An Offer He Cant Refuse - By Christie Ridgway Page 0,40

her face. The good girl trying to deny herself all that sweet, sexual sugar. "Looking doesn't count as calories," he tempted in a soft voice.

She bit her bottom lip.

Oh, man. Even her lips were blushing. They were red and wet and they made him want to whisper naughty things to her while she used them on him just like the etched woman in the mirror overhead.

His cock was semi-erect as she finally scurried to the corner and sat in the overstuffed recliner. "You will not tell my sisters about this," she ordered, then pushed down her heels to send the chair into full recline.

He rose up on his elbows to watch her reaction. Her mouth dropped open in a silent scream.

Of shock? Of arousal?

She was so straitlaced he couldn't tell.

"Johnny," she finally choked out, her voice faint. "We have to do something about this."

At that moment, if she wasn't the granddaughter of his enemy, and he wasn't the type who liked to keep things shallow, he might have fallen hard for her. Beneath the surprise, beneath that spinsterish little dress, was the vulnerable note of a woman who saw something she liked and was afraid someone just might guess that fact.

It was a hell of a thing to want to go to bed with a female who was trying to keep her sexual feelings buttoned beneath sand-colored silk.

It was a hell of a challenge.

The kind of challenge that was going to keep him sane while living at this house and searching into the past.

Taking care not to startle her, he rose off the bed and made his way toward her corner of the room. Craning his neck, he saw what intimate act had so caught her attention. And noted it in the back of his mind.

"We better examine exactly what's going on here," he said with authority, lifting her limp hand off the arm of the chair to draw her up. And then, careful not to let a hint of innuendo enter his voice, he took them both on a tour of the room.

At each stopping place, her eyes got bigger. Twosomes, threesomes, there was a whole daisy chain of differing sexual activities above them that they appeared to join, depending upon where they looked up.

It could've been a hell of a lot more fun sans their clothing, but he was pretty satisfied once he had both of them lying on the bed, their shoes on the pillow end, their heads tilting this way and that to fully make out the scene they now appeared to be participating in.

"That can't really be done," Tea scoffed, pointing a finger at the figures above her. "Nobody could hold a pose like that when... when..."

She couldn't say the words, and her face and neck were still pink with - embarrassment? Excitement?

He rolled over on one elbow to watch her face, which was much more interesting than the lifeless erotica etched above them. Oh, yeah, hustling the contessa into bed was going to be so much fun.

Which reminded him. Now that he was in the house, and even breathing easy, he had another move to make.

'Tea - " he said softly, lifting a stray strand of hair off her face with his fingertip, careful not to touch her skin.

"Hmm?" She angled her head in yet another direction.

He was smiling again. The fact was, she was damn good for him, getting him to smile, getting him to laugh, getting him hard in this place of such bad memories. It's just a house, he'd told her, and now he was beginning to believe it.

"I have another... small request," he said.

"What's that?"

"My new neighbors invited me over for cocktails tomorrow night. They said I should bring a date. I've only met two women since I've come to Palm Springs..."

She stiffened, just the slightest, but he noticed and slapped his ace onto the table.

"... so it's either got to be you or Melissa Banyon."

Beautiful, exotic dark eyes slid his way, narrowed. "You don't have her number."

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. "Missy slid it into my pocket that night. My pants pocket."

Tea's gaze jumped orgy-ward again.

She had to be tempted. She wanted him too. He knew she did. No more self-denial, baby, he silently urged.

Her soft mouth pursed. Her fingertips drummed against the comforter. "Well, I guess you won't need that number. As it happens, I'm free."

Johnny smothered any outward sign of triumph. Instead, he lay back on the bed and closed his