Sets Appeal

by Virginia Taylor

  “I’m sure I’ve got a spot or two.” Her eyes gleamed at her joke, because her top was red with little white dots.

  “Stay. I’ve got another kiss to spare.” He planted his next hopeful offering on her mouth, slightly opening her lips with the pressure of his. His other hand covered her behind and lifted her slightly into his growing erection.

  She liked that; he could tell by the glaze of her eyes, but teasing her was more beneficial to his chance of a relationship than sex at this stage. “Coffee?”

  Her hands had relaxed on his shoulders and she stiffened her arms and pushed him away, frowning. “Clearly, kissing reminds you that you need something to drink. At least it’s not milk this time. Yes, coffee while we consider the next coat.”

  She looked disgruntled, which he enjoyed, but he hesitated for a moment. He couldn’t be in love with a woman he’d met a week ago. He was merely fascinated by her and getting a little too involved in her thought processes, a little too charmed by her naturalness, and far too interested in sex with her.

  In the end, when the paint had dried, the consensus of opinion was the one coat was enough. He made sandwiches.

  * * * *

  Vix should have left when the painting was finished, but since she’d met Lonny, she had seen Jay differently. He was an interesting attractive man, one that another woman had tried to warn Vix off. Vix had never thought she was competitive but she had no intention of leaving the field clear for Lonny. If Jay wanted the other woman, he was free to have her. Since his kisses this morning showed he wasn’t willing to give up on Vix so easily, she could only be flattered by the whole scenario.

  Plus, being human, she couldn’t pass up a sandwich filled with cold takeaway chicken. While Jay took his ladder outside, she folded the sheets covering the glorious new floor which she hadn’t seen since she had first arrived a little over twenty-four hours ago.

  She stood back, waiting for Jay to walk in, which he did, examining the gleaming floor. “I don’t think we marked it.”

  “Let’s not be modest. Let’s look at the walls and the floor and do some crass admiring.”

  He grinned. She liked the way he accepted her phrasing. Tim said she spoke like an adolescent, using superlatives when she could have been a little more sophisticated. Lonny would be more sophisticated. She was Tim’s type and she would say the room looked very nice.

  Vix said, “The room looks so stunning I can hardly breathe. It’s cool and calm and the contrast of the floor with the walls is fantastic.”

  Jay nodded. “As I said, you’re amazing. No one else would have helped me do this. No one else would have mixed the perfect colors, and I’m almost sure no one else would have persuaded me to strip the floor this year.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “I didn’t say a word about stripping the floor.”

  “In a roundabout way, you did. You told me it would look wonderful and it does. What about the kitchen cabinets?”

  She glanced over at the kitchen area. “They’re cream.”

  “And?”

  “Maybe they should be dark.”

  “My thought, exactly.” He knocked knuckles with her, grinning. “I have some old floorboards I bought at auction that would make perfect door fronts. What do you think about white marble bench tops?”

  “Too expensive for this house. Granite would be better.”

  “I think I’m in love with you.”

  She glanced at him, breathless for a moment. “Figuratively speaking.”

  “Of course.” He gave a surprised smile. “We share the same taste. Want to help me move the furniture back?”

  “It’s going to be sacrilege, putting those old discards in this room.”

  The table and chairs, painted gray, already sat in place, as did the sofa. Next, she helped him carry back the huge wardrobe that had previously occupied the far end of the sitting room. This was old cedar and actually looked really good with the floor and was fortunately not too heavy because of the lack of insides. This he rectified by replacing various shelves, which made the cedar simply a decorative outside for a very clever, hidden, traditional sound system. “Did you make this?”

  “Sure. It was a part of my greater plan.” He said this with such a macho expression that she laughed, bringing back his mischievous grin. “It looks neater than open shelves.”

  Next, she helped him move the ghastly floral couch into position. Placed, the two-seater looked untidy. The loose cover was hitched up on one corner. To smooth the material, she hauled at the bottom frill. “You have a brown upholstery under here. If it’s not too worn, it would look considerably better than faded blue flowers.”

