Millionaire Husband

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

A
nother day, another hundred thousand dollars. With the exception of the nagging pain in his abdomen, Justin Langdon was feeling pretty pleased as he climbed the steps to Edward St. Albans Elementary school. The
St. Albans Chronicle
didn’t call him their top stock jock for nothing. Popping two antacids, he thought the beautiful thing about the stock market was that a shrewd man could make money when it went up and when it went down. Justin believed in doing both.

After a childhood spent at the Granger Home for Boys, Justin had worked a day job and put every penny he had on making money in the stock market.
His tightwad days of eating beanee weenees had paid off, and he was now a multimillionaire. He was damn sure he wouldn’t be eating cans of beans anymore. If his financial success occasionally rang hollow, he didn’t dwell on it. Besides, two of his highly successful alumni buddies from the Granger Home for Boys had talked him into joining them in a secret, tax deductible, charitable foundation, the Millionaires’ Club.

Justin still had moments of doubt over his commitment to the Millionaires’ Club, but he would do his duty. He walked through the hallway of the aging elementary school toward the sounds of young children. Justin’s charity assignment was to investigate the after-school program to determine whether the Millionaires’ Club should donate and how much.

Absently rubbing his stomach, he rounded the hall corner and peered into the noisy classroom. A curvy woman with a mop of red curly hair and dressed as a
J
led the youngsters in a song of words starting with the letter
J.
Was this Amy Monroe, the director of the program? Her feminine curves and one hundred and fifty watt smile nearly distracted him from the fact that the red costume clashed with her hair. She gestured and danced for the children, encouraging them when their volume grew. He’d never seen so much enthusiasm inside one single person before.

“Jack, jam, Japan, jar!”

Justin’s stomach clenched and he frowned. It must be the noise, he thought, but he couldn’t deny Miss Monroe’s effectiveness. He was almost tempted to join in the chorus too.

Amy spied him and waved at him. “Come in and join us,” she called, then smiled at the children. “Join starts with—?”

“J!”
they chorused.

Justin moved into the room and slid into a too-small chair. His stomach seemed to nag him more than usual, but he pushed the pain aside, telling himself it was the result of overexposure to so many noisy children at once.

Justin didn’t hate kids. From his upbringing, however, he’d learned that a wife, ex-wife and children constituted the biggest sucking sound a man could possibly experience in his bank account. That lesson had been driven home to him month after month when his divorced mother received the child support payment from his dad and subsequently shopped till she dropped. She and Justin always ended up with more month than money left, eventually necessitating his move to the Granger Home for Boys. Justin had vowed never to put himself or anyone else he cared for in that position again in his life. That meant no marriage and no kids.

Amy Monroe’s curves distracted him again. His no-marriage rule didn’t mean no dating, he told himself, remembering his good friend Michael’s advice
for him to drag himself away from the computer and get out more.

“See you Thursday,” she said, dismissing the class. “We’re doing
K
then.”

Justin stood as the kids stampeded past him. A hush immediately descended on the room, and he met Amy’s gaze. “You’re Amy Monroe, the preschool special-program coordinator,” he said.

She nodded. “And you’re Justin Langdon. I received a message that you might be coming to observe, but no explanation.” She gave him a curious glance. “Do you have a child you want to enter into the program?”

“Oh, no. I’m doing some research on your program. You looked like you were getting through to them,” he said. “I’d like to hear more about it. Can I take you to dinner tonight?”

Amy Monroe felt a sliver of temptation and ignored it. She also ignored the fact that Justin Langdon’s intelligent gaze perked her interest. She ignored his chiseled bone structure and the curve of his lips that hinted at sensuality. She told herself not to think about how his broad shoulders promised strength and protection. She ignored the hum of electric awareness shooting between them. She ignored all these things because she had to ignore them. Although Amy couldn’t remember the last time she’d joined a handsome intelligent man for dinner, she knew she had no room in her life for
dates. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Tonight’s bad.”

He shrugged. “Tomorrow night then?”

“Tomorrow’s bad, too. Actually every night for the next year is probably going to be bad.”

He blinked. “Why?”

“Three reasons,” she said and decided to kill all the interest at once. “Their ages are five, three and three. My kids,” she said, because since her sister and brother-in-law had died eight weeks ago, Emily, Jeremy and Nick had become her kids.

