by Lita Lawson
For an hour, they diligently brushed on paint. Then when an old Ricky Martin song came on the radio, both she and Sammy hummed and sang along.
Sammy began dancing, and Christine felt the urge to do the same. After climbing down the ladder, she joined him. They were both in the middle of singing “shake your bon-bon” and doing just that when a male voice from the side yard startled her.
• • •
“Hello.”
JT was glad the sunglasses covered his eyes so Christine wouldn’t see the effect her shaking hips had on him. She was purely enticing in her cutoffs and bare feet. Her hair was down and tousled, just the way he liked it. In less than twenty-four hours, his vow to remain detached from the woman was already in jeopardy.
“JT!”
Sammy’s excited voice cut JT’s thoughts short.
“Hi, Sammy.” JT looked at Christine. “Did you know your front door is open? You shouldn’t leave it unlocked like that. Anyone could come in.”
“It’s a perfectly safe neighborhood. Besides, the screen door’s locked.”
“You should be more cautious, Christine. After all, you’re running for mayor now.” He lowered his voice so only she could hear. “That screen door can be gotten into in a second.”
“What are you doing here?” Sammy called out, vying for JT’s attention.
“I came by to settle something with your mom.”
“Cool. Does that mean you’ll take me for another ride?”
“That depends on your mom.”
JT looked over at Christine. Her cheeks were pink. He wasn’t sure if it was from the heat of the day or embarrassment at his catching her dancing. Good thing her son was there, otherwise JT would have thrown all common sense to the wind and started shaking his “bon-bon” right behind hers. And who knows where that would have led.
Christine glanced away, not meeting JT’s eyes. “Um, well, we really have a lot of work to do here.”
“Mom!”
“Sammy,” the tone in her voice cautioned, “this is the only day we have to get this done.”
“Maybe JT can help us and then we’ll have time for a ride!” Sammy rushed the words out in one fast whoosh.
“Sammy, you know it’s impolite to ask someone else to do your work. Besides, I’m sure JT has better things to do.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sammy mumbled, hanging his head.
“I can help.”
When JT offered, he saw the shock in her eyes. Did she not want him around? She was probably still annoyed with him because he’d chastised her about the screen door.
“Really, thanks for the offer to help, but since someone pulled that offer out of you—” she glanced at Sammy for effect, “you don’t have to stay.”
“No, I don’t mind at all. I’ve done my fair share of painting. I’m practically a professional.” JT rolled up his shirtsleeves, ready to help.
“Sammy, why don’t you get JT some lemonade since you invited him to work in this heat.”
“Actually, I have an idea.” JT looked at Christine. “How about I take Sammy for a quick ride now before we get all hot and sweaty?”
• • •
Christine gave her okay, then took in a deep breath at the mention of hot and sweaty. It conjured up images of JT that were better left alone.
After JT and Sammy left, she went inside and took in her reflection in the hallway mirror. Smudges and spatters of white paint dotted her face and arms. Her cutoffs were loose around the waist and hung a little low, exposing her belly button and stomach. The T-shirt didn’t help matters.
Too late for damage control. The man had seen her at her worst, not to mention shaking her bon-bon. Christine groaned at how that must have looked.
And the thought of him helping them and spending the hot afternoon in such close proximity was unsettling. She could only pray the weatherman had been wrong and the temperature wouldn’t soar above eighty. If it did, she was sure JT’s shirt would come off, and she would come unglued.
Going back to work, she resumed the repetitive painting, trying to find some inner resolve to keep from not acting like a complete dolt in front of JT when he returned. His overwhelming charisma and physical presence were enough to unnerve even the most sophisticated woman.
Sammy came running back to the porch from their ride, holding a can of paint.
“What’s that?” Christine asked.
“It’s for an idea I have,” JT said. “If you like it, I’ll do it.”
She looked up at him, her curiosity piqued. “What is it?”
