She Drives Me Crazy

by Leslie Kelly

  As he watched Daneen lower herself to the edge of the chair Nick had vacated, a number of scenarios ran through his head. Anything was possible—because Daneen looked…broken. That was the only way to describe the slump of her shoulders, the pinched, weary look on her face and the emptiness in her eyes.

  Emma, it seemed, noticed as well. “Can I get you something cold to drink?” she murmured softly. “Some iced tea?”

  Offering sweet tea to a woman she thought was a murderer. Heaven help anyone who claimed Emmajean Frasier’s granddaughter hadn’t inherited her good Southern manners.

  Daneen shook her head. “No. I just want to get this over with.”

  Steeling himself, Johnny said, “I’m not the police, Daneen. You don’t have to talk to me, or to anybody else, without a lawyer.”

  Daneen turned her full attention on him. “I’m not coming to you as a prosecutor. I’m coming to you as a friend, because you deserve the truth.” Swallowing, she admitted, “Fred lied. I didn’t spend last night with him. He pulled me over outside Jimbo’s, then followed me home to make sure I was okay. Then he left.”

  “He was protecting you,” Nick murmured.

  Daneen looked up at her ex and nodded. “God knows why.” Leaning forward, she put her elbows on her knees and rubbed a weary hand over her eyes. “But I swear on my life, I didn’t kill Jimbo. I might have wanted him dead for a while last night after he threw me over, but I’d never have killed a man I loved. A man who might be my boy’s father.”

  Beside him, Emma sucked in a shocked breath. For a woman who’d publicly admitted to having had only three lovers in her life, he supposed today’s revelations about Daneen were pretty shocking. He squeezed her hand, though he continued to focus on Nick’s ex-wife.

  “I didn’t know anything about Jimbo’s death until I went to the office after Jack left for school this morning. I planned to have it out with him.” She laughed bitterly. “Only, I had it out with his wife, instead.”

  Ouch. “Hannah was there?”

  Daneen nodded. “She was with Cora Dillon, and the police.”

  “Mrs. Boyd was arriving as our estimable sheriff was hauling me off to jail,” Emma said.

  Daneen shot her an apologetic look. “Anyway, Hannah said some things…things I guess I deserved. Cora watched every bit of the spectacle.” Daneen shook her head. “You know, I think Cora was the one who told Hannah about me and Jimbo. She was almost clapping the whole time I was being called a slut and a whore and a home-wrecker.”

  Emma’s hand tightened reflexively in his. The dead look in Daneen’s eyes, and the resigned tone of her voice revealed more than anger ever would have. She was crushed. Completely crushed.

  Some would say she deserved it, that she was all the things Hannah had called her.

  Johnny preferred to remember the young girl who’d been seduced by her father’s best friend not long after the death of her mother.

  Finally, as if she’d come to the end of her rope, Daneen rose wearily to her feet. “That’s all I’ve got to say. I’d best go get Jack now.” She crossed her arms, hugging herself. “I want to see my baby.”

  Emma rose and walked the other woman to the door. Johnny swore he saw her give Daneen’s shoulder a little squeeze, though she’d probably never have admitted it.

  “You need a ride?” Nick asked his ex.

  She shook her head. “I’m okay.” Then she looked back at Johnny. “Don’t go too hard on Fred, okay? He was just trying to protect me. He’s always been…well, he’s always liked me, I guess.” And without another word, she left.

  “My God, how sad,” Emma murmured once she was gone. She gently pushed the front door closed, then moved to the window air conditioner to crank it up a notch.

  It was damn hot in here. Not as hot as it had been last Friday—but pretty bad. Made more so by the thick layer of unhappiness Daneen had worn like a cloak.

  “I still don’t like her, but I feel very sorry for her.” Emma admitted. “And I think you’re right. She didn’t kill Jimbo.”

  “No, she didn’t.” Johnny remained still, sitting on the couch as he analyzed all the bits and pieces of information floating around in his brain.

