Jinxed

by Inez Kelley

  “He’ll do it. I’ll see to that. Congratulations on getting married. Your Frannie’s a nice lady.”

  “Thanks.” Jinx knelt to stroke the head of the toddler still clinging to her father’s leg. “Hey, princess.”

  The cherub-cheeked child pressed her face firmly against her father and wouldn’t look up. With a chuckle, he drew her up and smiled at Jinx.

  “Little Miss Amber is shy today.”

  Jinx left the happy family scene and shivered as he crossed the street. He made toys. Of course he liked children. But he had never felt the pull he did now to have a family. A clinging daughter attached to his leg and a strapping son learning his first lesson in work ethics seemed perfect now. He pictured Frannie round in pregnancy and his heart swelled.

  What was it Mr. Henderson had called her? Your Frannie, that was it. My Frannie. Jinx sighed. My Frannie, my love, my future wife and mother to my future children.

  Then he remembered her face after the snowball had hit her and winced. My pissed-off Frannie.

  “Go home, Jinx.”

  “It was an accident. I said I was sorry.”

  Frannie used her thumb to swab a stray bit of chocolate from his lip. She smiled down at him as she passed behind his chair to refill her cup. Unconsciously, she poured more of the sweet cocoa into his nearly empty cup. He had been shivering when he came in but the brew seemed to warm him. Even his wet hair had dried into a cloud of softness.

  “I know that, Goofy. I just have things to do to get ready for your dinner party. You haven’t even told me who’s coming or what I should wear.”

  “Wear?”

  “Yes, is this formal or casual, business associates or friends, BBQ-type or five-course menu type?”

  “Uhm.” Jinx seemed perplexed as he rubbed his lip with his knuckle. “I guess all of the above, really. But not formal. You can wear what you have on as far as I care.”

  Frannie glanced down at her old yoga pants and floppy tee shirt. He’s crazy. “You want me to meet your business clients and friends dressed like a thrift-store runaway? No way, nutso. What are you wearing?” She sat across from him at the kitchen table and drew a knee up to rest her chin on it.

  “I dunno. I haven’t thought about it.”

  She groaned and dropped her head onto her knee. “Men are such idiots. How can you wait until the last minute to decide things like this? I need to know this stuff. Is this a cool casual business thing where everyone kisses the air beside my cheek or is this a grab-a-beer-and-crash-on-the-floor-type party? Should I wear a dress or are pants okay? Am I going to be overdressed if I wear pantyhose or am I going to be the odd one out? I need answers. I have to organize accessories, damn it!” She pinched her lips tight at his chuckle and fixed him with a murderous look.

  He arched raven black brows and sent her a gentle smile. “I’ll probably just wear Dockers and a polo. Does that help?”

  Frannie nodded and relaxed back into the chair. “That helps immensely. Now go home. I’m officially kicking your ass out.”

  Chapter Five

  “Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.”

  —Percy Bysshe Shelley

  A white catering van with a blue bird on the side had parked in front of Jinx’s garage door, forcing Frannie to park along the street. She thrust the car into park. Great, if this wind messes up my hair, I’m going to be pissed. She shut off the motor, took a quick nervous look in the mirror and drew a deep breath. This was it.

  She had soaked for an hour, shaved every conceivable place, plucked and primped, slathered on creamy scented lotion, curled her hair and donned her best pair of come-and-get-me panties. Cinderella she wasn’t but she looked pretty good for plain old Frannie. The car chimed as she opened the door and stepped out into the freezing air.

  Time to make some memories.

  Jinx watched Frannie scurry up his drive. The wind whipped around her with a wintry howl. She carried the flowery oversized shoulder bag she loved and had her head tucked down against the gale. The thick down of her red winter coat hid most of her upper torso but wide fluttery black pants molded to her thighs in the rushing air. Thick purple snow boots covered her feet and calves.

  My Frannie. He chuckled. A fashion statement extraordinaire.

  He met her at the side kitchen door and held it open so she could run into the steamy warmth of the room. She sent him a grateful smile and shook the snow from her hair. “Damn, it’s cold.”

