“Oh, and you can’t get a date, right?” she teased.
He looked into her eyes again. “Right.” His voice had dropped and his expression was very serious. “I seem to be striking out rather miserably.”
“On the contrary, I think you’re doing rather well.”
“Then you’ll go?”
“Then I’ll go.” The words had come out of their own volition, telling her that whatever she might say to the contrary, even to herself, she wanted to go out with Joshua, wanted to test herself. Or perhaps, just perhaps, enjoy an evening out with an old friend.
That was a long shot, but she clutched at it.
The problem with the loft was that there wasn’t that much privacy. Since Johanna and Jocelyn shared the sleeping area, Jocelyn considered it as much hers as her mother’s and planted herself there now to watch her critically as Johanna got ready.
“What’s on your mind, Jocey?” Hastily, she slipped on earrings that had been a present from her father on her twenty-first birthday.
“Is this a date, Mom?”
It was hard to tell from Jocelyn’s tone of voice if she approved or disapproved, but Johanna played it safe. For both of them. “Don’t be silly. I’m going out to see a play with Joshua. He’s taken the two of us out often enough, hasn’t he?”
“Yeah.” Jocelyn leaned back on the bed, looking at her with suspicious, accusing eyes. “How come I’m not going this time?”
“Because, kid, it’s a school night,” Mary said, coming into the tiny alcove that Johanna had partitioned off. She looked around critically. “Boy, this certainly can’t support a lot of traffic, can it?” She gestured toward the opening in the curtain. “Let’s go, kid, and leave your mother to her make-up.” With one arm around her niece’s shoulder, Mary turned back and pointed to Johanna’s lids. “A little longer on the lashes, Jo. It’s sexier.”
“I don’t want to be sexy. I just want to see,” Johanna called after her departing figure.
But she did, she realized as she looked back into the vanity mirror. She did want to be sexy, if only to prove to herself that she still could be. Was she vain because she wanted to hear a man’s compliment, see a man turn his head to look at her? No, it was only natural to want to feel like a woman once in a while, she thought, fastening the other small diamond teardrop to her ears. Even Mother Teresa must have had those kind of feelings once, she speculated. And she was a far cry from Mother Teresa.
Tonight, just for tonight, she’d pretend that she wasn’t who she was, pretend that she was just a woman out on a date in the company of a very handsome, attentive man.
So why did you tell Jocelyn it wasn’t a date? she asked herself, looking into the mirror. The answer was too confusing, so she let it go. With a sigh, she pushed the partition aside and walked out.
Mary surveyed the figure that Johanna cut in her light blue dress. “You’ll knock him dead.”
“I don’t want to knock him dead.” For the third time, Johanna checked the contents of her clutch purse. Nerves again.
Mary grinned, knowing. “Then can I have him?” She watched her sister’s face for the reaction she knew to be hidden within.
Because she knew what Mary was up to, Johanna maintained a very cool demeanor. “I’ll let him know you put in a bid for ownership.” Johanna put her keys into her purse, then snapped it closed. “Get your homework done, Jocelyn and then you can watch television.”
Jocelyn looked at her sullenly from beneath hooded eyes and nodded.
“She’ll be an angel, won’t you kid?” Mary raised one brow in jest. There was enough truth behind the words for both to know that Mary would brook no less than what she asked for.
Jocelyn grinned in response and curled up on the sofa with a book in her hands.
Johanna wished she could manage Jocelyn the way Mary could. Nothing ever seemed to ruffle Mary. Mary wouldn’t have stood for the things Harry had done and he would have either had to straighten up or that would have been the end of it. None of this hanging on, hoping for better times for her sister. She envied her that trait. Still, she had Jocelyn and that meant the world to her, even though they were going through a period of readjustment just now. She knew it was part of being twelve and a female. Johanna only hoped she’d be able to survive it from the opposite end this time.
The doorbell rang just as Johanna picked up her purse. Nerves jangled again and were banished in an instant. This was Joshua, remember? Just Joshua.
With a quick intake of breath, Johanna opened the door.
Just Joshua, huh? So why did he look so damn handsome in his light gray suit? And where had her eyes been all those years ago?
Tonight, she looked different than the other times, Joshua thought. Her hair, always so beautiful free, was swept up on her head, with tendrils falling at her temples. A goddess done up in a blue ribbon, he thought. But he didn’t want her to be a goddess. Goddesses couldn’t be touched and he wanted to touch her, to caress her and make her his.
Soon, very soon, he promised himself. This time, it would be different.”
“I believe the expression is ‘Wow!’”
The look in his eyes was enough to make her blush.
“If you stand drooling in the doorway, you’re going to miss the curtain,” Mary warned, peering at Joshua from behind Johanna’s shoulder.
“Hi, Mary.” He glanced at her, then looked back at Johanna, wondering how in God’s name he was going to go through the evening without succumbing to instincts that were far older than polite manners. “Hello, Jocelyn,” he said, only because he knew that Jocelyn had to be nearby. He saw no one but Johanna.
“We’ll exchange pleasantries some other time. Now go, you two,” Mary warned. “The theater isn’t around the corner.”
