Read Online Journey in Time (Knights in Time) by Chris Karlsen - Free Book Online
Authors: Chris Karlsen
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bauble or knick-knack. It shouts," she lowered her voice several levels, "I'm a manly man's room," accentuating her point with a guttural grunt.
"Is that a compliment?"
"Yes."
He looked unconvinced. "I don’t give a fig about the décor. It’s always been me alone. You're the first person to visit."
"Really?"
"I never wanted to bring anyone here before." He scanned the room. "What would you change?"
"Nothing, I wouldn't change a thing. Not when it reflects the manner of man you are." Her gaze paused on his eyes and then drifted to his lips. She looked away and stepped back into the hallway. Alex promised her stay would be platonic. He was doing a fine job. Oh, he teased and tested her resistance, but within boundaries, never crossing the line. She was the one making a cake of the agreement. She shoved her hands into the waistband of her pants and turned toward a closed door, "Is this another bedroom?"
"I saved this for last. I think you’ll like what I’ve done."
Shakira entered into a small but professional music studio. "Wow." She paused to take everything in. An eight-foot mixing board with the latest digital recording equipment filled one wall. Speakers and racks of CD's filled another. "Wow," she repeated and ran her fingers over every piece of equipment. "This is incredible. What exactly do you do here?"
"Remixes of music I like. I noodle around creating different arrangements for various songs. I can’t play an instrument, but I can recreate the sound of most."
Alex moved close and slipped his arms around her as she examined the board. "It's the reason I asked you to bring a guitar. I thought we’d experiment with some tunes and see what we come up with." Against her neck, he whispered, "What do you say? Would you like to fool around with me?"
Whispering became kissing and nibbling. He found the exact spot that turned her insides to Jell-O and her legs to spaghetti. The man had better radar than a bat.
"We are still talking about music, aren't we?" Shakira managed to ask.
“If you insist."
She broke away and headed for the door before her mind and resolve changed to mush. "I'm going to change out of these riding clothes and get my guitar."
Alex worked the mixing board while she played. He asked about Beltane, curious about how they chose the songs they covered. What stimulated their interest the most, the words or the music? She told him each member brought different songs to rehearsals, the reasons varied.
"Sometimes, the turn of a phrase touches a chord in your psyche or a guitar riff resonates. A lyric in a foreign language can become crystal clear through the poignancy of the singer."
They stopped after a few hours and listened to the playbacks of the new arrangements. Some were ditched, their favorites they saved.
"Are you tired of electric guitar?" She slipped the strap from her neck and shook her hair out. Without waiting, she started for the door. "I’ll get my acoustic."
He caught her by the hand and pulled her back into his arms. "Why don’t we take a break? I’ll whip up a light meal. Are you hungry?"
"Ravenous."
"This won't be an elaborate meal." Alex wiggled an index finger in front of her nose. "A French chef, I'm not. I make simple fare that's filling and tasty, period."
"Sounds good. I’ll be your sous chef."
"I’d prefer you be under the chef, rather than my under chef ." He chuckled, amused with his play on words.
"Male humor is so sophomoric."
Alex shrugged and chuckled some more. "We are easily amused. It’s a gender flaw. Can you make a salad my sexy sous chef?"
"Of course." She thought for the span of a heartbeat. "Do you actually know someone who can’t make salad?"
"Yes." Alex spun her around and sent her off with a pat on the butt. "Meet you in the kitchen in five minutes."
***
Shakira came out of the bathroom. Alex had tucked the sheet into the sofa and about to spread the blanket out.
"I can finish this," she said.
"I
"Is that a compliment?"
"Yes."
He looked unconvinced. "I don’t give a fig about the décor. It’s always been me alone. You're the first person to visit."
"Really?"
"I never wanted to bring anyone here before." He scanned the room. "What would you change?"
"Nothing, I wouldn't change a thing. Not when it reflects the manner of man you are." Her gaze paused on his eyes and then drifted to his lips. She looked away and stepped back into the hallway. Alex promised her stay would be platonic. He was doing a fine job. Oh, he teased and tested her resistance, but within boundaries, never crossing the line. She was the one making a cake of the agreement. She shoved her hands into the waistband of her pants and turned toward a closed door, "Is this another bedroom?"
"I saved this for last. I think you’ll like what I’ve done."
Shakira entered into a small but professional music studio. "Wow." She paused to take everything in. An eight-foot mixing board with the latest digital recording equipment filled one wall. Speakers and racks of CD's filled another. "Wow," she repeated and ran her fingers over every piece of equipment. "This is incredible. What exactly do you do here?"
"Remixes of music I like. I noodle around creating different arrangements for various songs. I can’t play an instrument, but I can recreate the sound of most."
Alex moved close and slipped his arms around her as she examined the board. "It's the reason I asked you to bring a guitar. I thought we’d experiment with some tunes and see what we come up with." Against her neck, he whispered, "What do you say? Would you like to fool around with me?"
Whispering became kissing and nibbling. He found the exact spot that turned her insides to Jell-O and her legs to spaghetti. The man had better radar than a bat.
"We are still talking about music, aren't we?" Shakira managed to ask.
“If you insist."
She broke away and headed for the door before her mind and resolve changed to mush. "I'm going to change out of these riding clothes and get my guitar."
Alex worked the mixing board while she played. He asked about Beltane, curious about how they chose the songs they covered. What stimulated their interest the most, the words or the music? She told him each member brought different songs to rehearsals, the reasons varied.
"Sometimes, the turn of a phrase touches a chord in your psyche or a guitar riff resonates. A lyric in a foreign language can become crystal clear through the poignancy of the singer."
They stopped after a few hours and listened to the playbacks of the new arrangements. Some were ditched, their favorites they saved.
"Are you tired of electric guitar?" She slipped the strap from her neck and shook her hair out. Without waiting, she started for the door. "I’ll get my acoustic."
He caught her by the hand and pulled her back into his arms. "Why don’t we take a break? I’ll whip up a light meal. Are you hungry?"
"Ravenous."
"This won't be an elaborate meal." Alex wiggled an index finger in front of her nose. "A French chef, I'm not. I make simple fare that's filling and tasty, period."
"Sounds good. I’ll be your sous chef."
"I’d prefer you be under the chef, rather than my under chef ." He chuckled, amused with his play on words.
"Male humor is so sophomoric."
Alex shrugged and chuckled some more. "We are easily amused. It’s a gender flaw. Can you make a salad my sexy sous chef?"
"Of course." She thought for the span of a heartbeat. "Do you actually know someone who can’t make salad?"
"Yes." Alex spun her around and sent her off with a pat on the butt. "Meet you in the kitchen in five minutes."
***
Shakira came out of the bathroom. Alex had tucked the sheet into the sofa and about to spread the blanket out.
"I can finish this," she said.
"I
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