Johnny's Girl

  Johnny’s Girl

  First published in Great Britain by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd, 2013

  A CBS COMPANY

  Copyright © Paige Toon, 2013

  This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.

  No reproduction without permission.

  ® and © 1997 Simon & Schuster Inc. All rights reserved.

  The right of Paige Toon to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

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  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-47113-351-0

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Typeset by Hewer Text UK Ltd, Edinburgh

  Contents

  Johnny’s Girl

  His kisses start at my ankles and trail all the way up my legs, over my back and up to my neck.

  ‘Mmm,’ I murmur sleepily, rolling over and coming face to face with him. His green eyes are piercing in the morning sunlight that spills through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He kisses me slowly, deeply, and I feel that very familiar and very delicious spark of desire as he settles over me, his tanned, toned arms trapping me and keeping me exactly where he wants me.

  Which is exactly where I want to be.

  ‘I love you,’ he says in a low voice, pulling away and staring at me seriously.

  ‘The feeling is very much mutual,’ I reply with a smile.

  And then he’s kissing me again.

  What a lovely, lovely way to wake up.

  Johnny is brushing his teeth when I come out of the shower. I dry myself off and he spanks my bum as I join him at the sink.

  ‘Oi!’ I laugh, wrapping my arms around him from behind and staring at his slightly fogged-up reflection. He rinses his mouth out and turns around to face me, wearing nothing more than a pair of white boxer shorts and his tattoos, which decorate his arms and part of his torso. I glance down at the small one that he had done recently on his left pec, in swirly black writing: Nutmeg.

  I run my fingertips across it with amusement.

  ‘I still can’t believe you did that.’

  Nutmeg is the nickname he gave me when we first met.

  He strokes his thumb down my jaw, tenderly. ‘You are a part of me,’ he says gently. ‘And now,’ he adds with a grin, spanking my bum again, ‘you will always be a part of me.’

  I giggle and slap his stomach, then I go and pull my blue, orange and pink block-coloured maxi dress out of my suitcase. Possibly for the first time in my life, I didn’t want to waste time by unpacking.

  ‘Do you have to wear that?’ Johnny asks, wandering out of the bathroom.

  My face falls. ‘Don’t you like it?’

  ‘I prefer you naked,’ he replies with a twinkle in his eye.

  I tut good-naturedly and get dressed. ‘Well, I’m hungry. And sadly, you haven’t brought me to a nudist resort.’

  ‘Damn. That possibility didn’t even occur to me.’

  I grab a rolled-up T-shirt out from the suitcase and chuck it to him. He catches it and pulls it over his head, accepting my clothing choice without a second thought.

  God, I love being married to this man.

  ‘What are you smiling about?’ he asks me with a raised eyebrow.

  ‘I love being married to you,’ I tell him softly.

  ‘The feeling is very much mutual,’ he repeats my earlier phrase with a smile. ‘Now throw me my jeans, Wife.’

  One year and four months ago, I married the love of my life: rock star Johnny Jefferson. I fell for him when I worked for him as his personal assistant. He was a nightmare back then – a proper bad boy: womaniser, drink and drug problems… Urgh, I still hate thinking about it. But allegedly he fell for me, too, even though he struggled to show it at times.

  Well, that’s a bit of an understatement.

  I thought I’d made the biggest mistake of my life when I fell pregnant. These days I can’t believe I ever regretted it, because we have Barney – our beautiful blond-haired, green-eyed boy.

  And of course, now we also have an eight-month-old baby, Phoenix. But he arrived after marriage. Just. I’m pretty damn fertile, as it turns out.

  We have left our two gorgeous boys with my parents in a beach house in Malibu for one night – which is the longest Johnny could persuade me to get away. I know they’ll be safe and sound – I miss them, but Johnny and I needed this break together.

  I’m back in America for the first time since leaving it two and a half years ago. Johnny has had to come back and forth for work recently, but he’s kept his trips short and sweet. He always asks me to join him, but Phoenix has been so young. That’s the excuse I’ve used, but Johnny knows the real reason. The truth is, I’ve been in no hurry to return to this country after the way I left it. Too many bad memories. They still haunt me.