  “My,” Emma said, shaking her head, “Fred must really care about her to lie like that to protect her.”

  That made him pause.

  Fred. Good old Fred.

  Noble Fred who’d loved Daneen for years.

  Fred, who’d come back to Joyful after one year in college—right around the same time Daneen had come back.

  The man who’d been unable to look Emma in the eye…on, oh, God, Emma had said…Tuesday. At the courthouse.

  And suddenly everything came together.

  Daneen hadn’t killed Jimbo. Johnny knew it, just as sure as he knew who had.

  Not two seconds later, his brother’s jaw dropped. “That lying sack of shit.”

  “Yeah,” Johnny said as he rose from the couch.

  “What?” Emma asked, obviously reading their sudden mood change. She looked confused.

  Of course, she would be. Because she didn’t know everything. Didn’t know Fred had loved Daneen for years. Didn’t know about the conversation Johnny and Nick had had in his office the other day…Tuesday…the day Emma had seen Fred in the courthouse. She couldn’t have realized how violently a deceptively strong former football player would react to the truth about what Jimbo had done to Daneen when she’d been practically a kid.

  Johnny pressed a quick kiss on Emma’s lips. A kiss of reassurance that everything was going to be okay. Because it was.

  She practically stamped her foot in annoyance. “Is somebody going to tell me what’s going on?”

  “Fred wasn’t protecting Daneen with a phony alibi,” Nick said.

  “No,” Johnny agreed. “He was protecting himself.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  FOR THE FIRST couple of days after Deputy Fred Willis was charged with Jimbo’s murder, everybody in Joyful talked about nothing else.

  If he’d done it—yes. He’d confessed almost immediately after being confronted by Johnny Walker and the state investigators.

  When he’d done it—sometime around 7:30 a.m., immediately after Jimbo had shown up for work on Thursday.

  Why he’d done it—for Daneen, who’d been having an affair with the mayor. And who Fred had loved most of his life.

  How he’d done it—with a wooden stake. Snicker, snicker.

  And what would happen—anyone’s guess.

  Emma was glad when the gossip finally died down, at least at the beauty parlor. After all, they had other things to talk about. Other plans to make.

  Speaking of those plans…it was about time to fill Johnny in on them, she decided Tuesday afternoon. Ever since Friday, he’d been tied up with the investigation. He’d been the key liaison to the state police working on the case, since Sheriff Brady had resigned.

  That resignation had added more fire to the scandal. The women of Let Your Hair Down were the only ones who really knew why the chief had quit. So far.

  Johnny had called at lunchtime, saying he was finally going to leave the office at a reasonable hour, after working ungodly long days straight through the weekend. And Emma was going to be ready for him. Pies at hand, a confession in her heart, she would be ready.

  She planned to tell him the truth. Those tense moments Thursday when she’d been near to panic at the thought of him being alone with a possible murderer had made her realize something. Whether he wanted to hear it or not—whether she was a fool to tell him or not—she was going to let Johnny know how she felt.

  She loved him. Madly. Passionately. Always had, always would, forever and ever, amen.

  A hint of self-doubt whispered in her brain, reminding her of his views on love, relationships, commitment.

  As in, never.

  As for marriage? Not in a million years.

  “Tough,” she told her reflection in the misty bathroom mirror. “You’re telling him.�
��

  “Telling who what?”

  She whirled around, shocked to see Johnny standing in the doorway of her bathroom, wearing a salacious grin. No wonder, considering she was dressed in nothing but a loose towel, which she’d tucked around her breasts.

  “You scared me. You’re early.”

  “Want me to leave?”

  She grabbed his arm. “Don’t you dare.” Then she stood up on tiptoe, holding her towel with one hand while, with the other, she cupped his head and pulled him close for a kiss. She kissed him deeply, holding nothing back, letting him feel the emotions that had so far gone unvoiced between them.

  When they finally drew apart, he stared searchingly into her eyes. “Emma? You okay?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Let me get dressed, okay?”

