Jinxed

by Inez Kelley

  When opposites attract, they are screwed three ways from Sunday.

  Frannie learned the hard way that a McHottie doesn’t always equal marriage material. She’s happy with her vanilla life. She has friends, a career and a double-D-powered vibrator. Then Fate shoves her, literally, into Prince Charming’s lap. His declaration of love at first sight is cute—and spikes her bullcrap meter into the red zone.

  She’s more than willing to give in with her body. But she’s barricaded her heart behind castle walls—and permanently welded the gates shut.

  Tragedy taught Jinx that time is too precious to waste, so when a series of uncanny coincidences thrusts Frannie into his life, he holds on tight. He knows she thinks he’s several fries short of a Happy Meal, but he’s determined to breach the fortress around her heart and give her a Happily Ever After.

  Even if he has to carry her fanny-first into his kingdom.

  Warning: Includes jelly shoes, a narcoleptic cat, and meatloaf. The steamy sex scenes may lead to fogged windows and wet panties, so proceed at your own risk. Do not attempt to read without the following items: tissues, napkins for spewed beverages, and a booty call on speed dial.

  eBooks are not transferable.

  They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520

  Macon GA 31201

  Jinxed

  Copyright © 2009 by Inez Kelley

  ISBN: 978-1-60504-580-1

  Edited by Deborah Nemeth

  Cover by Natalie Winters

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: June 2009

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  Jinxed

  Inez Kelley

  Dedication

  For the ladies of Twinshock’s WTWB,

  who kicked me where I needed it when I needed it

  and

  CKB, for the seeds

  and

  For Big G, who keeps me grounded while reaching for stars

  and

  For Katherine Carr. Look, Gramma! I did it!

  Chapter One

  “…direct from out of the wasteland! He’s bad, he’s beautiful, he’s crazy!

  It’s… It’s the man with no name!”

  —Dr. Dealgood in Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome

  “Excuse me, dollface, you’re in my seat.”

  Dollface? You’ve got to be kidding me. Frannie craned her neck to look up at the man who had spoken. The toffee-rich voice should have warned her that the owner was sinfully delicious, but she didn’t expect to find Heaven peering down at her. Intense black eyes caressed her with frank appraisal and amusement. Her spine tingled with the wicked perusal.

  Hot day-um, he’s as fine as homemade wine.

  Before standing, Frannie fumbled in her purse for her ticket receipt. The dark-haired stranger towered over her, not moving an inch, and she felt trapped—seat to her front, seat to her back and sex appeal to her side. What a spot to be stuck in! First class might have more leg room and wider seats but when a large hunk of manly goodness was nearly in your lap, there wasn’t much room to turn around. If she wasn’t so grumpy, she might have appreciated the limited view.

  Checking the seat assignment, she shook her head. “No, I’m in the right seat.”

  “That can’t be right. Let me see your ticket.”

  Great, entitled beefcake attitude. First he thinks I’m a seat thief and now he’s calling me a liar, or worse, illiterate.

  “I can read, but here, see for yourself.”

  She tossed the receipt at him. Having gone forward and backward through three time zones in forty-eight hours along with two layovers, all she wanted was a bath, some hot food and a soft bed. Her feet ached, her underwire poked her ribs and she felt as wilted as a prom corsage three days after the dance. Her mood was ripe for a fight.

  He examined her ticket as if it were a map to a hidden treasure. A sparkle lit his eyes and he smiled over the wrinkled receipt, one thick black brow arched in smug delight. “Houston, we have a problem. This is an e-ticket. I purchased mine the old-fashioned way. It appears a computer goof assigned us the same seat.”

  Smugness, thy name is…whatever McHottie’s name is.

  Her last nerve frayed, Frannie couldn’t help it. His claim of the obvious sent her over the edge. Hand to her chest, she quipped in her deepest drawl, “Lawdy-be, what powers of deduction you have there, Sherlock. And all without your Captain Marvel Decoder Ring! Be still, my beating heart.”

