Millionaire M.D.

Eight

Winona wanted to wildly shake her head, as if to make absolutely positive that she’d heard him correctly. “You trust me?”

Justin had been pacing back and forth in front of the hearth, but now he stopped still, his brow furrowing. “Of course I trust you. What kind of question is that?” He hesitated. “The only worry I have is about putting you on the spot, Win. It’s not fair. There’s no reason you should feel obligated to help the Texas Cattleman’s Club. This is their problem. My problem. I’m the one who brought your name up, and I should have been thinking about how this could affect you. At the time, the only issue on my mind was coming up with someone whose integrity and judgment I didn’t question-and that’s how all the guys felt, too. You just seemed the perfect one for us to ask. Everyone said the same thing. We all trust you, we all knew we could be comfortable and honest with…”

He abruptly stopped talking as if distracted by her sudden, swift charging across the room toward him. Maybe she was just stumbling across the Oriental carpet, but she felt as if she were flying. As if her heart had taken flight and had the power to soar. Toward him.

There seemed to be a lump in her throat the size of…well, the size of wonder. Most of her life, she’d been careful not to react to anything impulsively. It’s not as if she could ever completely forget that she’d been a throwaway kid, an abandoned child. She’d always felt that she had to carefully earn other people’s regard.

And she had. Winona had long learned to value herself. She knew she was an especially good cop and did a great job with the kids. She knew that she was respected, well liked in the community-and that she’d earned respect. But she hadn’t specifically realized that she had Justin’s trust and regard in that way.

Someone who she valued.

Someone who she loved-even if she’d been scared witless of allowing that four-letter word to surface in her heart before now.

It mattered. It mattered like she couldn’t remember anything, ever, mattering this much before. And when she launched herself into Justin’s arms, he responded with a whoomph. Possibly he wasn’t anticipating a rib-crunching hug at that instant. Possibly he wasn’t expecting a hard-ball pitch of a human female from across the room. Possibly he wasn’t prepared for the trembling, hard smash of her lips against his.

But it couldn’t have taken him three seconds-maybe less-to figure it all out. Before she’d realized how impulsively she’d reacted, his arms had balanced her-against him-and they were both glued in a lip-lock. The fire shimmered. Shadows whispered on the walls. The night seemed to surround them in a special, private silence.

He kissed her, then kissed her again and again, as if years had gone by since the last time. As if he’d only barely survived since those last kisses. As if the taste of her were all he needed to sustain life.

But it wasn’t all she needed. Before, she’d thought it was a fluke, the incomprehensible wildness she felt with Justin. The letting-go. The freeing. The need trammeling up and down her nerves like a clattering train, gaining momentum with every motion. Her hands touched, scraped, caressed, clenched. She tilted her head, taking in his last kiss, then leaned into him to give one of her own.

She had been wearing jeans and a chambray shirt, but not for long. She pushed at his long T-shirt in a frenzy, seeking skin, more playground to explore and touch. After his shirt skimmed over his head, Justin seemed to be slower than molasses, as he unbuttoned her blouse, one button at a time, his lips tracking the path from the hollow of her throat to the crest above her breasts, down to the shadow between. And then his hands were inside, his big warm fingers splayed to caress the span of her waist as he pushed the shirt out of his way. His mouth ducked again, this time to the rim of her bra.

Her breath sucked in, like a lost wave, her lungs scrabbling for oxygen that couldn’t seem to be found. She saw his eyes opening, then closing, his face aiming toward her for another kiss, this time on her lips again, this time taking her tongue and her teeth in a kiss that started out sweet and ended up wicked.

By the time he’d pushed the shirt off her shoulders, he’d kissed her shoulders awake as if they were erogenous zones in themselves, and then her shirt snagged at the wrists because of the tight wrist buttons. He smiled-clearly liking that her hands were trapped. Within a millisecond he’d found the catch for her bra, and her breasts tumbled into his hands, her heartbeat tumbling just as fast, just as much in his power, and he took advantage by bending down and skimming her tight, vulnerable nipple with the edge of his teeth.

She’d invited this explosion. She wanted it. But when he surged back up for another wicked kiss-the bad kind, the scary kind, the kind that took her tongue and her breath and tasted all her secrets-she was quivering like a leaf in a wild spring storm. Justin sensed it, lifted his head, studied her face with liquid dark eyes.

“There’s nothing we’re ever doing, Win, that you don’t want.”

“I want this. I want you.”

But now he hesitated as if he meant it. “I need you to be sure you want this. Yeah, I’ll stop if you say, but I’m really, really gonna be unhappy if we go any further and you don’t want this. It’s all right. Whatever you want is all right, but I don’t think you came here believing we were going to do anything like this.”

