Man, Wife And Little Wonder

Grace had taken the groceries into the kitchen. Johnny looked toward the house, aware this was a good time to speak privately with her, yet feeling oddly reluctant. Telling Gracie to stay put, he left the little girl with her new friends and went inside.

The house was cool and quiet, the shades drawn against the sun. He noticed the upstairs was boarded off, heard the hum of an air conditioner that hadn’t been part of the house years ago. Otherwise, the place seemed unchanged.

Having moved from city to city in his early childhood, Johnny could only imagine what it must feel like to grow up and live in the same house all of your life, how it must feel to risk losing such a part of your past. Funny, how he’d only come to the Green farm to pester Grace and Janelle when he was bored, yet it was here that some of his happier memories took place.

Prints and posters of Elvis had once been framed on the walls of the hall. In the living room, the Greens had kept an old phonograph that spun forty-fives of Elvis tunes. He imagined that stuff was tucked away in the attic. He hated to think Grace would have parted with it.

Johnny wandered into the living room. A life-size poster of Elvis had once been propped in the corner, where Grace now kept a potted plant like those in her salon. Johnny grinned, thinking Elvis had more aesthetic appeal.

“When Mama was in the nursing home, we took the poster of Elvis there,” Grace said from behind him as if reading his thoughts. “Dad said it kept her company.”

Johnny turned to face Grace where she stood in the doorway. She looked all of fifteen again, missing her mother long before Mrs. Green had been physically gone. He said simply, “That was nice.”

“Dad left it there after Mama died. Every time I go back, they’ve got it propped in a corner somewhere.”

“You still go to the nursing home?”

“I give haircuts to some of the residents. Mama had a lot of friends there. Now they’re my friends.”

Johnny suspected that over the years, Grace had spent too much time at that nursing home.

But she smiled as she spoke of the people there. “Mama turned them all into Elvis freaks.”

“Fans,” Johnny corrected. “Fans of the King.”

“Now you sound like my dad.”

Johnny didn’t feel like Grace’s father. Right now, his thoughts probably had her dad rolling in the grave.

He shouldn’t be thinking about making love with Grace. He couldn’t possibly have sex with Grace.

Oh, yeah, he could.

Oh, no, he wouldn’t.

He’d have to handle this carefully, he realized. He wanted Grace, and he was certain that wanting wasn’t all one-sided, however reluctant Grace appeared. But she wasn’t the kind of girl you had a fling with, not even a married fling.

The best way to approach this marriage, he decided, was on the basis of past friendship. No hearts involved.

And no sex.

“Where is Gracie?” Grace asked suddenly, stepping into the room.

“Playing with the kittens.”

“Good. We have to figure some way short of marriage that you can keep guardianship of her.”

Johnny frowned at her words, only just remembering what he’d come in here for. Then Grace walked over, stopping 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.