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Johnny drifted closer to her side, until his arm brushed her shoulder and their hips met occasionally, the skirt of her jumper ruffled by the brush of his jeans. She wanted to look up at him, see the blueblack shine of his hair in the sun, but she ignored the impulse. Instead, she contemplated the prospect of Johnny raising Gracie, when all he’d ever raised was Cain.
She wanted to help Gracie, too. But the truth was, she didn’t know much more about kids than Johnny. Her mother’s struggle with Alzheimer’s had resulted in her spending many hours at home or at the Ashville Nursing Home, instead of baby-sitting like most teenage girls. And the idea of marriage to Johnny, once a dream of hers, seemed only a painful prospect, with the knowledge that he didn’t love her.
Gracie spotted the store, interrupting Grace’s thoughts with her excitement as she read her initial, G, on the sign to Johnny.
Johnny grinned. “Just seeing that place makes me want a beefstick and a cola.”
“Hardly an appropriate lunch for a little girl,” Grace pointed out, certain that was just what he had in mind.
“I like peanut butter,” Gracie said.
“With celery,” Johnny added. “Let’s go.”
Inside, the store was cool and dim and quiet. Henry came from behind the counter, wearing a clean white apron over his bib overalls. His frown had left wrinkles over the years, and his drawn eyebrows were now white, matching the wispy hair on his head. Johnny towered over him at six feet, but that didn’t keep Henry from aiming his famous glare at Johnny.
“Well, if it ain’t Johnny Tremont. Heard you was in jail and heard you was rich. Which is it?”
“Well, I’m not in jail,” Johnny said pointedly, leaving Grace to hope he would mind his temper.
“Humph. I got mirrors now.” Henry pointed his gnarled finger over the door and to a back corner of the little square store. “And alarms.” Henry nodded toward Gracie. “Who have you got there?”
Grace expected little Gracie to wilt beneath Henry’s perpetual glare. But Gracie only stared at Henry, a funny little smile on her face.
Johnny rested his hand on Gracie’s shoulder. “This is my niece, Gracie.”
As much as was possible, Henry’s face softened. “I was sorry to hear about Janelle.” Then he added meaningfully, “She was a good girl.” He frowned down at Gracie. “Are you a good girl?”
Gracie nodded vigorously. “Johnny said so.”
“Humph. Don’t break anything in the store. If you don’t break anything, I’ll give you a candy.” Henry shuffled behind the counter, mumbling about apples falling close to the tree.
Johnny drew a deep breath and headed down the aisle to the peanut butter. Grace knew he would find it in the same place that it had been ten years ago.
“He’s Grumpy,” Gracie chimed, looking back at Henry.
“Old grouch hasn’t changed any, that’s for sure,” Johnny muttered.
“No, like Grumpy the dwarf,” Gracie explained.
Grace laughed. “You mean the dwarf in Snow White?”
“Johnny reads it to me,” Gracie said, choosing peanut butter and leaving Grace to contend with the appealing image of Johnny reading a fairy tale, his niece cuddled beside him.
In all her years of daydreaming about Johnny, it was certainly not something she’d ever imagined before.
Gracie’s presence seemed to have quite an effect on Johnny. Years ago, Johnny and Henry had had a running feud, Johnny laughing off every battle. Now he almost seemed bothered by his lingering reputation, most likely because of Gracie.
Along with Gracie’s peanut butter, they chose oranges and celery and ham. Grace insisted she had anything else they might need, but when they reached the counter, Gracie wanted cupcakes. Johnny immediately went in search of the treat with Gracie, holding his niece’s hand. Grace dug in her skirt pocket for quarters to buy Gracie candy, thinking maybe Johnny had changed some after all—
A crash came from the back of the store, followed by the thunder of rolling canned goods.
Grace closed her eyes. Maybe not.
Chapter Two
Gracie.
Grace dropped her quarters on the counter. Henry glared into the mirror over the door, that look of old in his eyes. Ignoring him, she ran to the pyramid of soup cans she’d seen at the back of the store.
She found Johnny holding Gracie safe in his arms, cans rocking to a halt at his feet.
His anxious gaze met Grace’s over top of the little girl’s head. His breath rushed out. “She’s all right.”
Grace felt the tension leave her, only to have it rise again as Henry came to survey the damage, something he’d done often in Johnny’s presence. In the quiet aftermath, the whir of a ceiling fan brought to mind the time Johnny had dropped a bag of flour in front of Henry’s old floor model fan. Grace caught her lip, recalling the shouting match that had ensued. Actually, it had seemed funny at the time.
