Nothing Short of Perfect
Day Leclaire
Be swept away by passion… with intense drama and compelling plots, these emotionally powerful reads will keep you captivated from beginning to end.First comes marriage – and Justice St. John has a plan.Using a foolproof equation, the brilliant scientist designs a programme to find the perfect woman. But after a night of unexpected passion, he discovers that Daisy Marcellus is entirely the wrong woman! And their passion has consequences…
“Are you telling me you used a computer program to find the perfect woman?”
“Yes.”
“So how did you end up with me, Justice? There’s no way I could have been on your short list.”
“You weren’t. It would seem the computer program contained a flaw. I didn’t want them. I wanted you.”
At the first touch of her soft form colliding against his hard angles, he discovered he’d made a serious miscalculation. Whatever they’d experienced all those months ago hadn’t dissipated over time as he’d anticipated. If anything the craving had grown progressively worse. It might not be logical, but it was unquestionably true.
He lowered his head toward hers. “And I’ll do anything—and I do mean anything—to have you.”
Dear Reader,
When I was little, I dreamed of my “perfect” man. He’d be tall (six feet two inches, to be exact). He’d have wavy black hair and blue eyes (sinfully handsome, naturally). He’d be rich (of course). And we’d have ten children (oh, yes, I was truly insane). My mother asked me who would feed us since I couldn’t cook and would get so lost in a book that I’d forget to feed myself, let alone all these children.
The man I ultimately married missed the mark by two inches, but hey, who’s counting? His hair is the color of sand. He does have those blue eyes. And to me, he’ll always be sinfully handsome because my eyes see all that makes him such an incredible person. Instead of ten children, we have one—beloved by us both and if not perfect, darn close.
I learned over the years that there is no such thing as the “perfect” man, any more than the “perfect” woman. The trick is to find the person perfect for you. And I think my husband and I came very, very close.
Which brings me to my current story about a brilliant scientist who creates a program to find the perfect wife. What he ends up with is far, far different (of course). But maybe, just maybe, she’ll show him that what they create together is perfect for them. I hope you enjoy Nothing Short of Perfect and I wish for you the “perfect” mate!
Warmly,
Day Leclaire
About the Author
USA TODAY bestselling author DAY LECLAIRE is a threetime winner of both a Colorado Award of Excellence and a Golden Quill Award. She’s won RT Book Reviews Career Achievement and Love and Laughter Awards, a Holt Medallion and a Booksellers’ Best Award. She has also received an impressive ten nominations for the prestigious Romance Writers of America’s RITA
Award.
Day’s romances touch the heart and make you care about her characters as much as she does. In Day’s own words, “I adore writing romances, and can’t think of a better way to spend each day.” For more information, visit Day at her website, www.dayleclaire.com.
Nothing Short
of Perfect
Day Leclaire
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Rita Doerr.
Thank you so much for your assistance with the
Prologue of this book and helping me keep it real.
And to the imperfect people in my life,
who make my life so perfect.
All my love.
Prologue
“Can you hear me, sir? Can you tell us your name?”
Pain exploded all around him. His head. His arm. His chest. Something had happened to him, but he didn’t understand what. He sensed movement and heard a siren. What the hell? Was he in an ambulance?
“Sir? What’s your name?”
“St. John. Jus— Jus—” The words escaped, sounding slurred and tinny to his ears. For some reason he couldn’t coordinate tongue and mouth well enough to give his first name, forcing him to settle for the closest approximation. “Jus St. John. What …?”
The man seemed to understand the simple question. “You were in a car accident, Mr. St. John. I’m a paramedic. We’re transporting you to the hospital where they’ll treat your injuries.”
“Wait,” someone else said. A woman this time. Soothing voice. “Did he say St. John? Justice St. John? The Justice St. John.”
“You know this guy?”
“Heard of him. He’s some famous inventor. Robotics. Runs a company called Sinjin. A bit of a recluse. Worth billions.”
The man swore. “Which means if he doesn’t make it, guess who’s going to get blamed? We’d better call this in to the supervisor and alert her we have a VIP. She’ll want to get ahead of the media circus.”
Someone asked another question. Endless questions. Why the hell wouldn’t they leave him alone? “Do you have any allergies, Mr. St. John?” the voice persisted. Then louder, “Any medical conditions we should know about?”
“No. Can’t move.”
“We have you immobilized as a precaution, Mr. St. John.” The soothing voice again. “That’s why you can’t move.”
“BP is dropping. We need to get him stabilized. Mr. St. John, do you remember how the car accident occurred?”
Of course he remembered. An idiot driver was texting or yakking on a cell phone and lost control of the car. God, he hurt. Justice pried open one eye. His world appeared in a blur of color and movement. A harsh light struck him and he flinched from it.
“Stop it, damn you,” he growled. Okay, that came out better.
“Pupils reactive. IV’s in. Repeat vitals. Let the supervisor know we’re gonna need a neurologist, just to be on the safe side. Request Forrest. No point in taking any chances. Mr. St. John, can you hear me?”
Justice swore again. “Shouting. Stop shouting.”
“We’re taking you to Lost Valley Memorial Hospital. Is there someone we can contact for you?”
Pretorius. His uncle. An image flashed across Justice’s mind, of tawny St. John eyes set in a hound dog face and broad shoulders hunched over a computer keyboard. They could call his uncle. They’d need the phone number since it was unlisted and right now Justice couldn’t think of it through the roar of pain. He tried to explain the problem and found his tongue refused to twist around the words.
And then Justice realized that even if he could explain, Pretorius wouldn’t come. Oh, he’d want to, no question of that. He’d be desperate to. But like the impenetrable wall that prevented Justice from giving his rescuers the necessary phone number, an equally impenetrable wall prevented Pretorius from leaving their estate, his fear too great to overcome.
And that’s when it struck him. He had no one. No one who gave a damn on an intimate level whether he lived or died. No one who could take care of his uncle if he didn’t survive. No one to carry on his legacy or benefit from what he had to offer. How had it happened? Why had he allowed it to happen? When had he cut himself off so completely?
He’d lived in isolation these past years, keeping himself distant from emotional attachment, from the pain life had a habit of inflicting. And now he’d die alone and unmourned except by those who respected him in a professional capacity. He’d wanted to hold himself apart from the rest of the world, craved the solitude. Wanted desperately to just be left the hell alone. And he’d succeeded. But at what price? He could see it now, see so clearly how year after year, winter after winter, a fresh layer of ice had coated his heart and soul until now he didn’t think he’d ever be warm again.
Once upon a time he’d known springtime, had known the warmth of a summer day and the love of a woman. Woman? Hell, she’d been nothing more than a girl. A girl whose name he’d attempted to bury so deep in the recesses of his mind that it would vanish from his memory, and yet who had branded herself on the very fiber of his being. Daisy. She’d been the one who’d proved to him once and for all that emotions were an unnecessary evil. And now what was he? What had he allowed himself to become?
“Mr. St. John? Is there someone we should notify?”
“No.” He succumbed to the painful truth, allowing the blackness to carry him away. Allowing the painful memories to slip into some dark, nebulous place.
There was no one.
One
“What’s the status of your latest computer run?” Justice asked.
Pretorius grimaced, peering at the screen from behind the same black-rimmed computer glasses he’d owned for the past twenty years. “Based on the parameters you’ve given me, I’ve found half a dozen possibilities that score at eighty percent probability or higher.”
“Hell, is that all?”
