Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Joanna (Book 6)

by Webb, Peggy

  “Hearts and flowers and violins?”

  She laughed. “Yes. And balloons and bazookas and confetti. I want love to feel like a celebration.”

  “I suspect that being in love with you would be a celebration.” He took her hand. “Joanna, I want to take you out again.”

  “But just as friends, Alfred, okay? I don’t think I can go on with this husband-hunting scheme, and I certainly don’t want to mislead you. You’re too nice.”

  “Friends, Joanna. But don’t count me out, yet. Many a fine romance has started with a beautiful friendship.”

  She gave him one last appreciative look, then lifted her gaze to the stars.

  “Wishing on a star? I used to do that when I was young. Believed in it, too. What did you wish for, Joanna?”

  She closed her eyes to shut out the star shine, but the brightness was still there. She sighed softly as she realized she was envisioning the brightness of her future. “Love,” she said with her eyes still shut. “I wish for love.”

  o0o

  Joanna got home at two o’clock in the morning, early for her. As she passed Kirk’s bedroom she noticed that his door was open. She stuck her head around the corner.

  “Kirk?”

  There was no reply. In the dimness of the bedside lamp, she could see that his bed hadn’t been slept in.

  “Still out with that hussy,” she muttered.

  She stomped down the hall to her bedroom, started to strip off her dress then changed her mind.

  “Lord knows what time he’ll come in,” she added as she marched down the stairs. “Probably dragging that brazen baggage with him. ‘Unusually sultry in Mississippi,’ indeed! The way she was acting over him ought to be outlawed. I ought to hire a good lawyer and sue!”

  Rags jumped up from his resting place near the bottom of the stairs, startled awake by Joanna’s tirade. He followed her into the kitchen, tucking his tail between his legs as she loudly banged cabinet doors.

  “Where does he keep the Jack Daniels?” Joanna demanded, glaring down at the small dog.

  Rags put his head on the floor and covered his eyes with his paws.

  “Even Rags is ashamed of the way he carried on over that floozy,” Joanna assured herself just as she discovered the bourbon in one of the lower cupboards. She poured herself a generous shot and took a big gulp. It burned all the way to her stomach. She took another big slug and refilled her glass.

  “Cheers, Rags. Here’s to me and you and this lonesome big house.” She headed toward the kitchen table with her glass, then changed her mind. “If I’m going to be maudlin, I might as well be drunk, too.”

  Taking the bottle with her, she moved to the table and sat down. For a while there was no sound in the kitchen except the splash of whiskey into the glass and an occasional dramatic sigh from Joanna.

  “Helluva thing about love. It creeps up on you, even when you don’t want it to.” She propped her face on her hands and stared morosely into her glass. “Now you take strangers. It’s so easy. Like falling into a needle in a haystack.” She spaced the words carefully, pronouncing each in a sonorous voice. “Take bes’ frien’s, for instance. Then it gets complicated. Like teaching new dogs old tricks.”

  “Joanna?”

  She turned her head slightly, quirked an eyebrow and leered at Kirk, standing in the doorway.

  “Can’t teach new dogs,” she intoned.

  “I do believe you’re sloshed.”

  “Tell it to her honor, the blond law hussy.”

  Kirk grinned. “Didn’t anybody ever tell you that you shouldn’t drink alone?”

  “My bes’ frien’. A jillion times.”

  He crossed to her and gently took the glass from her hand. Carefully he assessed her condition and the level of liquor in the bottle.

  “You’re going to have the devil of a hangover tomorrow.” Putting his arms around her shoulders, he half lifted her from the chair. “Can you stand?”

  “I stand on principles.” Her legs wobbled as she peered owlishly up at him.

  Chuckling, Kirk scooped her into his arms.

  “Feels wunnerful.” She snuggled her head against his chest.

  “Yes, it does, baby.”

  She shut one eye and squinted up at him. “I’m not a baby. I’m all woman.”

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  “W-O-M-M-A-N.”

  “Jack Daniels has improved your spelling, I see.”

  Kirk switched off the light with his shoulder and carried her from the kitchen. She snuggled against his chest and began to nibble his throat.

