The Long Hot Summer

by Rosnau, Wendy

  Much to Johnny’s disappointment, Nicole didn’t appear to be any happier to see him than Farrel. “Let go!” she demanded. “He deserves a black eye, and if he tries to hit me back, I’ll blacken the other one.”

  Johnny hung on to her. “Let’s go outside and cool off.”

  She shook him off. “I’m not going anywhere. He’s the one who should go out and cool off. I’m no dumb blonde.” She spun around, glaring at all the men enjoying the show. “Did you hear that, guys? Find another game.”

  “But we like this game, honey,” Farrel mocked.

  The men at the bar roared with laughter.

  Johnny’s already crappy mood deteriorated further. He said, “The fun’s over. Come on, cherie.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, beggar boy. It’s just beginning,” Farrel taunted. He started to reach out and haul Nicole back into his arms, but Johnny grabbed his wrist and squeezed. “The lady’s not interested. She’s made that clear.” He released Farrel’s wrist. “Lay a hand on her again, and it’ll be the last time you use that hand.”

  The crowd grew quiet.

  “Did you hear that, everybody? He threatened me,” Farrel shouted. “Not too smart in front of witnesses, Bernard.”

  Johnny shrugged, then spun Nicole around to face him. “Come on. Or do you want me to finish what you started?” Grinning for the first time since he’d seen her enter the bar, he added, “One helluva choice, ain’t it? Watching a barroom brawl that’ll likely end with me in the slammer, or leaving through the front door with the most unpopular man in town. One way or another, come tomorrow, the gossip will be ripe.”

  She made a face at him, then struck out for the door with her nose in the air.

  Farrel called out several vulgar taunts, trying to bait Johnny into a fight, but Johnny wasn’t interested. Farrel wasn’t worth another jail sentence.

  When he caught up with Nicole outside, she was breathing fire. “If you’re expecting a ‘thank you,’ you can forget it. I didn’t need your help in there.”

  Johnny glanced around at the people gawking. “Can we go? Or do you want to make a scene out here, too?”

  “I’m not going home with you,” she snapped.

  “Oh, and why is that? You suddenly afraid of me? Or afraid of what might happen if we’re alone?”

  “Nothing is going to happen. And, no, I’m not afraid of you.”

  Johnny started toward the car. “Good. Let’s go.”

  She hurried after him. “I’m driving. Do you hear? It’s my car and—”

  Johnny called out over his shoulder. “That’s a deal. It’ll leave my hands free.”

  She called him a nasty name, made a quick direction change and raced past him to climb in the passenger’s side.

  Laughing, Johnny got behind the wheel.

  Chapter 11

  From his perch on top of the roof, Johnny heard a truck shift into low as it headed up the driveway. When it stopped in the front yard, he glanced down and saw it was one of Farrel Craig’s delivery trucks loaded down with supplies. It was a surprise, to say the least. He had expected Farrel to cancel the order and refuse their business after what had happened at Pepper’s a week earlier.

  “I got those shingles Miss Chapman ordered,” the man hollered, climbing out of the truck and slamming the door.

  The afternoon sun was hot enough to fry spit. Johnny hooked his hammer in the leather pouch strapped to his waist, then backhanded the sweat from his brow. He came off the roof using the extension ladder leaning against the side of the house. Once on the ground, he unhooked a leather tool belt and laid it on the workbench. A jug of water sat nearby, and he lifted it and dumped it over his head. Shaking like a dog, he picked up the T-shirt he’d discarded hours ago, dried his face off, then pulled the shirt back on.

  “I could have come in and picked up the shingles,” Johnny told the truck driver. “We don’t need the added expense of a delivery charge when I got a pickup right here.”

  “Miss Chapman requested the delivery weeks ago,” the driver informed him. “The boss didn’t tack on no extra charge. In fact—” he handed Johnny the invoice “—it looks like he gave her a helluva discount.”

  Johnny took the invoice and scanned it. His nostrils flared when he saw just how generous Farrel’s discount was. He jammed the paper in his back pocket, wondering just what the bastard was up to.