“We’re lucky to have found even that many women considering your list of requirements. I mean, no one with black hair? What was with that?”
Justice grimaced. He had no intention of explaining any of his prerequisites, especially that one. “Well, if my choice is limited to six, then I’ll just have to make do.”
“Make do?” Pretorius swiveled his computer chair in a swift one-eighty, eyes the same unique shade of gold as Justice’s glittering in outrage. “Are you mad? You’re talking about the future Mrs. Sinjin, Incorporated here.”
Justice waved that aside. “Next issue. Are they a half dozen you can handle having here at the estate? There’s no way you can avoid running into them on occasion. It’s not like I can keep them locked up and out of sight. Something tells me they won’t agree to that particular condition.”
Pretorius shuddered. “Well, so long as it’s one at a time and not all of them together in a horde. Can’t handle a horde.” His chair drifted closer, the casters skating freely across the wooden floor. “Justice, are you sure you want to go through with this?”
“I’m positive.”
“It’s because of that car wreck, isn’t it? It caused more than memory glitches. It’s changed you. Changed your long-term goals. Changed how you look at the world.”
Justice retreated behind an icy facade, one that never failed to stop even the most pushy person dead in his tracks. Not that it intimidated his uncle. Damn it all. He’d do anything to avoid this conversation, perhaps because it sliced too close to the heart of the matter.
Without a word, he crossed the generous expanse of the computer room and picked up a silver sphere consisting of small interlocking sections, each one engraved with a mathematical symbol. It was one of his inventions, one he hadn’t released to the general public. He called it Rumi, short for ruminate, since he played with it whenever he needed to work through a problem—which was basically most of the time.
Maybe he should have called it Obs for obsessive.
Pretorius pushed off with the toe of his sneaker and sent his computer chair shooting back toward his endless bank of computers and monitors. “You can’t avoid the discussion, Justice. If you plan to go forward with your plan, I deserve the truth.”
“I know.” Justice’s fingers moved restlessly across Rumi’s surface, pushing and pulling the various sections until he’d transformed the sphere into a cylinder. Instead of smooth and flowing, it appeared jagged and disjointed, the symbols a chaotic jumble. These days the shapes were always a chaotic jumble. They’d been that way for over a year, a full six months before the accident.
He changed the topic, hoping it would distract his uncle. “Will all the women be at the symposium for Engineering into the Next Millennium?”
“Ridiculous title,” Pretorius muttered.
“Agreed. Stay on target. Will they be there?”
“I made sure of it. Two weren’t planning to attend, but I—” He hesitated. “Let’s just say I arranged for them to change their mind.”
Justice knew better than to request specifics. “Excellent.”
“Talk to me, boy. Why? Why are you doing this?”
Justice shook his head, not certain he could put it into words. He attempted to coax the cylinder into a double helix while struggling to give voice to the realization he’d made after his accident. How did he explain the nothingness that had become his life over the past few years? Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt any emotion, whether anger or happiness or something—anything—in between.
With each passing day his feelings, the drive to invent, even his ambition had slowly iced over. While each minute ticked relentlessly by, everything that made him a “normal”—and he used the word in its loosest possible context—living, breathing human eked away. Soon only a cold, hard shell of a man would remain. He tossed Rumi aside, frustrated by its refusal to assume a clean-cut functional shape.
“It’s just something I need you to accept,” Justice finally said. “For my sake.”
“Call and cancel,” Pretorius urged. “Before you do something we both regret.”
“I can’t do that. I’m the keynote speaker.”
Pretorius switched gears. “What in the bloody hell are you supposed to say about engineering into the next millennia? That’s a thousand damn years. It’s impossible to predict whether there will even be a human race in a thousand years, let alone the status of engineering over that period of time.”
“And you claim I swear a lot.”
“What can I say? Your vices are rubbing off on me. Justice, you haven’t made a public appearance in five years. This isn’t the time to change that.”
“I haven’t made a public appearance in five years because I haven’t had a damn thing worth saying for five years. When I do have a damn thing worth saying, I’ll start making public appearances again. Until then, I can manage one little symposium without falling flat on my face.”
“The media will be all over this one little symposium now that your name is connected with it. After such a lengthy absence they’ll expect you to offer something of vital significance. I don’t suppose you have something of vital significance to say to them?”
Justice waved that aside. “Don’t worry about my speech, old man. I’ll make something up. The ironic part is, if I claim it’s possible, some fool in the audience will believe me and go out there and invent it. Win, win.”
“But why? Just give me one good reason why you’re doing this.”
Justice dropped a hand to his uncle’s shoulder with a sigh. He knew going into this would be hard on Pretorius, but something had to change. Now. Before time overcame opportunity. “I haven’t invented anything in a solid year.”
“Your creativity is just blocked. We can find a way to unblock it without going to such extremes.”
“I don’t see how it’s possible for my creativity to be blocked since I don’t possess any. I’m an engineer.”
This time Pretorius sighed. “Inventors are creative people, Justice.”
“That’s a damn lie and you know it. Now take it back.” It was a running joke between them, but for some reason it lacked its usual humor. Maybe because he found it more and more difficult to laugh about his current situation.
“I understand that you need a woman. I don’t object to that. Go … go find someone.” To Justice’s amusement the tips of Pretorius’s ears turned bright red. “Let nature take its course. Once it has, you can come back all refreshed and revitalized.”
“It’s not that simple. I need—”
How did he explain? Ever since the accident he realized he needed more than just some temporary woman. More than a single night, or even a month of single nights. He longed for something permanent. Something enduring. Something that he could count on today and tomorrow and next month and next year. Someone who gave a damn. Someone he could call when … if—
“Mr. St. John? Is there someone we should notify?” Those words continued to haunt him, even after all these months. As did his answer, “No.” There was no one.
“I need more,” Justice whispered.
His uncle fell silent, then nodded, reading between the lines. He understood the subtext, even if he was reluctant to accept it. “It means you’ll have to stop swearing so much. Granted, it would make for a nice change.”
Justice’s mouth twitched. “I’ll work on that,” he assured gravely.
“It would also mean we’d have some decent food around here.” Pretorius warmed to the idea. “And a clean house.”
“Somehow I don’t think the woman I marry would appreciate knowing I picked her because I needed a housekeeper with privileges.” Justice leaned over his uncle’s shoulder and pushed a button. The laser printer sprang to life, shooting out sheet after sheet of material. “Which brings me back to my main concern. If I marry, you’ll have to put up with her, too. You’ve read the information on these women. Can you handle one of them living here permanently?”
Pretorius frowned. “Is that why you haven’t married before this? Were you worried about how I’d react to having our home invaded?”
Invaded. Justice suppressed a sigh. This was going to be a tough sell. “No, I haven’t married because I’ve never found someone I could tolerate for longer than a week.”
His uncle nodded morosely. “That’s where my computer program comes in, I assume? I’ve done my best to transform the Pretorius Program from a business application to a more personal one. The parameters remain similar. Finding the perfect wife isn’t all that different from finding the perfect employee.”
“Exactly. It just requires inputting different data.” He ran through his requirements. “An engineer, therefore rational and in control of her emotions. Brilliant, of course. I can’t handle foolish women. Physically attractive would be a bonus. But she must be logical. Kind. Someone who won’t make waves. And she must be able to handle isolation.”
“I thought we were talking about a woman.”
“If she’s an engineer, chances are she’ll already possess most of those qualities. More important, she’ll fit in around here.”
