An Offer He Cant Refuse - By Christie Ridgway Page 0,84
was set up in the farthest corner of the swap meet. On other visits she'd browsed through the files of vintage albums just for fun, never with today's particular intent. Johnny's sudden dark mood didn't make her job any easier. He stood off to the side, arms crossed over his chest, watching her flip through the albums.
The stall was sheltered from the sun by a blue tarp that, combined with her new sunglasses, darkened her vision. She pushed off her hat and put it aside with the glasses as she continued her search for albums in the musical subgenre known as "exotica."
It referred to a type of music from the 1940s and '50s that was a fusion of instrumental pop, Latin jazz, and unusual percussion. It was also known for its sophisticated, sexy album covers. They epitomized the slant she was taking with Johnny's mid-century modern design. His wasn't going to be a sterile, industrialized type of home, but one with clean lines and deep colors that said unique, urbane, and very sensual.
Like Johnny himself.
And she wanted him.
Despite all the reasons she shouldn't, Tea suddenly decided that this good girl wasn't going to deny herself any longer either. Instead, she was going for it. Why shouldn't she take of him what she could get? Johnny had given her enough confidence to accept his proposition to be each other's amusement, diversion, pure pleasure. She only had to remember that's all it was.
But was he having second thoughts? Tea took a deep breath and inhaled that deep, complex note of bergamot. It was on her arm, it was on his fingers. They smelled like each other, just like that night when they'd made love. Her skin prickled as she remembered going to sleep in her bed with his scent on her hands and in her hair. She hadn't wanted to wash it away.
Tea glanced at him over her shoulder. He was watching her again, and gone was all that practiced detachment. This time, she felt him smoldering.
Catching her on fire.
Taking another breath, Tea gathered together a selection of albums she liked. "Come look at these," she said. 'Tell me what you think."
She'd found a dozen that were not only in good condition, but were in the right tone and color scheme. He grunted at each as she displayed them for his approval. "These are my favorite three," she said, reaching the last of the group.
First, the George Shearing Quartet's Velvet Carpet. On the cover, crystal chandeliers hung over a dark-haired, dark-eyed woman in an evening gown, her body stretched out on red velvet. Tea drew a finger across the carpet. "We can echo this color in the armchairs. Maybe not red velvet, but something as deep and rich as this."
He moved closer, and she felt his warmth at her back. Good, she thought. He was close again.
"I like it," he said. "Nice call."
Next, she showed him the cover of Jackie Gleason's Velvet Brass, which depicted two women in '50s cigarette skirts and tight sweaters, hips caught in an orgasmic sway while surrounded by the brass instruments apparently responsible for their wild delight.
Tea shuffled back a fraction, so that her bottom brushed Johnny's hips. He didn't move away. Turning her head, she glanced over her shoulder at him. "Do you like this one?"
He'd removed his sunglasses too, and his eyes appeared almost black in the shaded light. His body shifted - an accident? - the movement pushing him against her bottom again.
"I like all the velvet," he said softly. One fingertip found that line of scented oil on her inner arm and stroked, up and down. Up then down.
Her shiver caused her body to rub against his, just the tini-est bit. His skin temperature went from warm to hot. He reached around her to flip over the Gleason album and reveal the final one she'd selected.
Music of the African Arab, from Mohammed Al-Bakker and his Oriental Ensemble. The album cover showed an olive-skinned, bare-breasted woman dancing in a red vest and diaphanous harem pants. Johnny stilled, his inner arm pressed against her outer arm. With his other hand, he continued to stroke her skin, up and down. Up then down.
She licked her lips. "Too risque?"
His lips found their way to her ear. "What do you think?"
She shrugged.
"Coward," he said.
Not today. Maybe not anymore. Temporary diversion. Pure pleasure. She leaned back into Johnny's body. "I thought it might remind you of our dance."
His indrawn breath was quick and sharp. "Is that your answer?"