Taming Johnny (13 page)

Turning back to the doorway, she poked her head inside. “Johnny?”

A baseball game was playing on the flat screen TV in the living room. The sound was low, but she could hear the announcer talking about someone’s batting average.

“Johnny?” She took a tentative step inside and looked around. The walls were stark white and the furniture was nice, but minimal. Just about what she’d pictured when she thought about his place. It smelled good. Clean. She wondered if he was as much of a neat freak at home as he was at work. “Where are you?”

“Over here.”

She could just make out the top of his head on the other side of the couch. Taking a few more steps, she saw that he was on his knees, cleaning something off the carpet. Beer.

“I tried calling, but you didn’t answer.”

“I’m assuming Sally told you where I live.”

“She did. But don’t be mad. I forced her. Threatened death, mutilation. That kind of thing.”

“Mmm.” He didn’t look up. Just kept dabbing at the beer with a towel.

She looked around again. “Nice place.”

“Thanks.”

“How long have you lived here?”

“A couple of years.”

She nodded, but he wouldn’t look at her.

“Watching the game, huh?”

He reached for the remote and turned it off. The TV went dark and it made Emma a little sad. The baseball game leaving the room was like a little bit of summer going out of it.

“Look, Beaumont.” Johnny stood, setting the empty beer bottle on the coffee table. “I know you didn’t come over here for small talk.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Then what
did
you come over for?”

The words were meant to be sharp, and cut accordingly. Emma ground her teeth together in an effort to appear unaffected. “I wanted to talk to you about last night. About Nigel showing up.”

He shrugged and walked toward the kitchen. “And?”

She followed. “And I wanted you to know we’re just friends. We broke up for good before he left for Zimbabwe. He writes, but that’s it. He just came back to see his folks.”

Johnny tossed the dirty towel in the sink. “And you. Looked like to me.”

“Well, yes. I guess he wants to see me. But for no other reason than to catch up on things and tell me about Africa.”

“You’re so naïve. Grow up. He wants you.” Leaning against the counter, his eyes were cool and narrow. “Hey, that’s all right, you know. It’s not like we’re official or anything.”

His tongue was sharp as a razor, and she flinched inwardly. “No…nothing official, no. But we’ve been together a few times now. I wanted to let you know where I stand with Nigel, because I felt like that was the right thing to do.”

He shrugged again. “Whatever.”

“Wow. You’re really being an ass.”

“Why? Because I’m telling you to go ahead and do what you want? I’d think you’d be relieved. Now you won’t have to feel guilty.”

Emma wanted to slap him. She had to force herself to keep her hands at her sides. “I’m not going to do
anything
with him. And thank you for thinking I’d be such a slut.”

“I never said that. I just think you want a man in your life and you probably aren’t going to stop until you get one. But it isn’t going to be me. You knew that from the beginning.”

He looked so casual, so heartless, that for a second, she wondered if he’d ever cared about her at all.

“Yes, Johnny. I guess I did.”

He didn’t respond. That strange blank expression had crept over his face again. The one he wore last night when Nigel had shown up.

“Is that it, Beaumont? Anything else you want to clear up for me?”

She remained stiff, aloof, even though inside she felt like sinking to her knees. Suddenly, the man before her was a stranger. Even when he’d been a jerk before, she’d been able to see that there was something else there, deep down. Even if it was only anger or frustration, it was
something
, some kind of emotion. This new Johnny, the one with the empty eyes and cold stare, wilted her heart.

“No, that’s not it. I want to know something.”

He raised his brows.

“How do you feel about me? I want the truth.” Her fingernails bit into her palms. She really hadn’t intended to ask him that question. She was terrified of the answer. But was more afraid of falling deeper in love with a man who could cast her aside so easily. Like a piece of trash. Like nothing. And she’d always been afraid of being nothing. She’d been invisible in high school, and for a good part of her young adult life, up until now. She needed to know she meant something to him, even if it was only something miniscule. Her self-esteem depended on it.

For a fleeting second, she thought she saw something cross his face. Sadness? Regret, maybe? She couldn’t tell. But before she could be certain it had been there, it was gone.

