“Your wedding, dummkopf.”
Gabe grinned. “Oh, that.”
“Yeah, that. It’s a big step.” An enormous step, one that J.J. thought might happen for him some distant time in the future, but certainly not soon.
“Nah. I’m looking forward to getting it over with, actually.”
J.J. looked over to him with interest. “Why’s that?”
“I don’t know, I guess I want real life to start. Right now it keeps feeling like we’re in a holding pattern. I’m ready to go.”
Always before, they’d kept pace in their lives professionally and personally. Maybe J.J. had been a slight trailblazer when it came to girls: the first to knock teeth in a clumsy kiss, the first to dive into the dating dance, to discover the mystery of just what was underneath those sweaters and skirts. They’d been cohorts exploring the country of woman side by side.
Suddenly, it felt as though Gabe had found a map through some new territory that J.J. didn’t know.
“You know, it’s funny, I remember some guy who looked just like you telling me all the reasons he needed to keep away from Hadley,” J.J. observed. “What changed?”
“I don’t know that anything did outside,” Gabe said slowly. “I just took a look one day and all the reasons why not didn’t mean a hell of a lot stacked up to how I thought it would be with her.”
“So you just said what the hell.”
Gabe shrugged. “Aren’t you the guy who always says rules are there for breaking?”
“You’ve got a point.”
“Anyway, why are you giving me a hard time over this? I figured you’d approve on her babedom alone.”
“Just doing my job as best man.” J.J.’s voice was serene.
“Grilling me?”
“Sure, grilling you. It’s on the list, right below hitting on the maid of honor.”
Gabe coughed. “Yeah, well, you know the maid of honor is now Lainie?”
J.J. gave him a sharp look, then his face relaxed into a smile. “Really? Well, how about that?”
Chapter Five
Lainie walked out onto her front porch, feet thudding hollowly on the wood. The sunny morning held a breath of chill, a reminder that winter lurked on the horizon. She rubbed her quads a little. Running shorts weren’t exactly the best thing for this kind of morning, but she’d warm up soon enough once she got moving.
She raised her hands over her head and stretched first to one side, then the other. Okay, admittedly she didn’t live in Salem’s best neighborhood. Or even the third or fourth best, for that matter. Working as an assistant curator at a local museum wasn’t exactly a high-buck job. Still, the flat in the century-old triple-decker house worked for her. Given that she didn’t own much of anything valuable, adding an extra deadbolt to the doors when she’d moved in had seemed sufficient.
Lainie rested one of her feet on the porch railing and bent over it to stretch her hamstrings. Most of the people who lived in this section of town were as hardworking and honest as she was; they just hadn’t gotten the breaks. In a way she was living in relative luxury, with a whole flat to herself, as opposed to being crammed in with a dozen other people in order to be able to afford a roof over her head.
“Hiya, Lainie.”
Lainie jumped. She whipped her head back and forth, staring along the empty porch. Then she let out a breath of relief as she spied the toffee-haired little girl behind the screen of the front door, over to the left side of the broad porch. “Kisha. Wow, I didn’t see you there.” She took a breath and waited for the adrenaline in her bloodstream to dissipate. “What are you doing hiding in the hall? Why aren’t you outside?”
“Gran doesn’t want me to play on the grass. She’s worried I’ll get dirty for today.” As though the lure of the outdoors was irresistible, though, the little girl slipped out from behind the screen and onto the porch.
Lainie looked out at the weedy, coffee-table-size square of dirt that Kisha called grass. It made her heart twist. No kid should grow up with only a little square of bare ground to play on. But she was trying to do something about that, Lainie reminded herself. She just needed to be patient.
“If your gran told you to stay inside, you’d better listen,” Lainie advised, and dipped low into another stretch. “You don’t want her to come after you with her wooden spoon.”
Kisha giggled. “She won’t come after me with the spoon.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure.” Even with two jobs and three young grandchildren on her hands, Elsie Banks never seemed to miss a thing. “I’d play it safe.”