  He nodded. “I left the floral as a dust cover. Do we want it off now?”

  “It’s your couch.”

  “So, I’ll take it off.” He passed her the cushions to unzip as he pulled up the main fabric. The last flip off the arm of the couch caused something to fly past his head and make a tinkling noise on the floor.

  Vix swooped on a long silver earring, which she passed to him. “You must have been missing this.” She unzipped the cushions and set them back on the couch, noting he put the earring in his pocket.

  The room looked stunning now. The warmth of the dark floor, the cool crispness of the walls and the brown of the couch combined to make the whole place look fresh and smart. “So, let’s bring in the blue coffee table and the gray armchairs,” she said with a reluctant sigh.

  “The coffee table is pine and not worth stripping. What color do you think I should paint it?”

  “Ignore it, at this stage. You’ve got the couch and the wardrobe as your main pieces. If you are serious about stripping you could refinish the dining table and the chairs…Actually, I did a course in upholstery. I thought it would be useful as a set designer.”

  “Vix, are you offering to reupholster those two chairs?” He stared at her, his eyebrows lifted with surprise.

  “I’m offering, but you have to strip them of gray paint first.”

  “I know you’re not into stripping.” He half-closed his eyes and scrutinized her face. One side of his mouth lifted. “But you like watching other people strip, don’t you?”

  She stared at her palm. “You’re right. I certainly like watching you strip. You have a truly great body.”

  “Let’s not sidetrack me. You have a truly great body, too, but you don’t seem to think you have. We need to talk about last night. We got all this backward. I’d hardly kissed you when you headed for the bedroom on the night we met.”

  She pulled in her chin. “You knew my intentions were dishonorable. We discussed that.”

  “And then yesterday—just a kiss or two and we were in bed again with pretty well no foreplay. Then we had sex. Next, a bit of foreplay. To my way of thinking, I’m owed quite a bit of kissing. But first, I want to go out on a date with you. That’s the way we should have started.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Perhaps, if we were plotting a relationship—”

  “I’m not all that interested in gratuitous sex. If we’re going to end up in bed together, I’d like a relationship first.”

  She raised her chin, her insides tickling. “Well, there’s a fine bit of blackmail.”

  “No relationship, no sex,” he said, shoving his hands in his front pockets and staring at her. “I want a dinner date with you.”

  She shrugged. “So, that means you want sex with me. Why not skip the preliminaries?”

  “I’m not that kind of guy.”

  She saw his mouth twitch. Either he or she would laugh first and she thought it ought to be him. So, she sighed, loudly. “You strike a tough bargain. Do you have date rules, too?”

  “You’ll need to pick me up. No flowers. We’ve gone too far for that.”

  She crossed her arms. “Do I have to book the restaurant and pay?”

  “Try it,” he said in a growly voice, “and you’ll have to wait for the next d
ate before you’ll even get a kiss.”

  “I’m glad I checked. I could so easily have gotten this whole thing wrong.” She walked over to her handbag on the kitchen countertop, checked her car keys, and gathered up both. “Wednesday. I’ll pick you up at seven.” With a swing of her hips, she strolled past him to the back door.

  He passed her and opened it, walked her to her car, opened the driver’s door and waited for her to step by him to get in. Before she did so, he swung her into his arms and gave her a thorough, far too sexy kiss. A little shaky, she started the car and drove off.

  And then she laughed all the way to the main road. Romance wasn’t for her, nor was getting too serious, but the guy had a certain male charm. She’d had an interesting two days without once feeling guilty about doing exactly as she pleased, helping, painting, talking idly, and flirting. For the first time in however long, she’d been involved in light-hearted banter and she’d had fun. Mentally, she connected with JD.

  Sexually, well, since she needed experience, she wanted to experiment with him. He didn’t put her down, he didn’t make her feel ugly and awkward, and he didn’t make her do anything she didn’t want to do.