  “You taste good. Like a bes’ frien’ should.” She gave a deep throaty chuckle and smiled up at him.

  He almost forgot she was drunk. Desire flared through him, ignited by the feel of her in his arms and fanned by the moist touch of her mouth against his skin.

  “I’m going to tuck you into bed, Joanna.” He walked with purpose toward the stairs.

  “Sounds wunnerful.” She unfastened the two top buttons on his shirt and carefully flicked her tongue across his chest. “Yummy.”

  “Joanna. Don’t do that.”

  “I want to gobble you up.”

  Standing at the foot of the stairs, he gazed down at her. “Tomorrow we’d both regret it.”

  “We use’ to pretend. Let’s pretend there’s no tomorrow.” She popped open another button and spread her palm against his chest. “I feel your heart.”

  “Behave, Joanna.” He removed her hand, and as he did he noticed her face, flushed with desire. “Lord, help me remember my responsibility.” His words were half groan, half mutter.

  “Wha’sat?”

  “Nothing, Joanna.”

  He tore his gaze away from her and started up the steps. Her hand moved back to his chest and began a small, erotic circling. As he fought against his desire, each step he took became an agony for him. Joanna pushed aside his shirt and wet his nipple with a kiss. Ignoring the flames that shot through him, Kirk continued resolutely up the stairs.

  Chapter Four

  Kirk pushed open the door to Joanna’s bedroom. It smelled of jasmine, sweet and heady and subtly seductive. The fragrance assaulted his senses, attacked his already ragged nerves.

  Moonlight spilled through the windows and silvered a section of the bed covers. A black nightgown lay in its path. Kirk made a strangled sound as a vision of Joanna in that sultry wisp of satin and lace came to mind. He hurried toward the bed, knowing that the quicker he got out of her bedroom, the better off they’d both be.

  Leaning down, he placed Joanna tenderly on top of the covers. She kept her arms locked tightly around his neck. He would have fallen on top of her if he hadn’t braced himself with his hands.

  “Let go, Joanna, so I can tuck you in.”

  “No.” She pulled harder so that his face was only inches from hers. “You look wunnerful in the dark. Jus’ wun- nerful.”

  “You do, too, baby. Now let go.”

  She held him fast. “Betcha didn’t call ol’ Marsha a baby.”

  Supporting his weight with his left arm, he tried to pry Joanna’s fingers off his neck. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

  “Betcha kissed her. Show me how you kissed her, Kirk.”

  Looking down at her with the moonlight caught in her bright hair and shining on her beautiful innocent face, he struggled with temptation. The desire to kiss her was so strong he could almost taste it.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

  Finally he succeeded in getting her hands loose. He got off the bed so fast, Joanna bounced as the bedsprings released his weight. Before he could move away, she sat up and circled her arms around his hips.

  “Don’t go. I’ll be sad and lonesome and blue.”

  She pressed her face against his abdomen and sighed. He clenched his jaw and tried to remain cool and collected, but that last move of hers had put the situation almost beyond his control. His hands were rough as he untangled her and pushed her back ont
o the bed.

  “Behave yourself, Joanna.”

  “Tha’s mean, Kirk. Don’t be a meanie.”

  He knelt beside the bed and took her face between his hands. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t intend to be rough with you. But you have to remember that I’m only human. I know you’re too drunk to understand any of this, but I feel compelled to say it. You’re a beautiful, desirable woman, and tonight you’ve exasperated me and tempted me almost beyond endurance.” He tenderly brushed her hair back from her forehead, then cupped her face again. “Do you understand any of this, sweetheart?”

  She gave him a crooked smile. “Do sweethearts kiss? Teach me.”

  “Ah, Joanna. You tempt me so. What am I going to do about you?” He closed his eyes and fought to regain control. The effort was great, but he finally managed to fight down his desire and steady his breathing.

  Releasing her, he stood up—slowly, like an old man. She was smiling sleepily at him, looking innocent and young, so very young.

  “Let’s just hope that you don’t remember any of this in the morning and that I have the courage to forget it.”