  “You don’t have to on my account.”

  Nibbling her lip, she looked away. “Yes, I do. We need to talk.”

  WE NEED TO TALK.

  God, were there four worse words in the English language for a man to hear, when spoken by a woman he loved? Usually they preceded some horrible news, quite often followed by, “It’s not you, it’s me.” Or, “I just need my space.”

  At least, so he’d heard. He wasn’t entirely sure since he’d never been involved long enough with any one woman to actually be dumped by one.

  “Wanna tell me what about?” he finally asked, keeping his voice slow and even. She shook her head, then ducked past him out of the bathroom.

  He followed her to her room, watching as she disappeared into her closet and came back out wearing her short pink robe.

  Her hair was twisted up in a towel, her face bare of makeup, her whole body moist, sweet and fragrant from her shower. And she was mouthwateringly beautiful.

  If she told him they were finished before he ever got the chance to tell her he loved her, he was gonna die. “Emma Jean…”

  “So what’s the latest?” she asked, looking nervous, as if she didn’t want to proceed to their real conversation any more than he did.

  He suddenly began to suspect why. New York had come calling again. He’d bet his last dollar on it. She was leaving.

  “Johnny? Is anything new?”

  He shook his head absently. “Not really. Just what I told you on the phone earlier. Daneen is taking Jack and moving down to Atlanta to live with her cousin for a while.”

  “She needs a new start,” Emma said, a slight frown pulling at her brow. “And she certainly doesn’t need her son hearing all the gossip flying around this place.”

  Emma walked by him, heading toward her dresser, probably to get some clothes. But Johnny couldn’t wait any longer. He caught her arm, holding her still. “Tell me.”

  She looked down, staring at her pretty pink toenails, at the wall. At the bed. Then her face turned pinker than her nail polish and she looked away from the bed.

  That was definitely one place where the two of them had no trouble communicating.

  “What is it?”

  She shrugged, resigned. “This is hard for me.”

  He could have let it remain hard, made her come up with the words to tell him she was going away, but he didn’t want to see her hurting any longer than she had to. “I know what you’re going to say.”

  “You do?”

  He nodded. “I expected it, Emma. I’ve been waiting for you to give me this kind of news almost since the day you arrived.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Well, gee, if I’d known it myself as soon as I’d arrived, it might have saved us both a lot of trouble.”

  Trouble. The weeks they’d spent together had been trouble? His heart took a hit. “So I guess that means you’re not going to change your mind.”

  “Who can change their mind when their mind’s not calling the shots?”

  “I guess your wallet is,” he admitted, knowing she had to look out for herself.

  “Huh?”

  Shaking his head, he drew in a deep breath, about to tread into very deep water. Where he’d never attempted to swim before.

  She was worth it. What they had was worth it. What they could have was worth it most of all.

  He wasn’t about to ask her to stay. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to sit back and watch her go. “I’m not a bad lawyer, you know.”

  She looked surprised by the change of topic.

  “I mean, I’ve been sitting here with my thumb up my ass for eighteen months. Then, all of a sudden a real murder happens and wham, I remember I used to be pretty good at my job back in Atlanta.”

  “But did you like it?”

  He shrugged, looking away. “I can like any job under the right circumstances.”

  “Those being?”

  This time he didn’t hesitate in meeting her stare and holding it. “That you’re in the vicinity.”

  Her eyes widened in shock as she finally understood what he was getting at. “Johnny, you…”

  “Shh,” he said, holding his fingers up to her lips. “You don’t have to decide anything now. But there’s something between us, Em, there always has been. And if I have to follow you to some big northern city to make sure we give it a shot, then so be it.”

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered, looking stunned. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “You want me,” he said, not letting her obvious dismay change his mind about being honest. “You admitted you’ve always wanted me. I want you, too.”

  This time, she was the one who put her hand to his mouth. “You’re wrong,” she said softly.

  No. God, please no.

  A part of him died. Just shriveled up and died inside.