Justin Langdon blinked again. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he even turned pale with disbelief. “You have three children,” he said. “I didn’t see a ring—”

“Oh, I’m not married. I’ve never been married.”

“I can see why you’d be busy, then.” Justin rubbed his stomach absently. “Is there a restroom?”

“Sure, right through that door,” Amy said, pointing to the rear of the room. She grew concerned at the odd expression on his face. “Are you okay?”

He made a vague sound and headed for the restroom.

Amy frowned. She realized children frightened many men, but she hadn’t expected his look of near-nausea. Shrugging, she quickly put the classroom in order so she could leave. Hearing a strangled cough, she felt a tinge of uneasiness. “Mr. Langdon,” she
called, knocking on the door. “Justin, are you all right?”

He coughed again.

Her uneasiness growing by the second, she knocked again. “Mr. Langdon, are you decent?”

“Yes, but—”

Amy pushed open the door and saw that the man’s handsome face had turned ashen. He held a paper towel in his hand stained with bright red blood. “Nose bleed?”

He shook his head. “I coughed.”

Alarm tightened her chest. She didn’t know what the blood meant, but she knew it wasn’t good. “You need to get to the hospital.”

Justin protested the pushy woman for about forty-five seconds until he felt the urge to cough again. Then he focused his energy on not coughing and fighting the light-headed feeling that settled over him like a thick fog. In the occasional moments the fog lifted, Justin noticed Amy Monroe drove her Volkswagen Beetle like a bat out of hell and swore in a very un-teacher-like fashion at drivers who moved too slowly to suit her.

Pain burned through his gut, stealing his breath and sense of humor. He felt her quick glance of concern.

“Breathe,” she told him.

“In a minute,” he muttered, hating the combination of pain and fuzziness.

“No,” she said. “Breathe. You’re tensing up. That makes the pain worse. It’s like childbirth. If you breathe, you can stay on top of it.”

“You should know,” Justin said and drew in a ragged breath. Lethargy dragged at him. He felt as if someone was pressing two hundred pound weights on his eyelids. If he could just rest for a few minutes…

“Mr. Langdon! Justin!”

Wincing at the pain, he didn’t open his eyes. “What?”

“We’re almost at the hospital.”

He’d never felt so tired. It occurred to Justin that he should thank her for bringing him. He struggled to open his mouth, but couldn’t. Frustration swirled inside him.

The car jerked to a stop and he felt a flurry of activity. He heard voices.

“—coughing up blood,” Amy Monroe said. “I think his stomach is hurting.”

“…ulcer. He may need surgery,” a male voice said.

Justin tried to protest, but again he couldn’t. He focused all his energy on opening his eyes and found himself staring into Amy Monroe’s worried gaze. He opened his mouth. “Thank—”

She put her finger over his lips and shook her
head. “Save your strength. We were all put on this earth for a reason. You’re one of my reasons today. Breathe,” she said and brushed her soft mouth against his cheek.

Justin felt himself wheeled over the pavement through the doors. The pain mounting, he stopped fighting and allowed his eyes to close. The hospital faded away and his world turned dark.

“Emergency surgery,” he heard a woman say, and then he heard no more.

A vision wafted through his mind. His good friends Michael and Dylan shook their heads. “So young,” Michael said.

“What a waste,” Dylan said. “All he did was work and worry about money.”

Michael’s wife Kate took his hand. “He never really got it,” she said sadly. “I think he was right on the edge, but he never really got it.”

Got what?
Justin wondered.

“He fought it,” Dylan said.

Fought what?
Justin wanted to know.

Michael nodded. “I can’t believe he didn’t have a will. He would turn over if he knew how much the government was getting of his fortune.”

Will!
Panic sliced through him. He’d never made a will because he’d always assumed he had time. He broke into a cold sweat. Was he dead?

Kate wiped a tear from her eye. “I wish he could
have had more. It feels like such a waste. I can’t imagine getting to the end of my life and knowing I could have made a difference, but didn’t. I can’t imagine never loving someone. It’s such a waste,” she said and Michael took her into his arms.