  She peeled back her coat. Heart thudding, Jinx raked his eyes over her form. She had done something to her hair. It wasn’t so smooth now. It had waves and poofed out, framing her cocoa eyes. A silky coral kimono-like blouse skimmed down her body, hugging her frame like a second skin. He took her coat and a rich sexual scent filled his nose. The aromas of brisk wind, spice and pure Frannie made his nostrils flare. Her perfume seeped into his consciousness and triggered a primal response. He wanted to grab her, fling her on the table and bury himself inside her.

  Slow, slow, slow, so damn achingly slow, he chanted, reminding himself she was not ready for more intimacy yet. But did she have to be so damn alluring? He could only take so much. She kicked off the clunky boots and drew a strappy pair of pumps from her bag. With her hand on his arm for balance, she stepped into them. Her breast pressed against his arm branded him. Yeah, this slow shit sucks.

  “It smells wonderful in here.” Her bright eyes darted over the crew preparing away in his kitchen before a shadowed look crossed her face. She leaned in close to him. “Tell me these people aren’t from the Blue Jay. Please tell me they aren’t from the same restaurant you carried me into like a flour sack.”

  “Okay. They aren’t. They just stole the Blue Jay’s catering van, their uniforms and the crockery. They have never seen you fanny-side-up.”

  Her low groan and mortified expression only dug her deeper into his soul. She was so cute when embarrassed. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and protect her from the world. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, led her through the dining room and down the hall to his den.

  “Pick out some music for tonight, will you? Something quiet and soothing, something we can talk over. I hate fighting to be heard.”

  While Frannie searched through his CDs, Jinx painted her into his memory. When she concentrated, her brows furrowed just a bit and she chewed the inside of her lip. When surprised, her eyes widened and the right corner of her mouth tilted slightly higher than the left. Displeasure made her nose crinkle and her eyes narrow. Her shoulders shook with silent laughter when she picked up a copy of bagpipe music his grandmother had sent him years ago. Long and graceful fingers stroked back an errant wave that fell into her sight path as she bent to look at the lower shelf. Tucked behind a tiny, almost pointed ear, her hair shimmered like drizzled caramel. It seemed like only an instant before she had selected several discs and turned to him with a glowing smile. Not nearly enough time to commit her form to his mind. But she was permanently imprinted in his heart.

  After feeding the music to the player, Jinx punched a few buttons and the soft strains of soulful jazz filled the house. A smile burst onto her face as she looked up, trying to locate the hidden speakers. Irrationally, the smile made him feel powerful, like he’d accomplished something huge. When the side door closed with a loud thud, he knew the kitchen staff had left. Show time. With a deep breath, he took her hand and led her back to the main living space.

  The lights were low and a fire blazed in the great room fireplace. Tall candles sent dancing shadows over the cozy table laid only for two, with delicate crystal and elegant china. A solemn waiter stood beside a chair, pristine white cloth draped over one arm. Frannie gasped as she took in the romantic setting. She looked at him with astonishment shining on her beautiful face.

  Gotcha, he silently crowed.

  “But your dinner party…”

  “My dinner party…for two.”

  “But—but you said it was for friends and business clients and—”

  �
�No, Frannie. You said that. And you are my friend. Once I switch my dealings to McGee’s, we’ll also be business associates. Tonight, I hope we can just be us.”

  “Us?” The tremor of her lower lip betrayed her shock and he felt like beating his chest caveman style. My woman, mine, all mine.

  He was going to spoil her tonight, if only she would let herself be spoiled. Something held her back. He knew she was falling in love with him, falling as hard as he had the first day. But whenever she started to let her guard down, something flashed inside her and she froze. Those simmering brown eyes crackled like amber lightning and she pushed him away, usually with a sarcastic remark and a defensive retort. Fear kept her behind a locked door and she had the only key. He just had to find a way to coax her into opening the latch.

  But when her guard was down, when she allowed him to look into her soul, he saw a mirror there that reflected every ounce of love he felt. He saw an open, caring, happy heart eager to be loved and eager to give love. He wanted to shove his foot in the door before she slammed it close. I know the real you, Frannie. Trust yourself to trust me. Believe. Believe in us. Please.