“Instead of just any ordinary screened-in porch, how about one with a sky and clouds?”
Christine was impressed that JT would want to do something like that for her. “That would be great,” she said with a smile. “I bet it’ll be the talk of the home tour.”
“What home tour?” JT asked.
“My house is part of the Fall Festival weekend tour of homes to raise money for charity.”
“You mean strangers will wander through your home?” His tone was incredulous.
“Sure. It’s for a good cause.”
“Is there someone here when they come through?”
“A couple of volunteers are posted at each house. Plus, the rooms are roped off, so they can’t get too far into the rooms,” Christine said. “It’s really quite an honor to be selected. You get a plaque and everything. This house has been in my family for several generations. It was built in the eighteen hundreds.” She couldn’t keep the pride from her voice.
JT grunted. “I guess it’s an honor. Me, I’d be worried about people poking around my stuff.”
“You just need to be more trusting.” She glanced up. “Now, about the ceiling. How much did the paint cost so I can pay you for it?”
He waved his hand. “Absolutely nothing. It’s on me.”
“Hmm.” Christine paused for a minute to consider. “I have to pay for it or I’ll probably get in trouble with the election commission,” she said, grinning.
“Whatever.” JT scowled at her. “Now, get down from that ladder and let me do my stuff.”
He steadied the ladder as she backed down it. When her thigh grazed against his hand, the contact sent a shimmer of what felt like electricity up her leg.
Once he was on the ladder, she tried to concentrate on her brushstrokes instead of JT. Valiantly she kept herself from stealing glances at him as he stretched, arched, and leaned on the ladder while painting the blue sky on the ceiling. But that proved more difficult than painting.
She wasn’t sure if the temperature of the day was rising, or her own desire for JT. At least Sammy’s radio kept the silence from being awkward. She couldn’t help but notice that Sammy was busy trying to paint as deftly and quickly as JT.
Sighing, Christine could see how enamored her son was with him, and wondered whether she should let him hang around so much. After all, JT had the reputation of being footloose and not one to set down roots. Had that changed over the years? And if she allowed the friendship to develop and JT left, where would that leave Sammy?
Likewise, where would that leave her? It was equally unwise for her to keep running into JT. Having a man like him around was just asking for trouble.
A plop interrupted her thoughts. She glanced down and saw JT’s damp shirt in a pile on the floor, which meant he was shirtless. Did she dare look up?
His brawny physique was leaning into the ladder, and his well-defined biceps bulged with each passing stroke of the brush. His chest, oh his chest, was impressive, and his abdomen was like a washboard with row upon row of well-defined muscles. A tuft of dark hair adorned the top of his chest, while a thread of it trailed down to the top button of his jeans. Christine could only imagine how far below his belt line it traveled.
JT caught her gaze and asked, “You hot too?”
She wasn’t sure if his meaning had another point to it, but she agreed. “I was just thinking about getting some more lemonade. Would you like a glass?�
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“Yeah. That would be great.”
Christine watched as he went back to his painting, his muscles rippling with the movement of each stroke. She went to the kitchen and while she poured the lemonade, rubbed an ice cube around her neck to cool herself down.
Later that evening as the sun was setting, Christine sat cross-legged on the floor of the porch and looked up at JT’s art. The impressive large cotton-ball type clouds seemed to drift across the pale blue ceiling. She smiled when she thought of how JT had held Sammy up to let him paint a rainbow in the corner, giving her son a sense of being part of the magic.
JT sat down next to her and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s wonderful. It’ll probably be the talk of the tour and upstage all the other homes.” The fabric of his jeans brushed against her thigh as JT crossed his legs. A shiver of pleasure shimmied along her leg. “I can’t thank you enough for your help.”
“It was my pleasure. Actually, it was kind of fun.”
She watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down while he drank. He was still shirtless. She thought about what it would be like to touch his darkly tanned skin.