Henry glowered at Johnny. “Figured it was you.”
Gracie clutched her arms about Johnny’s neck. “Johnny didn’t do it.”
“Humph. Heard that before.”
Gracie’s soft little arms squeezed the defiance right out of Johnny. He wasn’t going to get in a yelling match with old Henry, not with Gracie listening—and Grace.
Johnny narrowed his gaze. Grace was trying not to laugh, her eyes sparkling at him. A sense of déjà vu washed over him. He recalled Grace laughing at him that way years ago, as he stood in this store, powdered with flour, Henry dusted with it, too, while the old man called him a delinquent.
And they said you couldn’t go home again.
Johnny stood rooted in the past, recalling the way Grace had laughed at him that day, her long hair spilling past the shoulders of the faded shirt she wore. In some ways, she’d changed. Her hair now swung across her shoulders, which were covered in the soft white cotton of a formfitting T-shirt beneath the sassy little dress she wore. She looked sexy as hell.
But in another way, she was still the same Grace, daring to laugh at him with those green eyes.
And that was sexy, too.
“You clean this up, Johnny Tremont. I’ve got a customer. And don’t forget, I’ve got mirrors.” Henry turned toward the front of the store, muttering about dented cans and delinquents.
Grace grinned openly and Johnny shot her a menacing look. She’d watched him sweep up flour years ago, grinning at him over the rim of a cola bottle. “Are you going to help stack these cans, or just stand and watch?”
Gracie squirmed, wanting down. “Can I help?”
Johnny set little Gracie on her feet. “You bet. We’ll rebuild the pyramid and you can put on the top can. Do you think we should let Grace help?”
Gracie gave a quick nod.
“You’re in,” Johnny said, smirking at Grace.
She was a good sport—too much so, Johnny decided. Grace crouched in her flirty dress, giving him flashes of smooth slim thigh as they worked toward the center of the pile from opposite directions. Little Gracie had a great time, while Johnny suffered.
Until the moment he saw Grace again, Johnny had only thought of marriage to her in terms of keeping guardianship of Gracie. Now he found himself rethinking the idea on a more primal level.
There were a lot of cans, and he gave Gracie a break, sending her to put the cupcakes on Henry’s counter. He and Grace had inched almost nose to nose, and as their knees brushed, she wobbled. He reached out and curled his hand about her arm, and the softness of her skin stilled him.
He knew Grace felt his tension when she paused. He smoothed his thumb across her skin and got a jolt out of her direct gaze.
He wondered what she’d do if he kissed her.
Never one to wonder for. long, Johnny leaned closer. Grace smelled heavenly. Sweet and womanly, a potent combination. Her eyes seemed to glaze over, focused on his mouth as he eased it toward her pink parted lips—
“Henry’s got mirrors,” she whispered, not quite breaking the spell. They hovered inches apart, Johnny not giving a damn about mirrors, yet aware it probably mattered to Grace, who likely remembered what a kiss with Johnny Tremont used to mean to a girl’s reputation in Ashville—never mind if a kiss had been all that had happened.
Gracie came running back then and Johnny didn’t miss the quick way Grace backed off. Even faster than he. He could feel her wary gaze upon him, though, likely seeing him in a new light. She’d probably always thought of him as a pesky older brother, in the same way he’d thought of her as a sister. So all these sexual vibes bouncing between them had to be as much a shock to her as they were to him.
Johnny stacked the remaining cans, lifting Gracie to place the last one on top as promised. Their task accomplished, the three of them headed for the front of the store. Johnny was aware that Grace kept her distance.
Under Henry’s watchful eye, Johnny paid for his purchases. He hoisted the sack in his arms and led the way to the door.
“Come get a candy, little girl,” Henry called to Gracie, amazing Johnny. Even more amazing, Gracie ran back and Henry handed a lollipop down to her.
“Thank you,” Gracie said in a near whisper.
Johnny couldn’t have been more surprised if Gracie had shouted. Not that Gracie was ill-mannered; she was usually just too shy to. talk, without Johnny by her side to prompt the conversation. But then, Gracie thought Henry was a dwarf.
Johnny’s imagination didn’t stretch quite that far.
After a moment Gracie hurried over, beaming.