  Chicken Marsala, beef tenderloin medallions and whatever other delicacy the Blue Jay had prepared melted in her mouth but she doubted she would recall a single one of the five courses later. Jinx was foremost in her mind. To say she was knocked for a loop was an understatement. She had prepared to flirt outrageously with him while he was busy with his guests. Use the social tensions to heighten the sexuality of a passing squeeze, a hidden caress, a stolen kiss.

  Now it was full on frontal attack of the don’t-let-him-see-it-coming variety. When you didn’t have much, you had to work what you had harder. She worked it like a high-priced hooker at a church social.

  Wine flowed and the conversation was comfortable and lively. A demure expression fixed on her face, she fed him bites from her plate and nipped his finger when he offered some of his own. Her wine-coated lips she licked with a slow tongue while acting distracted. Her words suggested one thing while her mannerism was pure as snow.

  “These breasts are so tender,” she purred, forking a bite of chicken, making sure to squeeze her arm against her bust. Sure enough, his eyes flew to her cleavage.

  She drew her tongue through the thick spread on her roll. “Mmmm, it tastes like creamy honey.”

  “Uh—yeah.” Jinx’s voice cracked and he had to clear his throat. “Honey and herbs are mixed in the butter.”

  One shimmering pink-tipped finger trailed through the spread before sliding along the tip of her tongue. He licked his own lips as if tasting the same sweetness.

  The more sexual her purposely innocuous movement, the tighter his muscles grew. The cords in his neck stood out and his teeth ground together. From the death grip he had on his knife, she assumed he was fighting his lust. When he shifted in his seat several times after she let a low sound of satisfaction escape, she knew she was succeeding. By the last course of sinfully rich carrot cake, Jinx had broken into a light sweat more than once.

  One side effect of secretly seducing Jinx was the similar influence it had on her body. As his eyes glazed over with lust, her heart tattooed a furious rhythm. The hard swallow that worked down his throat as she stroked the stem of her goblet created a quivering knot in her belly. She smoothed her tongue along the fork tines to capture the last creamy bit of frosting and Jinx’s control seemed to crack.

  “For God’s sake, Frannie, have mercy. You’re killin’ me here.”

  The husky strained desire in his voice heated her senses. Eyes wide in innocence, she tilted one brow, looked straight into his face and asked, “What?”

  “Nothing. Never mind. Excuse me a minute.”

  As he escaped to the kitchen, she smiled in total feminine satisfaction. Her plan was working.

  He was in hell, pure sexual hell. Like a randy teenager, he was finding something sexual in everything Frannie did or said. His libido was working overtime and he had to make a quick exit before he embarrassed himself. He barreled through the kitchen to the breezeway.

  The lungfuls of icy air he gulped helped cool his body but did little for his imagination. He wanted her like he had never wanted anything else in his life. But she needed time. Time he would give her if it meant he took a thousand cold showers a day and ended up with raw palms. She was worth it. So he ended up with a hard-on that wouldn’t go down with a stick of dynamite, big deal, he could handle it, right?

  The anti-Viagra hit him with an icy fist. If he didn’t stop drooling over Frannie, he was going to scare her off and then he’d never get her to believe in them. She’d think he was after nothing more than a quick fuck. Convincing her otherwise would be next to impossible. Given the choice between fuck or forever, he wanted forever. Granted, he desperately wanted the fuck too but forever was more important. Blue balls be damned, he was going to be a perfect gentleman if it killed him. And it just might.

  Face stinging from the wind and cold, Jinx returned to the kitchen. The young waiter who had served them was quietly cleaning up, wiping the counters and stacking dishes. An urgent need to be alone with Frannie fueled Jinx. He wanted this intruder gone.

  “Go home.” Jinx pressed several folded bills into his hand. “I’ll arrange with Martin to get this stuff later. Just get out of here.”

  The waiter looked at him, looked at the cash and shrugged. He walked out the door without a word. Jinx watched him pull out before he faced the dining room. Ready or not, here I come. Slowly.

