For these two men, this record could be the soundtrack to their lives – if they’re willing to mix things up.
Meticulous and organized, air traffic controller Mike Larson has every reason to be wary of mixing his passion for music with love. When Mike’s hunt to complete his Top 100 of the ‘80s list brings him to Vintage Vinyl, a shock of guyliner, dyed hair and flamboyant personality rocks his orderly world. Can he risk a step outside his comfort zone for a chance with Leon?
Flamboyant Leon Sanders uses attitude to keep others at a distance, because he doesn’t believe in love or a lasting relationship. When he turns up the charm at his music store Vintage Vinyl, he makes the best sales. Something about the quiet man beckons Leon to give love a chance, but does he dare mix it up with Mike?
“Good. You’re still here.” The voice stopped Leon. The people who came to Vintage tended to ask him for help locating special items, but none of them sounded quite like this guy—low and husky.
“I need to find George Benjamin,” the man said.
Leon whipped around, ready to tell the customer to go inside and fill out a special request form at the counter, when he paused. The moment he clapped eyes on the man, the breath wrenched from his body. Tall, blond, muscles—but not built like a brick wall—and green eyes. Holy hell, he loved green eyes.
Although the guy projected a calm, smooth exterior, the way he balled his fists made Leon wonder about his story.
“You’re looking for the Peach Slayers record, aren’t you, baby? It’s their rarest album, but the best music they ever made. Everyone wants a copy, but no one can seem to get their hands on it.” Leon hooked his fingers in his jeans pockets. The chains from his wallet to his belt loops clinked. “I had one and it grew legs. Someone stole it about four months ago, hon, but we might be able to find you something—close.”
“Oh.” Green eyes’ shoulders slumped. Still, the polo shirt wrapped around him like a second skin, giving tantalizing glimpses of the hard body underneath. “Damn. That’s the last one I don’t have.”
His salesman feelers perked. “You’ve got a collection or you just really like the hits of the ’80s, babe? Which one is it?” Leon shifted his weight from his left foot to his right and adjusted his pants to hide the burgeoning erection. God. Looking at a man with green eyes was now all it took to turn him on? What a horn ball. Still, something about the hunk made him want to look twice.
“It’s silly to most people, but I love music. All music. One of my things is to collect every number one album. I’ve got a whole list of the top hits of the 1980s and I’m only missing two.” He clenched and unclenched his fingers, then stuck out his hand. “Think you can help?”
Leon shook his hand. “I might be able to do—something. For a fee.” The guy liked music almost as much as he did and sounded almost as neurotically methodical about collecting records. “You’ve got the old Hot Twenty-Five lists?” A man after his own heart. “Okay, I’ve got to ask. Disc or vinyl? You strike me as the vinyl type, but I’ve been surprised before.”
“Vinyl all the way.” The guy smiled and his eyes twinkled. “I’m Mike.”
“And I am in love.”