“I said I was sorry I spilled the cans. And he said I’m a good girl.”
“You are a good girl,” Johnny said proudly, gratified to think that a month spent with him hadn’t changed that fact, the way his parents thought it would.
Then he noticed Grace staring at him, probably contemplating the fact that he’d taken the rap for Gracie. After all, she “knew him when.” But Grace’s eyes were soft and warm and the emotion in them somehow embarrassed him. Out of earshot of Gracie he muttered, “Old grouch never gave me candy.”
“He always gave licorice to me and Janelle,” Grace recalled, her wistful tone telling Johnny she was missing Janelle the same as he. The sweet sharp coil of desire for her unraveled inside him, leaving a bittersweet compassion. He thought Grace’s pain must be as great as his own, she and Janelle had been so close.
They left the store, following Gracie down the sidewalk. “Janelle married a great guy,” Johnny said abruptly. “She was happy. But she always regretted that his work took her away from here, away from you.”
“Thank you for telling me.” Grace smiled up at him and he felt his heart stutter. “You can be pretty nice when you want to, Johnny Tremont.”
Johnny was disconcerted to realize just how nice he wanted to be.
The three of them came to a halt by his Harley. Gracie grabbed her pink-striped helmet and Johnny winked down at her. “Gracie likes the hog, don’t you, Gracie?”
Gracie gazed adoringly at Johnny. “I like the hog.”
Grace didn’t appear to share that sentiment. “Gracie shouldn’t ride that thing down the highway. We can take my car to the farm and you can leave the bike here.”
“Leave the Harley?” Was she crazy? If she’d told him to leave little Gracie, Johnny wouldn’t have been more appalled. “It might get stolen.”
“The police station is right over there.” She pointed up the block, across the street. “Who in Ashville is going to steal it anyway? Mrs. Cromwell?”
Johnny remembered Mrs. Cromwell, the florist. The thought of her plump body, clad in a floral dress and seated on his bike, made him wince.
“If you’re really worried, you could ask Eddie from the gas station to keep an eye on it.”
Johnny shuddered. Eddie of the hit-and-miss repairs was the last person he wanted around his bike.
“Remember the time you hauled the Harley in Dad’s truck?” Grace smiled wistfully. “I wish that old Ford still ran.”
Johnny wished it did, too. He wished it was parked here right now, with the Harley loaded in back because Grace was right. He didn’t want to take Gracie out on the two-lane highway on the bike. He could follow Grace along on the Harley, but he was certain little Gracie wouldn’t go in the car without him.
“I’ll lock up the bike and leave it.” Johnny swore he felt physical pain as he did just that. He grabbed his helmet and the three of them climbed into Grace’s car. They buckled Gracie in the back with her lollipop.
Johnny couldn’t help but approve of Grace’s little blue coupe. Like her salon, it was neat and clean. There were magnets shaped like hair bows holding small notes on the dash. One reminded her to pick up clothes from the cleaners. Another read, “C.S.—Saturday.”
He frowned at the second note. A date? Grace’s bare ring finger had ruled out a fiancé, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a man in her life. For Gracie’s sake, he was duty-bound to find out.
Checking to find Gracie busy with her lollipop and looking out the car window, Johnny tapped the note and asked idly, “Who’s C.S.?”
Grace raised her brows in a what-business-of- yours-is-it? look. Most likely because he’d asked her to marry him, she deigned to answer. “A customer.”
Johnny immediately relaxed. Probably one of those little old ladies who liked their hair fixed like a French poodle’s.
“Chase Sinclair. He’s one of my regulars.” While he stared at her, Grace braked for a stop, proceeded with caution and added casually, “We’ve dated a couple of times.”
Johnny stared harder.
Chase. He had never liked that name. And he didn’t like the familiar way Grace said it, or the unfamiliar ill humor he felt at her words. He hoped she realized that for Gracie’s sake, the dates had to stop if they were to marry.
With forced nonchalance, he said mockingly, “Chase and Grace. Sounds like a cartoon.”
Gracie giggled. Grace glowered. “That’s juvenile, Johnny.”
“You used to have a sense of humor,” Johnny noted.
“I had to,” Grace muttered. “Or I’d have been mad at you all the time.” At his look of protest, she added, “Take that time you put gum in my hair.”
Johnny winced, effectively chastened. Grace had had to cut bangs in her hair after that prank. Still, Johnny liked to think he’d inspired her life’s work.