“I’ll stay on the porch,” Kisha said, grabbing the railings as if they were part of a jungle gym. The wood creaked and shifted.
“Over here,” Lainie suggested. “We need to get that part fixed.”
“Okay.” Kisha moved closer to her.
Meanwhile, Lainie stretched, catching hold of her ankle to fold her calf up against her hamstring, feeling the good pull in her quads. “So how is first grade?”
Kisha’s eyes lit up. “It’s really fun. They’ve got swings and a slide and my teacher, Mrs. Cornelli, has a bunny rabbit in a cage by her desk. Mr. Nibbles,” she elaborated. “He’s really soft.”
“I bet he is.” Lainie stretched the other leg.
“I brought a carrot for show-and-tell, so I could feed it to him. I like carrots.”
“So do I. In fact, I’ve been eating so many lately, my nose is starting to wiggle like Mr. Nibbles’.” She demonstrated until Kisha giggled.
“You can’t turn into a bunny.”
“How do you know?” Lainie asked, and hopped once, holding her hands up like little paws.
“Stop it, fool.” Kisha laughed, sounding just like her grandmother.
“I can’t help it, Kisha.” Lainie hopped over to the stairs. “It’s too late. I’m a bunny fool.” And she hopped down to the sidewalk and started to run, Kisha’s laughter ringing in her ears.
He should add parallel parking to his training regimen, J.J. thought to himself as he finished backing into the tiny spot he’d managed to find on Lainie’s street, then whipped his head around and reversed his tires to straighten out. Good for flexibility, good for the arms. And with a truck the size of his, God knew he got his reps in.
He turned off the ignition and got out, squinting again at the slip of paper in his hand. It definitely wasn’t the kind of neighborhood he’d been anticipating when he’d driven in to find her. He knew Lainie well enough not to expect to find her in some condo complex. A house, maybe, or a duplex in one of the picturesque older neighborhoods of Salem. He’d been right about the older part, at least.
Of course, there was old and there was just plain decrepit.
He walked down the block and stopped in front of a rundown-looking house that had been painted white in some happier time. Now it was more a dirty gray, roughened and peeling in some places, mildew spotted in others. But flowerboxes sat on the railings of the broad front porch, spilling over with fat purple and magenta blossoms. Lainie? he wondered.
On the porch, a little tawny-skinned girl about seven or eight played with a smaller boy. Down the street a clot of teenagers hanging out aimed sullen looks at him.
J.J. studied the building as he walked up the cracked front walkway. The address he had was for apartment D, which, given that the building had three stories, three mailboxes and three doorbells, was kind of a puzzle. He stopped at the base of the stairs and glanced at the little girl. “Hi. Does Lainie Trask live here?”
She swung on the porch rails like they were monkey bars. “My Gran says I’m not s’posta talk to strangers.” The look she aimed at him made him feel like he should be producing a résumé, or at the very least a photo ID and references. “Are you a stranger?”
“He’s about as strange as they come,” a voice said behind him and he turned to see Lainie. She wore a T-shirt advertising the Macon Whoopie hockey team and eye-popping, hot-pink running shorts. Of course, the shorts weren’t nearly as
eye popping as those long, gleaming legs of hers. Her face still held the flush of exertion—or maybe a flush of something else, given the wary look she aimed at him. “Showing up out of the blue again, Speed? That’s a habit you need to break.” She walked past him and mounted the stairs.
He grinned broadly and followed. “It’s a free country.”
“That’s right. Maybe you should go see some more of it,” she suggested. “That’s your specialty, isn’t it? Moving on? How’s your new condo?”
“How’d you know I had a new—” He stopped and tipped his head to her. “Fine.”
Her smile held a certain smugness that he itched to wipe away—and he knew exactly how.
“Because you get a new condo every year,” she said in answer to his question. “Why don’t you just buy someplace and stick with it? You’ve got more money than God.”
“If I bought, I’d have to worry about keeping it up. Besides, I like variety.”
“So go find some variety now,” she invited.
