An Offer He Cant Refuse - By Christie Ridgway Page 0,20

age her that much. "I was - " she broke off, darting a glance at Johnny.

That dangerous dimple was showing again. "Me? Seventeen. She was nineteen and her name was Dawn. Afterward I wrote a rock song for electric guitar in her honor, 'Oh Miss Dawn, You're the Bomb.'"

"I... " Tea lifted both palms in defeat. "Can't top that. I won't even try."

Missy gazed upon her with pity. "That's because you waited until some sensible, dispassionate age like twenty-two, twenty-three maybe. Way past the age of consent and composing rock songs."

Tea had been twenty-four and coming off a diet and exercise program that had resulted in a fifty-pound weight loss. The man, an accountant for a small chain of tile stores, had sent her a one-layer box of See's Candies afterward. The chocolate had been better than the sex. To be honest, both had seemed pretty skimpy.

"Well, I'm going to show Raphael what I think of his disapproval," Missy declared, sliding closer to Johnny.

Jesus Christ, Melissa Banyon has her hand on my -

"Johnny?" Over the male voice sounding in her head, Tea called out his name. His attention snapped from the actress to her.

"Yes?" His eyes widened again. "Did you... uh, did you say you had to get home?"

Tea swallowed. So that's what he was really thinking. He wanted her to leave him alone with the actress. It wasn't a surprise. She shouldn't be disappointed, and she wasn't, because the beautiful boy jocks always ended up with the thinnest, prettiest girl in the room.

"Right," she said, rising. "I'll be on my way."

Jesus H. Christ, Melissa Banyon has unfastened my -

"But I'm afraid I'm not feeling well, Johnny." Tea found herself plopping back onto her seat. She didn't know where this stubbornness had come from, but there it was. "I think you'll have to drive me home."

'Take a cab," Missy answered for him, sliding closer on the bench seat and wiggling in such a way that her dress drew south another crucial three inches. Johnny's gaze followed the descent.

She's seriously wacked, but the woman bought herself a great pair of tits, justfrickin' great.

Tea told herself to leave Mr. Frickin' Great with the woman who was dazzling him. After all, his personal life was none of her business either. But then, glancing back, she could see the storm cloud that was Raphael getting ready to thunder.

She'd do it for him, she decided, with sudden loyalty. For him, Raphael.

Tonight, she'd refuse to disappear from the bar or into the woodwork in the Invisible Girl moves she'd perfected during her long, awkward adolescence. She'd refuse to leave without Johnny and thus save this stranger's impending marriage.

The Foreign Legion had really been her favorite movie last year.

Reaching across the table, she wrapped her fingers around Missy Banyon's bony wrist - the free one. Tea didn't want to think about where the other had disappeared to. "I'm sorry, but Johnny and I came in together, and we'll be leaving together too."

The famous actress didn't even blink. "We want our own private party, sweetie, so run along."

Tightening her grip, Tea pulled Missy Banyon to meet her halfway across the table. At the other woman's ear she whispered, in a tone that was a legacy of a life around the mob. "If I run out of here alone, sweetie, I run right to my grandfather, Cosimo Caruso, hai capito?"

It worked like the charm that it was. Tea figured the actress had visited Palm Springs often enough to know the significance of the name. Missy jumped away from their table, bumping against some others to finally land in the safety of the seething, sexy Raphael's arms.

Tea gave Johnny a moment to right whatever the actress had wronged, then slanted a look in his direction. She wasn't going to apologize. If he didn't want to do business with her after blowing his chance to make it with Melissa Banyon, then so be it. A woman had to draw the line somewhere, though granted, it was a strange kind of boundary for someone who had once hand-stenciled life-sized clowns on the walls of a circus-themed kitchen.

"Shall we call it a night?" she asked.

"We can call it whatever you want," he replied, standing. "I owe you, Ms. Caruso, big-time."

She stared up at him. "You mean... you didn't..."

"I what?" He blinked, then looked annoyed. "You thought... I wouldn't!"

His response kept her quiet all the way back to her house. His response and a strange little giddiness bubbling through her bloodstream. Because of her