“Okay, fine.” Pretorius straightened, assuming a professional attitude. “If you’re determined to go through with this, I’ve narrowed the choices down to a half-dozen women, all of whom will be attending the symposium.”
“With a little help from you.”
“That was the easy part,” Pretorius said grimly.
He picked up the stack of papers the printer had coughed out and fanned through them. Justice caught a glimpse of charts and graphs, photos, as well as curricula vitae, and—dear God—what appeared to be reports from a private investigator. Never let it be said his uncle wasn’t thorough.
“And the hard part?”
“Women are odd creatures, Justice. They tend to have a negative reaction when you invite them for a cup of coffee in one breath and in the next tell them you want a wife.”
“Well, hell.” He hadn’t thought about that.
“You could always make up an excuse for needing a bride so quickly. I’m sure they’ll buy it. After all, you are The Great Justice St. John. Or so all the scientific journals claim.”
“Oh, for—”
“Or you can listen to the not-quite-as-great Pretorius St. John, who’s actually considered that small detail.”
“And?”
“And you’re not attending the symposium in order to find a wife. You’re there to find an apprentice.”
His uncle caught him off guard with an abrupt left onto an unmarked road. It took Justice a moment to brake, make a swift U-turn and input the new course. “I don’t need an apprentice.”
“Yes, you do. At least, that’s what you’re going to tell these women. It’s the only way to get them in your clutches. Once you settle on someone you think you can stand for longer than a month, get her to move out here. Work with her for a bit. Get her to fall in love with you and then marry her. That way she won’t think you’re some sort of kook. Or with luck, once she realizes you are, it’ll be too late. She’ll be wedded and bedded, with possibly a TGJSJ, Jr. on the way. And maybe she’ll even cook and clean just because that’s what women do.” Pretorius shoved the stack of papers into Justice’s hands. “In the meantime, study these. The symposium lasts three days which divides out to two candidates a day. You have that long to come back with an apprentice/wife we both can live with.”
“And if it doesn’t work out?”
His uncle folded his arms across his chest. “I’ve been thinking about this. And even though I don’t want a strange woman wandering around here, poking her nose in where it doesn’t belong, I’ve realized something.”
“Which is?” Justice asked warily.
Pretorius stabbed a stubby finger in his direction. “You have a lot of knowledge and ability going to waste. You have an obligation to share it with others. Even if she doesn’t work out as a wife, you’ll have invested in the future either by providing inspiration for some brilliant young thing or, if you get lucky, you’ll pass on your genetic code to another generation.”
“That’s a hell of a way to put it.”
“Don’t forget this was your idea, boy. Whether you realize it or not, that genius label you carry around comes with a price tag attached. You owe a debt to the universe.”
“I gather the universe sent a bill?” Justice asked dryly.
“And you neglected to pay. That’s why you’re blocked. You’ve hoarded your knowledge instead of spreading it around. If the wife thing doesn’t work out at least you’ll have passed along your know-how to a worthy successor. And that I can live with since it’ll only be temporary.”
“And if she happens to fall in love and it’s not temporary?”
Pretorius narrowed his eyes. “You think she’s the only one who’ll fall in love? Not the both of you?”
Justice knew better than to expect that. He doubted he was capable of love any longer. “Just her,” he confirmed.
“In that case, I like my dinner served at six.”
Justice St. John.
Daisy Marcellus stopped dead in her tracks the instant she caught sight of the familiar name centered on the Coronation Hotel’s advertisement placard. Late-afternoon sunlight cascaded across the stunning black-and-white photo of him, threatening to bring her to her knees. Her bright fuchsia carryall slipped from her grasp and tumbled to the floor, pens and stickers and trinkets for toddlers spilling at her feet.
It was him.
Granted, a much different him than the one she’d known a full decade ago. This man appeared harder, far fiercer than the version she’d known. Oh, his eyes were the same, betraying that heartbreaking wariness she remembered so vividly, like an animal constantly on the alert for danger. But that wariness seemed more intense now, and shaded with cynicism.
She studied each line of the revealing photograph, searching for other changes and finding them all too easily. Time had weathered creases into strong masculine features, the deepest ones bracketing a mouth set in far too severe a line. He’d acquired a grim edge over the years, a hardness that she could only hope was at the instigation of the photographer for overall effect, rather than a true reflection of the man.
Despite the worrisome changes, desire vied with a bottomless longing, while desperate joy cascaded through her. She reached out to trace his image, a shaky smile slipping across her face. After all these years, they’d found each other again. Well, okay. So they hadn’t found each other. She had found him. But what did that matter?
Would he be equally delighted to see her? Would he even remember her? Considering how much she’d changed, possibly not. But she remembered him, and she also remembered every incredible summery moment of those short three months they’d spent together. She laughed out loud, drawing attention to herself. Not that she cared. Not when today meant she’d get to see Justice again.
Daisy stooped and shoved her belongings back into her carryall while she read the information on the placard. It would seem Justice had made a name for himself in the engineering world. Well, good for him. Even better, in just five short minutes his keynote speech would start. Excellent. She had nothing else scheduled for this late in the afternoon. Surely no one would object if she crashed the party, considering she and Justice were old friends—not to mention old lovers.
In fact, he’d been her first lover, the most special of them all, and she’d never forgotten him. Never known a love as wonderful or carefree as what she’d shared with him. Never found a man who quite equaled him. Generous. Patient. Kind. Someone who embraced life despite the turmoil of his past. Oh, she couldn’t wait to see him again!
A pair of men stood outside the conference room, checking the badges the attendees all wore before allowing them entry. She waited until they were distracted to slip past and into the jam-packed room. People already lined the back wall, having given up on finding a vacant seat. Others milled in the aisles. Finally, she spotted an empty spot near the front row. She didn’t really want to sit that close to the stage, but she’d feel even more uncomfortable standing in the back with the masses of engineers when she considered herself as far from being one of them as a butterfly was from a calculator.
For one thing, she’d dressed for a book signing, not a conference. Most of the attendees wore suits and ties, though she considered it a more casual, absentminded professor version than strict Wall Street “businessman” attire. Her breezy slacks and blousy red shirt—perfect for autographing children’s storybooks—might as well have come with a sign that said: Alien being here. Give her the hairy eyeball until she makes a break for it.
For another, she hadn’t understood a single word anyone had spoken since she walked into the place. She’d overheard any number of conversations, but she didn’t understand Basic Geek, even though once upon a time Justice had attempted to teach her.
And finally, with the exception of a few women, the place reeked of testosterone. Not that she had anything against testosterone, but the sheer overwhelming number of men made her feel like a plump pigeon dropped among a roomful of cats.
Slipping into the vacant seat, she smiled at the men on either side of her. They didn’t smile back. Instead they seemed to dissect her with their gaze, and not in a sexual way. It was almost as though she represented an equation they couldn’t solve. And maybe she did.
Right when she was on the verge of bolting, the lights dimmed and a portly man approached the podium. Whispered comments filtered through the room while everyone settled into their seats. The man didn’t waste any time, but got right to his introduction of Justice St. John. He ran through an impressive list of credentials and accomplishments, told a brief, dry story that, based on the chuckles peppering the auditorium, was meant to be funny. Maybe it was an engineering thing, but she didn’t get it. Finished, he stepped aside and glanced expectantly toward the left side of the stage.
