She Drives Me Crazy (19 page)

"Whose side are you on?"

"Yours," Emma said without hesitation. "And you're right. You do deserve to live your life and feel free to be who you really are."

Claire nodded. "Yes, I do."

"But…"

The harrumphing thing happened again.

"But, you should at least expect your husband to react when you don't tell him about things like getting a job or putting your daughter in day care."

Claire had told Emma about her drastic lifestyle changes, and her husband's less than enthusiastic reaction to them. What she hadn't been clear on was what had fired her up so much to go roaring out and make those changes without a word to Tim.

Claire swiped some red nail polish on her index finger, and looked at Emma through her curly brown bangs. "I got his attention."

"Yeah, you sure did."

"He knows I'm serious."

"Considering you packed your bags and your child and left, I'd say he does." Then Emma gave her friend a gentle smile. "But don't you think it's time to talk to him about all this?"

Claire frowned. "I'm not sure he's ready for talking. Besides, I think he needs more than one night alone in our bed to realize I actually
was
there, sleeping beside him, for the past few years."

Whoa. That sounded more serious than a spat over a job. Though she didn't want to pry, she sensed her friend needed to talk. "Um, problems there, too?"

Claire frowned. "Closest thing I've had to a sexual experience this month was when the guy fixing my bathroom sink bent over and gave me a plumber's smile." Tapping her finger on her cheek she added, "I think I had my last nonchocolate-induced orgasm right before the turn of the century."

"You're exaggerating." She
hoped
.

"Maybe. But not by much." Claire grabbed a bottle of nail polish remover and began to methodically remove every bit of the polish she'd just applied.

Emma nodded toward her supply of polish. "Go for something softer this time."

"You're the one who had the screaming hooker red in your makeup kit," Claire shot back.

"Gift with purchase."

Claire nodded, understanding instantly, as would any woman who glommed up every gift with purchase at the makeup counter. Even though the colors in said gifts were ones that would usually only look flattering on a corpse. Or a transvestite.

Emma reached for the bottle, intending to tuck it away in case she ever needed to bribe someone on the set of the
Jerry Springer Show
. Not that she'd been arrested, for, oh, a few
days
now.

"I don't know why I'm bothering," Claire said, looking with disgust at her short, neatly trimmed nails.

"Because you're beautiful," Emma replied. She'd waded in this deep, so she figured she might as well head all the way in. "Get back to your orgasms."

"What orgasms? You mean the ones I'm not having because of the sex I'm not having?"

No sex. That'd been Emma's lot…until yesterday…but as a single woman who hadn't dated anyone even casually for over a year, she had an excuse. Claire did not. "Why not?"

"Well, I've never been a vibrator kind of gal…"

Emma snorted a laugh. "I meant, why aren't you having sex?"

Claire's grin faded and she absently reached for a bottle of pale pink polish. "I look awful."

"Oh, pun-lease…"

"No, I know I've let myself go. It was hard enough losing the first twenty pounds I packed on when I was pregnant. These last twenty are a bitch. I don't think they could be blown off my butt with an explosive device."

"So what? You're beautiful, Claire. Voluptuous. Gorgeous."

Her friend didn't look convinced, though Emma was serious.

Pointing to her breasts, Claire muttered, "Then there's
these
things."

Emma sucked her lip into her mouth to prevent a laugh. Claire looked as disgusted as if two dead rats were hanging from the front of her dress. "Uh, honey, in case you hadn't heard…men like big breasts."

"These have moved past big and gone to the watermelon stage. When Eve was a baby, I was afraid to bring her into bed to nurse her at night because I thought for sure I'd suffocate her with one of these puppies. They were about four times the size of her head."

Emma was snorting by this point, and Claire's grin had returned. Then she softly admitted, "I guess that was part of the problem. Suddenly they turned into milk machines instead of…"

"Playthings?"

Claire nodded.

"I think there's a name for that."

"Elvis Presley syndrome?"

"Something along those lines."

Emma thought about Claire's problem. So much for perfect, blissful marriages. If someone as kooky-sweet and loveable as Claire couldn't make it work, how could anyone?

What an utterly depressing thought.