“And the time you scared me and Janelle when we camped on my porch.”
Ah, yes. Her father had threatened to shoot until he realized who had made the girls scream. Grace and Janelle had had to sleep in the house the rest of the night. And all over a harmless garden snake.
A sense of nostalgia swept over Johnny and he suddenly missed Janelle more than ever. He caught Grace’s gaze, saw the grief she couldn’t quite mask. This trip down memory lane had gone on long enough. He turned in the seat. “We’re almost there, Gracie.”
“Why did you put gum in her hair?” Gracie asked.
“Ah...”
“Because Johnny was a tease. Does he like to tease you, too?” Grace asked.
There was a moment’s pause, then little Gracie overcame her shyness to tattle. “He tickles me. But he stops if I say he has to.”
“That doesn’t sound like the Johnny I know,” Grace murmured.
He frowned. Couldn’t she see he wasn’t the same person he’d been one month ago, let alone the rebellious kid he’d been as a teen? His world revolved around Gracie now.
He ran his business from Janelle’s fine home, having given up his bachelor apartment. The last date he’d had was when he took Gracie to the cinema to see Snow White. Oddly, he hadn’t missed that aspect of his life until Grace had stirred up his hormones.
Still a little surprised by that turn of events, he took a discreet survey of Grace, just testing his reaction. As she braked for the turn into the gravel lane that led to the Greens’ farmhouse, Grace’s skirt inched up her leg. Her skin looked silky smooth, and she wasn’t even wearing stockings. The strap of her sandal around her ankle riveted his attention. He imagined his hand wrapped there, his lips there...
Johnny dragged his gaze away.
The car came to a halt as Grace parked before the square garage. He remembered hiding in there once, after he’d sprayed Janelle and Grace with the hose. Grace had only been thirteen when he’d chased her and gotten her shirt all wet. He imagined she would look a little different now in a wet T-shirt.
“Here we are.”
He jerked his gaze from Grace’s shirtfront, a hot sweat breaking out on his skin. He hadn’t counted on this. Hadn’t counted on having sexual feelings for Grace. He wasn’t going to look at her that way again, wasn’t going to think about her that way. He wasn’t going to marry her.
Then little Gracie climbed out of the car and cried with delight, “This is like the house in my farm book. Where are the kittens?” she asked excitedly.
Looking at Gracie’s happy face, Johnny guessed he was getting married after all. But he was damn well going to keep his hands to himself. These feelings he was having for Grace seemed downright immoral.
Little Gracie was so excited, he was more than happy to crawl halfway under the porch and catch the kittens. They were a rambunctious trio of calicoes, everything Gracie could have hoped for. She sat cross-legged in the grassy shade of an elm, kittens crawling in and out of her lap.
Grace had taken the groceries into the kitchen. Johnny looked toward the house, aware this was a good time to speak privately with her, yet feeling oddly reluctant. Telling Gracie to stay put, he left the little girl with her new friends and went inside.
The house was cool and quiet, the shades drawn against the sun. He noticed the upstairs was boarded off, heard the hum of an air conditioner that hadn’t been part of the house years ago. Otherwise, the place seemed unchanged.
Having moved from city to city in his early childhood, Johnny could only imagine what it must feel like to grow up and live in the same house all of your life, how it must feel to risk losing such a part of your past. Funny, how he’d only come to the Green farm to pester Grace and Janelle when he was bored, yet it was here that some of his happier memories took place.
Prints and posters of Elvis had once been framed on the walls of the hall. In the living room, the Greens had kept an old phonograph that spun forty-fives of Elvis tunes. He imagined that stuff was tucked away in the attic. He hated to think Grace would have parted with it.
Johnny wandered into the living room. A life-size poster of Elvis had once been propped in the corner, where Grace now kept a potted plant like those in her salon. Johnny grinned, thinking Elvis had more aesthetic appeal.
“When Mama was in the nursing home, we took the poster of Elvis there,” Grace said from behind him as if reading his thoughts. “Dad said it kept her company.”
Johnny turned to face Grace where she stood in the doorway. She looked all of fifteen again, missing her mother long before Mrs. Green had been physically gone. He said simply, “That was nice.”
“Dad left it there after Mama died. Every time I go back, they’ve got it propped in a corner somewhere.”
“You still go to the nursing home?”
“I give haircuts to some of the residents. Mama had a lot of friends there. Now they’re my friends.”