“I already am.” He reached out and brushed at some flaking paint on one of the porch pillars. “Who knew that Salem had this kind of—” At the clearing of her throat, he broke off. “Variety,” he substituted, flicking a quick glance at the two kids, who were watching him avidly. “Do your parents know you live here?”
“My mommy and daddy are passed away,” the little girl told him, mistaking the question as aimed at her. She’d apparently decided that if Lainie thought he was trustworthy enough to talk to, she should, too. “My gran’s raising us all, ’less we drive her to an early grave,” she added.
He crouched down before her. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
She nodded gravely. “I was sad when it happened, but I was a pretty little kid. Tyjah still cries over it,” she said with a sidelong glance to the little boy. “I’m grown-up now, and Gran says Latrice and me have to help watch after him. Latrice is my sister,” she elaborated. “Do you have any brothers and sisters?”
J.J. nodded. “One. A little sister.”
“You have to stick together,” she said seriously.
“Yes, you do.” He rose and grinned at Lainie, who stood a few feet from the door. “You want to stick together with me?”
Before she could respond, a voice came from behind the screen door with the snap of a drill sergeant’s. “Kisha Tonisha Banks, you and your brother better not be playing in that dirt.” The door opened and a tall, gray-haired woman with cocoa-colored skin stepped out. “Hi, Lainie.” She looked back at Kisha and her brother. “Are you bothering Miz Trask and her friend?”
“Lainie said I could talk to him.”
“Don’t you go calling her Lainie. She’s a grown-up. She’s Miz Trask to you.”
Kisha dragged her toe over the wood of the floor. “Yes, ma’am.”
“It’s okay,” Lainie said.
The woman shook her head. “They need to respect their elders.” She lowered her voice. “I’m outnumbered. I don’t drill respect into them, I’m sunk.” She winked.
Lainie laughed. “Self-preservation’s important.”
“Especially when you’re living with these hooligans,” she replied, but the affection was ripe in her voice.
“Elsie, this is J. J. Cooper, from my hometown,” said Lainie. “J.J., this is my neighbor Elsie.”
Elsie reached out to shake his hand, without a flicker of recognition. “It’s a pleasure. Are you here for the kickoff?”
J.J. frowned. “The kickoff?”
“Don’t worry about it, it’s a Salem thing,” Lainie interrupted, “and no, Elsie. He just stopped by to say hi.”
Elsie started to say something and then looked beyond Lainie to where the two children were on hands and knees beside a bug crawling across the porch. “Kisha, Tyjah, you get up from there. Go on inside, you two, and get cleaned up. We have to leave in an hour.” She threw Lainie a good-humored look. “It never ends. Nice to meet you, J.J. Hope to see you around again.”
As the door closed, J.J. turned to Lainie. “See? Elsie’s happy to see me.”
“Elsie doesn’t know you like I do.”
He walked up to examine the row of bells by the front door and turned. “So how come you live in apartment D if it’s a three-story house?”
“That’s easy. We’ve got the basement. Roscoe. His door’s on the side.”
“You’ve got a basement named Roscoe?”
“We’ve got a welterweight UPS driver named Roscoe. He just lives in the basement.”
“So he’s in A and the ground floor is B?”
She nodded briskly. “Now that you’ve got that worked out, I guess you can go.” She reached past him for the doorknob but he just stood, studying her mouth.
“Any chance I could get something to drink? I’m thirsty.”
“You’re breaking my heart, Speed.”
He stepped a little closer to her and was amused when she stepped back toward the railings. “You could invite me up for coffee.”
“Aren’t you the optimist?”
“Orange juice?”
“Keep dreaming.”
“Tap water?”
“The spigot’s right around the corner,” she said sweetly.
He liked the fact that she took keeping up with. It made life interesting. Not nearly as interesting as the way that T-shirt fit her, though. “How about if we go somewhere and I buy you a cup of coffee? And breakfast, even. What about that?”
“I don’t have time for coffee. I need to take a shower.”