Silence drenched the auditorium and people strained forward, watching eagerly for the keynote speaker. And then he appeared, sweeping across the stage with a feline grace that she remembered from their youth. Memories crashed over her. That day he’d stepped into her parents’ home, a feral panther waiting to attack or be attacked. The lines he’d drawn to keep himself neatly boxed in and everyone else boxed out. “Respect the line,” he’d ordered. A line she’d taken such delight in pushing. Erasing. Redrawing. The amazing night at the lake where their clothes had slipped away and their bodies had melded with such perfection. That blissful innocence that had tumbled into passionate knowledge.
Justice’s gaze brushed the audience with impatient disdain and then he launched into incomprehensible Engineering Geek, which was clearly several levels up from Basic Geek. Despite understanding only one word in twenty, the deep, rough tones of his voice held her as mesmerized as everyone else in the audience.
He’d changed in the years since they’d last been together, changed beyond belief. But then, so had she. Would she have recognized him if they’d passed on the street? She frowned. Possibly. If she looked hard she could just make out the boy overwhelmed by the man he’d become.
“Why didn’t I think of that?” the man beside her muttered. A whisper of consensus swept around him.
“Think of what?” Daisy asked.
The man turned to look at her, outrage flashing behind thick glasses. “His suggestions for future inventions. Weren’t you listening?”
“Not really,” she admitted. “I was too preoccupied looking.” A few snickers greeted her comment.
“I swear, when it comes to creating robotic sensors and actuators St. John is the best on the planet,” an awestruck whisper came from the row in front of her.
“Especially robotics in relationship to autonomous cooperation with humans,” an answering mutter drifted from behind, one equally awestruck.
Interesting. She returned her attention to Justice … and her self-appointed task of looking. She hadn’t a clue what all that meant, but color her impressed if he was considered the best on the entire planet. But at what cost? She studied him more carefully.
His features were harder and more defined than they’d been at eighteen. Okay, nearly eighteen. Seriously, what difference did a few weeks make? His eyes were still that dangerous blaze of tawny gold, just like a jungle cat. His hair stopped a shade shy of ebony, the texture rich and dark. He wore it nearly as long now as he did all those years ago, as though far more weighty matters occupied his mind than something so insignificant as getting a haircut. He’d disdained wearing a suit and settled instead on a black shirt and slacks which seemed to swallow all the light on the stage leaving him shrouded in shadows.
He was Hades escaped from the Underworld and everything feminine within her shivered in response to the threat he posed.
Where had the Justice she remembered gone and who was this creature who’d taken his place? He’d changed in some ineffable way that defied her ability to identify. He’d always possessed a logical nature, governed by exquisite self-control. Before, that control hadn’t been so reserved or icy. There’d been an openness to him that had allowed her to break through his barriers and lose herself in all that made him the remarkable person he’d been. Laughter had come easily to him, delight in their world a natural part of his personality, his attitude as brilliant as the spill of hot, golden sunshine that had encased them that long-ago summer.
Looking at him now, she realized that had all changed. He wasn’t open, but locked up tight. She suspected he rarely laughed. And far from being delighted with the world, he regarded it with a cynical edge that eclipsed that hot, golden sunshine, leaving behind a cold, impenetrable darkness.
What had happened to him? It crushed her to see that he didn’t resemble the character she’d created for her storybooks, the one based on her memories of him. How could she have gotten it so wrong? When she’d imagined what sort of metamorphosis he’d undergo transitioning from youth to adult, she’d never, ever conceived this.
Just then his gaze settled on her and something odd passed between them. Did he recognize her? Did he remember, even after all this time? Not likely, since her appearance had changed so dramatically in the past decade. His eyes gleamed beneath the overhead lights, like tarnished gold, yet lit with the fire of want.
And that’s when Daisy decided. No matter what, before she left here she’d find out what had happened to Justice. She’d take the opportunity, once and for all, to deal with that long-ago past, one she’d never been able to forget. One that she’d used as a measuring stick in every relationship she’d had since their time together. She’d prove to herself that what they’d experienced wasn’t so special since, clearly, he was no longer that amazing person he’d once been.
And then, finally, she’d be able to put him back in the box from which she’d released him … and move on.
He didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to deliver a speech he not only didn’t believe in, but one that involved shoveling the most bull he’d ever attempted in his twenty-eight years. He’d been in Miami Beach for less than a day and already he’d reached the conclusion that it was an abysmal waste of his time.
The minute he arrived, he’d checked into his suite, unpacked his bag and then went after the first name on his list. Why waste time, right? Dorothy Salyer stood just a few inches shy of his own six-foot-three-inch frame and seemed quietly attractive. There was no questioning her intelligence. Knowing the requirements Pretorius had incorporated into his program, all the women would be brilliant. But Dorothy—or Dot, as she’d insisted he call her (shudder)—had been even more shy than his uncle and utterly incapable of stringing even a half-dozen words together.
Strike one.
The second woman on the list was neither tall nor attractive and she never shut up, at least not once she found herself in the presence of The. Great. Justice. St. John! She even put the little italic on the John every single frigging time she said his name, which was so often he was tempted to change it then and there. He didn’t know if she hoped to impress with her unending staccato chatter, but she’d definitely succeeded in terrorizing. He barely made it through coffee.
Strike two.
Deciding not to waste any further time, he went after the third woman. She proved to be quite delightful (a pleasant change). Pretty (a plus). Normal (a big plus). Intelligent (of course). He almost offered her the position of apprentice then and there. He probably would have if she hadn’t chosen that moment to mention that she considered herself a city girl at heart, adored the cultural opportunities Chicago provided and couldn’t imagine living anywhere other than the Windy City and—worst of all—she survived on takeout since she couldn’t cook.
Third strike and he was almost ready to call it quits. Or he would have if not for a few salient points.
A. He liked women.
B. He liked sitting and having a quiet, adult conversation with a woman.
C. His uncle, damn him to hell and back, was right. He’d hoarded his knowledge instead of spreading it around. Worse, the level of isolation to which he’d dedicated himself had caused a certain stagnation in his intellectual processes, thus his inability to work.
D. The computer program wasn’t working.
And that damnable E. Nothing had changed since his accident. He still needed … more. Wanted to take a passing shot at normalcy. To have a life. To feel again, even if he wasn’t capable of the sort of depths of emotion romantics ascribed to. To have a family. Children. A legacy.
Which brought him to the woman in the red blouse. For some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She struck some odd note that resonated deep within him, something that tickled a memory, though he couldn’t quite place it. All he knew for certain was that he wanted her with a gut-wrenching desire he hadn’t experienced in ages. Maybe ever. Which begged a single, urgent question.
Why the hell wasn’t she on the list of candidates?
There must be something wrong with her, something the computer defined as unacceptable. Not her looks. Coltishly slender and fine-boned, she epitomized the type of woman he found most appealing. Even better, she was a blonde, the ruler-straight length streaked with just about every permutation of that color. Her features fell somewhere between elegant and fey, except for her mouth, which he could only describe as sultry. So, if it wasn’t her appearance, why had she been eliminated from consideration?
Not smart enough? She couldn’t be lacking in intelligence, not considering her presence at the symposium. Possibly he had set the intellectual standard a shade on the high side. Perhaps he could lower the bar an IQ point or two if she fell outside the parameters he’d predetermined. He ran through the list he’d given Pretorius again. Physically attractive. Big red check. An engineer. She was here, wasn’t she? Double check. That left logical, kind and someone who could handle isolation and wouldn’t make waves.