"So you see why I'm not totally thrilled about going to this reunion tonight. I'm already feeling bad enough about my life. I don't particularly relish spending an evening with a bunch of people who've probably already heard through the grapevine that my husband's thrown me out because he wants a younger, skinnier,
nicer
woman."

Emma rolled her eyes at Claire's exaggeration. Though, honestly, experience told her the gossip chain probably would distort the truth in such a manner.

"Personally," Emma said, "if it were me, I'd want to dress myself in something drop-dead gorgeous and show up at the party making every man there drool."

"Drool? I think you mean gag."

Emma groaned. "Drool! Now, Tim is coming, right?"

"I'm sure he will. If only to see if I show up." Then Claire snickered. "Drop-dead gorgeous, huh? Got any big giant canvas feed bags floating around?"

Emma glared at her friend, getting tired of hearing her rag on herself. "You're buying into the stereotypical b.s. that has screwed up so many American woman. Have you seen some of the new, more normal-sized supermodels?" Determined, Emma rose to her feet, walking carefully with toes spread and upraised to avoid any smears, and pulled a dress out of her closet. "You've got to pull a Scarlett in
Gone With The Wind
. Show up in a wicked dress and act like you don't give a fiddle-dee-dee what anyone thinks."

She pointed to her own red dress, which was short, tight and low enough to stop traffic. She'd only worn it once and had immediately decided upon it when thinking about the reunion.

Claire's eyes bugged out. "You must be crazy if you think I can fit into that!"

"No, this is what I'm wearing." She hung the dress back up and carefully waddled back over to take Claire by the hand. Pulling her to her feet, she said, "Let's drop Eve off at your mom's. Because you are going to get a new dress. And I know just where we're going to look. A shop that's having a huge col-o-sul sale."

Johnny had absolutely no interest in attending the ten-year reunion of his brother's high school class. He'd gone to his own last year and had been bored to tears. This would be much worse.

Unfortunately, he couldn't get out of it. He'd agreed to be the alumni speaker. A former Joyful High grad who'd somehow done something to aid the residents of this town was always invited to address the party. Usually it was an alumni from the same class. But apparently Nick and Emma's graduating class had been kinda thin on suckers… er…local success stories.

Lucky him.

Of course, he'd agreed to it weeks ago, long before Emma Jean had ever come back to Joyful. Certainly before he'd done the unthinkably stupid and had sex with her again. This party would have been bad even before what had happened between them last night. Now, he couldn't imagine how tough it was going to be, knowing what they'd shared the day before. And knowing there was no way they were ever going to share it again.

He'd rather be tied to a chair and forced to watch
Gigli
a dozen times than attend tonight's big to-do. But he'd promised.

Arriving at the hotel in Bradenton where the reunion was being held, he couldn't help casting a quick eye at the people entering the place. He recognized a few faces. Guys he'd played football with, some he'd shared detention with. A former bully he'd punched for beating up one of his younger Walker cousins.

But no Emma. And, he found himself acknowledging, no Nick.

Not that he expected his brother to show up here. No way would Nick come back to town, for this event of all reasons. If he'd been coming, he would have told their mother, and she would have told Johnny.

Still, he couldn't help looking at every guy entering the place, wondering if he'd see and recognize his brother's lanky form or familiar cocky grin.

Dammit, he'd missed him. Missed their friendship, the relationship they'd once had.

Sometimes Johnny wished he'd handled things differently. He'd just been so furious with Nick after he'd run out on Daneen. Truthfully, he'd been furious with him since he'd run out on Emma. But it had only been when Daneen had come back to Joyful with her baby son that he'd confronted his brother. Once the family had found out where Nick was—in the Marines—Johnny'd written him to express his opinion. He'd pulled no punches in his letter, expressing every bit of anger and disappointment he felt for his only sibling.

Nick had never replied. And the only time they'd seen each other since was when they'd stood on either side of their mother, watching their abusive prick of a father being buried.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

He immediately looked up and saw Daneen standing right outside the door of his SUV.

"They aren't worth a wooden nickel."

She shrugged, then stepped back to let him open the door and step out. "I heard you were the guest speaker tonight."

"Your class wasn't exactly full of overachievers, was it?"

She swatted his arm. But before she could say another word, they both saw a little red convertible pull into the parking lot and zip into a space close to the entrance.