“Mom, I’m hungry,” Sammy called out from the kitchen, interrupting her thoughts.
JT turned his warm brown gaze on her. “Me too.”
“Well, I guess I better do something about that,” she said with no enthusiasm whatsoever. Her muscles ached and she didn’t want to move. Raising her voice so Sammy could hear, she said, “How’s pizza sound?”
“My favorite!” Sammy whooped from the kitchen.
JT grinned. “Mine too.”
“That settles it. What do you like on yours?” Christine asked JT.
“Anything and everything. I’ll have whatever you guys have.”
“How about pepperoni and mushrooms? That’s usually what we get.” Christine went to stand up but was a little slow getting her body to respond.
“Here, let me help you.” JT stood easily and held out his large hand.
Christine hesitantly accepted the gesture of assistance. His touch sent shivers down her spine. His large hand warmed her palm, and she wondered since when she thought of a hand being sexy. Never before JT, that was for certain.
“I’ll go order it. Sammy, better wash up.”
“No kidding. Look at all the paint!” Sammy stepped out onto the porch and held up his hands, revealing white, blue, and yellow splashes on them.
“Go show JT where our special hand cleaner is. The orange-scented one your dad used to use,” Christine said, stumbling awkwardly over the words.
“This way, JT.”
Sammy hadn’t seemed to mind the mention of his father. She supposed this was because he was distracted by JT’s presence.
After ordering the pizza, Christine got the plates and napkins ready. She listened with half an ear to JT and Sammy out on the screened-in porch.
“Hey, Mom, come out here,” Sammy called.
Stepping out to the porch, she stopped dead in her tracks. All the furniture and plants had been moved back in and the citronella candles were lit. They weren’t necessarily romantic in their scent, but did set a mood that made Christine swallow hard.
“You guys did all this so quickly.” Her voice came out more as a squeak.
“Yep.” Sammy’s grin was wide as he leaned against JT, who didn’t seem to mind. He was grinning too.
“This is nice!” Christine turned as she heard a knock on the door. “That must be the pizza.”
She stifled her surprise when she opened the door to find Sadie standing there instead. “Hi, Sadie.” Christine mustered pleasure in her tone.
“Sorry to bother you, but I thought you might enjoy these cookies I just made. I saw you and your boyfriend working on the porch.”
“H-he’s not my boyfriend,” Christine stammered, trying to deflect the rumors before they began, but Sadie ignored her and shoved a plate of cookies into her hands.
“Here you go, hon. Such a nice night.” Sadie looked up into the evening sky. “Sure is romantic with all the candles burning.”
“Sammy did that.”
“Well, have a nice night.” With a wave of her hand, her neighbor was gone.
Christine let out a sigh of resignation and took the cookies to the kitchen. Then she heard another knock, which thankfully was the pizza deliveryman.
Before she got the pizza to the back porch, the phone rang. With her hip, she pushed the pizza boxes onto the kitchen counter and grabbed the phone.
“Hello.” Christine waited, but heard no response.
A few seconds later, a deep voice said, “You should be careful who your friends are.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Be careful who you hang around with.”
“Who is this?” she demanded before a click and the dial tone buzzed in her ear.
Shaking her head in confusion, she figured it must be a wrong number. She grabbed the pizza and turned to go, but JT was standing there, blocking her way.
“Everything okay?” His concerned gaze assessed hers.
“No. Yes. I mean yes. Everything’s fine.” She plastered a smile on her face and handed him the boxes. “I’ll bring the paper plates.”
As she worked on her first slice of pizza, Christine thought about the phone call. Even though she’d had a few others in the last couple of months, she’d believed they were wrong numbers.
But she was glad JT was here. He made her feel safe.
Chapter 5
Night had fallen, and the air had cooled. The three of them ate in companionable silence with the radio playing. Sammy sat cross-legged on the floor, while JT and Christine sat in the chairs.