“Mary’s got the bossy streak in our family,” Johanna said. She felt both pleased and unsettled over the same range of anticipations that were thundering through her.
“Nice to know.” Joshua put his arm around Johanna to usher her out. He winked at Mary and Jocelyn over her head as he closed the door behind them.
Without the buffer of her sister and daughter, Johanna felt a wave of apprehension wash over her and told herself she was being silly.
The wave died down, but didn’t ebb away completely.
“So, aren’t you glad you came?” he asked.
She nodded. Yes, she was. The show had been wonderful and she couldn’t remember when she had enjoyed going to the theater so much. Dinner at the small, cozy restaurant Joshua had taken her to was simple, yet delicious and they had talked of old times. How could she have been afraid to come with him? she wondered. What was she afraid of? She laughed at herself.
He waved for a cab and was instantly answered by two that pulled up directly in front of them.
“Your choice,” he said.
She laughed. “The one with the little old driver.”
But as she climbed in, she listened to the address that Joshua gave the driver.
“That’s not home.”
“Who said we’re going home?”
“I just assumed—“ She fumbled. “It’s late.”
He looked down intently at her feet.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking you out for glass slippers.”
She flushed. “I just meant that we both have to go to work tomorrow—“
“I’ll give you a note,” he promised. “I happen to know that your boss is a very understanding guy. And he has a soft spot in his heart for blue-eyed blondes who have the good sense to like his paintings. Besides, I have it on the best authority that he might be just a little late coming in tomorrow himself. He’s out on a date with a bewitching woman even as we speak.”
She settled back with a laugh. “No arguing with you, is there?”
His hand closed over hers. “Glad you’re learning.”
She wondered if he could feel her palm growing damp.
The driver pulled up a few blocks later in fro
nt of a hansom cab. “This’ll do fine,” Joshua told him. He handed the man money, then stepped out of the cab. He extended his hand toward Johanna, waiting.
“Joshua, what are you doing?”
“We,” he corrected. “What are we doing.”
She took his hand, curling her fingers around it and holding on as she slipped from the cab. It was chilly tonight. She pulled her oversized shawl closer around her shoulders. “Okay, what are we going?”
“Going for a drive in a hansom cab.” He hurried her along the avenue, guiding her to a cluster of men in top hats seated in open horse-drawn carriages.
Johanna blinked, walking briskly to keep up with the pace he set. “Why?”
“Because it’s there. Because I think it’s romantic and I’ve always wanted to do it with the right woman.”
He felt the tension enter her body immediately. “She isn’t me.”
He stopped a few feet away from the first carriage. “I’ll be the judge of that.” He saw a flicker of fear in her eyes. “Johanna, are you afraid of me?”
“No,” she said a bit too quickly, looking away.
“Then it’s you.”
She jerked her head up. “What?”
“You’re afraid of you,” he said simply, turning toward the first driver. He nodded his head and the old man straightened, taking a firmer hold of his horse’s reins. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you have your way with me. Unless, of course,” he helped her up into the carriage, “you intend to use brute force.”
The driver gave him a funny look before he turned around and flicked his whip far above the horse’s head. Johanna clutched to the seat. The leather felt old, cracked.
“You can relax any time now. I don’t think anyone will mug us,” Joshua assured her.
“I wasn’t thinking about muggers.”
“What were you thinking about?”
She licked her lower lip, searching for an answer.
“Don’t do that,” he told her.
“Why?”
“Because,” he said, his face a scant inch away from hers, “it makes me want to do this.” Cupping her chin in his hand, he lowered his mouth to hers.
Johanna stiffened, then something within her let go, even while she argued with herself to hang on. And then suddenly she was, hanging on for dear life as she wove her fingers into his hair and parted her lips in unconscious invitation.
Joshua took it slow, very, very slow. He knew that his footing could slip at any moment and then he would have to retrace his steps again. He didn’t know if his control could last out a second journey to this small triumph.
Chapter Thirty-four
Johanna’s entire body felt tense, rigid, excited. She had to think about breathing. Her hands were trembling. Instead of being in her lap, they were holding onto the lapels of his jacket as if they had a life of their own. With concentrated effort, she forced her fingers to relax, letting go of Joshua’s jacket. Her heart was hammering in her ears. He toyed with a tendril at her temple and it made her feel warm. And frightened, very, very frightened.
“Joshua, please.”
“Please yes or please no?” He saw the fear again and humor left his eyes. Harry shimmered beside him like a specter he couldn’t best. “Johanna, for God’s sake, let go.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. I made a mistake once and I’m scared to death…”
“That it’ll happen again?”
She nodded.
“I’m not Harry, Johanna.”
“I know that.” She looked away.
“Do you?” He took her chin and turned her head toward him so that she had to look into his eyes. “Do you really?”
She took a deep breath. There was no hiding things from him. He knew her too well. “Fear isn’t logical, Joshua. It just is.”
“But it’s illogical to let it ruin any chance for happiness. Our chance for happiness. You kissed me back, Johanna.” There had been feeling in her kiss. It wasn’t perfunctory.