  ‘Why don’t we have breakfast here?’ Johnny asks suddenly.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t think of that.’ I just assumed we’d walk to the restaurant. ‘Do you think it’s too late?’

  ‘I’ll call them,’ he replies casually, wandering over to the desk phone.

  Silly me. This is Johnny Jefferson we’re talking about. He always gets what he wants.

  In the end.

  Yep, he got me too, eventually. But I made him work for it. I slide the glass door open and step out onto the private deck, which is suspended over the grass-carpeted cliffs below. The ocean stretches out before me, deep blue underneath a pale blue, cloudless sky. I sit down on a sun-lounger and pull up the hem of my dress, letting the warm morning sun soak into my legs. It’s been a bitterly cold winter back in England. It feels like it’s gone on and on and on. It was pouring with rain when we left – absolutely bloody miserable.

  I take a deep breath of the cool spring air and slowly exhale. We’re in Big Sur at my favourite resort of all time, the Post Ranch Inn. I came here for the first time with Johnny when I had only recently started as his PA. I stayed in a Tree House then, with views of trees and the Santa Lucia mountains beyond, while Johnny stayed in an Ocean House. Now we’re in a Cliff House, with a secluded terrace and our own private spa tub. I glance at it now and smirk as I remember how, er, hot we got in there last night.

  We flew here by helicopter yesterday morning. Johnny usually prefers to drive the mountain roads, but he doesn’t have any of his supercars in America anymore, and anyway, we didn’t want to use up our time travelling when we’re only away from the kids for such a short stay.

  My parents have been wanting to come to America for years, so they jumped at the chance when Johnny offered to fly them over from the South of France for a three week holiday in return for babysitting the kids for a couple of days. We had to put it to them like that, otherwise they would have felt like they were taking advantage of his generosity. They still offered to pay for their own flights, but Johnny wouldn’t hear of it.

  ‘Drop in the ocean, Nutmeg, drop in the ocean.’

  He teases me with this catchphrase anytime I think twice about buying anything.

  ‘All sorted,’ he says as he steps out onto the deck behind me.

  ‘Cool, well done,’ I reply.

  He touches my cheek and then comes to sit on the sun-lounger next to me. Raking his hand through his dirty blond hair, he
looks out through the glass surrounding the deck at the water beyond. I smile at him.

  ‘Nice, eh?’

  He keeps his eyes on the view. ‘Beautiful,’ he says under his breath.

  ‘You alright?’ I ask, sensing his thoughtful mood.

  He glances across at me and narrows his eyes. ‘Don’t you miss it?’

  ‘What? Big Sur?’

  He shrugs. ‘Yeah. LA. America. The weather.’

  ‘No…’ I reply hesitantly. ‘I mean, I love this…’ I indicate our surroundings and the sunshine. ‘But, I don’t know…’ My lips turn down. ‘It has been nice coming back,’ I say carefully. ‘It’s been better.’ I flash him a small smile and he looks momentarily pained, but then he leans across and presses a kiss to my temple.

  ‘I love you,’ he says meaningfully, staring into my brown eyes.

  ‘I know,’ I reply with a wry grin.

  ‘Come here.’ He tugs on my arm and pulls me on top of him. He pushes my light-blonde hair off my face with his rough fingers, which are calloused from years of playing his guitar. ‘Happy anniversary,’ he murmurs.

  ‘Happy anniversary,’ I reply with a smile.

  We couldn’t get away for our actual anniversary. This is our belated celebration, and it was worth waiting for.

  ‘You make me so happy,’ he says. My insides swell with happiness and contentment and I slide down a little so I can lay my face against his chest. His strong arms encircle me and I bask in his warmth.

  The feeling, as we keep saying, is very much mutual.

  After breakfast we go for a wander through a forest of enormous redwood pines soaring over our heads. The last time I was in this forest, I gave myself a hot flush imagining Johnny and I together. I come clean to him about this now.