  Joanna mumbled something unintelligible and tried to keep her eyes open. The Jack Daniels had finally caught up with her.

  With a sigh of relief Kirk sat on the edge of the bed and removed her high-heeled sandals.

  Her feet were small and tanned and unexpectedly sexy. He was thoughtful as he held that warm flesh in his hands. Then he bent over and tenderly kissed each toe.

  Behind him, Joanna heaved one last sigh as she slipped into sleep. Kirk turned around and studied her. She was sleeping with both arms thrown back, hands open, palms up, yellow sundress billowing around her like a buttercup. The moonlight slanted across one bare arm so that he could see her pulse beating there. Her vulnerability clutched at his heart. Never had the burden of responsibility felt so heavy.

  He knew her dress would become restricting and uncomfortable, but removing it was beyond his capabilities. He might be a martyr, he thought, but he was not a fool. There was no way he could bare that beautiful body and keep his nobility, let alone his sanity. He settled for bending down and unfastening her belt. Then he took an afghan off a nearby rocker and covered her.

  He was tempted to lean down and kiss her forehead. It had always been the natural thing to do. Four years ago he would have thought nothing about it. But tonight, just that simple act seemed foolhardy.

  “Goodnight, Joanna.” He turned swiftly and left the room before he could change his mind.

  o0o

  Sunshine and bird song poured through Joanna’s window. She sat up in bed and clutched her head.

  “When did birds stop singing and take up screeching? Ohh, my head.” She noticed that she was fully dressed and covered by an afghan. That meant Kirk had put her to bed. But she didn’t have any extra energy to expend on worrying over that matter. Every bone in her body seemed to be screaming in sympathy with her head, and her mouth tasted like feathers.

  She eased back the covers, being careful not to make any unnecessary moves, and crept across the room. Before she reached the bathroom, she decided Kirk had moved it to China. Her hands were shaky on the water faucet, but she managed to splash her face and brush her teeth. She even slipped off her wrinkled dress and got into the blue terry-cloth robe hanging on the bathroom hook. Just when she thought she was on the way to recovery, somebody took a sledgehammer and battered on her door. At least that’s what it sounded like, she decided, as she clutched her throbbing temples.

  “Coming,” she muttered.

  Rose was standing in the doorway with a tray of steaming food, every inch the proper housekeeper. Her white cap and apron were stiff with starch, and her smile was stiff with propriety. Although she’d been serving the Deerfields for twelve years, she always maintained a courteous and professional distance. Joanna knew that Rose would maintain that proper manner even if a herd of goats stampeded through the house. Nonetheless, she greeted the old housekeeper in her usual manner, with a hug.

  Only the flush on Rose’s cheeks betrayed her pleasure. “Mr. Kirk said I should serve you in bed.”

  “I can’t eat a thing. Please take it away.”

  “Mr. Kirk’s orders. He’s worried because you missed breakfast and lunch. Told me to bring this food up and make sure you ate.”

  “He did, did he?” Unconsciously Joanna assumed her rebel’s pose, chin stuck out, dark eyes gleaming, feet planted wide apart. She was absolutely furious that Kirk extended his authority even over her meals. Her fury was stoked by memories of the way Marsha Holmes had hung over him last night.

  “And where is my guardian?” She made the question deceptively soft and innocent. Her mind was already spinning with defiant plots, and she didn’t want to arouse Rose’s suspicions.

  “Downstairs in his study. Working.”

  “Poor sweet old thing. And on Saturday, too.” Joanna waved her hand toward the bedside table. “Just put the tray over there, Rose, then you can go. I know you have more important things to do than pamper me.”

  The dishes rattled as Rose set the tray down. “I don’t like to leave until I see you eating. You know Mr. Kirk. He’s a stickler for detail. He’ll probably check the tray to see how much you ate.”

  He probably would, Joanna thought, and she didn’t want to cause trouble for Rose. She lifted the cover off her plate and picked up a hot croissant. Bravely she took a small bite, then smiled at Rose.

  “It’s delicious. Thank you. I didn’t know I was so hungry.” Swallowing back a grimace, she took another bite.