Maybe the computer had deduced in its inimitable fashion that she wasn’t logical. Well, hell. He’d be willing to settle for reasonable if she didn’t quite qualify as full-blooded rational. Kind? She looked kind to him. So, let’s make that a check with a question mark. Perhaps the isolation had caused her to be rejected. He mentally flagged that for future reference. If they put their minds to it, they could find a way around that particular problem. Which left someone who didn’t make waves … A nonissue, really. He was a man, wasn’t he? He’d simply subdue any waves she made.
Justice smiled in satisfaction. It looked like he might have just found his apprentice/wife, and without any help from the computer. Just went to show that his intellect was more than a match for Pretorius’s program. And wouldn’t he take great pleasure in rubbing that fact in the old man’s face.
Two
Daisy remained in her seat and waited while the line snaking toward the stage diminished. It would seem that everyone wanted a piece of Justice St. John and she wondered why. What had he done to inspire such effusiveness and excitement in the engineering world? Maybe she’d better research him when she returned home because, clearly, she was missing some vital information about her former lover.
The last individual reluctantly turned away and headed for the exit and in one lithe movement, Justice leaped from the stage and came straight for her. She wasn’t surprised. She’d known from the first moment their eyes had met that he’d pursue her. For now, she’d let him.
“Would you care for a cup of coffee?” he asked.
She tilted her head to one side. Interesting. No wasted time. No social niceties. “Hello,” she said and held out her hand. “Daisy Marcellus. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
To her amusement that stopped him dead in his tracks and she could practically see the gears turning. “We’ve met before.”
It wasn’t a question so she didn’t bother treating it like one, though part of her felt a stab of disappointment that her name didn’t elicit more of a reaction. Or any reaction whatsoever. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
“No.”
Ah, that was the Justice she remembered. Blunt and to the point. “Maybe it’ll come to you over coffee.”
He folded his arms across an impressive expanse of chest. “Why don’t you save us both time and refresh my memory?”
“I don’t think I will. It’s more fun this way.”
“Fun.” He said the word as though it left a nasty taste in his mouth.
She stood, startled to realize he’d picked up several inches in height along the way. When she’d known him, he’d been barely over six feet. He’d packed on at least three more inches in the ensuing years. “Yes, fun. As a noun, an amusement or playful activity. Alternately, the source of merriment. As an adjective, to give pleasure or enjoyment. As an intransitive verb, to play or joke.” She grinned. “The mixed blessings of a photographic memory.”
For some reason the admission allowed him to relax and he even managed a smile. A small one, but a smile nonetheless. “Thank you for the explanation. I wasn’t familiar with the word.”
“I’m shocked. How about work? Are you familiar with that word?”
He held up a hand before she could launch into a new set of definitions. “Quite familiar.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” she murmured.
“Surprise. Something unexpected that causes wonder or astonishment.”
She chuckled, filled with wonder and astonishment at the unexpected sight of his laughing along with her. Impulsively, she caught his hand in hers. “I believe you said something about joining you for a cup of coffee?”
He stared at their linked fingers for a long moment. Then he looked at her. Banked fire stirred in the brilliance of his gaze, a hunger and longing she couldn’t mistake. Warmth filled her, splashing like hot liquid over and through her, sinking deep into her very core where it generated a hunger and longing as powerful as the one reflected in his eyes. From the moment he’d walked into her parents’ home, he’d had the exact same effect on her. At least that much hadn’t changed.
“Coffee would be an excellent start,” he stated.
An excellent start? “And the finish?” she dared to ask.
“I think we both know the answer to that.”
And she did. They would end up the same place they had the last time they’d been together.
In bed.
Hoping they wouldn’t be interrupted by other conference attendees, Justice requested the hotel’s café hostess show them to one of the more private tables buried toward the back and surrounded by greenery. It also happened to provide an impressive view across Biscayne Bay toward downtown Miami. The late afternoon rapidly transitioned toward dusk and the lights of the city flickered to life, the glow reflected in the soft blue water.
Daisy slid into the seat opposite Justice and he took the opportunity to study her. She was quite stunning, he acknowledged from a purely analytical standpoint, possessing features that society deemed beautiful. It didn’t seem to matter whether he considered them each individually or took them in combination, they possessed an elegance in the same way he considered a carefully crafted mathematical formula elegant.
Her hair swept back from her brow to fall in a thick, straight line to cup her shoulders. Perhaps her left eyebrow was a tad off center, no more than a millimeter or two, but it only served to draw attention to the unusual green of her eyes, a shade that made him think of spring growth. Even more interesting, he could see every thought and emotion reflected there, her expression as open and ingenuous as a child. It disconcerted him since most female engineers were more guarded, perhaps as a result of working in such a male-dominated field.
He continued his appraisal. Her nose was much as a nose should be, straight and neither too narrow, nor too broad. Her cheekbones arched high, adding to that overall quality of elegance. As for her mouth … There, his gaze lingered. If she deviated from true classic beauty, it might be here. Her mouth was far more lush than elegant, full and a delicate pink. For some odd reason the shape and color made him want to bite it. Well, hell. That wouldn’t do.
He cleared his throat. “So are you going to give me a hint?” he asked.
“I assume you mean you want a hint about where we met before?” Daisy asked, then shook her head in response to her own question. A tantalizing smile flirted with the corners of her mouth. Did she have any idea what that smile did to a man? The urge to bite grew stronger. “Give it time. It’ll come to you.”
“It might not.” He frowned at the menu the hostess handed him and set it aside, unopened. He pushed the scientist in him to the fore, sliding into the reserved, analytical side of his nature with frightening ease. More and more he tended to retreat behind the facade whenever he found himself in an emotionally charged situation. He found it … safer. “I was in an accident six months and three-and-three-quarter days ago. Sometimes I struggle to recall names and certain events from my past.”
She stared, shocked. “Oh, Justice, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
“There’s no reason you should since I worked quite hard to keep the general public from finding out.” He hesitated. Maybe he should clarify. Women tended to appreciate that characteristic in a man. “Although it’s caused a few memory issues, it hasn’t affected my intellect, if that’s of concern.”
She caught his hand in hers and squeezed. “Don’t be ridiculous. That’s the least of my concerns.”
He realized then that she was a touchy-feely type of woman. Unusual in an engineer, but he could live with it. Live with it? Hell, he could get used to it damn fast. He shrugged. “It’s just one of those things you learn to accept. Sort of like the scars.”
To his utter astonishment, tears pricked her eyes. “Oh, Justice. Scars?” She leaned toward him, speaking in a fierce undertone, her hand tightening on his. “Those don’t matter, either. All they mean is that you’re a survivor.”
Another thought occurred. “We have the option of making love in the dark if you think the scars might have an adverse impact on your libido.”
To his surprise, she burst out laughing. “Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid you’d changed. But you still have that marvelous sense of humor.”
Did she think he was making a joke? He’d been dead serious. “Does that mean you’re not interested in making love?” Maybe he should have led into the subject more gradually. But it seemed a logical progression, one that sandwiched quite neatly between coffee and asking her to be his apprentice/wife. “There’s no rush. We have sixty-one hours and thirty-four minutes.”
She laughed again, a light, carefree sound that arrowed straight to the icy core of him and thawed it ever so slightly. For the first time in years he felt the budding tendrils of hope. Maybe he wasn’t a lost cause. Maybe winter would end. Maybe Daisy could deliver him into the warming arms of spring.