  The two men worked side by side until the load was off the truck, and when the truck pulled out, Johnny eased into a chair on the front porch. Sweat dripping from his brow, he ran a hand over his face, then through his hair. Eventually his eyes drifted toward the open French doors that led to the study.

  He wondered if Nicole was still inside. He’d walked by earlier and spied her seated at the desk. Conversation between them had been reduced to one-liners since he’d driven her home from town a week ago.

  He stood, stretched, then sauntered to the open doorway. Leaning against the jamb, he saw she was still there, still punching keys on a small calculator. She made a mistake, swore softly, then repeated the number sequence. Satisfied this time, she wrote the total in the appropriate column in a black ledger.

  “Since when do you do bookkeeping?” he asked.

  “Since I refused to ask you for a favor.” She hit another set of numbers on the calculator.

  Her all-business attitude had Johnny’s reined-in temper slipping a notch. He sauntered into the room, stopped at the desk and turned off the calculator. “I don’t mind doing it.”

  Her fingers stilled on the keys, and she slowly looked up. “Well, maybe I mind.”

  Damp strands of hair had come loose from the casual twist she’d secured at the back of her head. The warm day had flushed her face, adding more color to her already comely complexion. The pale blue sundress she wore made her already stunning blue eyes more radiant. The low neckline and narrow straps lured his eyes to the exposed swell of her soft breasts and a touch of sun-kissed cleavage.

  Johnny kicked himself for noticing, felt his jeans turning uncomfortable, but then noted she was giving his wet T-shirt a long, hard look, too.

  When she saw that he’d noticed her interest, she said, “Did you fall in the swamp, or has it started to rain?”

  He shrugged off the sarcasm and went looking for a chair to sit down in. He was sweat-stained and dirty, so he chose the wood rocker. “Craig Lumber just dropped off the shingles.”

  She arched a brow. “My call must have worked.”

  “Call?” Johnny dug the bill out of his pocket and tossed it on the desk. “It must have been some call to get that kind of discount.”

  She picked up the bill and scanned it. Smiling, she said, “Yes, it must have made quite an impression.”

  Johnny stiffened. “Beg forgiveness?”

  “Something like that.” She sat back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. “Driving to New Orleans for supplies would have cost us double. It was much easier just to make amends.”

  Johnny tried to keep from getting angry. “I’m curious. What does it cost these days to make amends?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Sure you do. What did you promise him, cherie? Dinner and a movie? Or was there something more substantial involved?”

  “You have a filthy mind,” she snapped.

  “No. I just know Farrel, and how low he can stoop.”

  “Think what you want. I really don’t care.”

  Johnny bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. He didn’t like feeling jealous, but there it was. That damn green monster was biting him again. The truth was, if anyone was going to scratch her itch, he wanted it to be him. She was in his blood now, and there was nothing he could do about it but suffer. “I’m just looking out for you. Mae would want me to,” he reasoned.

  “I’m a big girl. Gran knows I can look out for myself.”

  “That’s not what she tells me. Just this morning she asked me if I’d consider driving you to New Orleans next we
ekend. She’s afraid you’re going to get mugged, or worse.”

  Nicole looked stunned. “You told her no, of course.”

  “No, I said I’d discuss it with you. But I’m game.” Johnny allowed himself the pleasure of studying her pretty mouth, then he looked back at her eyes. “Maybe a few days away would do us both some good.”

  At his words, her face contorted and her lips thinned. “Thank you, but no thank you. My plans are already set. Now if there isn’t something pertaining to your job we need to discuss, I’d like to get back to work. You should, too.”

  “I’m taking my morning break,” Johnny informed her, sliding more comfortably into the chair.

  She shoved back her chair and stood. “Fine. Take it outside.”

  He knew full well that he should do as she said, but as he got to his feet, instead of heading for the open door, he started toward her. When she backed up, he smiled and helped her along with a little shove that neatly put her against the wall. “Feel needy today?”