“Maybe I didn’t expect it. But I know exactly what I want. And it’s you.” He didn’t get it. Didn’t get how much his trust meant to her; his respect. How much something he’d so freely given her, without even having to think, had turned an emotional corner in her heart that simply would never turn back again. She framed his face, kissed him again, this time softer, this time with the “please” buried inside it.

“Well, that’s it,” he said hoarsely. “You’re in trouble now.”

“Oh? Is that a promise or a warning?”

“A promise,” he said thickly. He pulled off the rest of her shirt. “And I always keep my promises, Win.”

A thrill whispered up her spine, an excitement that both embarrassed and unnerved her. The thing was, she believed him. And suddenly she wasn’t so sure of the situation or him-or of herself. He left the lights on, the wood fire blazing, but he was suddenly kissing her in a way that made her walk backward, propelling her out into the dark hall.

“Where are we going?”

“I think making love with you by the fire’d be outstanding-another time. On the pool table might be another terrific idea. Another time. But the first time, I want you on a big, hard mattress.”

“Um…”

“Cat got your tongue, Winona?”

He was unnerving her, and he knew it. Liked it. She wasn’t afraid of anything. Never had been. She’d faced down strung-out kids and brutalizing adults and even, as a child, stood up every time she was afraid-partly because there’d never been any other choice; she’d only had herself to depend on and she’d learned courage from doing just that. But somehow, right then, she was afraid of him.

Not that he’d hurt her.

Never that.

This fear was a curious thing, elemental, sharp. Thrills and adrenaline kept scissoring up her nerves, electrifying her hormones, charging heat through her whole body. She wanted to dive off this cliff. She wanted to soar without a parachute. She wanted this high-speed chase.

She wanted him.

She was just scared. Of something she couldn’t name, wasn’t sure of. But when she kissed him, the fear ebbed back. And when she kissed him hard, mindlessly, putting her whole self into it, the fear became something so much fun that she never wanted it to go away.

Her shoulder grazed the stucco wall in the hall. Then a doorjamb. There was no way to recognize anything in his bedroom-not just because she’d never been in there, but because he didn’t seem to remember to turn on a light. She had a sense of a long narrow room, lots of space, a chill from a window cracked open. She caught scents-sandalwood and leather. She caught sights because of certain objects shining in the darkness-his metal four-poster bed, a mirror over the bureau reflecting the star-spangled night, his shadow and hers moving past it.

The room was part of him. His. But the textures spinning spells around her were his whiskery cheek, his smooth naked shoulders, the liquid heat pouring off his skin, the silk of his mouth and more of those deep, dark, wicked kisses.

He opened a bedside drawer in the dark, took something out, slammed the drawer. “I’d love your babies, Win. I’d love to make half a dozen with you. But this night, I don’t want anyone in this bed-any thought on your mind-but how much trouble you’re in. And what I want to do to you.”

“What do you want to do to me?” she asked weakly.

“Love you. Like I’ve wanted to love you for a long, long time.”

She felt a keening inside. A caving in. Maybe he didn’t mean it. A grown-up woman should know better than to believe a man’s words of passion…but she did believe him. She felt the truth in his eyes, felt the emotion in his touch and his voice. And that was the last coherent thought she had.

The rest of their clothes peeled off, pushed off. Jeans, socks. Cold air rushed on her bare skin, raising gooseflesh, but then his tongue and mouth covered that gooseflesh, searing kisses everywhere, anywhere. Her elbow, her ribs, the insides of her thighs…oh my, no one had ever kissed the insides of her thighs.

It was payback time. She rolled on top of him, letting him know who was in charge now. In response, she heard his throaty laughter in the darkness, more whispered love words, the hint of more wicked promises glinting in those eyes. He was delighted with her. That’s what he’d have her believe. That he cherished, exulted in her letting loose and losing control.

Her being abandoned.

With him.

Finally they were both completely naked. He pulled her hands over her head, stretching them, so that the feeling of length to length was exquisitely intimate, breast to chest, belly to belly, her pelvis rocking against his aching hardness. The thrill wasn’t so much fun now. Need started biting at her heels, want gnawing at the lonesome, empty place inside her. “Justin. Come to me,” she said urgently.

“I don’t want you to forget this.”

“I couldn’t forget this in a hundred million years.”

“I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and think, aw hell, I’m not sure this was such a good idea.”

“There’s no way I’ll regret this. I promise.”

