Johnny Blue (3 page)

He set the pot on the stove, turned on a low flame then headed toward me with that smile that could possibly mean he thought I was a fantastic idiot
.
But at least a fun one
.
My body gradually tensed as he drew
closer,
already resisting that gravitational pull he had about him. Lord, standing there like he didn’t affect me one bit was like holding up a mountain
.
 

“I should get a shirt on.
”

I choked
out
a gasp, horrified
.
Horrified that it was quite
obvious
to him how much he affected me. “Oh,
pffft
, not at all, you’re fine,” I said,
making it clear that it was
utterly
unnecessary
.

He grinned. “Well thank you.”

“I meant,
I’m
fine, as in, not bothered, it doesn’t bother me, I see men all the time like that around here, everybody goes around in the summer time without shirts.” I capped the lie with an overly exuberant laugh.

“Everybody?”

I met his teasing gaze and half grin
.
“You know what I mean.
”
My voice dropped to its usual low tenor,
aka
my strong voice.

“I’m Johnny.
”
He reached a hand out to me.

I tore my eyes from his and stared at his hand
.
I was suddenly very concerned over what touching this man would do to me.
“Jewel.
”
I
p
laced my hand in his
.

My heart raced as he lifted it and pressed my
knuckles
to his soft, full lips
.
“Pe
r
fect name.”

His hot breath and lips on my fingers went straight to all those womanly places that I’d barred every man from. I gripped his fingers, needing something to hold on to
.

He eyed me with wonder
.

I forced a disconnection, trying to appear unburned by his touch. But I failed miserably as I pulled back my hand with a series of embarrassing jerky hesitations. My lord, I’d said more without words than I could or wanted to explain, and yet felt the need to
.
“Johnny, huh?
”
It came on a squeaky whisper
.

“Yeah.”
He lowered his head, and I glanced at him, trying to read his mind. He looked troubled
, b
ut about what and why
, lord I wanted to know
.

“Do you have a middle name, Jewel?”

He spot-lighted me with liquid sapphire and my mouth opened without speech
.
“Uh, well, yeah, everybody has a middle name.
”
I stroked my ponytail several times and tried to smile. “Pearl is mine
.
Jewel Pearl Harbor.”
I gave a light laugh. “Momma and daddy never lacked a sense of humor.” I realized I cared way too much about what he thought about my stupid name. Of course his face would grow so darn serious again.
And mysterious.
“It’s uh,
a
family joke.
”
I took a deep breath, feeling the need to level this playing field
.
“What about you?  What’s your middle name?”

He turned from the island and answered me with his delicious backside
.
“No middle name
.
Just Johnny Blue.”

I averted my gaze as he turned with the coffee pot, barely managing to not get caught lusting. I watched the coppery liquid pour into the red ceramic. “Johnny Blue? Well I think that’s a very nice name
.
Is that why your favorite color is blue?”

He only gave a soft smile, keep
ing his attention on the cups.
“How do you know that?”

I tossed a glance
at
the art studio
.
“Well it’s pretty obvious in those pictures over there
,
I think
.
I love them—the colors I mean
.
And the pictures too, of course.
”

He assaulted me with one of those electrical smiles while I’d bumbled out the words, turning up the voltage as each word passed my lips
.
Whether he liked what I said, or thought I was hilarious, I wasn’t sure, but more inclined to believe the worst
.

He slowly slid my cup of coffee to me then went to the counter behind him and returned with a tray
. I smiled at the
two white glass canisters with tiny green dragons painted on them
.
Adorable.
He set them on the island between us
.
“Cream and sugar?”

“I uh- yeah, why not.”
I pulled the tray carefully toward me.

“Are you trying to quit?” His soft tone held humor.

I glanced from him to the canisters, picking up the tiny silver spoon that went with it
.
“Nah, I just…” I removed the lid to the sugar and scooped two in my cup, tr
y
ing to think
.
“I normally drink it black, but, with dishes like this, I can’t resist.” I cleared my throat and picked up the creamer then promptly
over-flowed
my cup with it. “Oh
l
ord
y
,” I whispered
.

I looked around for a cloth and Johnny tossed me a napkin
.
I wiped it
up,
feeling like this whole thing was a long and painful audition that I was ruining. I gave a light
laugh, bringing the mug of coffee to my lips. “I’ve always been a goofball.
”
And to prove my point, I dribbled coffee down my chin
.

Johnny was just a
watchin
’
the whole damn show and tossed me another napkin.

I forced out
more
light laughter. “Might as well give me the whole stack, I’m likely to need it.”

