you run roughshod over him, apparently. Though he did shave you, so I cannot complain too much about him.”
They hobbled into Jack’s bedroom. “So you like my whisker-free face, do you?”
“You know that I do, you vain man.”
Slowly, he lowered himself onto the mattress, Justine holding on to one of his arms. When he was flat on his back, she said, “I want to check your incision.”
“No more poking and prodding, cara. I am fine.”
“You are not fine and I will be checking. I’m quite happy to have Rye hold you down while I do so, if necessary.”
Christ. Had he admired her stubbornness before? “I’ll allow it on one condition.”
One brown brow shot up and her arms crossed over her chest. “Bargaining, Jack? Really?”
“If you don’t wish to check the sutures . . .”
She smirked and shook her head in what he assumed was extreme exasperation. “What is your condition?”
“That you get into bed with me when you’re done.”
“That is not a good idea. Any sort of vigorous activity could reopen that wound.”
“Not for vigorous activity. I merely want to hold you. On my good side, I swear.”
Her expression softened into something affectionate and tender. His chest expanded at that look and what it might mean, the feelings it might convey. He held out his hand, desperate to feel her. “I miss touching you.”
“All right.” She slipped her hand into his and squeezed. “On your good side.”
She released him and went to clean her hands in his washroom. When she returned, she peeled open his dressing gown, unbuttoned his union suit and lifted the bandage. He held still, letting her satisfy her curiosity, though he knew she wouldn’t see any sign of infection there. While she didn’t touch the wound, she brushed his skin as she worked, her cool fingers skimming his stomach as she refastened his clothing. Her flowery clean scent wrapped around him, and he inhaled, dragging this reminder of her into his lungs. Lying here, smelling and feeling her, almost made being injured worth it.
“There. I am finished. See, that wasn’t so terrible.”
“I never thought it would be. I just wanted you to lie down with me.”
She chuckled and collected her skirts in preparation of climbing on the bed. “You are a devious man.” Paper crinkled in her skirts. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Cooper asked me to give these to you. I saw him outside.”
Cooper had been outside? “What are they?”
“Messages from the club, I believe.” She handed over a stack of paper. Jack began flipping through the notes and letters. Most could wait.
A cable near the bottom caught his eye. He tore it open.
DEAL OFF. YOUR ASSOCIATION IN VENTURE TOO RISKY.
HATCHER
Fuck.
Jack’s fist tightened around the paper, crumpling it. The shooting had obviously scared Hatcher. Jack understood this even as he hated it. But no one had been shooting at Hatcher. And they were going into business together, not socializing on a regular basis. As far as Jack was concerned, he and Hatcher never need be in the same room again for the rest of their lives.
“Bad news?”
He blinked up at Justine, who watched his face carefully. “Nothing I cannot fix, I hope.”
She plucked all the messages and letters from his hands. “You may look at all these later.” Then she settled on the mattress and gingerly nestled into his uninjured side. The warmth of her sank into his bones. He felt a little embarrassed at the pleasure he derived from just being with her.
“Would you like to talk about it?”
An automatic refusal sprang to his lips . . . but he quashed it. Perhaps due to her proximity and how relaxed she made him, but he did want to talk about it with her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d discussed his business with someone other than Rye or Cooper. However, Justine was smart and even-tempered. Logical. She might have insight into some of the problems he faced.
“Remember the man I needed to meet with at the fundraiser?”
“I do.”
“His name is Julius Hatcher. He’s an investor in the Little Water Street Brewery.”
“I’ve met Mr. Hatcher. His wife is a friend of my oldest sister.”
“I am in the process of taking the brewery national. We’ll produce and ship beer all over the country. And I need Hatcher’s support to do it.”
“What a great idea.” She caressed his chest. “You are so clever.”
“Thank you. I know it’s a great idea and I thought I had Hatcher convinced.”
“But?”
“But then I was shot. During our meeting at the brewery.”
“You