“I’m very interested in making love to you,” she informed him. Her amusement faded, replaced by a bittersweet longing. “It’s been so long, Justice. I wish I’d thought to look for you sooner.”
“You wouldn’t have found me. Pretorius keeps us well hidden.”
“Pretorius?”
“My uncle. He’s a computer expert, which comes in handy since he helps maintain my anonymity.”
“Huh.” She fixed him with her lovely eyes, giving him her full attention and he realized he liked being the center of her universe. He liked it a lot. “I didn’t realize you had any family. At least, you never mentioned anyone.”
The way she spoke suggested they’d shared a certain level of intimacy. His eyes narrowed. Damn that accident. How could he have possibly forgotten someone like her? “How do I know you?”
She smiled. “Tell you what. I’ll give you a hint. My appearance has changed quite a bit since we last met.”
Aw, hell. Why did women always do that to a man? Normally, he was quite observant. But he rarely felt his observational abilities reached the level expected by women in male-female dynamics, particularly those of a romantic nature. “For instance?”
“My hair.”
“Longer? Shorter?” He hazarded a guess, though guessing didn’t come naturally to him.
She shook her head. “Lighter. It was a lot darker before. But I’ve gone back to my natural coloring.”
Relief flowed over him like a comforting blanket. Okay, that explained it. No doubt the computer program disqualified her based on that minor detail. He’d have to speak to Pretorius about tweaking the parameters. Maybe he’d been a shade too rigid in his requirements.
“I could live with dark hair.” Especially if it meant Daisy agreeing to become his apprentice/wife.
She tilted her head to one side, clearly puzzled by his comment. “Could you?”
Perhaps that sounded a trifle odd. Hadn’t Pretorius warned him about inviting a woman for a cup of coffee in one breath and proposing to her in the next? Time to slow things down. After coffee he’d settle for propositioning her. She’d indicated a level of interest in pursuing that angle of their acquaintance, at least he hoped he’d made a correct interpretation of her interest. And if he were strictly honest with himself, if he didn’t get her into bed soon he might give in to the temptation to bite more than just those lush lips of hers. He suspected such an action would be frowned upon given their current venue.
“Did we meet at a previous engineering conference?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m not—”
Their waitress appeared at his elbow and offered them a wide smile. “Good afternoon. My name is Anita and I’ll be your waitress.” She stated the obvious considering that she wore a uniform that clearly identified her occupation and her name tag had “Anita” written in bold black lettering. “Would you care for a drink from the bar?”
“I’ll pass,” Daisy said. “Though I’d love some iced tea, extra lemon please.”
A sense of familiarity swept through Justice. Something about the extra lemon. And then it passed. The sensation happened all too frequently since the accident. Sometimes he couldn’t summon the memory no matter how hard he tried. On other occasions—more and more often to his profound relief—the memory exploded into his mind in full vivid color, as though his brain had forged a new pathway through the neural wetware that held that precious information, avoiding the congestion and confusion left behind by his accident. But not this time. No matter how hard he tried to avoid it, he found himself square in the middle of a mental traffic jam, unable to maneuver his way to the coordinates that contained that particular node of memory.
He accepted the failure with his usual stoicism and switched his attention to the waitress. “Coffee. Black.”
“I’ll be right back with your drinks and to take your order.”
The instant Anita left, Justice returned his attention to Daisy, homing in on her with laser-sharp focus. “Are you ready to give me another hint?”
She waved that aside. “I have a better suggestion. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to in the past few years? After all, you are the best in the business when it comes to creating robotic sensors and actuators.”
They were on more familiar ground now. “Yes, I am.”
“No false modesty, I see,” she commented.
The observation made no sense. “What would be the point?”
He’d never met a woman who enjoyed laughing more than this one. He should find it annoying. Instead, it arrowed straight through him, bringing an unexpected surge of desire. “You crack me up, Justice. Still logical to the end.”
He hesitated. “Is there something wrong with being logical?”
Everything about her seemed to soften, even her voice. “No, of course not. So long as you also remember to feel.”
Feel? He didn’t quite know how to respond to that, a rare occurrence and one that threw him off stride. He reached for Rumi, only to realize he’d left the sphere in his room. It also brought home to him how much he’d come to depend on his creation whenever he found himself in a quandary. And Daisy certainly left him in a quandary.
With most engineers, he knew exactly what to expect and how to speak to them. But not with this woman. Even her name seemed wrong, and yet … Right somehow. She had the same appeal as her namesake, a splash of color that brightened even the plainest, most barren landscape. She made him hesitate along his appointed path, encouraged him to pause in order to admire and while away the hours in ridiculous pursuits rather than the business of … well … business.
But it was more than that. She roused feelings in him he thought long dead, a want that eclipsed everything else. Right now sitting with her, he didn’t give a damn about the conference, or the work he’d been unable to complete for the past year, or asking the necessary questions to ensure he’d found the perfect apprentice/wife. All he cared about was allowing spring to thaw the ice encasing his heart. To heat the blood flowing through his veins. To find the man lost in an endless winter and breathe new meaning into his life.
Daisy could do that for him. If he believed in intuition, he’d have blamed the abrupt, blazing certainty he experienced on that. But since he didn’t, he decided his brain had been subconsciously working the problem and just now reached a rational and inescapable conclusion.
This woman was the answer to his problem.
He didn’t question the newfound knowledge since he’d experienced something similar whenever he came up with a new idea in robotics. He’d learned to trust those moments of sudden enlightenment and proceed to the next step without delay.
She waited patiently for him to speak again, content with the silence. He found that an unusual attribute in a person, regardless of gender. While she waited, she smiled with what he interpreted as contentment and cupped her chin in the palm of her hand. She had pretty hands, he realized, the fingers long and supple. For an instant his brain short-circuited, and not as a result of his accident.
He flashed on an image of how Daisy’s hands would look and feel on his body. Good God, where the hell had that come from? He wasn’t normally the imaginative sort, and yet that one stunning picture caused an unmistakable physiological response, one far beyond his ability to control. No doubt because it had been so long since he’d been with a woman.
Something in his expression must have given him away. Daisy straightened in her chair. “Justice? What’s wrong?”
He cleared his throat. “You’ll have to forgive me. This hasn’t happened since I was a teenager, but perhaps because of my recent isolation, I’m receiving an unusual amount of visually stimulating input which is having an adverse affect on my central nervous system. If you could strive to be a little less visually stimulating, my body will release an appropriate amount of nitric oxide to the corpora cavernosa which should cause my muscles to relax.” Dear God, could he sound any geekier?
Sure enough, she blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
“You’re giving me a hard-on.”
The waitress chose that moment to return with their drinks and based on the unusual clumsiness with which she juggled her tray, he had a sneaking suspicion she’d overheard his final comment. Damn.
“Are you ready to order?” she asked, struggling in vain to maintain an impassive expression.
Justice didn’t hesitate, but took the only reasonable course of action. “No. The check, please.”
She handed it over, throwing a cynical look in Daisy’s direction. For some reason that look stirred a fierce, protective instinct in Justice. Odd, since he didn’t believe in instinct. The only explanation was some sort of genetic anomaly that had arbitrarily managed to survive the transition from an earlier, more primitive, intuitive state of man and been somehow included in his genetic coding.
Not that it mattered whether or not Daisy noticed Anita’s reaction. Justice didn’t want anyone looking at Daisy like that, thinking what the waitress was undoubtedly thinking, regardless of its veracity. Not that his soon-to-be-apprentice/wife noticed. She seemed totally oblivious to the byplay, probably because she was busy staring at him with undisguised shock. Maybe he should have been less blunt about his physiological problem.
