's murder, or the murder of the saloon girl four years ago. I've been thinking of going to neighboring towns and seeing if anyone there had heard of similar crimes in their area.”

“Why would they?”

“I know it's not likely,” he admitted. “However, if other towns have had the same sort of murders, we might be able to find a pattern.”

She shivered. “It's so awful. Why would anyone do something so horrible?”

“People do strange things.”

“This investigation is very important to you, isn't it? Is it because you don't want to let your friend, the sheriff, down?”

“Partly.” He took a sip of the brandy. He hadn't poured enough to affect him, but he wished he had. He'd planned on coming back to his room tonight and getting drunk. He didn't know how else he was going to forget what had happened this afternoon in his office. Even now he could feel Megan's eager body pressing up against him, and her tongue penetrating his mouth. He bit back a groan.

Forget it, he ordered himself. Think of something else. Think of the murders.

“Part of it is Williams. He would expect me to do my best. Part of it is that someone died.”

“But it's about you, too, isn't it? You want to prove yourself.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You see too much.”

“I know you.” She shifted on the window seat, settling into a corner.

Justin set the drink down, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. His boots needed polishing, he thought absently. “Being here isn't what I thought it would be. Landing is different. Or maybe it's me. Sometimes I wonder if any of this makes a damn bit of difference. Williams was so sure I had to make peace with the past.”

“Have you?”

“Maybe. I'm beginning to understand that I contributed to my own reputation. Like the time somebody burned down those three outhouses. Everybody said I'd done it, so I didn't bother telling them otherwise. I figured no one would have believed me.” He shook his head. “A dumb idea. I should have stood up for myself.”

“You were just a child.”

He almost asked her what her excuse was for not believing him, but he didn't. He liked the quiet conversation and the slightly charged air in the room. He didn't want to change anything between them; he didn't want Megan angry. Not tonight. Not at him. Later they would have to discuss the past and place blame, but not right now.

“I've figured out that there's always going to be folks who don't like me. That's fine. I probably don't want them to like me.”

“I wish I could be more like that,” Megan said softly. She studied her fingernails. “Are you still planning on leaving in a year?”

“Unless they fire me first. As you know, some of the ladies in town are intent on doing just that.”

“A lot of them are also changing their minds. Mrs. Dobson told me a couple of women left Colleen's meeting after I did. They said you were the right kind of sheriff for our town.”

“It's not enough to keep me here.”

“Oh.”

It was the way she said the single word that caused him to look up at her. She was staring at him intently, as if she'd never seen him before. He straightened slowly.

He wanted to demand to know what she was thinking. At the same time, he reminded himself he couldn't do this again. It was too dangerous. The citizens of Landing changing their minds about him wasn't enough to keep him in town. Unfortunately, a word from Megan was.