  Frannie peed, washed her hands, reapplied her lipstick and fixed her hair. The overstuffed shoulder bag was crammed with everything she could possibly need for an overnight stay. She left it beside the vanity where she could grab it later. After a quick tug at her blouse and a deep breath to steel her nerves, she flipped off the bathroom light.

  Someone had spread out a thick fleece blanket and large sitting pillows in front of the roaring fire in the great room. Champagne was chilling in an ice bucket and two fluted glasses stood ready. Frannie sat on the fleece in stillness, her knees drawn upward, and waited.

  When he joined her, she looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “This looks like a seduction scene. Are you trying to seduce me, Jinx?”

  Her eyelids quivered in restrained amusement at his guilty expression. He flopped down to lie on the fleece beside her and took her hand. His fingers were cold and she could smell the bitter wind in his hair. So he went outside to cool off, huh? Excellent.

  “Yes, I had planned on seduction.” His admission took her by surprise, but he pressed a finger to her lip before she could speak. “I planned all this before this morning, before you said you wanted to slow down. So now it’s not seduction, it’s a celebration.”

  “Celebration?”

  Deep as the ocean at night, his eyes captured hers and drew her in. He cupped her cheek and stroked his thumb over her skin. Pulled by an invisible string, she leaned down and pressed her mouth to his. He tasted of sugar. His tongue licked at her mouth until she granted it entry. Thrust and parry, two-step and tango, search and discovery, their tongues played until the need for breath separated them. He eased back, holding her hand against his chest.

  “Tonight, I want to try and make up for some of the things we missed together in our lives.” Like an exuberant puppy, he leapt up and pulled a large cardboard box from behind the sofa. He grinned at her with a twinkle in his eyes that spoke of an adventure unfolding. She tried to peek inside the box but he shook his finger at her like a naughty child. “Ah ah ah, no peeking.”

  “What are you up to, nutball?” Frannie heard the laughter in her own voice and shook her head at him. He seemed so eager, like a snapping live wire. With a quick comical wiggle of his eyebrows, he pointedly ignored her and opened a laptop. While it powered up, he pulled a low ottoman over and positioned it so she could see the screen.

  He rejoined her on the fleece and the dark screen displayed a glittery ball on a pole against a starry night sky. A young Dick Cl
ark spoke into a microphone half the size of his head. The vintage footage panned over the milling crowd swaddled in winter clothes and sporting peace signs. They screamed, waved to the camera and kissed random strangers.

  “For all the New Years we missed together.” He slid a plastic headband with a glittery Happy New Year banner on her head, donning a foil hat himself. The thin elastic band snapped on his chin and he winced, making her giggle.

  “You’re crazy.”

  With a self-confident shrug, he popped the top on the champagne bottle and poured two flutes. Golden bubbles raced to frothy white foam as he pressed one into her hand.

  “It’s almost time. Count down with me, America.”

  The crackle of less-than-modern sound echoed in the great room as a million people counted with the eternally youthful host. The seated couple joined in the count.

  “Four…three…two…one!”

  “Auld Lang Syne” filled the room through the tiny speakers of the laptop. A great cheer went through the long-forgotten crowd. Frannie jumped at a loud pop behind her and tiny bits of shiny confetti rained down on her. Paper popper in hand, Jinx caught her surprised mouth in a deep, hard kiss. Just when she thought she would never breathe again, and didn’t care, he released her lips and toasted her.

  “Happy New Year, dollface.”

  A clear chime pinged as she touched her glass to his. The magical spell he wove enchanted her. The traditional song was overshadowed by the crowd’s cheer and the emcee’s voice but Frannie was oblivious to it all. The thud of her heart drowned them all out. She didn’t look at the scenes of yester-New Year. She only saw Jinx. The dorky paper hat was askew and firelight flickered on the bits of metallic confetti in his hair. Emotion smoldered in his eyes like a banked flame.

  Caught up in his make-believe world, she echoed him with a raised glass of her own. “Happy New Year, fruit loop.”