  “That’s a good girl. I’ll come back later for the empty tray.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Joanna gave Rose her brightest smile. The effort made her feel as if her whole face would crack. She’d never known that a hangover could make your skin hurt. “Since Kirk was so thoughtful, I’ll take the tray down and thank him in person.”

  “That should please him.”

  Joanna grinned. “It might even astonish him.” She took Rose’s arm and escorted her out the door. “Thank you again for the food.”

  As soon as the door was closed, she took several deep breaths. Getting oxygen to her brain restored her considerably. Thoughts of her confrontation with Kirk restored her even more. Taking the tray with her, she walked to the window and opened the sash.

  “Come here, birdies, you loudmouthed little devils. Here’s something for you to sing about.” She crushed the croissants and flung the crumbs out the window. Activity was beginning to make her feel almost human again. The tomato juice on her tray looked good, and she was beginning to be hungry, but she’d be darned if she’d eat simply because Kirk ordered her to. Resolutely she poured her tomato juice down the toilet and flushed it through.

  Then she dressed in jeans and sneakers, fluffed a brush through her hair and tiptoed downstairs, breakfast tray in hand. She found Rags in the downstairs hallway, sleeping near the bookcase. It didn’t take much coaxing to get him interested in egg-and-ham soufflé. He followed her outside, his tail wagging.

  After Joanna had done all her dastardly deeds, she walked triumphantly into Kirk’s study, carrying the empty dishes. He looked up from his desk and smiled, but she was determined not to be sidetracked by the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and the way that lock of hair dipped down across his forehead.

  “Hello, Joanna. You look beautiful today. Fresh and full of vitality.”

  His voice did funny things to her, too. Words failed her. Suddenly she could do nothing except stare at him, excessively pleased by the compliment. She wondered if he’d said the same lovely things to Marsha. The thought made her extremely jealous, and a little uncomfortable. She vaguely remembered discussing Marsha with him last night. Her only hope was that, in spite of the whiskey, she’d maintained a certain amount of aloof dignity.

  Kirk stared at her so long, she felt like fidgeting. Being at a loss for words was bad enough; she certainly wouldn’t show her discomfort by fidget
ing. His gray eyes continued to search hers. He seemed to be probing her mind, trying to read her thoughts. His stare completely mesmerized her. She was relieved when he finally broke the silence.

  “How are you feeling today, Joanna?”

  “Well enough to take care of myself, thank you very much.” With elaborate politeness, she placed the tray with its empty dishes on his desk.

  “Good. You ate. And I see the roses are back in your cheeks. Food is just what you needed.”

  “And you always know exactly what I need. Is that right, Kirk? For your information, I gave the food to Rags and the birds. I flushed the juice down the toilet.”

  She saw his smile fade and his eyes darken with wariness. “If you came here looking for battle, Joanna, you came to the right place.” He stood up, towering over her.

  She jerked her head up and looked him squarely in the eye, refusing to be intimidated.

  “Now that you’ve recovered from your hangover, I have a few words to say to you. Don’t you know better than to get sloshed alone? You might have fallen down the staircase.” He reached out and gripped her shoulders. “You were completely vulnerable. What if I hadn’t been the one to walk in on you? Something terrible could have happened to you.”

  “A lot you cared. It was two o’clock in the morning when I came home. You were still out with that—that lawyer creature.”

  “I left you with a nice, responsible young man. Why couldn’t you come home and go to bed like an ordinary woman?”

  “Alfred was too shy to do that on our first date.”

  Kirk muttered an oath that would have made any other woman shake in her sneakers. Joanna merely glared at his tight jaw and the white line of anger around his mouth.

  “Dammit, Joanna, if I ever find Alfred in your bed—or any other man for that matter—I swear to God I’ll kill him.”

  The intensity of his statement shocked Kirk as much as it did Joanna. For a moment they merely stared at each other. Struggling to make a rapid recovery, Kirk amended his rash statement.

  “You’re so all-fired determined to rush right to the altar, I’m surprised I didn’t find Alfred trussed up and waiting like a turkey.”