“You’re a nice girl. You can do better.”

“I don’t want—”

“I don’t have any feelings for you. I’m sorry.”

It felt like he’d punched her in the chest. All the air was forced from her lungs. She’d been worried about what he’d say. But thought it would be something more along the lines of
I like you, but I don’t want a relationship right now.
Something like that. But the way he spoke just now, so calm and even, rang with a vicious note of finality that she couldn’t bear.

“Oh.” It was all she could manage.

“It’s been fun, you know? But I think it’d be best if we just move on before it gets complicated.”

Fun.
Fun?
Was that what this had been?

Not knowing what else to say, she just stood there feeling like he’d splayed her wide open. She should have been expecting it. She’d tried. But could you ever really prepare yourself for this kind of pain? She didn’t think so.

He watched her intently, a cat studying its prey before it moved in for the kill. Stubborn pride forced her chin up, made her swallow the sounds that wanted to gurgle up from her throat. She looked him right in the eye, refusing to let him see the hurt he’d inflicted with just one sentence.

“Okay. I’ll see you at work then.”

She turned to go, surprised she didn’t bump right into the wall. Everything felt surreal, even her skin was numb. She’d fallen harder than she’d thought. Despite her instincts telling her otherwise, she’d stupidly held out hope that it would be something more for him than just a few nights of sex. It had been so much more for her. How she would even face him at work, she had no clue.

She walked toward the door, desperate to get out of the house and away from his very presence which seemed to singe her tender nerve endings.

“Beaumont.”

She turned and his image was enough to kill her all over again.

“I really am sorry,” he said.

She remembered Jake’s words from only a few minutes before, but it felt more like a lifetime ago.
Don’t give up on him.

It sounded so easy. So simple. But would that be before or after he broke her in two?

Chapter 13

Johnny watched her go. She pulled away from the curb a little too fast and the cop in him wanted to tell her to be careful, not to drive upset. But that would require going after her, and it was as if his feet were cemented in place.

He put his head down and clasped his hands behind his neck, staring at the floor, wanting it to open up and swallow him whole. He’d let it go on too long. He never should have slept with her the first time. And because he hadn’t had the willpower to push her away then, he was feeling like he was now. Like his fucking heart was being ripped out of his chest.

He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping for some kind of clarity. That numb feeling which had been getting him by these last few years. But it wouldn’t come.

Opening his eyes again, he stared out the window at the dry Texas landscape beyond. The grass was crisping under the intensity of the late afternoon sun. Everything living was seeking relief in any kind of shade it could find. He knew the feeling. Waves of pain and anger washed over him again. They were so familiar. So relentless.

He’d known how she felt about him. Because he felt exactly the same. What was worse, he’d known what she’d needed to hear when she’d been standing in front of him just now. She’d needed reassurance. For him to offer some kind,
any
kind, of warmth. And instead, he’d been as cold and ruthless as he’d ever been to anyone.

He went to his bedroom, stripped off his jeans, and put on his running clothes, eager to clear his head and go blank again. He couldn’t get close. That’s what he kept telling himself. There were car accidents, cancer, ex-boyfriends with kind hearts and noble ambitions. All kinds of things that could take her away from him. And he’d just finished telling Jake he couldn’t take it again. That was the truth. That was the one thing he knew for sure. Losing Emma would finally be the end of the shell of a man he’d turned out to be. Jamming his feet into his running shoes, he tied the laces with fingers that wouldn’t quit shaking. He’d done the right thing.

He headed out the front door, slamming it behind him and letting the heat of the day hit him straight in the chest. He started running and broke a sweat instantly. He’d done the right thing. So why did it feel so fucking wrong?

* * * *

Emma sat back in her chair, welcoming the effects of the wine. Her head was beginning to get a little fuzzy. And she was glad. Fuzzy was good.

Nigel sat across from her, smiling into the candlelight. It flickered across his face, which was more handsome than she’d remembered. Or maybe he’d just grown up since the last time she’d seen him. She knew she had. He’d brought her to a more romantic place than she would have been comfortable with yesterday. But today was a whole different story. So what if he wanted to wine and dine her? It didn’t matter anymore, did it? She took another sip of chardonnay and smiled lazily.

