by Leslie Kelly
Yes. She had. But not for the reasons he thought. Not because of Nick, or a necklace or any engagement that didn’t exist and never would have existed.
“I suddenly realized you’d been planning on losing your virginity to your fiancé on prom night,” Johnny added. “And I was a convenient substitute.”
Oh, God, of course he would have thought that. Because he’d never known…she’d never told him the truth about which brother she’d really wanted. “Johnny, to start with, I never intended to marry Nick. Never. You know how I was back then…you certainly knew me better than he did. I couldn’t wait to turn eighteen and get out on my own.”
He remained silent.
“I don’t know if you can understand what I’m about to say, since you’re not a girl.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“I mean, this might not make sense to you, because you’re not used to having mood swings that make you cry at a Hallmark commercial on TV one minute, when what you’re really sad about is the fight you had with your best friend three years ago.”
He rolled his eyes. “Okay, that logic totally escapes me.”
“Of course it does. You’re a man. But go along with me.”
Sighing, he replied, “I’m trying.”
She grabbed his hand and stepped closer, until their bodies were separated by an inch of summer air and a decade of memory. Taking a deep breath, she continued. “Think about it. I was a teenager who’d just lost her virginity to a fantasy guy every girl I knew had been whispering about since the day I hit town.”
His eyes widened. She lifted her fingers to his mouth to keep him quiet, knowing if he interrupted, she’d lose her courage. “I’d gone from being a good girl having a nice, simple girlfriend-boyfriend relationship with a guy who never did more than kiss me, to a woman—a real woman—who’d had the most perfect lover anyone could dream about.”
He remained silent, just watching, his face revealing nothing of his thoughts.
“I cried. Yes. Because I’d gone from girl to woman. From childhood to adulthood. It was all wrapped up together for me, the break between the past and the future as vivid as the snap of the chain on the locket. And suddenly, it was just…emotional…like the tears during a Hallmark commercial.”
His eyes widened a tiny bit, then his jaw tightened. She wished Johnny was an easier man to read, because right now she had absolutely no idea what he was thinking. Rushing on, she said, “I wasn’t crying out of regret. I didn’t…don’t…regret what happened between us on prom night. It was perfect.” Then, to make absolutely sure he got the point, she added, “You were not a substitute for anyone, Johnny Walker. I can guarantee you, if Nick and I had ended up here that night, I would still have been a virgin the next morning.”
Staring searchingly into her eyes, he remained silent, as if looking for more, knowing there was something yet unsaid.
There was more. There was a lot more she could have said. She could have told him she’d been crazy for him since the day she’d given him a ride. That she’d fantasized for weeks about that teasing kiss he’d given her. That she’d dreamed of him for ages and had felt guilty for wanting him during every minute she’d spent with his brother.
But those words would push her too close, far too close, to an admission she wasn’t ready to make. One he wasn’t ready to hear.
If she admitted she loved him, Johnny would have to respond. She suspected he had feelings for her, but also knew it wouldn’t be easy for a man like him to admit them. The few times they’d talked about his childhood, and his feelings about love, it’d been pretty clear he still had scars—deep ones. It wouldn’t be easy for him to admit he’d fallen in love.
Not even to himself.
Which explained why he’d resisted the women of Joyful, who’d tried so hard to get his attention. She knew it. Johnny was too nice a man to let any woman fall in love with him, when he didn’t think he’d ever be able to love her in return. Including Emma.
Finally, as if realizing she wasn’t going to say anything else, he let out a long, slow breath. When she tried to pull her hand away from his face—still not knowing what he was thinking—he wouldn’t let her. Instead, he kissed her palm, curling his rough cheek against it. “I didn’t know, Em.”
“No, you couldn’t have.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought I had,” she whispered, hearing her voice break a bit. “Every time I kissed you and touched you that night, I was telling you you were the one I wanted.”
“And I didn’t get the message.”
