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She wanted to whisper that she loved him more than her own life, that everything she'd done that had
hurt him had been, in the beginning, only to protect him. But he didn't trust her yet, and she was going
to have to bring him around before she could share her deepest secrets with him.
"Will you believe me when I say that I'm not afraid of you anymore?" she whispered against his lips.
"Honey, that's pretty hard to miss, considering the position we're in," he whispered back.
"What positi...Justin!"
He laughed as he flipped her onto her back and slid over her, nibbling warmly at her lips. "This
position," he whispered. "Kiss me goodbye and I'll go."
"I've already done...that...several times," she whispered, the words punctuated with soft, clinging
kisses.
"Do it several more and I'll work on getting my legs to support me," he murmured dryly. "My knees
are pretty weak right now."
"So are mine." She linked her arms around his neck and bit his lower Hp. "You're mine now," she said
quietly, her eyes holding his. "Don't you go off and flirt with other women."
Her possessiveness made him ache. He slid his hands under her back and lifted her up, taking his time
as he bent hungrily to her open mouth. He kissed her with growing insistence until his own body
forced him to either stop or go on.
He rolled away reluctantly and got to his feet, taut with pride as he looked down at his handiwork. She
was sprawled in delicious abandon on the sheets, her hair like a halo around her, her mouth soft and
red and swollen from his kisses, her eyes dreamy with desire.
"If I had a photograph of you that looked the way you look now," he said huskily, "I'd walk around
bent double every time I looked at it. I've never seen a woman as beautiful as you are."
"I'm not even pretty," she chided, smiling. "But I'm glad you like me the way I am. I like you, too."
He drew in a slow breath. "I'd better get out of here while I can. It helps to remember your condition."
She averted her eyes to the sheets, feeling nervous.
"You'd really have let me go on, wouldn't you?" he asked, his voice deep with feeling. "Even knowing
how bad it was going to hurt you, you wouldn't have stopped me."
"I wanted you to know," she whispered.
"It took a lot of courage." He frowned, watching her. "Did it hurt you, when I accused you of being
frigid?"
"A little," she said, trying to spare him.
He sighed angrily. "A lot, I imagine. Try to remember that I didn't know the truth, and don't hate me
for it.
There are a lot of things you don't know about me, either, Shelby." He turned then, retrieving his
cigarette from the ashtray. "I'd better get a move on," he said after a cursory glance at the thin gold
watch on his wrist. "No speeding," he cautioned from the door.
The remark intrigued her, but she knew he wasn't going to tell her any more than he wanted her to
know. "All right. Have a good trip."
"I'll do my best."
He didn't say goodbye. He gave her one last glance and closed the door behind him. Shelby watched
him leave with mixed emotions. Sometimes she wished she could read his mind, because that was the
only way she was ever going to know how he really felt about her. She wondered if he knew himself.
She got up and dressed and drove the Thunderbird to the office, taking a minute to make an
appointment that afternoon with Dr. Sims. By the time she got home, she was worn out, from the
combination of an unexpectedly long day trying to keep peace between an irritable Mr. Holman and a
venomous Tammy Lester, and having the rest of the surgery done—which was embarrassing as well
as uncomfortable, because she had to tell Dr. Sims why she needed it.
But a cup of fresh coffee and a nice supper soothed her. She went upstairs to her own room, wishing
she had the right to go straight to Justin's. But he hadn't said anything about the sleeping
arrangements, so apparently he'd thought of last night as a temporary thing because of what had
happened.
She went to sleep early. She didn't hear the car come in, or Justin's footsteps heading toward his own
bedroom expectantly. She didn't hear the muffled curse when he found his bed empty, or the shocked
silence when he found Shelby asleep in her own.
He closed the door firmly and went to his room, dreams going black in his eyes. He'd expected her to
be waiting up, or at least sleeping in his bed. But she hadn't, and he didn't know if she'd just been
uncertain about what to do or if she was putting a wall between them because of the argument they'd
had that morning.
Shelby, blissfully unaware of what had happened after she was asleep, went down to breakfast the next
morning full of hope. Only to find a cold, taciturn Justin at the table looking at her as if she'd just
tried to shoot him.
She stopped suddenly in the doorway. Her long denim skirt swung around her calves, her hands going
nervously to the blue cotton blouse and scarf she was wearing with it.
"Good morning," she said, faltering.
"Hell, no, it isn't," he said.
Her eyebrows arched. "It isn't?"
He lifted his coffee cup and sipped the rich black liquid. "I'll have one of the boys drive you to work,"
he said.
"May I have the keys to the Thunderbird?"
She reached into her skirt pocket and put them beside him on the table, but he caught her hand before
she could move away.
He looked up, his expression brooding. "Why did you go back to your own room?"
She sighed and then smiled. "Because I didn't know if you still wanted me to sleep with you," she said
sadly.
"You were half mad when you left, and you didn't say anything." Her shoulders lifted and fell. "I didn't
want to impose."
"My God, honey, we're married," he said huskily. "You couldn't impose on me if you tried."
She stared down at the big, lean hand holding hers. Its warm strength made her tingle. "You've been
very remote since we've been married."
"I think you're beginning to understand why, though, aren't you?" he asked softly.
She looked down into his dark, quiet eyes. She nodded. "You...want me."
"That's part of it," he agreed without elaborating. "Did you see Dr. Sims?"
Her blush gave him the answer even before she nodded.
He drew her down in the chair beside him. "I'll drive you to work," he said and pushed a platter of
eggs toward her.
She smiled, but she didn't let him see her do it.
Justin had calmed down by the time they got to Jacobsville, but Barry Holman set him off again
immediately when they reached the office. The handsome blond lawyer was outside on the street,
looking all around, and to an onlooker, it might have appeared as if he was waiting impatiently for
Shelby. To Justin, unfortunately, that's exactly what it looked like.
Holman's head lifted when Justin pulled the Thunderbird up at the curb, and his face lit up. He smiled
with exaggerated pleasure and rushed to meet Shelby with a cursory nod to Justin, whose expression
turned murderous.
"Thank God you're here," Barry enthused, opening the door for her. "I was afraid you were going to
be late.
How pretty you look this morning!" He knew about day-before-yesterday's mishap, of course, but
Shelby was shocked by his attentiveness and was already beginning to wonder what ailed him as he
helped her onto the sidewalk. "I'll take good care of her, Justin," he said, adding fuel to the fire,
grinning at her smoldering husband.
Justin didn't answer him or speak to Shelby. He slammed the car door, his eyes glittering in Shelby's
direction, and roared away down the street.
"What's wrong?" Shelby asked, mentally nervous about Justin's unexpected anger. Mr. Holman had
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