Then Justin realized something-Mitch wouldn’t be the only man working to control strong urges.

Damnation.

He mulled over the problem of private time and place with Hannah as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his best pair of boots. Standing to shuck out of his clothes, he folded them neatly before sliding them into the plastic laundry bag provided by the hotel. His mother had been a real stickler about neatness.

Naked as a newborn, he stretched his length between the chilled sheets, doused the bedside light and started up at the ceiling. Of course, he really couldn’t see the ceiling, as the closed drapes shut out even the tiniest glimmer of moonlight and the room was as dark as pure nothingness.

It didn’t matter to Justin, because he could still see a shimmering image of Hannah Deturk.

“Oh, hell,” he muttered, his breathing growing shallow as his body grew hard. “Think, man. When are you going to have the chance to approach her?”

The days leading up to the big event were out. There was the rehearsal late in the afternoon the day before the wedding, to be followed by the rehearsal dinner. That night was out, as well. Justin knew full well his family would make a lengthy celebration of the dinner.

Naturally, the actual day of the wedding was out.

The day-or night-after the wedding? Justin mulled over the problem, allowing his body to cool down a few degrees. He was in no hurry to get back to the ranch, he could spare a few days for fun and games.

Not in a hotel room. Justin gave a sharp shake of his head against the pillow. Not with Hannah. He didn’t want to delve into why it mattered. It never bothered him before where he spent time romping with a woman-a hotel room, motel room, her apartment, it made no difference to him. This time, if there were to be a time with Hannah, it did matter.