  She’d had plenty of time to think about Lonny’s visit early this morning. She’d had plenty of time to realize that Lonny had noted Vix’s wet hair, and had added one and one. Just a friend who had heard about another woman would surely be pleased to meet her and certainly not so determined to put her in her place.

  The room was being revitalized as a surprise for Lonny? That was actually an awful thing to say when Lonny clearly suspected Vix had slept with JD the night before. That would mean Lonny and JD had colluded to use Vix. Vix couldn’t believe that of JD, a man who was loved by his family and respected by his coworkers.

  So, for the first time in her life, a true-blue pin-up blonde tried to warn Vix off a man. How confidence bolstering was that?

  * * * *

  The next morning, Jay closed his front door at the same time Steve pulled up his car outside. As usual, Trent sat in the front and so Jay piled into the back.

  “You won’t believe it.” Trent turned in his seat and blotted a fake yawn with his fist. “Guess who Steve hooked up with on Saturday night.”

  “Elton John.”

  “Very funny,” Steve said, sounding cheerful. “Try guessing a female.”

  “k. d. lang.”

  Steve pulled the car into the peak-hour traffic. “You know, don’t you, that’s why you’re not guessing?”

  Trent smirked. “Ilona.”

  “Marge Simpson. No, too sensible for Steve. Snow White, too busy—”

  “C’mon, JD.” Steve switched off the car radio. “It was Lonny. There I was, sitting at the bar in the Dockside and guess who pulls up a stool beside me?”

  “A stool? Ah, Little Miss Muffet.”

  “And she asks me if I want to go somewhere to eat,” Steve said in an overdone mysterious tone.

  “And the rest is X-rated, I presume?”

  Jay saw Steve’s shoulders rise in a shrug. “Yeah. We had a meal first. It was good. Not the meal, but the meal was okay. We had a steak in Semaphore. It was good going out with Lonny, is all.”

  “Play it cool, Steve. Don’t seem so pleased to see her,” Jay said in a serious voice. “Ask her out again and take her somewhere nice. She likes dressing up.”

  “I told her I’d ring her. She didn’t say not to.”

  “You’re in with a chance. Don’t blow it.”

  “Do you reckon he’s got a chance with Ilona?” Trent asked, turning to look at Jay.

  “I think it’s time she settled down. But with Steve?” Jay took his time considering, fingering his chin, mainly because Steve was watching him in the rear view mirror. “Maybe. Steve might be man enough to tame her.” Given a challenge, Steve might measure up. If he did, great. Jay wanted everyone to be happy. He was. He stretched his aching shoulders. Painting ceilings was hell on necks.

  During the day, he didn’t need to hang around Vix. Seeing her was enough. He could watch her work, note her interest in doing every single thing from cutting stencils, marking off flats, making artificial leaves for the outdoors scenes, and mixing colors for special effects, like her marble pool edges. She faked the best marble he had ever seen because she made the finish subtle. She scraped on wood grain so well that he could swear he’d found an antique walnut table waiting around to be polished. Her job seemed to be more like an interesting pastime than work to her.

  Within a month or two, his life would be like that. He would be doing a job he wanted to do, designing commercial buildings. Not at first. First, he’d be drafting, but he would work his way up the ladder. During the past few weeks, he had lined up a few interviews but he wanted to see the results of a competition he had entered before he began touting his wares.

  Almost time for a lunch break, he used the sink in the cleanup area to wash his hands. From the other side of the barrier, he heard Vix’s voice in the tearoom. “What’s JD’s name?”

  “Jay Dee,” Steve said, sounding puzzled.

  “I mean his real name.”

  “Jay Dee.”

  “What’s his surname, then?”

  “Dee.”

  “So, his name is j-a-y, d-e-e? Why don’t you call him Jay?”

  “We’ve always called him JD. It’s kind of a joke.”