  “I didn’t always want you, Johnny Walker.”

  He almost called her a liar, but before he could, she cut his legs right out from under him.

  “I always loved you.”

  Loved. Loved?

  She must have seen his disbelief. “I loved you. I was infatuated with you from that hot summer day when your truck broke down and I gave you a ride. I fell a little harder for you every time you were home from college, when I’d see you standing up for Nick or Virg, or working your butt off to help your mom.”

  That word, love, was still bouncing around inside his brain, making it hard to focus on the rest of her words.

  Emma loved him? Had always loved him?

  “And I lost my heart to you forever the minute I opened my front door and saw you standing there in that tux, holding those wildflowers you’d picked from Nelson’s field.”

  Her beautiful amber eyes glittered with emotion. Her soft voice held no hint of doubt. And the way she cupped his cheek in her hand—as if reaching up to touch him for the first time—nearly brought him to his knees.

  “I know you don’t believe in it, don’t believe yourself capable of truly loving anyone, or of making a real relationship work. But I love you enough to order you to try.”

  “Order?” he finally croaked out through a mouth as dry as dust.

  “Yeah. I order you to give yourself a chance to love me, Johnny Walker. If you don’t, I’ll…I’ll never give you another piece of pie again as long as you live.” Though her voice held a note of teasing, her eyes narrowed as she threatened, “And I’ll make sure you aren’t capable of sharing pie with any other woman for the rest of your life, either.”

  Unable to help it, he let out a bark of laughter. Grabbing her, he hoisted her up until they were nose to nose. Then he kissed her, tasted, for the first time in his life, the sweetness of a mouth that had just said, “I love you.”

  This time the words they communicated in their kiss were deeper. More meaningful. He told her with his lips what he hadn’t yet put into words. I love you, Emma Jean.

  When they pulled apart, he let Emma slide down his body to stand on her own. Her eyes were wide, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps as she waited. Waited for a response

  There was only one he could give her.

  He took a step back, seeing her sudden frown, but needing room to reach
into his back pocket. Withdrawing his wallet, he opened it and reached inside for something very familiar. Very precious.

  In a small plastic sleeve, which was made to hold a wallet-sized photograph, was a tiny, delicate, thin strip of gold. He heard her gasp as he drew it out, letting the cool metal slide over his fingertips. Then he lifted it higher.

  So she could see the butterfly.

  “Oh, my God, that’s my anklet.”

  “It hung on my bedpost in my dorm for a long time,” he admitted hoarsely. “But ever since prom night, it’s been in my wallet. I’ve carried it with me every day for the past ten years.”

  She knew, then. Of course she did, judging by the shaking of her lips and the brightness of her eyes. But Johnny gave her the gift of the words, anyway. Just as she’d done for him. “I love you, Emma Jean Frasier. I’ve loved you, and only you, for as long as I can remember.”

  The moisture in her eyes turned into full-fledged tears, though her beautiful face was practically alight from the huge smile on her lips.

  “Hallmark, huh?” he asked with a gentle laugh as he touched one teardrop with the tip of his finger.

  “Yeah,” she whispered.

  Then there was nothing left to say. She twined her fingers in his, the ankle bracelet winding between both their hands, creating a large ring of gold. Then she kissed him again, like she needed him to breathe.

  Which was just what he needed from her.

  Her kiss to breathe. Her laughter to melt. Her smile to exist. Her love to survive.

  Their long, sweet embrace eventually moved to her bed, where they continued to kiss, slowly, languorously, as the late-afternoon sun slid through the half-open blinds over her bedroom window. That sunlight cast lines of shadow and light across her body as he drew her silky robe off, kissing her, all over, as if for the first time.

  But before he removed his own clothes to make love to her, truly, in every sense of the word this time, she frowned.

  “What is it?”

  “Did you really have your heart set on going with me to New York?”

  “I’m not letting you get away again, Em.”

  She nodded, thinking about it. “Can I reserve the right to take you up on that in the future?”