“I want this right for you, Winona. I mean it. We can make it right. The two of us-we can make anything right. I know you’re not used to the idea of us being together-”

Holy horsefeathers…and they said women talked. She swiveled around and then bent down, thinking that words alone seemed to be completely failing to communicate to him, so she simply had to try another way. She stroked him, then cupped, then leaned even closer. Her caress was tentative because she knew perfectly well this wasn’t her personal preference and she wasn’t comfortable with it. She understood men liked it; it just wasn’t the sort of thing that personally sizzled her toenails. But with Justin…

With Justin, none of the old rules seemed to apply. Different things were true with him, because she didn’t seem to be herself. This wasn’t just about herself. It was about love. And giving. And the more she tasted, and stroked, and learned him, the more inspired she became by his body’s intense and volatile response to her. She heard him groan. Then she heard him growl. She gestured with a hand, trying to say, this was her party and she’d do what she wanted to…but, of course, it was dark, and he likely couldn’t see the gesture.

When she failed to respond to his verbal entreaties, though, she suddenly found herself lifted in midair and smooshed into that nice, big, hard mattress again. She vaguely remembered thinking the room was cool before. Now she wondered if his furnace wasn’t disastrously malfunctioning. Heaven knew there was a blazing conflagration in his eyes.

“Did you want this over before we even got started?” he demanded.

“Well, no. But I was having a good time. And since I’m the guest, I think you should do the polite thing and let me do what I want.”

“How about if I let you do what you want for the next ten years, but I get my way tonight?”

“Hmm. Well, on the surface, that sounds like a pretty good deal…but the more I’m with you, Justin, the more I’m getting the impression that possibly I could get my way all the time.”

“Oh, all right,” he agreed. And kissed her. Then took her. She couldn’t have been more ready for him, yet she was still snug, the fit still tight, and he speared slowly inside that soft, private nest, easing in until his shaft was completely inside her. Colors of sensation washed behind her closed eyes. Sparks of fire seemed to ignite along her nerve endings.

“Justin…” The teasing was gone from her voice. Her belly was filled with him now, yet only ached more fiercely, seeking completion.

As he did. He began a rocking cadence that shook the bed, the room, her universe…whether she rode him or he rode her, Winona could neither keep straight nor cared, but this was a galloping song, a rhythmic race as pagan and pure as exhilaration and joy. “I love you, Win. Love you,” he whispered, and then tipped her over the edge into oblivion.

In the dark, afterward, it seemed hours before her lungs could remember that complicated task about inhaling and exhaling. She didn’t want to breathe normally. She didn’t feel normal. She hooked up on an elbow and just looked at her lover in the dark, savoring everything she saw. The lustrous dampness on his skin, so like hers. The dark satisfaction in his eyes, that had to be reflected in hers. His mouth, as swollen from her kisses as hers was from his.

He lay there, wasted, at least until he opened an eye and realized that she was wide-awake and studying him. She felt fingertips grazing her jaw. “Did I tell you how beautiful you are?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Did I tell you how sexy?”

“Oh, yes. In fact, you went into a lot of detail.”

“Did I tell you that you’re the most fabulous lover and the most extraordinary woman in the universe?”

She bent down and kissed the very tip of his nose. “I’m not even going to answer that. But…if that offer to marry you is still open, Doc…my answer is yes.”

She slipped into her house at 4:00 a.m., turning the key in the lock with the stealth of a burglar, carefully closing the door and then tiptoeing through the house until she reached the back bedroom/nursery. Angel was sleeping solid, her little rump in the air, wearing the yellow sleeper with feet. A rush of love hit Winona. She edged closer to the borrowed crib, careful not to make any noise, but just wanting to look and love.

“I missed you,” she said in her heart. “I missed you so much. But, Angel, you’re going to love Justin.”

He really seemed to want the baby. After making love to her a second time, he’d talked for a long time. Both of them were grounded in reality. He understood that Angel’s future was a hundred percent uncertain. There was no guarantee that Winona would be allowed to foster or adopt her. The search for the mother was still ongoing. Even if the birth mom never showed up, that still didn’t mean that Win had first dibs on the baby. Being married would raise her odds, but that’s all it would do.

Winona still wanted to wrap that conversation around her heart. Justin must have said it a half-dozen times. “This is between you and me. It’s not about the baby.” He’d really seemed to mean it. It was only the timing on the marriage that could help Win’s chances with keeping Angel-the sooner she was married, the better. “So why not?” he’d asked her. “If you want a fancy wedding and honeymoon, we can make that happen. But if the baby’s the first problem, then let’s solve the most important thing for you.”

