Page 78 of Hot to Trot

Scarlet faked a little smile. “I still don’t want to kiss him.”

Actually, she felt a bit sick, not from fainting, but from the fact she and Adam had blown it. Her little charade had fooled no one. “Guess that means I can loan Meg my catsuit after all."

Rayne put her hands on her hips. "You can stop with the whole acting thing. Everyone can see what's going on here."

"Well, if you've got a handle on it, I wish you would share it with me because I don't know my up from my down anymore," Scarlet said, feeling better, stronger, and not willing to deal with her sister's admonishments. ''And did I hear right? Did Meg just call BubbaBrandon?"

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

JOHN HAD REMAINED virtually silent throughout the melodrama. Scarlet didn't blame him. After the way she'd hit him, she was surprised he'd stuck around. But he had to have good reason to be there. No man left New York City and traveled over a thousand miles merely to say hello to an old lover.

"John?" Scarlet said, ignoring the others. The place smelled like roses and baking bread, which should have relaxed everyone, but no one seemed to be soothed by the smells nor the comfortable, old-fashioned parlor. "We need to talk."

She glanced at Adam, who spoke quietly with an elderly lady wearing an American-flag shirt and a sun visor. He caught her gaze and gave an imperceptible nod, and it felt as if a guiding hand pushed her John's way. She had to deal with the past that had cropped up before she could move on to Adam and her future.

If there was one.

John stood close by, watching her with wariness in his eyes. He seemed so out of place in his Gucci loafers and stylish linen pants. He'd lost a good deal of weight which made him lookolder. Had it been over a year since she set eyes on him? How had he changed so much?

"Do you mind going outside?" she asked.

He took in all the people covertly studying him under the guise of chitchat and said, “That would be best.”

''Y'all can go out back, sugar," the older woman who’d been talking to Adam gestured toward the kitchen that presumably contained a door that led outside. “Plenty of places to talk away from prying eyes."

Everyone watched as she and John moved through the dining, into the kitchen, and finally out the back door. The backyard of Tucker House held bird feeders, blooming flowers, and a lush sense of privacy. John waved her toward a stone bench that sat near a detached wooden garage.

“I’m sorry I hit you," she said quietly, glad the grass was thick and thistle free. "You didn't deserve that. Well, maybe you did, but I still shouldn't have done it."

"It’s okay. Like you said, I deserved it.”

She pressed her lips together, smearing the leftover lip gloss and something that was likely mayonnaise. "Whatare you doing in Oak Stand?"

"I came for the picnic," he said with a wry smile.

She didn't laugh. Simply lowered herself onto the bench, still a bit weak-kneed. John took her elbow. "Thank you.”

John had always been solicitous, taking her under his wing long before he'd taken her into his bed. A mentor of sort, he might have been more a father figure than she’d like to admit. She often wondered if that had been her fascination with him. John had given her something she’d never really had.

Oh, she loved her father.

Both her parents loved her, bestowing on her gifts many parents failed to give their children. Their parenting had beenloose at best, providing room to grow and flourish wherever she chose. Yet, at the same time, they’d not given her much stability.

John had given her a center, grounding her, advising her, and even protecting her.

"I'm sorry I surprised you like that,” he said settling beside her and plunking a blade of grass from the planter next to the bench. He twirled it between his fingers. “I tried to call your cell. I even called your aunt's inn."

“Yeah, I suck with my phone. I mostly text. But I’ll be honest I erased your message without listening to it."

"I'm not surprised. I handled things badly."

She sighed. ''No, you didn't handle them at all.”

"Touché," he muttered, moving to take her hand, but she shifted away. She didn't want him to touch her so intimately. Those days were long over. She didn't know when it had happened, but she knew she no longer loved John. If she did, she would have been overjoyed to see him, despite her anger with him. She'd felt nothing. Nothing but shock that he'd turned up in the middle of a world he had no business being in.

"So do you hate me now?" he asked, splitting the blade of grass and tossing pieces onto the ground at his feet.

"No, of course not."

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