Struggling to temper his reaction, he took the bill, added in a generous tip and slashed his signature across the ticket without his usual meticulous care. Then he shoved back his chair, relieved to discover that the nitric oxide had done its job.
Daisy’s brows shot upward, a smile still playing at the corners of her mouth. “I gather we’re leaving?”
“Yes. We’re leaving.”
She shrugged. “Okay.”
She stood, snagged her carryall and slung the strap over her shoulder all in one fluid motion. The fuchsia of her bag should have clashed with the brilliant red of her blouse. Instead it made him think of the sunset that rapidly turned the Miami sky a similar color. Even the golden wheat shade of her hair seemed to add to the blend, intensifying his reaction to her.
Interesting. Perhaps he should consider researching the response of the human male’s libido to the plumage choices of the female. He didn’t know how he’d combine the results of the study in robotic design, but no doubt something would come to him in time. Until then, the only color he wanted to see was whatever shade Daisy turned when she was naked.
Before they’d progressed more than two feet, an elderly gentleman waylaid them. “Excellent speech, Mr. St. John. I particularly found your insights into future robotics and human interfacing quite fascinating.”
Justice paused, taking the man’s proffered hand. “Thank you. If you’ll excuse me, we—”
Before he could whisk Daisy away, she spoke up, “He is the best on the planet when it comes to autonomous cooperation with humans.”
“Very astute observation, young lady.” His attention returned to Justice. “I wonder if you’d have time to discuss an idea I had?”
Justice knew what would happen if he didn’t get out of here and fast. It was the same thing that happened whenever engineers got together. They’d spend the entire night talking shop. Any other time, he’d have been happy to do just that. But not now. Not this night. Not when he hoped to spend it getting better acquainted with the woman he intended to transition into his apprentice/wife. Already he noticed surrounding ears and eyes perking up, could picture the gears turning, processors humming to life at the thought of an impromptu robotics discussion. Not a chance in hell.
“I have an appointment in precisely three minutes and forty-two seconds and it will take me exactly three minutes and thirty-three seconds to get there,” he announced in a carrying voice. “If you’ll excuse us?”
“Say no more.” The man stepped hastily aside, as did the others who’d been in the process of approaching.
With the path clear, Justice settled his hand in the small of Daisy’s back and ushered her through the crowd choosing a vector that afforded them the most direct route between their current location and the exit. The instant they stepped from the café, Daisy turned to confront him. She planted a hand square in the center of his chest, halting his forward momentum.
“What’s going on?” she demanded.
Had he missed a step somewhere? “I thought you understood that part. Has there been a miscommunication?”
“You could say that. I probably wouldn’t. Say it, I mean. I’d probably say something like, did we get our wires crossed?” She wrinkled her elegant nose. “Although even that sounds entirely too engineeringish.”
Engineeringish? He folded his arms across his chest. “Would you prefer I be more direct?”
“No, you’ve been quite direct enough. I thought you invited me for coffee. What changed?”
He blew out a sigh. “I gather I should have allowed you to finish your iced tea before we proceeded to the next step?”
“Or maybe even have a single sip?” she teased. Instead of pushing against his chest, her hand lightened, shifted, driving him insane by making tiny, circular strokes. He had a sneaking suspicion that if she didn’t stop—and soon—his body would use up its supply of nitric oxide. “I know we’re attracted to each other. We always have been.”
There it was again. That reminder that they knew each other from another time and place, a memory his accident must have stolen from him. “Have you changed your mind?”
“About making love to you?” She shook her head. “I just thought maybe we should slow down a little.”
Yup. That nitric oxide needle was definitely shifting from F for Full to E for Empty. “I’m not sure I can,” he confessed.
And it was a confession, since he found it difficult to admit to such a thing, and even more stunning to be experiencing what he regarded as a serious failing. Ever since he’d been in charge of his own life, he’d maintained ironclad control of his world and everything in it. Until then, he’d had no choice, no options, all decisions made around and to him regardless of the severity of their impact on him. The day he’d turned eighteen, he’d sworn that his life, how he spent it and who he allowed into it would be his decision and his alone.
Her eyes darkened, the spring green draped in deep forest shadow. “I can live without tea. How much time did you say we had until your next appointment?”
“There’s ninety-four seconds left. But I lied about the appointment.”
“Yes, I know. It’s called a joke,” she said gently. “In this particular use of the word, a noun. Meaning to cause laughter or amusement with one’s words or actions.”
“I’m not feeling laughter or amusement.”
“No? What are you feeling?”
Feeling? He closed his eyes, a rush of adrenaline streaming through him. Heaven help him, she was right. After all this time, he was finally feeling. He struggled to identify the peculiar sensation.
“Hope,” he whispered in a low, rough voice. “A verb used with or without attachment to an object. The anticipation, belief or trust that something greatly desired may at long last occur.”
Daisy stared at Justice, her heart threatening to break. Did he have any idea how devastating she found his words? What had happened in those years they’d been apart that had altered him to the point where he’d gone so long without hope? Her hand fisted in his shirt and she tugged, drawing him closer.
“Take me to your room, Justice.”
After all, what did it matter if she made love to him now or later? She’d known from the moment he’d swept onstage and their gazes had met and locked that this moment would come. They could sit in the trendy little café and drink coffee or tea until the sun set and stars spilled like fireflies across the velvety carpet of night sky. And it would only delay the inevitable.
She wanted him. She’d always wanted him. And despite the accident which had robbed him of some portion of his memory, part of him still knew her, still remembered how it had been between them. Because clearly, he wanted her, too. Spinning on her heel, she kept her hand anchored in his shirt and towed him toward the elevators.
“I gather we’re leaving?” he asked in a dry voice, throwing her own words back at her.
“Yes. We’re leaving.”
He shrugged. “Okay. But just so you know, the elevators are in the opposite direction.”
She didn’t break stride, but simply reversed course. Was that an actual smile she saw flash across his face? “And it didn’t even crack,” she informed him.
“Excuse me?”
“Your face when you smiled. I’m sure you’ll be relieved to know that it didn’t crack.” This time when the smile came it was far broader and lingered longer. The sight filled her with intense satisfaction.
They arrived at the bank of elevators at the same moment that a set of doors opened, spilling passengers from its gilded innards. Entering the car, they stood in silence during the ride skyward, but Daisy could sense the growing tension between them, the bubble and simmer of it barely held in check, an explosion primed and ready to blow. The doors parted and Justice gestured to the right.
“Twenty-five-oh-one.”
She waited by the door while he used his key card, then stepped inside, impressed by the size and beauty of his suite. “Wow.”
“I like having both space and privacy. Since I was afforded neither during my formative years, I’ve found it holds greater value and appeal now.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” Daisy crossed to the expansive living area, one that looked out over a stunning view of the beach and ocean. “Who would have imagined we’d end up where we are now?” she murmured.
“I did. At least, in regard to my own future endeavors.” His voice came from directly behind. Even though the comment sounded calm and prosaic—well, okay, and a trifle geeky—she could sense the desire seething just beneath the surface. “I had my life all planned.”
“Yes, I suppose you did. You always were good at planning.”
“It merely took determination combined with the right doors opening at the right time.”
She threw him a smile over her shoulder. “Luck, Justice?”