“For me, the baby has to come first, Justin-because she’s the one at risk, the one who’s vulnerable. If I can make her situation more secure, I feel I have to do that.”

“I feel the same way. She’s an innocent in a precarious situation, and her needs can’t wait.”

He really did understand. Yet she’d soberly touched his cheek. “But you can’t marry me for the baby’s sake, Doc. It’s nuts.”

“I wouldn’t marry anyone for a baby’s sake. I agree with you. It’s nuts. But just because it happens to be helpful for you to be married, why fight it? When it’s something we both want and both believe is a good thing?”

“But you never wanted to marry me before.”

“Win. You obviously don’t know me at all. But you will,” he said, and kissed her again.

Now, as she bent over the crib, that memory washed over her in a fresh, warm wave…including everything he’d done to her after that. “I’m crazy about him, Angel,” she whispered aloud. “And he’s coming over tomorrow. We’ll see how you feel about him, too, okay?”

“So…” The soft soprano from the doorway had Myrt’s acerbic tone. “You’re finally home. Did you have a good time?”

Winona must have jumped five feet-a guilty five feet. She hustled toward the door and out into the hallway. “Myrt, I’m terribly sorry to be so late. I never meant to take advantage of you this way-”

“Lord, girl, I swear you just don’t listen. I told you I was crazy about babies. And I offered to stay, how many times, a good dozen? Furthermore, it’s not like I was really a stranger to you-you know how long I’ve worked for Justin, even if you and I never had much of a chance to get to know each other very well before now.”

“I know, I know…but I just don’t want you to think that-” she scrubbed a hand at the back of her neck, embarrassed “-that I…”

“That you slept with my boss? Well, I should probably say that’s none of my business, not to worry-but it wouldn’t be the truth. When Justin told me the situation with the baby, that you were working so hard and needed some help-I could see how he talked about you, how he looked. So, to be honest, I really wanted a chance at some matchmaking, at least a little bit-”

“He asked me to marry him,” Winona confessed.

Myrt’s smile beamed brighter than sunshine. “And that’s wonderful, girl. But right now, I think you better catch some sleep while you can. We’ll talk about schedules and babies a little later.”

“Whatever you’re having, I want a prescription for it.” Later that afternoon, Dr. Harding happened to pass him in the corridor. Justin had been immersed in a conversation and was unaware how the sound of his laughter had echoed down the hallway until she chuckled, going by.

“She is right.” Sheikh Ben Rassad-Ben-nodded with a wry half smile. “You are so buoyant today. So vital and full of spirit. It is good to see you wearing this contentment, Justin.”

“Just happy today, I guess.”

“Uh-huh. Woman happy, I am thinking.” It wasn’t like Ben to tease, but every once in a while, his sense of humor surfaced with friends.

Justin didn’t confirm or deny his pal’s guess, but he knew it was true. All day, he’d walked as if there was a sponge in his shoes and light in his eyes. A gruelingly long workday hadn’t sogged down his mood even this late in the afternoon. It was as if Winona were with him, sitting in a place in his heart where she could make his pulse soar, just thinking of her.

Last night with her had been everything he’d dreamed of-and more. All these years, he’d never been sure that Winona would ever notice him, that he could win her, that the chemistry would ever fire for her the way he’d always felt it.

Now he knew better. They had enough chemistry to fuel a couple of planets. Big ones.

Damnation, if he wasn’t daydreaming of having it all with her. Really. All. Love. A lifetime. The whole kit and kaboodle.

Temporarily, though, he had to concentrate on serious things. He sobered-as did Ben-when they reached Robert Klimt’s hospital room. Both quietly entered.

Although Justin wasn’t Klimt’s physician, he’d been automatically stopping to check and evaluate Klimt’s progress ever since the plane crash. The last time he’d seen him before that had been the night of the Texas Cattleman’s Club gala. Justin couldn’t say that he’d liked the little banty rooster, but it was still another thing to see the man so reduced. Silent. Helpless. He checked Klimt’s pulse, touched his skin, automatically read and assessed all the tubes and machines connected to the patient.

“There is no guessing when he’ll wake up from this coma?” Ben asked.

“Not really. His main doctor-Busher-is a good man. He also brought in some outside opinions, just to make absolutely sure he wasn’t missing something.” Because even an unconscious patient could sometimes hear and take in certain things, Justin was careful to voice his answer positively. “Let’s just say that the sooner he wakes up, the more optimistic we’re all going to feel. And I’m trying to think what else has happened that I need to fill you in on…”

“Well, mostly what I wanted to know was the status of the patients that were part of the plane crash and could have been witnesses, or known something. But in the meantime-is Aaron still in Washington?”