  ‘Did you?’ he asks with a flirtatiously raised eyebrow, pausing for a moment and leaning back against a huge tree trunk. It’s dark and quiet in here, the only noise coming from birds singing in the high tree tops. He takes my hands and pulls me closer.

  ‘I remember you going for that walk, actually. I thought about coming to find you.’

  ‘You didn’t?’

  He nods, seriously. ‘I did. After that night in the hot tub… Mmm.’ His voice is deep and sexy. ‘I wanted you.’

  Even now, even after all this time, I blush at his intonation.

  ‘You should have come to get me,’ I tell him.

  ‘I thought you were into Christian,’ he replies, and it surprises me to see a flicker of pain cross his features. It still bothers him, still hurts him to remember that I got together with his best friend after I fled LA – and him – the first time.

  I place my hands on his chest and then I slip them up and under his T-shirt, wanting to touch his taut stomach. He breathes in sharply and smiles down at me.

  ‘It was always you. You know it was always you,’ I say quietly, looking up into his eyes, which are darker in this subdued light. ‘This is what I wanted to do,’ I tell him, sliding my hands around his waist.

  ‘Is that all?’ he asks with amusement.

  ‘What did you want to do with me?’ I respond with mock outrage.

  ‘You really want to know?’ He gives me a look and it sends a shiver rocketing up and down my spine.

  I nod slowly. He takes my wrists and spins me around, pinning me up against the tree trunk. He presses his body hard up against me from behind and kisses my neck.

  I gasp. ‘You’re so naughty.’

  He stills. ‘This is not me being naughty.’

  I smirk and turn back around to face him. ‘You know we can’t, right? Someone might see us.’

  ‘Live dangerously, Nutmeg.’ He kisses me and then nips my bottom lip with his teeth. I know how much he wants me. It’s, well, obvious.

  I put my hands on his chest and gently, but firmly keep him at bay. ‘You’ve done enough of living dangerously for both of us,’ I say, and the look on his face makes me giggle. ‘Do you think you’ve shagged me more in the last couple of years-’

  ‘Not two years yet,’ he interrupts.

  I roll my eyes. ‘Okay, Mr Pedantic.’ I continue. ‘Do you think you’ve shagged me more in the last “not quite two years” than you shagged all of those groupies?’

  ‘Jesus, Meg!’ He looks horrified as he takes a step away from me.

  I laugh. ‘I want to know!’

  ‘How to lose a guy his hard on,’ he exclaims, looking down at his crotch. This only makes me snort, but he’s not finding it as funny as I am.

  In truth, I don’t find it funny at all. I’m only laughing in this context. I still haven’t come to terms with how many women Johnny would have slept with when he was in Fence, the rock group that made him famous, and later when he went solo and his career soared to the highest of heights. Okay, we have sex all the bloody time, even now with two kids, but I still don’t know if I’ve broken his record. And yes, however bad it sounds, I do want to.

  ‘In our first proper month together I’d been with you more than I had with any other woman,’ he tells me seriously.

  ‘Yeah, but I want to know about your total.’

  ‘I don’t know my total,’ he mutters.

  ‘Am I close?’

  He frowns, looking away from me with frustration. He glances back at me. ‘You really want to know?’

  Actually, I’m not sure that I do. I feel a bit sick now. ‘Yes,’ I tell him.

  ‘Bloody hell. Okay. So we’ve been together, what… We got together at the end of June? July, August, September…’ He counts on his fingers, finishing one year and many months later at the end of March, which is where we are now. ‘Twenty-one months,’ he says eventually, while I look on, amused, despite the underlying nausea in my stomach. ‘We have sex three times a day occasionally. Sometimes more.’

  ‘Not straight after Phoenix was born,’ I correct him. ‘And not when you’re away.’

  ‘Phone sex doesn’t count?’ he asks hopefully.

  ‘No,’ I tell him firmly. ‘Let’s call it once a day on average.’

  ‘That’s being extremely cautious.’ He stares back at his fingers, and then looks back up at me with confusion. ‘I’m not good at maths.’

  I laugh out loud.

  ‘Bollocks,’ he mutters.