“Obviously not.” She stepped back, out of his arms, her eyes never breaking their stare. “See if you can get this one.”
Without another word, she reached for the bottom of her shirt and pulled it up and off.
His eyes narrowed even as a slight smile played about his lips. “Hmm…”
She didn’t pause. Her bra came next, joining her shirt on the dusty floor of the gazebo. Johnny’s jaw visibly tightened, his eyes narrowing as he stared at her bare breasts.
“You getting the picture?” she asked with a saucy smile.
“Some picture.”
“I mean, are you following me?”
“Anywhere you want to lead.”
“Johnny!”
“Pardon me, ma’am,” he said in his wicked Walker drawl, never taking his eyes off her nipples, getting hard and ripe in anticipation of his touch, “I’m just a slow Southern boy. I might need a little more to go on.”
“Uh-huh.” She reached for the elastic waist of her skirt. “Maybe this’ll help.” Then she easily pushed the filmy thing down over her hips and off her body.
His eyes dropped. Straight down. Widening when he saw what she’d been wearing underneath. “Why, ma’am, I do believe that’d have to qualify as a leopard-spotted pair of drawers you got on.”
“Not for long,” she retorted.
With one quick move, the panties dropped, too. She kicked them—and her strapless sandals—off, standing completely naked, highlighted by the sun, shadowed by the vines, enveloped in the security of Johnny’s never-ending desire for her.
Fisting one hand, she put it on her hip and lifted her chin, nearly purring, “Am I making myself clear enough, Mr. Prosecuting Attorney?”
“Right clear, ma’am.” His words sounded thick as if he’d had to force them out of a very tight throat.
Umm, how she savored that hungry tone. That needy look. That anticipatory smile.
“So there’s no misunderstanding?” Taunting him, loving the way his eyes glazed over with hunger and his breaths came in audible gasps, Emma lifted one hand and cupped her own breast, stroking her nipple with her fingertips. “You are aware there is no one in this gazebo but you and me?”
“Be damned embarrassing for you if there was.”
She ignored him and continued her seduction. “There’s nobody else I want touching me.”
“You’re doing pretty good on your own,” he replied, sounding like he hoped she’d continue.
Smiling wickedly, she did exactly that. She smoothed her hand down her body, over her stomach, her pelvis, lower, knowing he was dying to touch her the way she touched herself.
Johnny’s eyes remained glued to her and finally the teasing look faded away, replaced by one of raw hunger. His control was about to break. Just before it did, Emma said, “I want you, Johnny. I choose you. Right here, right now, exactly like I did that night.”
Those were the last words she could manage, because before she could think of another one, he was on her. With one hand thrust in her hair to tug her mouth to his, the other curling against her backside, he dragged her to him, kissing every thought out of her head. His kiss was wet and hungry and carnal, his tongue tasting so sweet, so hot, she whimpered and pressed harder against him. She gasped with pleasure when she felt the hard ridge of his erection.
Not letting their mouths break apart, he began to jerkily open the buttons of his shirt. Impa
tient, she reached for his belt, wanting to hurry things along. Then, finally, he was as gloriously naked as she, slick skin sliding together as they exchanged kiss after hungry kiss. The sweet fragrant perfume of the jasmine was soon mingling with the heady, musky odor of delicious sexual need.
“Come here,” he growled against her mouth, backing up to the built-in wooden bench and tugging her with him.
She didn’t hesitate as he pulled her down to straddle him on the bench, until she was taking him—all of him—inside herself in one slow, deep, wet thrust.
Closing her eyes, Emma tilted her head back and savored his deep penetration. Not moving, barely breathing, she focused only on the delicious sensation of Johnny buried to the hilt inside her body. So good, so hot, so full she nearly lost her mind.
He thrust up, slowly, deliberately, grinding into her until she whimpered. Then tilting away.