  Jay stepped into the room. “My father’s name was Hugo. My mother’s name was Isla. HD, ID, and so they thought the first child should be JD. So they called me Jay. And because most people think Jay Dee is my nickname, they call me Jay Dee. If Kell had been a girl, he would have been Kay. Even I can’t imagine what Luke might have been.”

  Vix wrinkled her forehead, concentrating. “He’s the father of M, N, and O, Max, Noah, and Oscar. I’m guessing there’s a real competition between you and Kellen to produce P and Q,” Vix said, her hands on her hips, her face a picture of amusement.

  Jay laughed. “He can go first. I’d like to see him with a son called Quigly.”

  “Quentin,” Steve said with a grin.

  “Are we doing this one again?” Trent asked as he walked into the tearoom. “Quin.”

  “Quincy.” Kell punched the air behind him. “It’s a race to the bottom that I’ll leave Jay to win.”

  “Quockadile,” Vix said and Jay had to leave the room.

  He thought he might bust a gasket laughing. Not another woman in the world would have said something so seriously nerdy to a pack of guys.

  He was definitely in love.

  Chapter 10

  On Wednesday night, Vix finally had the chance to dress up for Jay. Knowing she couldn’t compete with Lonny in the pin-up category, she toned down the look she might have tried even as little as a week ago. The red suit had been far too flashy and besides, he’d seen the outfit both on and off.

  She didn’t need a reminder of the night he had rejected her. Almost brave enough now to be the real Vix, she dressed conservatively with a tiny dash of flash, wearing a little black dress with little black heels and a short pink jacket.

  A little after seven, she stood on Jay’s front porch and pressed his doorbell. Her heart began to pound the moment she heard his footsteps in the hallway. The door cricked and widened, and he stood there, his teeth flashed white in a smile as wide as the great outdoors. He looked all hunky male in his jeans, which he wore with a trendy yellow-striped cotton shirt. And he smelled deliciously clean.

  “Hi.” His khaki eyes searched hers. “Ready to go? Just a moment.” He ducked inside his bedroom and came out wearing his leather jacket.

  She stepped off the porch and he followed, shutting the door behind him. The day had been clear and hot but with the waning of the sun, the temperature had dropped. Summer had arrived with a whimper rather than a shout, but at this time of year, the weather always varied between too hot or slightly chilly.

  With a resolute breath, she latched onto his arm
and he walked her right past her car, pressing the control device he removed from his pocket. The door of the single garage attached to the house rolled up and he walked straight into a serious workshop, with a grease-stained concrete floor and a wall of shelves holding multicolored plastic boxes marked hinges, screws, wire, et cetera. In the center of the area sat a workbench piled high with woodcuts. Against this leaned a dark motorbike, flashy with chrome. He opened a compartment under the seat and waited for her to take the helmet he held out.

  “You’re not serious.” She backed away from the hard protective hat.

  “I sure am.” He put on his.

  “If this gives me helmet hair, you’ll be sorry.” She glanced at her straight skirt and sighed, taking the helmet. “I don’t know if I’m brave enough.”

  “We’re only travelling a block away and we wouldn’t get a car park any closer than here. Would you rather walk?”

  “I’d rather be brave enough to get onto the bike.”

  “Live dangerously.” Laughing, he swung onto the machine and waited for her.

  Nervously, she sat behind him and he started the engine, puttering out of the garage as the door closed behind them. He avoided her car and hit the street, the bike moving off with a roar of power.

  She clutched him around the waist, her hands flat against his hard abdomen, resting her cheek against his warm, leather-clad shoulder, mainly for security. The bike had a sway she couldn’t quite get used to and so she tried concentrating on the passing scenery, which stopped after crossing two narrow streets. He pulled up the bike in a tiny parking space near a seedy-looking hotel whose wide dark veranda shaded the asphalt footpath on the corner of Commercial Road. She stepped off the machine, her legs shaky, her skirt shorter than she would have liked, and pulled down the hem. Despairing of her carefully straightened hair, she removed the helmet, which he placed back into the compartment with his.