  ‘We must’ve had sex well over seven hundred times,’ I chip in, waiting for his response.

  ‘Erm…’

  ‘Have you slept with more than seven hundred groupies?’ I ask with surprise.

  His brow furrows and he looks away from me. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me,’ I warn, all humour gone from my voice.

  ‘I am not lying to you,’ he says firmly. ‘I’m thinking. And I don’t think I’ve slept with that many women. Seriously,’ he stresses. ‘But I can’t be completely sure,’ he adds, his shoulders slumping. I know that he’s telling me the truth.

  ‘Sorry,’ I say, feeling bad now because I’ve let my green-eyed monster take over again.

  ‘Never apologise,’ he mutters, taking me in his arms and holding me tightly. ‘I love you,’ he says into my hair.

  I bury my face in his neck and kiss him there. He pulls away and kisses me again, and I don’t stop him even when we become more passionate. But I’m not quite ready to “live dangerously”, as he put it, so we reluctantly break away from each other and walk hand-in-hand through a field full of wildflowers back to the privacy of our cliffside room.

  ‘Look! There they are!’ I cry gleefully as I peer out of the helicopter window at the small figures of Mum, Dad, Barney and Phoenix below. They’re standing on the front garden near the swimming pool and Mum is holding Phoenix in her arms, pointing up at the helicopter as it flies in to land on the roof of the Malibu beach house we’ve hired for this holiday. Barney is jumping up and down on the spot, waving like a little lunatic. I am so excited to see them again, I can’t even tell you. I’m out of my seatbelt well before the rotor stops moving.

  ‘Hang on a sec.’
Johnny puts his hand on my arm. He’s happy to see the boys too, but I don’t think he would have minded if we’d stayed away for another day. As for me, much as I loved my precious time alone with my husband, I wanted to be back to put our children to bed. Phoenix is not even nine months old and I’m still doing the last feed of the day. I missed our ritual last night, even though Johnny did his best to keep my mind occupied with other things… Hmm, I’m thinking maybe we should get a hot tub of our own.

  As soon as I’m allowed, I climb out of the helicopter and run down the roof steps to the front lawn where my parents and children are waiting.

  ‘Mummy!’ Barney shouts, waving around a tube of M&Ms with a little battery operated fan at the top. ‘Look what Grandma bought me!’

  ‘Wow! That’s amazing!’ I exclaim, raising one eyebrow at my mum. She looks guilty. ‘It had a helicopter on the top,’ she says defensively. ‘Like the one Mummy and Daddy went away in.’ She has a tendency to spoil him with treats, whereas I try to steer clear of too much sugar. For Barney, not me. I’ve got a ridiculously sweet tooth. Yep, I stick by my double standards.

  I sweep him up into my arms and give his little body a big squeezy hug, then I pass him to Johnny who has just appeared behind me.

  ‘Hey, buddy!’ he says, while I take Phoenix. He’s blond with brown eyes, like me, and he has an exceptionally toothy smile. Exceptional, because there’s just the one tooth at the moment. I tickle him under his chin and he giggles up at me. They’re both wearing their PJs and are ready for bed.

  ‘How was it?’ I ask Mum and Dad as we wander back inside.

  ‘They were as good as gold,’ Mum says.

  ‘Fine,’ Dad replies nonchalantly.

  ‘Did you have a good time?’ Mum asks us both.

  My face breaks into a grin and I look up at Johnny and smile. ‘Yeah, it was great.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Johnny says with sincerity to them both.

  ‘Anytime,’ Mum replies, patting him on his arm.

  We wander back inside. The three-storey, cube-like house is on stilts overlooking a sandy beach and the Pacific Ocean beyond. It’s styled like a beach house – despite its size suggesting it’s more of a beach mansion – with painted white weather boarded ceilings and sanded floors with cream-coloured shaggy rugs underfoot. The outdoor deck is modern with a fantastic view, but inside it’s a little bit twee, and not really to Johnny’s minimalist taste. But it’s secluded and safe, and it counts dozens of other A-list celebrities as neighbours. The price for renting it reflects that. Ouch.