“JT, do you have any kids?” Sammy asked as he tried to get a long stringy piece of cheese hanging from the slice of pizza into his mouth.
“Sammy, that’s a pretty personal question,” Christine said in an admonishing tone.
“That’s okay. It’s no big deal.” JT’s eyes were on her as he said, “I don’t have any.”
“Why not?”
“Sammy, you can’t play twenty questions with JT. You don’t know him well enough.”
“That’s how I’ll get to know him, right?”
“Yep.” JT set down his plate of pizza and took a drink of his soda. “I never met the woman I wanted to settle down with, so I never had an opportunity.”
“But you want kids, right?”
JT ruffled Sammy’s hair. “If I knew they would turn out like you, I’d definitely plan on having them.”
Christine jerked her head up at the affection JT showed her son. The man was full of surprises. She knew she should stop Sammy’s prying; but on the other hand, she was curious herself.
Sammy grinned up at JT. “Do you, like, work on motorcycles for a living?”
“No, but I do work on my own bike. I could do it for a living if I wanted to.” JT took another bite of his pizza. “But instead I do a little of this, a little of that. Right now I’m working on your mom’s campaign.”
“What did you do before that?”
“Sammy, I think that’s enough for now,” Christine said.
“But, Mom—” Sammy scrunched his face up.
“I think it’s only fair that JT ask you some questions.”
Sammy’s face brightened at that suggestion. “Okay, go ahead.” He crossed his arms and looked up at JT, who grinned at the change of pace.
After pretending to think for a moment, JT asked, “What’s your favorite game?”
“Marbles.”
“What’s your favorite sport?”
“Um, football. I’m in a pee wee football league.”
“You are? A friend of mine has a kid about your age who’s in a league too. I think it’s the Red Rockets.”
“That’s the one I’m in.” Sammy’s eyes lit with excitement. “What’s his name?”
“Nate Henderson.”
“I k
now him! I know him!” Sammy stood up and started jumping up and down. “He’s the quarterback. He’s got the best position in the team.”
“I know his mother,” Christine said, chiming in.
“What position do you play?” JT sipped his soda.
“A running back. I wanted to be a tackler, but I’m too small.”
“Well, a running back is a good position.”
“Did you play football when you were young?”
The smile on JT’s face dimmed a little. “No, I wasn’t in any sports.”
“Why not?”
Sensing this might be a subject JT was reluctant to talk about, Christine said, “It’s your bedtime, Sammy, and I think we’ve imposed for too long on JT today as it is. What with painting and moving furniture, I think we should let him go home now.”
“Ah, Mom.”
Christine raised an eyebrow at her son, and that was enough for him to quiet down.
“Okay.” He looked at JT. “I had fun today paintin’ with you.”
“Me too.”
Christine couldn’t help but notice how Sammy responded to JT so easily. It just emphasized the need for a strong male in his life. If only Tad spent more time with him, she wouldn’t worry about him so much.
“Sammy, tell JT good-night, and go up and take your bath and get ready for bed.”
“’Night, JT.” Sammy waved at him as he made his way inside the house.
Christine picked up her plate and started to get Sammy’s when JT’s hand closed over hers. The contact sent an instant sizzle down her arm.
“Let me help you clean up.” His voice was husky and resonated a sexuality that Christine didn’t want to think about.
“Sure.” She took her plate into the kitchen as JT followed right behind her. Tossing the trash away, she turned around and nearly ran into his broad chest.
He smiled down at her and leaned forward, both his hands emptying their contents into the trash can behind her. For a moment, Christine thought he was going to hug her or kiss her. Her eyes widened at the thought. She felt very safe and comfortable around him, but was skittish about getting involved with men again.
Kissing. Dates. Risking emotional vulnerability. Once burned, twice shy.
JT wasn’t the boy next door. He was more like a poster boy for “Do you know where your daughter is tonight?” A reason why mothers talked to their daughters about birth control, about saving yourself for the right man.