He shrugged. “Hey, a shower, coffee, I’m easy.”
“Alone,” she emphasized. “And then I’ve got plans with Elsie and her family. You’ve got to learn to stop just showing up. The world’s not all about you.”
“I never thought it was,” he said.
Lainie just eyed him. “What, are you bored and looking for entertainment?”
“It’s a nice morning for a drive,” J.J. allowed.
“Says the man who’s never out of bed before noon.”
“Funny you should say that. All last week I heard the alarm ring for me to get up and come down here for my workouts, and I kept thinking there had to be a way I could sleep later and still make my appointments.”
Lainie gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Salem’s the perfect place.”
“Salem would bore you to tears in five minutes.”
“I’ve been here at least fifteen and I’m not crying yet. Anyway, the location’s right. It puts me maybe ten, twenty minutes from the training center.”
She frowned. “I thought you said it was in Boston.”
“I drive fast.” He grinned and reached out to toy with a purple blossom in a nearby flowerbox. Soft and velvety smooth. He wondered if Lainie’s skin felt the same way. “So, what’s a good neighborhood?”
“Anyplace far from me. This is way too low rent for you.”
“It’s too low rent for you. Want to move in somewhere together?”
“Only if I can change the locks.” He was standing too close again, but she was damned if she was going to give him the satisfaction of stepping back. The hair on her arms prickled.
“I was serious,” he complained.
She smiled pleasantly. “So was I.”
“Hey, you could stand to upgrade. I can rent a house and we can share it.”
“For the week and a half you were here. No thanks. This place suits me just fine. I’ve got good neighbors.”
“Okay.” J.J. looked at the street meditatively. “Maybe it’s a good place for me, too. Maybe I should find a place around here.” He tipped his head. “Like that.”
Lainie turned to look where he pointed, craning around the corner pillar behind her, and saw the For Rent sign in front of a building kitty-corner from them. She frowned. “That’s new.”
“It’s a sign. Don’t you witches believe in signs?”
“I’m not a witch,” she said automatically. When she tur
ned back, he was pulling out his cell phone. Suddenly it had ceased to be funny. The last thing she needed was J. J. Cooper, Party Boy, underfoot. He wasn’t a part of her life. He didn’t live a lifestyle she wanted. Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t even think about it.”
“What? I don’t have a whole lot of time to spend looking.” He squinted at the sign and dialed. “Yeah, this is John Cooper. I’m calling about the house for rent on Maple Street. Is it still open? Yeah? When can you show it to me? I’m here right now. Great. See you then.” He cut off the call and folded his phone shut with a satisfied smile. “Fifteen minutes. He says it even has off-street parking. I can hardly wait.”
“You are not moving into my neighborhood,” Lainie told him indignantly.
“You were the one who said good neighbors watch out for one another.”
“I don’t need watching out for.”
“Maybe I like doing the watching.”
She took two steps so that she was standing toe-to-toe with him. “You are not moving here.” She punctuated each word with a stab to his chest, her face inches from his. “You can buy anywhere you want, live any place you want. Go somewhere else.”
“No way. I can’t do that.”
“Why?” she burst out.
“Because of this.” Before she could react, he’d pulled her to him and brought his mouth down on hers.
A pure, hot, blinding surge of sensation whipped through her. Her hands flew up to clutch his shoulders, because if she didn’t grab on to something she’d be lost. Over all the years she’d watched and, yes, wondered, she’d never thought it would be like this, his mouth, his hands, the feel of his body, all of it rolling over her like an avalanche, pulling her in, taking her over, reducing everything to elemental desire. There was no thought, no focus. There was nothing but him, all around her. Overwhelming.
J. J. didn’t invite, he took, and in taking dragged her deep down into wanting. One of his hands speared up into her hair, the fingers of the other spread squarely over her ass. Hard, familiar and entirely too proprietary.
He shifted to press his mouth to her throat, and she couldn’t prevent the soft, shuddering exhalation of breath.
Under His Spell (Holiday Hearts #4) Page 6