Man, Wife And Little Wonder. Robin Nicholas
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before him. In the dim light that filtered through the shades, she seemed suddenly, intimately close. Johnny fought to curb his adolescent reaction to her nearness. On pure reflex, he took a step back, a new dance for Johnny Tremont.
“Hold still. You’ve got cobwebs in your hair from crawling under the porch.” Grace seemed amused and reached up to brush them away, her nearness creating a potent charge between them. When she pressed briefly against him, the snug denim over her breasts touched his chest. Johnny absorbed the shock to his system and tried not to short-circuit. With each sweep of her hand, Grace’s fingers seemed to slip farther into his hair, her sweet-smelling wrist near his face, her skirt weaving about his jeans-clad legs, her sandaled feet nudging his tennis shoes. Overwhelmed, Johnny eyed the distance between Grace’s mouth and his.
“You have really thick hair,” Grace murmured. The brush of her fingers seemed to slow as they pushed their way through the strands. “A lot of women spend hours at the salon, trying to have hair this thick and dark.”
Johnny struggled to focus his muddled thoughts.
Friends, not lovers.
A memory of dancing with Grace here in this room flashed through his mind. Sun had streamed through the window onto her shiny hair. He’d been singing along with Elvis. She’d been laughing at him. Then she’d rested her head against his shoulder, pressed her slight body to his—
I can’t help falling in love...
As Johnny’s hair filled her palm, Grace stilled. She was suddenly conscious of the scant space between their bodies, aware that a deep heat burned in Johnny’s eyes. A longing from years ago surfaced. Grace reminded herself that Johnny was here on a mission, that he was used to having what he wanted from women. What she was feeling for him could hurt her now more than ever.
She drew back her hand, but her eyes fluttered closed as Johnny’s warm breath caressed her face. She felt him anchor his hands at her waist, and for a moment she suffered conflicting fears—that he would push her away...that he wouldn’t. Johnny seemed to sense the restlessness that moved through her. He touched his lips to hers gently, giving the kiss she’d imagined Johnny giving her when she was a girl.
But she wasn’t a girl anymore and the sweetness of his kiss didn’t soothe her. Grace only felt more restless. With his hot hands, Johnny settled her body against his. He seemed to know how, when and where to touch his lips to hers, to press her body closer, drawing a response she couldn’t hide. Yearning speared through her. And yet...
She loosened the hold she’d taken on Johnny’s shirtfront. But before she’d uncurled her fingers from the soft cotton, he raised his mouth from hers, his hands at her waist again, setting her away from him. Hearing the screen door slam, Grace wanted to think it was because of Gracie. But her cheeks grew hot as Johnny stepped back and shoved his hands in his pockets.
He hadn’t meant to kiss her.
“Johnny!” Gracie called from the hall. “Come and see what the kittens can do!”
“I’ll be right there,” Johnny called in answer. The door slammed again. Johnny didn’t move. But his gaze was evasive, those quick hands of his still hidden in his pockets.
Grace burned. From desire, from anger, from embarrassment. Had she only imagined those looks he’d been giving her? That tense moment in the store? Grace recalled Johnny’s lack of reaction—other than to joke around—when she’d purposely mentioned dating Chase with the hope of seeing some spark of jealousy. How could she have been so foolish as to forget that he intended to pay her to marry him, that he did so because of Gracie?
So why had he kissed her?
“I’m sorry, Grace. I guess I just—I mean it’s been a long time—”
That was why. Grace smiled sweetly, but she simmered inside. “Has Gracie been cramping your style?”
Johnny stilled in the act of pushing his hand through his hair. She could still feel the softness of those dark strands on her fingers. “Yeah. That explains it.”
Johnny looked so relieved, Grace wanted to smack him. But Gracie was waiting outside for him, so all she said was, “Apology accepted. You’d better go see to Gracie.”
“Yeah. I’ll do that.” Johnny turned away in unflattering haste. Then he turned back. “Gracie really does need me. She needs us. Just think about my offer, about the mortgage and getting married.”
Johnny left the room. A moment later Grace heard the screen door softly close.
Think about us getting married.
There’d been a time when she hadn’t dreamed of anything else. Then Johnny had left town and unwittingly broken her heart.
She couldn’t let that happen again.
She went to the kitchen and jerked open the refrigerator door, reaching for lemonade, letting the blast of cold air chill her face before swinging the door shut.
Who else but Johnny had the nerve to return after ten years to ask a favor like marriage? Why, Johnny had no more desire to be married than he did to sell his Harley for scrap metal. As for raising a child—Grace let out a breath of disdain. Johnny had never been responsible for anything but cleaning the carburetor on his bike. That was play to him. That was why he’d made it his life’s work.
Grace poured lemonade and fixed sandwiches. She plunked the glasses, along with the plates, onto a tray and marched with it out the front door. While she arranged their lunch on the redwood table, Johnny led little Gracie from beneath the tree and into the house to wash her hands.
The screen door banged behind them. Grace stared as it settled, contemplating their mission in a different light than she once would have. If Johnny had his way, he’d be responsible for making sure Gracie washed her hands until she was grown.
He probably still had trouble remembering to do so himself.
When they returned, Gracie ate quickly, wanting to get back to the kittens. When the little girl scampered over to the elm, Johnny turned to straddle the bench, resting his elbow on the table top. He watched Gracie so long, so intently, Grace thought he must have forgotten she was there. She saw the way his mouth alternately tensed and curved as he watched Gracie, the way his eyes grew light, then dark with worry. Grace’s anger lifted with the breeze that ruffled through Johnny’s hair.
He finally said, “Janelle was a wonderful mother, and Grant a great father. That’s a tough act to follow.”
She didn’t detect any resentment there, just a genuine lack of confidence in his ability to raise his niece—a justifiable doubt, she had to agree. Johnny seemed to truly love little Gracie, to want this role he’d chosen in her life. But Grace couldn’t help thinking of all he must have given up to do so.
“For Gracie’s sake, my parents have agreed there will be no interim hearings and no scenes in front of Gracie. Still, things haven’t been easy for her. I talked to her doctor and he agreed that bringing her here to the country would do her good.”
As if in affirmation, Gracie held a kitten to her cheek and smiled, her eyes closing in what Grace thought must be a rare moment of peace in the recent turmoil of her young life.
“You’d be good for her, too,” Johnny said quietly.
Grace filled her lungs with warm summer air. She wanted to help Janelle’s child. But it was hard not to imagine having her heart broken in the process.
And, like Johnny, she lacked confidence in her ability to meet Gracie’s needs. “I don’t know much about kids, Johnny. I never even baby-sat when I was a teen.”
“You’re a woman. Child rearing is supposed to come instinctively,” Johnny said with the blithe ignorance of a man.
“That’s a myth. Even women have to learn about children. I’ve spent more time with the elderly than I have with kids.”
Johnny grinned then. “Same thing.