He'd recognize that blond head, not to mention the shrill squeak of her brakes, anywhere.

"Emma," he murmured.

"So she showed up after all," Daneen muttered, not sounding pleased by the development. She said something else, but by that point, Emma had stepped out of her car, and Johnny was completely incapable of focusing on anything else.

Red. Oh, God help him, her dress was red and short and glittery and tight enough to reveal every delectable curve of her body. Low-cut with thin shoulder straps the only thing holding everything in place.

"Have you seen much of her since she's been back?"

Johnny smiled inwardly, thinking of just how much he'd seen of Emma Jean recently. Particularly last night. "I've seen her."

"I hear you've been seen
with
her," Daneen said, sounding deceptively noncommittal.

He knew his sister-in-law. She was very interested, but knew him well enough not to start hitting him with questions. Because she knew he'd never answer them. "We're old friends."

She snorted. "But apparently you were more than that before she left town." Shaking her head, she tsked, then gave him a wicked smile. "Who'dve thought it of good girl Emma Jean Frasier. And
you
."

He took a second to close his window and get out of the car. When she still waited, expectantly, he gave her a pointed look. "Yeah, who'da thought it? But then,
or now
, what happens between me and Emma Jean is nobody's business."

Daneen merely nodded, obviously realizing she was pushing too hard. "Be careful. You know there are some wild rumors floating around about her." The expectant sparkle in her eyes told him she was dying to tell all she knew.

"Yeah, I know. They're pure bull. I'd like to find out how they got started." Then he narrowed his eyes. "I'd also like to talk to your boss about a few things. Emma came to town under the impression she still owned the land where the new club is being built and I've been looking into the records for her."

That reminded him of the papers he'd dropped the previous evening. He'd meant to grab them on his way out, but had completely forgotten. Considering how distracting his visit had been, he couldn't be too hard on himself.

Daneen's brow shot up in unfeigned surprise. "You're kidding! I don't see how she couldn't know about the lot. Jimbo's been working with the new owners for more than a year." Then she looked past him, again toward where Emma had parked her car. "Wow.
She
looks good."

Daneen's comment surprised him, since he knew how much she and Emma disliked one another. Then he realized she wasn't talking about Emma. No, his ex-sister-in-law was entirely focused on the other woman who'd been in Emma's convertible. The one he'd barely even noticed since no other female seemed to exist whenever Emma Jean Frasier was around.

"My God, is that Claire?" he asked, his jaw dropping open when he finally took a good look at the woman in black.

"Yeah. I wasn't sure she'd show up since she walked out on her husband." Daneen whistled. "She's obviously out to show him what he's missing."

He hadn't heard the full story of Claire's unexpected arrival on Emma's doorstep the night before, but Daneen's comment came as no surprise. The suitcases had been a dead giveaway about problems in Deveaux land.

So much for true love and great marriage. The next time he saw Virg and Minnie, he was going to make them swear to never break up. It was too frigging depressing for the rest of the loveless suckers to watch the few lucky ones fall apart.

He was glad for Claire in one respect, though. The town of Joyful had grown used to seeing her in ratty sweatpants and T-shirts. Now she wore one of the slinkiest black dresses he'd ever seen. There was no baggy fabric to cover up the few extra pounds she'd obviously put on since having her kid. No, she was flaunting what she had, and damn if she didn't look fantastic—in a buxom, Mae West sort of way—while doing it.

"Ready to go in?" Daneen asked, giving him a cheerful smile. Daneen looked younger, prettier when she smiled, without the hard, angry look she often wore. He attributed her good mood to the fact that she was about to waltz back into her high school element, where she'd once reigned supreme.

"Sure," he said, locking his door and dropping his keys in the pocket of his sport coat.

"You look very yummy tonight," Daneen murmured as she walked beside him. "I just might have to be your bodyguard to keep all the homy Joyful women off your back."

He didn't imagine a man's back was where a homy woman typically wanted to be. But he wasn't about to argue the point with her.

Johnny truly didn't think about how it looked for the two of them to be walking to the front door together. They'd arrived at the same time, parked near each other. It was natural for them to fall into step together.

Obviously Emma didn't see it that way.

She and Claire had come around from behind a large van parked between Emma's convertible and the entrance. They reached the sidewalk as Johnny and Daneen came around the other side of the van.