  “Stop it.”

  “It’s been a few weeks. You must be—”

  “Go away!”

  “Can’t. I’m yours for the summer, remember?”

  His words brought a flush to her cheeks, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “Please, don’t.”

  The idea of touching her again had been driving him crazy. He’d tried to stay busy, to ignore it, but she was on his mind twenty-four hours a day. Disregarding how dirty he was, Johnny leaned into her and pinned her more firmly against the wall. “Look at me,” he drawled softly in her ear.

  “Johnny, please,” she panted, struggling against him to free herself.

  He shifted his body more solidly against her, allowing her to feel his full-blown arousal against her belly. Angling his head, his lips brushed her temple. “You feel good, cherie. Smell good, too.”

  “You don’t,” she countered.

  “I’ve been on the roof since six.” He ran his hand up her bare arm and the shiver he felt go through her body tormented his condition further. He wanted her, right here, right now.

  He moved quickly, kissing her not gently, not experimentally, but like a man who had been lying awake nights dreaming about what they’d already shared.

  The kiss deepened…deepened.

  She didn’t fight him, and when he realized she wasn’t going to, he slid his hands around her waist and pulled her away from the wall so his hands could glide freely over her curves. She sucked in a little gasp when his hand cupped her backside and pressed her more firmly into him. A moment later he felt her small hands drift up to his shoulders.

  Rocked by a sudden, swift possessiveness, Johnny kissed her again, then again. He could feel her heart racing. Feel her fingers grip his shoulders.

  “Johnny…”

  He claimed her mouth again, stroking his hands up her spine, then tangling his fingers in her hair. The fragile clip holding her hair went to the floor. Minutes ticked by. Johnny and Daisy were unaware that they were being observed from the front porch. Mae Chapman sat silent in her wheelchair with a satisfied smile parting her lips and happy tears glistening in her aging blue eyes.

  Nicole stood at the railing on the front porch and watched Johnny amble across the lawn toward her with that loose-jointed gait that made her heart race. She’d been avoiding him for days, thinking that if she did, she would be able to forget what was happening. But it hadn’t helped; she knew she was falling in love with him. Hopelessly in love with a man who intended to leave in less than three months’ time.

  “You get packed?”

  “Yes.” Nicole watched him scale the porch steps. He was in another white T-shirt, his jeans ragged but clean. His hair was damp, suggesting that he’d just showered, but he’d neglected to scrape off the shadow clinging to his jaw.

  She stepped back from the railing. Her white cotton dress—a loose shift with an irregular hem—fluttered in the breeze as she turned and slid into one of the wicker chairs. Barefoot, she tucked her feet beneath her, then indicated he was welcome to take the other chair. He declined, opting instead to lean against the railing.

  “You still taking off in the morning?” His hand found his hip, hooked a thumb in an empty belt loop.

  Nicole remembered how taut his muscles were in that area, and the memory made her mouth go dry. “Yes. Early morning. Take care of Gran?”

  “Sure.”

  His response was simple but sincere. He shoved away from the column and jammed his hands in his back pockets. “I called my parole officer. He gave me permission to leave town for the weekend.” His eyes searched her face.

  “No.” Nicole shook her head. “I’m going alone.”

  He nodded as if he’d expected her to hold firm to her decision. “You watch yourself. A lot of crazies living in Sin City.”

  Nicole closed her eyes briefly. She loved his husky, bayou drawl. Loved the way he showed his concern, even though it was half hidden behind his tough exterior. She was beginning to read him. Not always, but half the time at least. And what she’d learned was that there was a soft, sensitive side to Johnny Bernard. A side she had wanted to deny existed from the very beginning. But Gran had known it was there all along, and that’s why she had felt he was worth the trouble all those years ago. He was a good person, honest and noble.

  “Things have been going well, don’t you think?”

  “Seem to be,” he agreed.

  “I appreciate your working so hard for Gran. This is the happiest I’ve seen her in years.”

  “It’s because you’re here that she’s happy.”

