Julianna Morris - The Hometown Hero Returns

Nicki rolled her eyes. Luke was certainly obtuse about the fine points. Maybe it had something to do with him being a land developer. No doubt when someone was tearing down buildings and putting up strip malls, subtlety didn’t have much value. On the other hand, maybe it was because he was an ex-jock. Her ex-husband had been a sports guy like Luke, and he’d possessed the sensitivity of a steamroller.

Along with a few other undesirable qualities.

Sighing, she looked Luke square in the eye.

“It isn’t about the frame. I mean, that’s why I bought it, but that’s not…” Her voice trailed off as she tried to collect her thoughts. “The thing is, when I examined the painting I discovered it was quite valuable. Take a look at the signature.”

Leaning forward, he pulled a bit of paper away from the lower right-hand corner of the canvas. “A. Metlock. So?”

“So, Arthur Metlock was one of the finest American impressionists of his day.”

Luke swallowed a stab of impatience. His uninvited guest had big blue eyes in a heart-shaped face, and a scatterbrained manner that was oddly appealing. If she’d shown up at his office in Chicago selling raffle tickets he would have bought a dozen. But right now he was getting ready to go back to Chicago and didn’t have time to think about anything except his grandfather’s worsening health. The doctor had diagnosed senility and prescribed medication to slow the progress of the condition, but nothing was helping.

“Look, Miss…?”

“J-Johansson.”

“Miss Johansson. So it’s worth a few dollars more than you paid for it. We don’t mind. Granddad probably won’t be staying in the house, which means we’ll be getting rid of most everything, anyway, before we sell the place.”

“I can’t keep this.” She sounded genuinely shocked.

Lord. Luke had forgotten how stubborn people from Divine, Illinois, could be. He was accustomed to a cutthroat business world where getting a steal of a deal was the ultimate achievement. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the woman’s honesty—too few women were honest about anything—but he didn’t have the time or energy to deal with something new.

“Truly, you don’t have to worry about it,” he said, knowing irritation had crept into his tone.

“Of course I’m worried.” Her obstinate expression seemed familiar for some reason. “It’s worth at least twenty thousand dollars.”

Luke blinked. She had to be mistaken. His grandfather had been a shrewd man in his day, writing popular art history books, collecting art and teaching at the local private college. No matter how mentally shaky he might be now, he wouldn’t have sold a valuable painting at a yard sale.

But then…Luke rubbed his temples. Granddad had gone downhill after Grams’s death three years ago. It was one of the worst parts of their loss. Grams had gone quickly, her smile still bright and true despite the swift course of her illness. But Granddad seemed to lose a piece of himself with each day that passed, without even trying to get better. In fact, he seemed determined not to get better. Love had done that, taken the spirit out of him.

Luke didn’t have any use for love. It had betrayed him more than once, and his grandfather’s pain was just another reason not to trust an emotion that was elusive at best, destructive at worst.

“How do you know it’s worth that much?” he asked. “Are you some sort of art genius or something?”

Out of the blue, the woman turned pink. The color was kind of pretty next to her tousled gold curls and blue eyes, and Luke watched with interest. It had been a long while since he’d seen a woman blush—probably not since he was a kid and he’d embarrassed the hell out of Little Miss Four-Point-O, the smartest kid in school….

His eyes widened.

Johansson? Why hadn’t he noticed before?

“As I live and breathe,” he drawled. “If it isn’t Nicole Johansson.”

“And if it isn’t Stud McCade,” Nicki tossed back, as defiant as ever.

Luke winced at the nickname he’d once strutted over. In the old days he’d been smugly confident that he was irresistible to women and about his future as a pro football player—until his senior year, when basketball with his buddies had turned into twelve weeks of traction. That was when he’d gotten up close and personal with Little Miss Four-Point-O. She’d been hired to tutor him.

The memory was bleak enough without recalling what it meant to be Divine’s football hero, injured just as the team was on its way to the state finals for the first time. Maybe things would have been different if he’d gotten hurt during a football game, but the entire town had hated him for blowing things when it mattered most. All except Nicki, who hadn’t cared about football one way or the other. She’d hated him for other reasons…most of the time.

“You’ve changed,” he said.

“You haven’t.”

It didn’t sound like a compliment, and Luke couldn’t blame her. He hadn’t behaved well back then, resenting being tutored by a kid nearly three years younger than him. He tormented her because of it…when he wasn’t trying to tease her into a kiss. She’d been cute in a studious sort of way, and he’d been bored. And angry, at Divine and the rest of the world. Very angry. He’d had a chip on his shoulder the size of Canada.

Because it was easier thinking about something else, he looked at the painting. “We’ll get this appraised. If it’s that valuable you should receive a reward. By the way, how much did you pay my grandfather for it? I need to refund your money.” He reached and pulled out his wallet.

“There’s no need.”

“I’m serious. I can’t take something for nothing.”

“What you really mean is that you can’t let yourself be beholden to someone here in Divine. Right?” Nicki asked tartly.

“Still analyzing me, are you?”

“Jocks aren’t hard to analyze, they only have one thing on their mind.”

“Maybe, but I sure didn’t get that one thing from you, did I? ’Cause good girls don’t put out,” he said mockingly.

“You only wanted me because I was the only girl around,” she snapped. “If there’d been a cheerleader in the room I would have been invisible. And just how far do you think we could have gone with you in traction?”

“Hey, I was willing to be creative.”

“Stop squabbling, children,” said an amused voice, and Luke glared at his sister, who was standing in the kitchen doorway. There were times she could imitate their mother annoyingly well.

“What do you want, Sherrie?”

She made a face. “I just got off the phone from California. My partner at the veterinary clinic broke her leg last night, so there’s no one to cover the practice.”

Luke uttered a curse and closed his eyes to close out Sherrie’s worried expression and Nicki’s reddened cheeks. Over the past year the family had spent an increasing amount of time in Divine, trying to help his grandfather stay in his own home. He’d been back in Divine himself for the last three weeks, and Sherrie had just arrived to take a turn.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find someone to cover the clinic,” Sherrie said quickly.

“No. You’ve spent more time here than anyone, and it isn’t fair to ask you to do more than the rest of us. I’ll arrange to stay longer. You can fly back today.”

Embarrassment warmed Nicki’s cheeks as she gazed between the siblings. They were dealing with a serious problem, and she’d let an old resentment get the better of her. Resentment based on insecurity.

Involuntarily, she glanced down. She’d put on a loose cotton dress, suitable to the unseasonable late May heat. It wasn’t stylish, but at least it wasn’t as bad as her clothes used to be. Perhaps she ought to do something about the way she dressed. Yet as soon as the thought formed, she pushed it away. It felt too much like hoping to catch Luke’s attention, though they weren’t likely to meet again. Besides, she wasn’t the kind of woman that a man like Luke wanted. His kind of woman was beautiful and sophisticated and sexually confident, while she was anything but those things.