An Offer He Cant Refuse - By Christie Ridgway Page 0,82

game, but...

She slid a look at him from under her lashes as they headed for the swap meet entrance. Could she think of this as a game between them? If she did, then she wouldn't get too serious about it. Certainly the blond varsity god walking beside her wasn't interested in anything more than an amusing diversion. That's what he'd said he wanted.

What if she could see it as a temporary, amusing diversion too?

Though the temperature was cooler here than in Palm Springs, the sun's rays reflected off the asphalt of the huge parking lot. The atmosphere only got hotter as Johnny managed to appropriate her hand. He was even able to guide her direction of walking once they were past the swap meet's entrance gate.

"Hey, look here," he said, tugging her toward a set of tables filled with sunglasses. "Try these on."

He pushed a pair of oversized hot pink plastic frames onto her face. Humoring him, she peered at herself in the mirror. "I don't think these are me, Johnny. I'm all dark lenses and a mouth."

"And what a mouth it is," he murmured, handing over a five-dollar bill for the glasses even as he leaned in for a kiss. "I like you... in... hot... hot... pink," he murmured against her lips.

She supposed she should have protested, or at least found a pair of sunglasses as cheesy to purchase for him, but when he lifted his head and towed her onward, she was too dizzy to make such a decision. Besides, the sleek, expensive pair he wore suited him to perfection.

Damn, she thought. This wasn't going to work as even a temporary amusement. He was way, way out of her league.

Though not that you could tell by some of his shopping selections. Before they'd made it past two of the dozens and dozens of rows, he'd bought a set of miniature wrenches, a leg-sized bag of kettle corn, and a package of athletic socks. He halted again as they came upon a booth of Jamaican products. His hand hovered over a crocheted Rasta cap in black, red, and yellow stripes as he sent her a speculative glance.

"No, no, no, no." She put her hands over her very expensive, very difficult-to-maintain straight hair. "That won't look good with my new sunglasses."

He listened. And bought another in gradated shades of pink that he clapped onto her head without a by-your-leave.

"I thought men didn't like to shop," she grumbled, checking out her bizarre, but slightly rakish reflection in another mirror.

"Do you really mind so much?" he asked, putting his hands on her shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze. "I want to bring some color into your life, Contessa."

"How do you know that I'm not perfectly happy with my neutral tones?"

"Because you're not some anemic mouse, as much as you seem to be comfortable in the wardrobe of one."

She frowned at him. "1 might take offense at that."

"Don't." He smiled. "I just think you look best in bright, warm colors."

"I'm a designer, Johnny, I'm aware of it." She couldn't let him think she didn't know her business.

His hands busied themselves adjusting her cap. 'Then why the mouse-wear?"

She shrugged, looking away from him. "Maybe because I gave up on competing with Eve a long time ago. It seemed easier to disappear into the woodwork." It was part of the reason. Sort of.

"You don't seem the jealous type."

Because she hid her passions as well as she hid her secrets. She clutched her purse beneath her arm, realizing she hadn't thought about the Loanshark book or the Mafia wolves since climbing into Johnny's Jag. Imagine that. He already had diverted her. Grateful, she rose on tiptoe to give him a quick peck on the lower lip. "Thank you."

His arm curled around her waist and held her there. "For what?"

She could feel the thrumming of his heart through both their shirts. Steady but fast, and it made her feel bold and almost beautiful. "For the sunglasses, the hat..."

For this unfamiliar type of confidence taking root inside of her. Tea Caruso with Johnny Magee. She was a good daughter, sister, designer, but it was something new to feel she could be good with a man. This kind of man. She broke free. "For that tempting offer I think I really am considering."

He smiled. "Take your time, Contessa. Take your time."

But as if to belie his words, he started up a subtle yet insistent pressure. As they browsed the aisles, he stayed close beside her, always a hand