“You getting the point now, Emma Jean?” he asked as he held her hips and delivered another slow, maddening stroke that removed all thought and all reason, replacing them with pure physical pleasure.
She nodded, managing to whisper, “I’m definitely getting it.” Then she sighed. “And I want to keep getting it.”
“Good,” he growled against her throat as he picked up the pace, rocking into her hard enough to take her breath away.
“Because I intend to keep giving it to you.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THOUGH CLAIRE had gone home yesterday, feeling confident that she and her husband were on the right path to working things out in their marriage, she still had a key to Emma’s house.
So she used it.
She’d heard about Jimbo Boyd’s murder early this morning from a neighbor, but it wasn’t until Tim had come home from work at around eleven that she heard the rest of the rumors.
Emma Jean was a suspect. She’d been taken into custody, but her lover, Johnny Walker, had spirited her out of the jail.
Well, she doubted the spirited part, considering Sheriff Brady had been present at the time, but she could easily imagine Johnny getting Emma the heck out of there.
“You’re sure she won’t mind us just coming on in?” Tim asked as they sat in Emma’s living room.
“No, she won’t.” Then she squeezed her husband’s hand. “Thanks for coming with me. You didn’t have to.”
He squeezed back. “I was a jerk and listened to stories about her once. I’m not stupid enough to do it again.” He shook his head in disgust. “I don’t know her well, but I can sure see she’s no killer.”
Tim had definitely changed his tune about Emma, not only because he’d felt badly about the porn star rumors, but also because of Eve. Claire had overheard their daughter telling Tim that Auntie Emma had told her she was the luckiest girl in the world to have a mommy and daddy who loved each other—and her—so very much.
Emma had earned Tim’s lifelong loyalty when she hadn’t even been in the same building.
“Eve sure is starting to like day care,” Tim said as he dropped his arm across Claire’s shoulders and pulled her closer on the couch. “She wanted to go there instead of to your mom’s this morning.”
“Courtney Foster,” Claire replied absently. “Eve found out she has a My Size Barbie and she’s dying to get invited over to play with it.”
Tim snickered. “She’s a little hellion, our kid.”
“Uh-huh. You have a problem with that?”
He shook his head. “Nope. I happen to like hellions.”
“Glad you finally remembered.”
“I never forgot,” he countered. Then he pulled her closer for a sweet, gentle kiss. “You the kind of bad girl who lets guys take advantage on the sofa in somebody else’s house?”
Giggling, Claire nodded, then drew her husband close for another kiss. The past couple of days had been magical—they’d reminded her why she’d fallen so madly in love with the man to begin with. Once they’d gotten past their misunderstandings about their marriage—and their sex life—they’d both been doing whatever it took to make things right. Out of the bedroom…and in it.
Ohhh, yeah, in it.
Before they could do much more than exchange a few deep kisses, she heard a car pull up outside. They sprang apart, like two guilty teenagers. Meeting her husband’s eye, Claire giggled. Then she suddenly felt bad for being happy when so many people here in Joyful were feeling anything but. Like Emma.
Hearing footsteps outside, Claire rose, fully expecting Emma to walk through the front door. Instead, the doorbell rang. When she answered it, she got another surprise. “Nick? I didn’t know you were still in town.”
A scowling Nick Walker strode into the house without waiting for an invitation. Not that Claire had any right to issue one, since this wasn’t her house.
“I’d left early this morning. Got halfway home when Mama called me and told me what happened. I drove back right away. Where’s Emma and Johnny?”
“I dunno. We’re waiting for them,” Claire replied.
After introducing her husband to Nick, Claire returned to her seat. Nick took the chair near the front door, and got right down to business. “Tell me as much as you know about the murder.”
Claire raised her hands in resignation. “I don’t know much of the facts. Mayor Boyd was found dead in his office this morning by Cora Dillon. Murdered, though I haven’t heard how. And Emma showed up a few minutes later.”
“What about Daneen?”
Claire shrugged. “Haven’t heard a word about her.”
