Her Last Wild Ride

Finally, after what felt like dealing with a hurricane, there was a lull. I leaned against the back bar and took a long drink of cold, fizzy cola and found my gaze lingering almost lazily on Johnny as he bent and stretched to put glasses in the washer. He stood up, that long powerful body uncoiling with all the grace of a jungle cat, and something inside me seemed to weaken, fatally. And then he turned to look at me.

Damn.

He prowled toward me, slinging the cloth over his shoulder. It should have made him look ridiculous. It didn’t. I scowled.

He remarked cheerfully, “You know, if the wind changes your face will stay like that.”

I couldn’t help my mouth from twitching at one side. My father had always used to say that. Johnny rested alongside me, too close. But I wasn’t going to move and show him he affected me. I could feel the tiny hairs on my arms standing straight up, though, as if reaching toward him.

I felt him looking at me, seeing my small smile. “That’s better,” he said approvingly. A lick of heat went straight to my solar plexus.

“So, tell me more about this agenda of yours.”

The question was casual. I shot Johnny a glance but he was checking that the last customers at the bar were occupied before he looked back to me.

I sighed and folded my arms. “I’m setting up a business with my friend Jenna.”

“She of the no-men pact?”

“We of the no-men pact,” I corrected primly. Why the hell had I let that slip out anyway? It must make us sound like frat girls.

I continued reluctantly, “I’ve been living in LA, working on films as a makeup artist, and she’s a stylist. We’re pooling our resources and experiences to start up a kind of agency hiring out our services for shoots.”

Usually when I told people what I’d done, they’d ask if I’d met anyone famous or what I’d worked on, but Johnny just turned more toward me and said, “Sounds pretty cool. And tell me, where is Jenna of the Agenda this evening? I presume you’re both on watch over each other to make sure neither of you

stray off the straight path?”

I heard the humor in his voice and just about managed to stop myself from scowling again. “She’s in Miami for two weeks for a family occasion.”

Johnny’s voice turned speculative. “So you’re all alone and undefended for two weeks?”

I looked at him and said with more strength than I felt, “Not happening, Johnny.” I moved away out of his far too disturbing orbit and clanged the small bell at the end of the bar signaling a call for last orders.

The sooner this night was over, the better. And I would do whatever it took to make sure Johnny didn’t feel like he had to keep “helping” me out. Because I knew I wouldn’t survive another night working alongside him without climbing him like a tree.

* * *

When the last customer had left a little later and I’d locked the door, I was determined to pretend as if there was nothing swirling between me and Johnny and as if he was just like any other staff member.

I came back to the bar and said brightly, “So what are you doing now if you’re working for yourself?”

He put down some glasses and looked at me narrowly for a minute, as if my breezy tone of voice hadn’t fooled him for a second. “I’m a carpenter.”

That immediately made me think of his hands and how big and strong they were, yet surprisingly graceful. I knocked the cash tray from the register off the nearby tip jar with clumsy hands and it would have fallen if not for Johnny’s lightning-fast reflexes. Just what I didn’t need to be reminded of.

“Hey...”

Before I knew what was happening he was reaching out and taking the tray out of my hands. He said in a low voice, “You’re like a cat on a hot tin roof.”

I was, too, in spite of my efforts to deny what was happening. I was jittery and clumsy. As skittish as a horse.

I turned to face him just as he put the tray down.

“Look, thanks for your help this evening, but we’ll be okay for tomorrow and I’ve got a temp starting on Monday.” I crossed my fingers mentally at the white lie.

Johnny looked at me. Dark blue eyes glowing like sapphires on fire. “You’re saying you really don’t want this?”

I knew he wasn’t talking about the job and I shook my head, afraid that if I spoke it’d sound breathy and give me away. He crossed his arms and his muscles bunched.