  Chuckling, he leaned closer and purred, “So do you want top or bottom?”

  “Top or bottom of what?” He couldn’t mean the seat. It sounded as if he was flirting with her. That couldn’t be right. She was plain old Frannie, the girl next door, the best friend of your girlfriend, the sensible shoe in the stiletto aisle.

  “Of the seat,” he confirmed, handing her back the ticket. Zings and zaps shot up her arm as his finger stroked hers with deliberate intention. She snatched her hand away, earning a wink. “I prefer the bottom with you on my lap, but if you want the bottom, I don’t mind.”

  He eyed her with lusty consideration and Frannie decided on the spot he was crazy. Not just a little loony but flat-out nutso.

  “Uhm, no. I was here first and possession is nine-tenths of the law. Go find another seat.”

  One palm smoothing her skirt over her butt, she intended to claim her seat but he caught her arm and swung her into the aisle. Before she could blink, she was perched on his lap. In her seat! Her overtired brain short-circuited and blanked out her thoughts. Only two things registered. Her feet did not touch the floor and her ass was planted snugly on his zipper. His fingers reached up and traced the curve of her jaw while her brain rebooted and fired up.

  “I always get what I want and I want this seat. I like it. It has a wonderful view.” Low and seductive, tinged with a slight flavor of the Deep South, his voice caressed her skin. “We don’t need two seats. We can share.”

  She would have leapt off his lap but he held her fast with a strong arm across her waist. An angry burn started in her throat and shot to her scalp. “Mister, if you want to keep that arm, you’ll let go of me right now and get out of my seat.”

  It took a bit of a shove but she freed herself from his embrace and leapt into the aisle. Only a wiggle-step back prevented his hand from cupping her elbow once more. Her lips parted to tell him where to shove his caveman demeanor when a savior appeared in the guise of a flight attendant with too much Botox.

  A false smile pasted on her face, Frannie explained the situation to the plastic Barbie-looking woman who promptly rolled her eyes.

  “Not again. I hate that computer. Sir, if you’ll follow me, I can get this straightened out.” The attendant turned and walked back to the cabin, fully expecting the dark-haired man to follow in her hip-jiggling steps.

  Frannie plopped her fanny into the vacated seat, attempting to ignore the warmth left from his body, and smirked up at him. Neener neener neener. She expected to find anger on the man’s face. Instead she found barely concealed laughter. He raked his hand through ebony hair and cocked that annoying brow at her once more. Hard muscles strained at the sleeves of his polo as he crossed his arms, shaking his head at her.
An indulgent smile curved his lips.

  “Pretty proud of yourself, aren’t you?”

  “Yep.” Her own brows raised in exaggerated haughtiness, she settled comfortably, making sure to snuggle her fanny deeper into the seat. “I just love squashing the arrogant claims of overly pompous playboys.”

  “And just which claim do you think you squashed?”

  “The claim you always get what you want. You may have wanted this seat, but my ass is in it now.”

  “Okay, I’ll take it.”

  She frowned. “Take what?”

  “Your ass. I do always get what I want and I’ve decided I want you.”

  Her jaw dropped at his absolute gall. His gaze was too personal, his voice too intimate, his manner too pushy. “My, we are stuck on ourselves, aren’t we? Better run along now and find that new seat. Preferably in the baggage hold.”

  She waved her hand in a “shoo fly” motion. Sir Boss-a-lot, you are dismissed.

  He threw back his head and let loose a hearty laugh before bowing and snatching her hand for an exaggerated European kiss on her knuckles.

  “Farewell, dollface, ’til we meet again.”

  “Go away. We’ll never meet again.”

  “Wrong,” he whispered before turning his back on her and following the attendant. Sputtering in speechless fury, Frannie turned to watch his tight buns clad in faded jeans walk down the aisle. What an ass! And dayum, what an ass.