Justin wondered if he was dead. All the things he’d intended to do later raced through his head. Worst of all, however, was the incredibly empty feeling that engulfed him. His throat tightened with dread. Had his life really been all for naught? He’d been so busy trading and adding to his wealth, adding to his financial security that he couldn’t even see anything, let alone anyone else.

What had he done to make the world a better place?

The regret felt like a tidal wave, drowning him with a thousand should-haves.

If you’re out there, God, I’m sorry. I’ve screwed up big time. If you can give me a second chance…

Ridiculous notion, Justin thought. If Justin were God, why would he give Justin a second chance? What had Justin done to deserve another chance?

Well, hell, Justin thought. Maybe God wasn’t a self-centered jerk like Justin was. Maybe God was smarter and better than he was. Maybe God was nicer. Maybe God believed in second chances.

If you can give me a second chance, I’ll try to figure out the real reason you put me on this earth and get it done.

Justin wished whoever was putting fifty-pound bags of cement on his eyelids would stop. He frowned, concentrating with the effort to open his eyes.

“Looks like he’s waking up,” a familiar voice said. Through the fog of his mind, he tried to place the voice.

“Hey, Justin, welcome back to the land of the living,” another familiar voice said.

Justin blinked and looked into the faces of his two friends, Michael Hawkins and Dylan Barrows.

“You gave everyone a scare,” Michael said, his observant gaze crinkled with concern. It occurred to Justin that Michael seemed more human since he’d married and become a father.

“I know you’ve been dragging your feet on this after-school reading program donation,” Dylan said, “but was surgery really preferable?”

Justin felt a grin grow inside him. He gave a rough chuckle. Pain sliced through his side. He swore under his breath. “Show some mercy, Dylan.”

Dylan shook his head. “You look like a truck ran over you.”

“Thank you,” Justin said wryly.

“No, really,” Dylan said, his face growing serious. He gave Justin’s arm a quick squeeze. “You need to take better care of yourself. I don’t want
anything bad to happen to you. Even if you are a cheapskate, you’re a good guy.”

A fleeting image of his Scrooge-like dream oozed through his mind and his humor faded. “Maybe not good enough,” he muttered to himself.

“I hate to run, but I booked this charter last week,” Dylan said regretfully. “I’ll rest easy knowing you’re okay.”

“Charter to Rio or Paris?” Justin asked, mildly curious. Dylan was always running here or there. At times, it almost seemed as if Dylan was running from himself.

“Neither. The Caribbean. Weekend in Belize. Maybe you can go with me when you’re feeling better.”

“Blonde or brunette?” Justin asked.

Dylan cracked a grin that didn’t extend to his eyes and waved his hand. “Neither this time. I invited Alisa Jennings, but she turned me down flat. Third time this month.”

“For someone with a healthy ego, you seem to have none where she is concerned.”

“Glutton for punishment, I guess. I’ll just do a little fishing and diving and a lot of thinking.” He glanced at his gold watch, then back at Justin. “Take care, bud. I’ll see you when I get back. You too, Michael.”

As soon as Dylan left, Justin met Michael’s gaze. “Dylan? Thinking?”

“He’s pretty hooked on Alisa.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t just go on to the next one. Dylan always seems like he’s got a string of women waiting for him.”

“I think he and Alisa were more involved than he admits.”

“That’s what I always thought,” Justin said, fighting a sudden weariness.

“But enough about Dylan. You look like you’re ready to drift off again, so I’ll leave—”

“Just a minute,” Justin said. “I, uh…I guess I could have croaked.”

“Yeah,” Michael said with a nod.

His chest tightened and he brushed the sensation aside. “I thought about everything I hadn’t done.”

“Like going to Belize?” Michael asked with a grin.

Justin shook his head. “No. Important stuff.” Strange emotions tugged at him and he shrugged. “You seem like you’re at peace. Why?”

“Oh, that’s easy. Kate and the baby. When it’s all said and done, everyone and everything else might leave, but I know I’ll still have Kate.” He paused. “And I like what I’m doing with you and Dylan. It’s fun and more.” He chuckled to himself. “Kate says the three of us suffer from a fraud complex about our wealth. I guess giving some of it away makes me feel less like a fraud.” Michael
studied him. “You need to rest,” he said. “You’ll be okay.”