Emma's face went pale, and her eyes round. And he suddenly realized what this looked like. Taking one step to the side, to distance himself from Daneen, he met Emma's stare without flinching. He hoped.

Then he crossed his own arms in front of his chest and focused on the one woman who
wasn't
glaring daggers at him. Claire. "Girl, you look downright scrumptious tonight."

Claire's bright smile almost made it worth the uncomfortable moment. "Why sir, I declare, you could turn a girl's head. Emma and I went shopping."

"Tim's gonna have to beat off other men with a stick."

"Or just beat off, since I have no intention of going home with him tonight," she replied with a saucy toss of her head.

He almost choked. Coming from any other woman but Claire, and he would have. But this was the girl who'd responded with a resounding, "Eat me," when another kid had accused her of being white trash back in junior high. As someone whose family ranked even lower than white trash on the socioeconomic scale of Joyful society, Johnny had found himself liking Claire ever since.

"Why do I suddenly feel sorry for Tim?"

"Because you have a penis and those tend to stick together?"

"Disgusting."

She chuckled. "I meant those
people
tend to stick together."

Finally, Johnny worked up the nerve to turn his attention to Emma, who stood quietly beside her friend. She looked torn. Ready to commit murder on him, but also staring at her friend with a look of approval and warmth. He had the feeling Emma'd had something to do with Claire's transformation tonight.

God, she looked beautiful. His gut clenched and his heart picked up its pace in his chest as he thought about what they'd been doing round about this time the previous night.

Going absolutely insane.

"Hello, Em."

She looked up at him and met his even stare. "Johnny."

"You're beautiful," he admitted, the words low and thick, meant only for her ears but obviously overheard by her friend.

Before she could reply, Claire cleared her throat and tapped him on the shoulder. "I gotta say, boy, you look nice, too. I like the outfit. But, uh, I think you probably looked better in what you had on at Emma's last night right before I showed up."

She scrunched up her brow in thought as Emma and Johnny both shot her looks that told her to shut up. Then she grinned. "Oh, yeah, now I remember, I think it was nothin'?"

Johnny closed his eyes as he practically heard Daneen's spine snap straight. Shaking his head in half-amusement, half-dismay, he didn't even turn around to watch his ex-sister-in-law walk into the hotel without another glance for any of them.

"Oh, right, so she knows you're just brotherly, huh?" Emma snapped. "In case you didn't notice, your date went inside without you."

He gave Claire a look and without a word, she scooted away, leaving them alone. Emma appeared ready to follow her, but Johnny stopped her by putting one hand on her shoulder. "We showed up at the same time.
Separately
. By coincidence."

Nibbling her lip, she stared at him as if gauging the truth of his words.

"That's her blue car right next to mine," he added, tilting his head toward the parking lot. "No matter what you might think of me, there's no way in hell I'da shown up here tonight with Daneen after what happened between us yesterday."

She looked around, as if making sure no one was within earshot. Then she frowned. "What did happen between us yesterday, Johnny?"

A wicked smile crossed his lips before he could prevent it.

"I mean
after
that. I thought I knew, but something seemed…different when you left."

So she'd picked up on his mood change. Not surprising, really. Forcing nonchalance, he shrugged. "Everything was fine. We went a little crazy, Claire interrupted. I left. End of story."

"What if Claire hadn't interrupted?"

Then we'd still be naked in your house and I'd be breaking world records for the number of times a man can get it up in a twenty-four-hour period.

"She did" was all he said.

Emma stiffened slightly, then gave him a brief nod. The tilt of her chin told him she was going for bravado. The tiny quiver of her lips said she couldn't quite manage it.

"Look," he said, unable to leave things this way, "it was wild. Incredible. But it didn't mean anything more than a great time. For either of us."

He was going to join the Screen Actor's Guild, because he'd just pulled off one amazing performance.

Finally, the lip thing stopped as her mouth drew into a tight line. "Fine. You're right," she bit out. Then she turned toward the door. "Claire will be waiting."

"Emma…"

She'd already started to walk toward the entrance, and didn't even pause as he softly said her name. It was only after she'd gone inside, the glass door swinging silently shut behind her, that he admitted, "I lied. It meant something."