  She was shaken from her stupefaction by her real seatmate claiming his place beside her. As soon as the takeoff was complete, the gray-haired Asian man began frantically typing on a laptop. No conversation needed. Determined to put the McHottie encounter out of her mind, Frannie opened her computer and tried to work. It wasn’t long before the columns of numbers blurred. When it took her three tries to get the math right, she gave up and leaned back against the seat.

  Lawd, I’m tired. She’d nearly dozed off when the hair on her neck rose and her heart beat faster. Turning in her seat, she peered behind her and found McHottie staring at her with those coal-black bedroom eyes. Three rows back and across the aisle, he winked and blew her a kiss. In a burst of immaturity, she stuck her tongue out at him then huffed back into her seat, earning a reprimanding look from the little Asian man.

  For the rest of the flight, she refused to turn around. Even when she had to pee, she crossed her legs rather than walk past him. Instead, she spent the long, quiet hours in a daydream state picturing herself with the dark-haired man in various sensual yet torturous scenes.

  The corners of her mouth tilted in a wicked smile as she imagined him hung by his feet over an anthill, golden slick honey smeared over his bare body. She could see the thick, sweet gel spread across his bare back. It glistened on his hard muscular chest, smoothed over broad, straight shoulders, coated solid thighs. An ache in her sweet tooth echoed between her legs. All during the return flight, she allowed her mind to frolic with images of his delicious torture, every last one of a sensual, sexual nature. By the time the landing gear opened, her panties were soaked through and she was in desperate need of her vibrator.

  Instead she contented herself with touching up her makeup and fluffing her drab brown hair. She’d tried dyeing it once but the red highlights made her look orange. Too pale to pull off a dark chestnut, she also had no wish to be a blonde, so mousey brown it would stay. It was cut in a great no-nonsense brush-n-go style. No two-hour morning routine for her.

  With a sigh, she contemplated her eyes, wishing they were any color other than plain old medium brown. Unfortunately, she had twenty-twenty vision and never needed contacts. Purchasing something just to change her eye color seemed overly vain. Besides, it would be like adding a teaspoon of dirt to Mt. Everest—too little change to make a difference.

  The tiny mirror caught a brief flash of dark hair and darker eyes and she snapped the compact shut. Why would someone as sexy as McHottie bother flirting with a Plain Jane? His kind never had before unless they wanted something. She had nothing he would want. She was grilled cheese to his smoked salmon, vanilla to his triple fudge chunk. No, men as sexy as McHottie didn’t flirt with women like her. Beautiful people flocked to each other. The men she attracted were just like her—sensible, steady, pleasant and boring.

  She wasn’t ugly, just normal. Normal build, normal height, and maybe ten pounds overweight according to those stupid women’s magazines where everyone looked anorexic. That was okay. She liked to eat more than once a full moon. Those ten extra pounds she could deal with if it meant her breasts weren’t microscopic. Small but firm, they suited her frame just fine, and when she wanted more, she had Vicki Secret’s super-duper, ultra-padded pushup bras.

  Still lost in her personal musings, Frannie gathered her things and stood to exit the plane. Her head connected to something very hard with a loud crack. McHottie’s chin. Wiping a small dab of blood from his lip, he sighed as she rubbed the small knot forming on her skull.

  “Careful, dollface. You don’t have to attack me.”

  “I didn’t ask you to stick your face over my head.”

  “I’d stick my face any place you like.” His voice was husky, private, meant only for her ears. A jolt of longing made her wet panties grow warm again. She jerked away, making a mental note to buy extra batteries soon. Luckily, her Asian seatmate wormed his way between them as she made her escape. She filed McHottie away in the corner of her mind marked fantasy material.

  In the terminal, she stopped only long enough to run to the ladies room to pee, wipe some of the wetness from her crotch and wash her hands. Collecting her bag, she pulled on her long, lightweight coat. Early December had been wet and rainy with snow threatening Northern Pennsylvania nearly every day. The Weather Channel predicted a cold snap. For once, it seemed they were correct. Outside, the icy wind stole her breath for a moment as she hurried to a waiting cab.

