The Trouble With J.J. Read Online Free PDF

as she plucked the wet fabric of her blouse off her chest.
    The Nerf ball squirted up out of the pile of humanity on the lawn, bounced off Genna’s forehead, and into Jared’s hands. He tossed it out to Kyle Dennison, who was promptly tackled by a dozen neighborhood kids.
    “Know anything about football, Gen?” J.J. asked, still dancing. He draped a muscular arm across her shoulders, his gyrating hips bumping hers.
    “Certainly,” she said stiffly, trying to ignore the tingles racing through her as he brushed against her. “It’s a game played by enormous, sweating men who spit and scratch—”
    “That’s baseball,” he corrected.
    “And wear Joan Crawford shoulder pads,”Genna continued, her fuse burning down to the short fibers. “It’s violent and stupid, and I’d rather have a pelvic exam than be forced to watch it on TV.”
    She snatched her crutches up and started for home.
    Piqued by Genna’s unflattering description of his chosen profession, Jared stood stiffly and watched her hobble across the lawn. It wasn’t going to further his cause any, but he couldn’t resist the urge to take her down a peg or two. He waited until she was halfway home before yelling, “Yeah, well, I still want you in my Jacuzzi, gorgeous!”
    For one horrible eternity every pair of eyes at the party riveted on Genna. It seemed even the flamingos were staring at her. She could feel their eyes burning into her back.
    Death by slow torture would be too good for him, she thought, taking back all the feelings of contrition she’d had Friday afternoon. She was definitely sticking to her original opinion of him: J. J. Hennessy was an arrogant, mannerless, macho swine. A gorgeous, sexy , arrogant, mannerless, macho swine. And she was absolutely certain she wanted nothing to do with him. Almost.
    He is not normal, she reminded herself as shelimped around her kitchen slamming pots and pans onto the counter. She’d had her fill of crazy people when she was growing up. All of her father’s family was certifiable, her father included. A self-proclaimed inventor, he’d chased one harebrained scheme after another until he dropped dead, leaving his family with nothing but debts and not even a cent of insurance. He’d been an overgrown boy with no concept of responsibility. Just like J. J. Hennessy.
    “Why’d you leave the party, Gen?” Amy whined, letting herself in the kitchen door.
    Genna opened the refrigerator and started flinging vegetables into the sink. Potatoes sailed through the air one at a time, arching gracefully into the porcelain basin. A bunch of carrots missed the target and skidded down the counter, sliding into a piece of salt-glazed stoneware. Scallions flew like scattering buckshot. Amy dodged a stalk of celery. Genna answered without coming out of the refrigerator. “I won’t be a party to madness.”
    “Lighten up. A little madness is good for a person.” Leaning around Genna, she snatched a Coke out of the fridge and plopped down on a stool at the counter.
    “Who are you now, Dr. Joyce Brothers?” Gennashot her friend a glare as she returned to the sink and started peeling carrots with a vengeance.
    “It didn’t take a shrink to see you weren’t trying very hard to have fun,” Amy answered.
    “You shouldn’t have to try if it’s fun,” Genna said without turning around. “I don’t happen to like mass insanity, and the taste of beer turns my mouth inside out.”
    Suddenly suspicious, Amy asked, “What are you making?”
    “Vegetable soup.”
    “But it’s ninety degrees out!”
    “I’ll freeze it.”
    “You’re upset, Genna,” she singsonged in her grating voice, a self-satisfied smirk on her face.
    “I am not upset.” Genna stabbed a potato with her paring knife.
    “You always cook when you’re upset.”
    Genna spun around with the knife clutched in her hand, her eyes wild. The beer in her bangs had dried, leaving them stiff and straight as string. The front of her blouse was one