“And he took one look at me and held his arms out to be picked up. Instant trust,” Nigel said, shaking his head. “It was the most amazing thing.”

He’d been telling her about Dissu, the little boy who’d won his heart the minute he’d arrived in the village he’d been assigned to. Emma loved hearing about him and loved seeing his picture even more. She wondered for the thousandth time if she would ever do anything as meaningful with her life as Nigel had done with his.

“How old is he again?” she asked.

“Five. Just had a birthday last month. He’s learning so much, so quickly. They all are. It’s very cool, Emma.”

She watched his long fingers stroke the side of the wine glass and looked up to find him watching her. “What?” she asked.

“Nothing. Well…you.”

“What about me?”

“You’re so…I don’t know. You’re very beautiful.”

She smiled awkwardly and looked down at her glass. She’d never taken compliments well, partly because they were so hard to believe. But what really bothered her was how much she’d been
needing
to hear this. But from a different man.

Looking back up, she fixed Nigel with a blurry stare. It was the alcohol. She needed to slow down. “Am I?”

He leaned closer and the scent of his aftershave made her belly tighten. What was wrong with her? She didn’t want Nigel. But at the same time, hearing these things felt nice. More than good, they felt wonderful. It was as if she’d been starving for the words since puberty. And she was so hurt, so wounded that Johnny didn’t seem to see anything in her worth holding on to.

“You’re kidding me, right?” he said.

She grinned, this time bitterly, and took another drink. “Nope. I never kid about my extra twenty pounds. Fat Em’. Remember?” She was referring to her nickname in junior high; she knew Nigel remembered too.

Reaching across the table, he took her hand. “You haven’t been that little girl for a long time, Emma.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, friend. It seems like I’m still that girl. Inside, maybe I’ll always be.” To her horror, her eyes filled with tears.
Damn it. No more wine, missy. You’re cut off.

Nigel shook his head, his dark hair falling forward. And in that moment, he reminded her so much of being a teenager, she felt like they were cutting class.

“It’s hard for me to believe you feel that way,” he said. “I guess I just can’t imagine that you don’t see yourself like I do. Like most people do.” He squeezed her hand, then let it go with a pat. “Your boss is a lucky guy. I mean that.”

“My boss?” She laughed and it came out as a snort. Definitely no more wine. “He’s no longer part of the picture.” She pushed her glass away. “If he ever was,” she mumbled.

“Oh.” Nigel was at a loss for words. Poor guy. He could probably tell a complete breakdown was imminent. He had always been in tune with her emotions. Now was no exception. “I’m sorry… Did he break up with you?”

“Breaking up would imply that we were dating, and we weren’t. But yes, I guess you could say he dumped me right on my ass. But it’s okay.”
Liar!
“He really wasn’t my type anyway.”
Hero, handsome, great in bed. Your typical loser.

Nigel leaned closer. And there was that aftershave again. And those mahogany brown eyes. “Emma, I’m no expert on relationships. Obviously, I let you go.” He reached for her hand again and she let him take it, enjoying the weight and warmth of it on hers, despite herself. “But I knew just by looking at that guy that he was wrong for you.”

For reasons she couldn’t understand, she prickled at that. “Oh, yeah? How could you tell?”

“Cocky. Macho. Seemed like a jerk to me.”

“Yeah.” It was true. Johnny did give out that vibe. But deep down he wasn’t a jerk. She knew better. He had friends and family who loved him and whom he loved in return. He’d known great heartache. More than any one person had a right to know. That’s why he came off like that. But he wasn’t a jerk. “He’s really not the way he seems.”

“Oh?” Nigel sounded skeptical.

“He’s been hurt. A lot. He’s…a little jaded. But he’s not a bad person.”

“He hurt
you
. That’s all I need to know.”

His thumb began moving over her knuckles, leaving her skin tingling in their wake. Johnny had touched her like this only a few days ago. How was that possible? It seemed like a thousand years ago. She was confused. Drunk. Turned on. Heartbroken. And she wanted to go home.