He shook his head. “I don’t believe in luck. I prefer to think of it as chance colliding with opportunity.”
She chuckled, turning fully around to face him. “In other words … luck.”
He lifted an eyebrow in inquiry. “Is it luck that you’re here today?”
“Yes. Absolutely. If I hadn’t seen your name advertised as the keynote speaker for the conference, I wouldn’t be here now.”
“But you did see it.” He took a step in her direction, just one. But it was enough to kick her heart rate up a notch. “A door opened.”
“And I decided to step through it.” She spared a glance around. “Literally.”
“As I said, chance combined with the right doors opening at the right time.”
She gave a brisk nod and released her breath on a sigh. “So, tell me something, Justice. Now that you have me here, whatever will you do with me?”
He didn’t answer right away, instead studying her with unnerving intensity. Had his expression always been so grave? He’d been quiet as a teen, studious, focused. But he’d also had the capacity to laugh. Where had that gone and how did she find it again?
He must have figured out what he intended to do with her because he took a final step in her direction. Hooking his index finger in the deep V of her blouse, he propelled her into his arms. She tumbled, just as she had all those long years ago, captured in an unbreakable hold.
“I believe I’m going to take off your clothes and make love to you,” he informed her quite seriously.
And then he kissed her.
Three
Daisy slid her arms around Justice’s neck and clung for all she was worth. She’d never appreciated methodical until this moment. But Justice managed to change her mind.
The first touch of his lips against hers came as an easy, tender caress. It stayed that way for a brief moment, just long enough for her to react. The instant she threw herself into the embrace, the tenor changed, became harder, more insistent. She sighed in delight, opening to him without hesitation or caution. He breached the seam of her lips, his tongue teasing hers, edging her hunger ever higher.
His control was exquisite, his taking decimating her. And then his teeth closed over her lower lip and tugged, threatening to drive her straight over the edge.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he informed her.
It took Daisy a long moment to gather her wits sufficiently to respond to Justice’s comment. “Not a clue. But I’m willing to bet you could tell me to the minute.”
“To the nanosecond.”
He cupped her face and practically inhaled her, his kiss the most thorough she’d ever received, his mouth firm and assured and potent. “Tell me what you want and I’ll spend the rest of the night giving it to you.”
It was all she could do to keep from moaning in response. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
He smiled again, more easily this time. “Do you want the lights on or off when I remove your clothes?”
“Oh, yes.”
Now he grinned. “Maybe I’ll leave them off and see you wearing nothing but the sunset.”
It was the most poetic comment he’d made since they’d become reacquainted and a cold place deep inside thawed, melted, warmed her, inside and out. “Then you’d better hurry because it’s almost gone.”
“I don’t hurry. Not when it comes to something as important as this.”
Daisy could only stare at him, helpless, a shaft of raw desire shooting through her. “Oh, Justice. I was so afraid.”
“Afraid?” A frown creased his brow. “Of me?”
“In a way.” She lifted a shoulder in a shrug and heard the happy clatter of children’s toys rattling around in her carryall. The sound reassured her as nothing else could have. “Of how you’d be when I met you again. Whether you’d have changed. At first, I thought …”
“That I had?”
“How did you know?”
“It seemed the logical conclusion.”
“Yes. I thought you’d changed.” She swept the strap of her carryall from her shoulder and tossed the bag carelessly to the carpet. Fortunately, the contents stayed put, though they did jangle in protest. “And you have changed. It’s natural, I suppose, since change is inevitable over time.”
“An astute observation.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “And yet, you’re still the same. Underneath all the scientific jargon and aloofness, you’re still the Justice I remember.”
“I assume that’s good?”
“It’s …” For some reason tears pricked her eyes and she hastened to lower them, praying he hadn’t noticed. She couldn’t seem to contain her energy and plucked at one of the buttons on his black shirt. “It’s fantastic,” she admitted in a husky voice.
“Let’s see if we can’t make it even more fantastic.”
Daisy had to admit, one of the qualities she’d always admired about Justice was his intense focus. He didn’t waste further time talking, but applied his superb intelligence to shoving the buttons of her blouse through the corresponding holes. Sliding it from her shoulders, he neatly removed her bra with an experienced flick of his fingers.
What little remained of the setting sun bathed her in soft purpling shadows. His gaze followed the final traces of sunlight, while his hands painted her in heat. He cupped the weight of her breasts and slid his thumbs across the tips. His hands surprised her with their power and strength. They weren’t the soft hands of a pencil pusher, but those of a laborer, callused and hard. Whatever sort of engineering and robotic work he did involved the use of those hands, his efforts strengthening and defining their shape and texture. She moaned at the delicious abrasiveness, her knees threatening to give out beneath her.
“Justice, please.”
“Don’t ask me to rush this. I can’t. I won’t. I want to enjoy every moment.”
Despite his demand, his hands reluctantly slid from her breasts across her quivering abdomen. The sound of the zipper of her slacks being lowered sounded as harsh as their breathing. He skinned the last of her clothing from her body, leaving her cloaked in nudity.
It was Daisy’s turn to return the favor. She didn’t have Justice’s patience, nor his attention to methodical process. She yanked and tugged whatever came to hand, whether trousers or shirt or shoes and socks. While darkness enclosed them in a soft fist, she allowed her hands to be her eyes while she reacquainted herself with every inch of him.
So much had changed. Not only was he taller, but broader. More heavily muscled. Deliciously ridged and toned. She’d love to paint him like this, to capture not only the incredible maleness of him, but that essence of intellect combined with potent masculinity.
Her hand glanced off a ridge that wasn’t muscle, a long slashing tear across smooth skin. “Oh, Justice. You weren’t kidding about the scars, were you?”
He stiffened. “It should be too dark for you to see.”
“Well, yes. But I can feel it.”
“Do you find it offensive? Would you prefer to terminate our lovemaking?”
“Termin—” Daisy smothered a laugh. “Honestly, Justice. You’re so funny. I can always tell when you’re upset. You start talking in Basic Geek.”
“I’m not upset.”
“Then what are you?”
“I’m …” He released his breath in a long sigh. “I’m emotionally compromised.”
“It would be a little surprising if you weren’t,” she informed him gently. He didn’t reply, but remained still and quiet beneath her tentative touch. Did he think she’d walk away because of a few scars? He didn’t know her very well anymore, but he’d soon learn. “Let me show you how offensive I find your scars.”
Ever so gently, her touch as soft and light as the sweep of butterfly wings, she pressed her lips to the first, tracing it from end to end. She located the next one and kissed that one, as well. And the next, until she’d found each and every one, created a road map of lingering caresses across his body.
“No more.” His harsh voice split the silence, as twisted and tortured as his scars.
He swept her into his arms and carried her through the living area into the bedroom. A single light burned a pathway through the darkness, chasing away the shadows and haloing the bed in a ring of gold. He came down beside her and the warm glow skated over his work-hardened muscles and sank into the crevices lining his face. Pain lingered there, a pain she’d have given anything to ease. And maybe she could.
Daisy reached for him, pulled him into the warmth of her embrace and adjusted her curves to accommodate his lean, graceful form. No question, Justice had become the panther she’d long considered him, sleek and trim, with an edge of tough, masculine danger. His skin rippled beneath her touch, the sweep of warm, taut sinew as appealing to the artist within her as the faint golden hue of his skin tones. His hardness pitted against all that made her yielding and feminine, creating an interesting dichotomy, one she could lose herself in. So why resist?
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