  Her mental fuel reserves plummeting, she spat out her address before sliding into a stale incense-scented cab. An extravagance, but the solitude during the long ride home would be well worth the undoubtedly outrageous fee. The Middle Eastern cabbie put her bag in the trunk as she sank into an exhausted slump. Moments later, his dark, bearded face appeared beside the window. His heavy accent was difficult to understand.

  “Miss, you share cab ride? Same area you go to?”

  “Whatever,” she replied with a tired wave of her hand. Mentally, she was already raiding her fridge. Business trips were not her favorite pastime anyway, and the strange encounter on the plane had strained her fatigued mind into absolute mush. She could not hold one coherent thought in her head.

  Two well-developed legs clad in faded blue slid in the seat beside her, followed by a deep gray overcoat.

  “You!” she screeched banshee-style.

  “My, my, my, what a nice surprise. I told you we’d meet again.” McHottie’s broad smile made tiny lines crinkle around his onyx-like eyes. He leaned back against the cab seat and arched an eyebrow. “Your place or mine?”

  “Get out of my cab!”

  Squinting into the front of the cab interior, McHottie chuckled. “Your cab? I didn’t realize your name was Muhammad Aziz Ahmed Nabal?”

  Growling in annoyance, Frannie hopped out of the cab, ripped her bag out of the startled cabbie’s hands and stormed off in search of another taxi. A passing shuttle bus whizzed through a slimy puddle, covering her in misty spray. This definitely was not her day. Rolling her eyes and pushing her wet hair off her face, Frannie scowled up at the dark heavens that seemed to laugh at her predicament.

  “What’d I do to piss you off?”

  I found her.

  Heart pounding, adrenalin pumping furiously, Jinx closed his eyes, leaned against the cracked cab seat and fought to contain his racing thoughts. He hadn’t known he’d been looking for her until she appeared, like a genie in a bottle. Poof, here’s your destiny.

  She’s real. She’s real, feisty, and I found her. Now, I just have to make her mine.

 
“Sir, the lady…she leave and…” The sputtering cabbie flapped his hands and mouth while staring in the direction Ms. Feisty had fled.

  Jinx climbed from the back of cab with a fortifying breath, shoved a folded bill in the man’s hand and grabbed the suitcase from beside his leg. If his brain had been working better, he might have looked at the money, but it wasn’t so he didn’t and he had no idea if he just gave the man a ten or a hundred. He didn’t care. He’d found her.

  “Thanks anyway, I changed my mind about the cab.”

  “But…but…but…”

  Hand thrown up in farewell, Jinx stepped onto the slick concrete and strode away without giving the slack-faced cabbie a second glance. A dark Lincoln pulled beside him within a few paces and he threw the suitcase in the back before sliding in the passenger side.

  “Welcome back.” Dave smiled, lips splitting the short white beard.

  “Thanks.”

  “What were you doing in the cab? Did you forget I was picking you up?”

  “No,” Jinx hooked his seatbelt and leaned back into the seat with a sigh. “I was working on a pickup of my own.”

  “Ah, blonde?”

  “Nope…brunette…kind of.”

  His head shaking with mirth, Dave pulled into traffic and chuckled. “I take it you struck out?”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Jinx murmured with a grin. “Let’s say I was laying the groundwork for something bigger…definitely bigger.”

  The chuckle faded with the older man’s smile. “That grin always scares me. You’ve got something hatching in that head of yours.”

  “Drive, Dave. I need to think.”

  Traffic slowed and stopped, honked and swerved but Jinx saw none of it. He was focused on a pair of bourbon-like eyes shimmering with banked anger. Deep in his gut, a tsunami brewed. Destiny was a strange little shit with a warped sense of humor. He’d expected a boring trip home but found his future in front of him instead. He’d pretty much given up believing it could ever happen again. He’d had his chance at happily ever after and watched it crumble into dust and take his heart with it. Did he dare believe a sharp tongue in a tempting mouth could resurrect Forever out of the ashes? And if he dared believe it, how did he find her again?