  “Maybe it’s both of us,” Nicole conceded.

  “About this party you’re going to—”

  “It’s an art exhibit, not a party.” Her teasing tone was meant to lighten the moment, but when his expression didn’t change, Nicole wondered what he was thinking. He looked a little on edge tonight.

  “So you’re not meeting anyone there?”

  Nicole shook her head. “No. I’m going because the gallery owner is interested in handling some of my paintings. It’s called networking.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “The Place d’Armes in the French Quarter. It’s small and quaint. I stayed there once before with my parents.” She climbed out of the chair. “I want you to do the bookkeeping again. Will you? I know what I said before. But I was being—”

  “Stubborn,” he finished for her.

  “Yes, I suppose I was.”

  He stepped forward, and she took a step back.

  It just wasn’t fair, Nicole thought. God help her, she didn’t want to love this man. He was going to break her heart, and this time she feared it would never mend.

  “I’ve got to go inside,” she offered quietly. “Thank you for helping Gran out this morning.” She gestured to the treelike azalea in the corner. “I dreaded repotting that thing. It meant a lot to her that you cared enough to help.”

  He took another step toward her, invading her space. They stared at each other for a long, tense moment. Nicole’s heart skipped a beat, and she noticed Johnny’s breathing had turned erratic. Finally he said, “Thank me another way, cherie. Kiss me.”

  The familiar words made her shake her head. “No,” she whispered. “No, I won’t.”

  He didn’t move, didn’t ask again, but he didn’t back away, either.

  Tomorrow, Nicole reasoned. Tomorrow she would start weaning herself away from him. Tomorrow she would be stronger. Tomorrow she would have the distance between them and she would be able to think more clearly. She wouldn’t have to look into those see-to-the-soul eyes across the breakfast table, or be teased into a frenzy by his black, hypnotic drawl. Yes, tomorrow would be soon enough to face the truth.

  Slowly she slid her hands up his chest and lifted her mouth to his. The kiss was warm and sultry. She meant to keep it simple, uncomplicated. But he had other plans, and she lingered on the porch much longer than she’d intended. Much longer.

  Chapter 12


  He fit in as if he were one of them, and no one suspected otherwise. No one, except Nicole.

  She stood in the pristine gallery’s arched doorway, her knees weak and her heart in her throat. Johnny was at the other end of the spacious room, his back to her, gazing at a portrait of a naked woman draped over a piano as if dead. He wore snug, faded jeans, free of holes, his custom-made boots, and a navy blue shirt that Nicole had never seen before. The shirt looked new, and it clung to him with an expensive sheen that made her breath catch. His hair was loose, riding his shoulders, and the jet-black color in the gallery light made him stand out like a black knight in the crowd.

  She glanced around, taking in the room full of artists, and spied Mr. Medoro at the same time he spied her.

  “Ah, Nicole, I’m so glad you decided to come,” he said as he hurried toward her.

  She smiled and forced her legs to move through the doorway. “Yes, I’m here.”

  “Tomorrow we will talk about your wonderful talent. But tonight—” he gestured to the walls “—we will enjoy the work, no?”

  Nicole nodded, accepted the gallery owner’s arm, and soon was whisked into a crowd of artists. She was introduced to each one of them, and the circle tightened around her. She answered their questions, smiled and nodded, but all the time she was gazing off in various directions, trying to locate Johnny. At one point she saw him standing with three women. One, a curvy brunette, was clinging, trying to get him to share her glass of wine, which he declined. Another time, he was standing with Mr. Medoro. Together, they were studying an abstract wooden sculpture with two heads. Distracted by questions and meaningless conversation, it was almost an hour before she broke free of the crowd to search for Johnny.

  “Your paintings are better than all of them.”

  Nicole closed her eyes as she felt his presence behind her, his warm breath upon her neck. A tingle ran down her spine. She didn’t turn around, and instead said, “And you’re an expert, right?”

  “I know what I like,” he drawled, moving closer. His hands came up to stroke lightly down her arms.