“Yes. I believe Walker finally reached him by telephone yesterday, so Aaron at least knows about the jewel theft and Riley Monroe’s murder. I just wish he’d get home. No one knows about diplomatic channels and problems the way Aaron does. Obviously no one wants to run around accusing or raising suspicion about anyone from Asterland if we can help it. Relations with that country are precarious enough. But the Asterlanders are naturally getting more and more upset that we haven’t found a cause for the plane crash.”

Ben stared at the silent Klimt and all the beating, bleeping machines he was hooked up to. “If he would just wake up…maybe he saw something, knew something. The fire on the plane started so close to where he and the lady Helena were sitting. And two of the jewels were just as close. If anyone knows anything, it has to be him.”

Justin nodded. “All of us feel the same. We really have no proof that the plane crash was related to the theft. To risk an international incident for nothing gives us all the willies. But I suspect that Asterland is going to send someone to investigate on their own if our authorities don’t start coming up with answers soon.”

“I would do the same in their shoes.” Ben shifted on his feet. “And in the meantime, we’re still missing the red diamond. At least, we can eliminate one suspect from the list. It’s a cinch Klimt doesn’t have it.”

“That’s the only thing we’re really sure of right now.” Justin hesitated. “What concerns me is that others could be in danger. Whoever killed Monroe wasn’t just a thief. He was willing to murder. And if the killer was someone on that plane, there are others who could be vulnerable-either because they saw something or knew something. Even if they didn’t realize it at the time.”

“You’ve talked with Lady Helena?”

“I’ve seen her every day. She’s a trooper. But right now I can’t begin to guess if she saw anything. She has almost no memory of the crash. I don’t mean that she’s suffering an amnesiac condition, but that what she went through was extremely traumatic. What emotional and physical energy she has is entirely focused on her injuries and healing. And she still has months of recovery ahead of her. Maybe she could still remember something, but who knows when?”

Ben paused. “Well, have you had a chance to talk to Winona?”

“Yes. Last night. She didn’t even hesitate. She offered to do anything she could.”

“She understands why the Club wants this kept quiet? To protect the work we do?”

“Yeah. And she understands how ticklish it is, communicating between local authorities and feds and safety agencies and diplomats. It’s not that she has power, but it’s not power we’re looking for, and for damn sure, we’re not looking to impede anyone’s investigation. Only to make sure the innocent are protected in this complicated mess. She’ll help advise us.”

“I have always had the impression that she is a good woman. An unusually special woman.” Ben studied his face with sudden intentness.

Swiftly Justin lifted a wrist to check his watch. “It’s after five. I have to go.”

“You’re meeting her.”

“Yeah. And either you quit smiling at me or I’ll have to slug you,” Justin said wryly, as they both exited Klimt’s room with a last glance at the Asterland cabinet member.

“I wasn’t smiling at the serious situation.”

“God knows, neither was I.”

“But I admit I was smiling at you. One mention of her name, and you are-how do they say it?-bouncing off the walls. A sudden smile on your face that is close to blinding. Oh, how the mighty do fall.”

“Watch it, Sheikh. We have an expression in Texas. You’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’.”

“We have an expression like that in the Middle East, too. In fact, I think all countries have an expression like that. We’re meeting again on Tuesday night? To determine what to do with the two jewels, whatever new security measures we want and so on?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. In the meantime, try to remember to eat. To sleep. To not sing in the rain. And to climb down from the clouds before you drive.”

“I’m going to remember this conversation when you fall in love. And I’m never going to let you hear the end of it,” Justin vowed darkly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Ben smiled, but then he sobered. “Justin…you have not been happy since you came back from Bosnia. Always, there is this dark look at the back of your eyes, the silence. You work, the long hours, but it’s like something is running after you, and you cannot catch it, see it, stop it. This woman…it is good to see you coming alive again. I am glad for you. I mean it.”

Justin was smiling when he walked out to the parking lot. But when he climbed in his car and started the Porsche engine, a chill chased up his spine that had no relationship to the howling winter wind.

He couldn’t wait to see Winona.

He couldn’t have been happier with how last night had gone between them.

He hadn’t thought about Bosnia in a long time now, nor had the chronic nightmares troubled him since Winona had become personally involved in his life. But now, suddenly, he felt itchy, edgy. Win was coming to care for him. Just maybe, the sky was the limit between the two of them. It was just that sometimes, he felt like Bosnia was a smudge of dirt on his face that refused to wash off. Nothing seemed to make those memories go away, not completely.

Forget it, he told himself swiftly. Think about her. Nothing else.

So he tried.