He slid the wrought iron napkin holder closer and I shot a glance at him. “Just as you’re likely to not get many visitors like me, I’m likely to burn the place down.” Lik
e
ly, likely, don’t you know any other words? I dabbed coffee off my chin and white t-shirt, then wiped the counter for extra measure all the while feeling the burn of those blue orbs on me
.

“It
ain’t
nice to stare at the company, Johnny B.
”
I took another sip of coffee, b
e
ing extra careful while avoiding his gaze.

“You’re nice to stare at.”

The compliment undid the little composure I pretended to have and coffee sloshed out of my cu
p when I set it down too fast.
“Might as well dump the whole cup on the counter and get it over with,” I mumbled, grabbing another napkin and shaking my head.

“Can I paint you?”

“
Ohhhh
my lord,” I breathed, fanning my face a little
.
“Paint me?  Like with paint?” For some reason I thought he meant on my body, then it dawned on me he meant paint a picture of me
.
“Oh, I—I’ve never done anything like that.”

“Me either.”

I looked at him, surprised.

“Well, I mean…” he looked down
.
“
I haven’t’ in a very long time.”

That pressed my puzzle button
.
“Well why start now?”

His brows drew together briefly. “Yeah, you’re probably right, stupid idea.”

I immediately regretted my words. “Well, I mean, I wouldn’t call it stupid, I just
ain’t
never had nobody
want to paint me, it’s
kinda
… I don’t know, embarrassing, I guess.” I stirred the little spoon in my cup loudly.

“Embarrassing?” Like he’d thought it was something else and had never consi
d
ered that.

“Well yeah, I’m not used to people…you know…” I tapped the spoon rapidly on the edge of my cup then returned it to the tray, “staring at me.”

I lifted my cup and took a sip in the fat silence
.

“Of course.
”

I was pretty sure that was relief I heard in that velvety voice of his
.
The idea that he might have his own inhibitions made me want to encourage him
.
“I
ain’t
never had nobody
ask to paint me
.
But… if I was to be painted, I think you’d be a… I mean, you’re very nice and… it’s just a picture for crying out loud
.
” I laughed a little
.
“I’d love it if you painted me, why not
.
Only if you still want to, though.”

I worked up the nerve to look at him after several seconds of silence.
Made no sense that I suddenly wanted to beg him to
.
But I did
.
Cause
it felt like he’d offered me a ride and I’d turned it down, not realizing he was offering a ride to the moon.

He suddenly walked toward me and as the distance closed between us, my heart sped up
.
He stood at my left shoulder and all I could do was keep my palms firmly on the counter, waiting, holding my breath, wondering what on earth he might say or do
.

My body tingled when he slid a finger along my face. Then spoke words that went further into my bones than words had a right to go. “I do want to paint you.
You’re different.
”

There was a raw need in his voice that lit a flame in me
.
A flame I had no idea how to control, didn’t want to. I couldn’t turn to him
cause
I could feel it
.
The insane urge to consume his lips right where he stood
.
Lord
.
How did this happen?

“Can I start tomorrow?” His voice was so damn
calm!
It was unfair.

My heart hammered my chest
.
Start?  How long did it take?  I nodded, only able to glance toward him, surely not at him
.
What must he be thinking?  What a prude to be so undone over something so silly
.
It’s not like I was stripping naked
.

My stomach jolted a
s n
aked bodies flashed in my mind, making lava leak from that volcano in my center. “I’d… I’d really like that.” And there it was
,
years of unmet need right there in my quiet answer
.
But all regret was erased when he whispered that
thank you,
next to my ear. I’d never heard such emotions mixed in a tone
.
Joy—mystery—passion—it was enough to make me swoon.

I suddenly knew
right then and there
.
I would let that man paint me however he wanted or needed
.
Clothed, nude,
standing on my head,
it didn’t
matter,
the only thing that mattered was answering that need I’d heard in “
I do want to paint you.”
Because r
e
ally, to my ears, it sounded like,
I do need to paint you.

I followed his beautiful form as he went to the sink, turned, and placed both palms on the counter behind him
.
“What time would you like to come?”

I tucked hair behind my ear wondering why the word
come
suddenly took on an erotic meaning.
“
I get off work a
fter supper time
—eight
o-clock
.
If you don’t mind
workin
’
evenin’s
then…that works for me.”

He stirred his coffee then put his spoon in the sink next to him.
“I love painting in the evening.”

I swallowed as every letter in his soft words slid through me and tickled places
t
hat had never been touched. Not like that.

“
So i
t’s a date.” He gave me a sexy half smile before sipping his coffee, all while masturbating my soul with
those clear blue e
yes.