Justin's Bride. Susan Mallery

      “Prig?”

      Megan smiled. “That’s quite unkind of you.” She set the box back on the table, then straightened. Her smile broadened. “But yes, she has. And her husband is worse. I’ve heard the whispers, what people are saying about you. Eventually, everyone comes into the store. The new settlers don’t mind that you’re sheriff. As long as they are free to get on with their lives, they’ll have no complaints. But the old-timers, the ones who were here when...” Her hand fluttered toward him. She didn’t want to speak of that time, or that day. She didn’t want to recall the ugly words she’d spoken to him, or the pain in his eyes. She didn’t want to know how much she’d hurt him. And herself. In the deepest, darkest part of her heart, she knew she’d made the right decision. She couldn’t have gone with him. But she’d been wrong in the delivery of the message. She’d been so afraid he would convince her to come with him that she’d lashed out in fear, speaking harsh words that could never be recalled.

      “They won’t forgive you,” she said.

      “They don’t have to. I appreciate your concern, but it’s misplaced. The contract’s binding. Unless I commit a crime, they can’t get rid of me. For the next year, they’re going to have to get used to having me around.”

      “When the year is up, what happens then?”

      He looked past her toward the fire. “Then I leave this place behind and never come back.”

      “So it’s just for a year?”

      His eyes met hers. She saw the amusement. She was so grateful he would eventually be leaving, she didn’t care that it was at her expense.

      “Yes, Megan. One year. Then you’ll be through with me for good.”

      She could bear anything for a year, she told herself. “I think it best that we try to stay out of each other’s way during that time,” she said.

      Instead of answering, he smiled. She knew that smile. It made her knees weak and her fingers tremble. It made her remember his kisses, and more. It made her wish Justin Kincaid had been respectable, the son of a farmer or a business owner. It made her wonder what would have happened if she’d gone with him.

      “Why is it a problem if we see each other?” he asked, the glint in his eye reminding her he was dangerous.

      She couldn’t answer that question. He might suspect the truth, but he wouldn’t know for sure. “Why are you here?”

      “I told you, I’m the sheriff.”

      “No, why are you in my house? Why did you come to see me tonight?”

      “I want my question answered first. Why is it a problem if we see each other?”

      She didn’t think he’d moved, but somehow they were standing closer together. The snapping of the burning wood in the fireplace filled the silence. The scent of the smoke mingled with the fragrance of the night and the man. She could feel his heat. She had to tilt her head back to look at his face. Her hands clasped and unclasped.

      He reached out toward her. She thought about stepping back, but she couldn’t seem to get her feet to move. He was going to touch her, and she was going to let him. She needed to know if he could still affect her, she told herself firmly. It was a scientific experiment.

      His thumb whispered against her jaw, then swept across her chin. Sensation shot through her like the unexpected warmth of sunlight after a storm. The room grew hot, her muscles clenched tight.

      “Why aren’t you married?” he asked.

      “No one ever asked.”

      The lie was so automatic, she shocked herself. Why had she said that? She’d been engaged for months. It would be better for Justin to know the truth, but she couldn’t say anything now. She was confused. Nothing made sense, and Justin was moving closer.

      “I find it hard to believe you never tempted a man,” he said. “Are they all blind?”

      She should have been pleased at the implied compliment, but she was too caught up in that single word. Tempted. Had he known that was what she was thinking? Did he know he tempted her?

      “I’m not interested in temptation,” she murmured, wondering why her voice was so soft. She tried to swallow, but her throat was dry. Against her will, she found herself staring into his eyes, watching the fire reflected there. The light seemed to dance about, then darken. The night closed in around them. She could feel the heat from the fireplace behind her and the heat of the man. It was like a dream where she couldn’t move, couldn’t call out. Could only bravely accept her fate.

      But instead of the frightening demons of her dreams, she only had to face Justin. Not so difficult a task.

      “I’m interested,” he said, reaching his hand up to cup her face. His lean fingers held her gently. She felt the rough calluses against her skin.

      “In what?” she asked.

      “Temptation.”

      His face drew closer. The flames in his eyes grew brighter. She vaguely thought it couldn’t just be the reflection of the fire behind her, it had to be something else, something...

      When his lips touched hers, all conscious thought fled. Her eyelids must have closed for she could see nothing, hear nothing. There was only the moment and the flood of memories filling her with the bittersweet taste of the past.

      His mouth was firm, yet yielding. The powerful passion she recalled was now carefully controlled. He brushed across her mouth, back and forth as if familiarizing himself with her. She raised herself on tiptoe to mold her shape to his. The correct and proper side of herself screamed it was foolish and wrong to be doing this. She didn’t care.

      Justin wrapped his arms around her shoulders and drew her closer. From chest to knees they touched. Through the layers of her skirt and petticoats, she couldn’t feel much but the general shape of him, but he was all she remembered him to be. The rightness of it brought a burning to her eyes.

      She wanted to hold him, as well, but couldn’t bring herself to acquiesce that much. She held her arms at her sides, her hands curled into tight fists.

      His fingers slipped under her chignon and kneaded the back of her neck. He moved down her spine, touching, pulling her even closer. His mouth angled against hers, his lips pressing harder now, taunting her with passion.

      It wasn’t supposed to feel so good. Other men had kissed her. Not many, but one or two. Why did he have to be the one who made her feel this way? She swallowed her cry of protest against this cruel trick of fate.

      His hands encircled her waist. Her breathing came faster now. He dipped his head lower, moving his mouth to her jaw, then down her neck to the collar of her dress. She arched against him, ignoring the way her movement caused her corset to dig into her. The pain didn’t matter, and neither did the fact she couldn’t draw in a deep enough breath. When he returned his lips to hers and his tongue swept across her sensitized skin, she released her last hold on sanity. Her mouth parted and her arms came up toward him.

      As he dipped inside, she prepared herself for the onslaught of madness. He would make her forget herself, forget everything, and she didn’t care at all.

      Her hands splayed across his chest, feeling the strength of him concealed only by his white shirt and long underwear. He was hard to her soft, angles and planes where she was curves and swells. She reached under his coat to hug him tighter, all the while savoring his kiss. She moved her hands over his ribs and bumped something in his pocket.

      The lump moved, then meowed softly and stretched. Justin broke their kiss.

      “What’s that?” she asked as soon as she could get her mouth working again.

      He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a tiny calico kitten. “Her mother was a good mouser. I thought you might like her.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry about what happened in my office