A small smile played on her lips. “Reflexes. A stone would have kissed you back.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment—and a start.” He glided his fingers along her cheek. “I could kill him.”
He meant it. The words were said quietly, but there was no mistaking the intent, the heat, the rage. Johanna stared at him, stunned. She had never known him to express anger before. “What?”
“He took the light out of your eyes, Johanna. He doesn’t deserve to live.”
She shrugged. “Maybe it was both our fault.”
Damn the man, damn him for making her feel some sort of misguided loyalty to him. She might tell herself that she and Harry were equally to blame for what had happened, but Joshua knew better.
“You don’t believe that.” He said it more for himself than for her.
“No, I don’t. I was just trying to be—“
“Noble?” he suggested.
“Stupid,” she answered honestly. She stared out into the inky night. The park looked solemn at night, solemn and quiet. All she heard was the sound of the horse’s hooves as they made contact with the ground.
“Yes, that’s a good word for it,” Joshua agreed after a beat.
She turned, surprised. “What?”
Though he wanted to slip his arm around her, go on holding her and just absorbing the night sounds, he faced her. “Johanna, I’m not an idiot. I know that what I read about Harry in the papers isn’t gospel, but seeing you tells me that there was a lot of truth in the articles. He hurt you. A lot. It’s going to take time for you to heal. I understand that. Now you understand that I care.”
She looked out again, wishing she were someone else, wishing she wasn’t afraid. But there was no changing what she was. “You’re rushing me.”
“Fifteen years is not rushing.”
“Fifteen years?” That didn’t make any sense. That was when she had first met Harry. “I don’t understand.”
“That was just the trouble. You didn’t.” He took her hand, not to force her to commit, but just because he needed to touch her, to maintain contact as he spoke. “I was head over heels in love with you from the time you knocked over my easel that first day in art.”
“I dropped paint all over your shoes,” she remembered, a grin rising to her lips. “They were absolutely ruined.”
“That’s not the only thing you ruined. You ruined me for any other woman.”
My God, he was serious. And she hadn’t known. All this time, and she hadn’t known. She thought about the paintings Jocelyn said he had in his bedroom. Paintings of her. It all made sense now.
“But I didn’t do anything, Joshua.”
“Oh, now there you’re wrong. Your size six shoes waltzed into my heart with that first flash of your quirky little smile.” He touched the corner of her mouth that always lifted higher than the other side when she smiled. “Besides, you liked my painting.”
“Guilt,” she quipped, at a loss for an answer to what he was telling her.
“I prefer to think it was taste.”
Another time, another place, it would have worked. But she was tired, used, disillusioned. “Joshua, I can’t give you what you want.”
“Tell me you don’t feel anything for me.”
She looked down at her hands. He was making this hard. “I don’t feel anything for you.”
“Look at me when you say it.”
She raised her head. “I—“ She faltered. “Joshua, please, you don’t understand.”
“I do.” He wove his arms around her. “More than you’ll ever know.”
He kissed her again and all the neat little arguments faded into the recesses of her mind. She didn’t think why it couldn’t work, she didn’t think that it might. She just didn’t think at all and let herself feel just for this moment in time.
The wave was powerful, pushing her over the edge. He pulled all the air out of her lungs until she heard herself gasping. It felt as if she was savoring the substance of life itself i
n his kiss.
But she knew she wasn’t. It just didn’t work that way. She had been painfully taught that.
There was an attraction between them, she couldn’t deny it. But this was different from the way it had been with Tommy. With Tommy she had known that there was a limit, an end in sight, and so she didn’t have to be afraid of it. It was understood. Here, Joshua wouldn’t be satisfied with just a casual affair, even if she could be. She was afraid that he’d ask her for more than she could give. She didn’t want to lose the friend by turning away the lover, but she was going to have to.
She pulled back, though her fingers still clutched at his shirt, for warmth, for steadiness. “I need time.”
She was shaken. Even in the dim light, he could see the look of smoky desire in her eyes. He’d wait this out. “Okay, nobody ever said I wasn’t fair.”
She touched his face. “Joshua.”
He turned her hand over until her palm was up and his kissed it. “Let’s go home before I remember that promises made in hansom cabs are non-binding on Thursday nights.”
She rested her head against his shoulder, wishing she was free to feel. If she were, she would snatch up Joshua and run for the hills.
But she wasn’t free. Fear of failure, of repetition held her prisoner. Once she had loved Harry utterly and completely, with no restrictions. That love had wilted and died within her hand as she watched, despite everything she did to keep it alive.
She couldn’t bear to have that happen twice. And so she locked her heart away.
Or told herself she did.
“Want to invite me in for a nightcap?” he asked. When she didn’t respond immediately, he went on. “Hot chocolate? Cold chocolate? A glass of water?”
She laughed. She couldn’t help herself. “You’re easily pleased, aren’t you?”
“What have I been trying to tell you?” He put his arms around her, drawing her against his body. “I’m only fussy in my choice of paintings and women.”
She meant to put her hands between them and somehow managed to put them around his neck instead. For the friend, she told herself, only the friend who was so dear to her.
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