“She wasn’t at work this morning?”
“No idea. Have you tried to reach her?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I went to her place first, but she wasn’t around.” He muttered something under his breath. She wasn’t quite sure she’d caught it, but it sounded like he was almost worried about Daneen being devastated.
Well, she imagined any woman would be upset at losing her employer so violently. But at least she hadn’t been the one to accidentally rip the man’s hair right off his head.
Or so said the rumor mill. Not that she was listening.
“You gonna wait here?” Nick asked, rising to his feet as if he couldn’t stand the inactivity.
Tim nodded. “Yes. And I’m staying with her.”
“Good. When Emma and Johnny get here, have my brother call me on my cell phone.” He pulled out his wallet and opened it to retrieve a business card, which he dropped onto the table.
While his wallet was open, Claire caught a quick glimpse of a badge inside. So, the stories about the younger bad-ass Walker boy were true. Nick, the guy who’d once gotten into a brawl with half the football team from Bradenton High—and won—was a cop. Would wonders never cease.
Nick strode toward the door, tall, lean, full of simmering anger and energy. Where his brother had a cocky grin and sexy charm that could make a woman’s clothes fall right off her body, Nick put off enough pure dangerous heat to make them melt off.
Made Claire scoot closer to Tim on the couch. She preferred her men romantic and tender, able to make love to her for hours until she wanted to cry at the beauty of it.
Leave the bad boys and the wicked ones to women like Emma, who seemed to like them.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
Nick glanced over his shoulder as he opened the door. His eyes dark and intense, he admitted, “To find Cora Dillon.” Then, his jaw growing stiff, he bit out, “And my ex-wife.”
THOUGH HE WOULD have loved nothing more than to spend the entire day making love to Emma in the shadows of the gazebo, Johnny knew he couldn’t. Not only because it would be downright uncomfortable after a while, but because there was work to be done.
Still, it was tempting. Particularly after their talk.
Emma had wanted him all along. He hadn’t been alone in what he’d been feeling on prom night, nor had he stolen something his brother ever would have had.
After ten years of wondering, he could finally relax, secure in the knowledge that he hadn’t i
magined a thing about what they’d shared that night.
Which made him wonder if he also hadn’t imagined how he’d felt about it. His emotions had been in a tangle over Emma Jean Frasier for as long as he’d known her. That had made it easy to convince himself he’d felt nothing but the hots for her. Even when, deep down, he’d known better.
He hadn’t believed himself capable of it, but even way back then, when he’d just been a dumbass kid, he’d been in love with her.
And still was now.
This wasn’t, however, the time to talk about that. They’d rounded a bend in their relationship, certainly, but there were still a lot of forks in the road. Not the least of which was the possibility of Emma facing murder charges.
Driving her home, he updated her on his plans. “I have to call the state police in on this one, because it’s too big for Brady. Plus, of course, there’s his personal bias.”
“Oh?”
Johnny’s jaw stiffened as he bit out a few of the less sordid details Nick had shared with him the other day.
“Oh, God, you mean Daneen had an affair with Jimbo?”
He nodded, not even broaching the possibility of Jimbo having been Jack’s real father. He hoped, for the boy’s sake, that it wasn’t so.
“Does the sheriff know?”
“I don’t think so.” But if he did, Johnny damn sure wanted to find out about it. Soon.
“So, what about your personal bias,” she murmured, sounding worried.
He’d expected the question. “If the sheriff convinces the state guys to look at you as a serious suspect, I’m going to have to step aside, allowing the state to provide a special prosecutor.”
“Will it come to that?”
“Hell, no,” he replied, taking her hand in his as he pulled onto her street. “Something like this…well, Joyful hasn’t seen a murder in a good long time. I have to think it was a crime of passion, which usually means a quick confession or a sloppy killer. Once the state guys get here, they can do a professional investigation and will probably have a real suspect in custody right away.”