Johnny suspected that over the years, Grace had spent too much time at that nursing home.
But she smiled as she spoke of the people there. “Mama turned them all into Elvis freaks.”
“Fans,” Johnny corrected. “Fans of the King.”
“Now you sound like my dad.”
Johnny didn’t feel like Grace’s father. Right now, his thoughts probably had her dad rolling in the grave.
He shouldn’t be thinking about making love with Grace. He couldn’t possibly have sex with Grace.
Oh, yeah, he could.
Oh, no, he wouldn’t.
He’d have to handle this carefully, he realized. He wanted Grace, and he was certain that wanting wasn’t all one-sided, however reluctant Grace appeared. But she wasn’t the kind of girl you had a fling with, not even a married fling.
The best way to approach this marriage, he decided, was on the basis of past friendship. No hearts involved.
And no sex.
“Where is Gracie?” Grace asked suddenly, stepping into the room.
“Playing with the kittens.”
“Good. We have to figure some way short of marriage that you can keep guardianship of her.”
Johnny frowned at her words, only just remembering what he’d come in here for. Then Grace walked over, stopping before him. In the dim light that filtered through the shades, she seemed suddenly, intimately close. Johnny fought to curb his adolescent reaction to her nearness. On pure reflex, he took a step back, a new dance for Johnny Tremont.
“Hold still. You’ve got cobwebs in your hair from crawling under the porch.” Grace seemed amused and reached up to brush them away, her nearness creating a potent charge between them. When she pressed briefly against him, the snug denim over her breasts touched his chest. Johnny absorbed the shock to his system and tried not to short-circuit. With each sweep of her hand, Grace’s fingers seemed to slip farther into his hair, her sweet-smelling wrist near his face, her skirt weaving about his jeans-clad legs, her sandaled feet nudging his tennis shoes. Overwhelmed, Johnny eyed the distance between Grace’s mouth and his.
“You have really thick hair,” Grace murmured. The brush of her fingers seemed to slow as they pushed their way through the strands. “A lot of women spend hours at the salon, trying to have hair this thick and dark.”
Johnny struggled to focus his muddled thoughts.
Friends, not lovers.
A memory of dancing with Grace here in this room flashed through his mind. Sun had streamed through the window onto her shiny hair. He’d been singing along with Elvis. She’d been laughing at him. Then she’d rested her head against his shoulder, pressed her slight body to his—
I can’t help falling in love...
As Johnny’s hair filled her palm, Grace stilled. She was suddenly conscious of the scant space between their bodies, aware that a deep heat burned in Johnny’s eyes. A longing from years ago surfaced. Grace reminded herself that Johnny was here on a mission, that he was used to having what he wanted from women. What she was feeling for him could hurt her now more than ever.
She drew back her hand, but her eyes fluttered closed as Johnny’s warm breath caressed her face. She felt him anchor his hands at her waist, and for a moment she suffered conflicting fears—that he would push her away...that he wouldn’t. Johnny seemed to sense the restlessness that moved through her. He touched his lips to hers gently, giving the kiss she’d imagined Johnny giving her when she was a girl.
But she wasn’t a girl anymore and the sweetness of his kiss didn’t soothe her. Grace only felt more restless. With his hot hands, Johnny settled her body against his. He seemed to know how, when and where to touch his lips to hers, to press her body closer, drawing a response she couldn’t hide. Yearning speared through her. And yet...
She loosened the hold she’d taken on Johnny’s shirtfront. But before she’d uncurled her fingers from the soft cotton, he raised his mouth from hers, his hands at her waist again, setting her away from him. Hearing the screen door slam, Grace wanted to think it was because of Gracie. But her cheeks grew hot as Johnny stepped back and shoved his hands in his pockets.
He hadn’t meant to kiss her.
“Johnny!” Gracie called from the hall. “Come and see what the kittens can do!”
“I’ll be right there,” Johnny called in answer. The door slammed again. Johnny didn’t move. But his gaze was evasive, those quick hands of his still hidden in his pockets.
Grace burned. From desire, from anger, from embarrassment. Had she only imagined those looks he’d been giving her? That tense moment in the store? Grace recalled Johnny’s lack of reaction—other than to joke around—when she’d purposely mentioned dating Chase with the hope of seeing some spark of jealousy. How could she have been so foolish as to forget that he intended to pay her to marry him, that he did so because of Gracie?