by Inez Kelley
Her jittery stomach heaved and twitched as she sat at the kitchen table to stop her knees from knocking. At first her voice cracked and she had to wet her lips to speak again. “Hey.”
“Hey, dollface. You okay? Is something wrong?”
“Wrong? Uhm, no, nothing’s wrong. I just—I mean—well—” Sighing, she gave up trying to hide her emotions. “I just missed you.”
“I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
“No. It’s late. I shouldn’t have called. I just—I don’t even know. I just wanted to call.”
“It’s all right.” She heard the creak of a mattress and the rustle of blankets and knew he was sitting up in his bed. Soft tender emotion filled her chest as she realized he wasn’t just going to push her away and slide back to sleep.
“What are you wearing?”
Laughter rushed through her, warming her in the cool darkened room. “I didn’t call you for phone sex. Besides, I’m wearing a faded men’s tee shirt and sweatpants underneath my old bathrobe. Not exactly Fredrick’s of Hollywood.”
“A man’s tee shirt?” Gone was the sleepiness in his tone, replace by sharp protectiveness. “Whose?”
“Mine. I like them loose so I buy them for myself. Why? Are you jealous?”
“Hell, yeah.” He chuckled back.
They talked for nearly an hour, about nothing and everything. When she yawned loudly, he told her to go to bed and have sweet dreams before whispering he loved her. Frannie clicked the phone off and sat for a few minutes in the dark.
Softly, almost reverently, she whispered into the night, “I love you.”
{
“You have to help me!”
Frannie jerked her head up to find a panicked Tracey pacing her office.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“You, that’s what’s wrong. You always go to McGee’s party with Steve. Now he says I have to go with him since you’re going with loverboy. I need a dress. A real dress, you know, a boring-yet-societally-accepted-type dress. Something you would wear.”
Frannie cocked one eyebrow. “Are you saying my clothes are boring?”
“Yes, you know what I think of your wardrobe. Now help me!” A note of desperation filled her voice and Frannie laughed.
“Calm down. There’s plenty of time. The party isn’t for another two weeks.”
“You don’t understand!” Tracey paced faster, flapping her hands in agitation.
Frannie had never seen her confident woman friend so agitated. She crossed to her and grabbed her hands, halting their flight. “Make me understand. What happened?”
Tracey took a deep breath, closed her eyes and visibly made her body relax. “Okay, so I was doing the glorified secretary thing in the meeting, right? As it’s winding down, Ebenezer McGeezer starts talking about his holiday thing. And loverboy makes some comment about dragging his tux out of mothballs and having it dry-cleaned so you don’t gag. Steve jerked like somebody goosed him. You never told him you were going with somebody else. Then McGee asks Steve who his date for the night is. Steve was cornered, ya know? So he says he’s bringing me. Me! He didn’t ask me, he just blurted it out. You know McGee hates me because I’m not some cookie-cutter nineteen-fifties secretary type. I don’t have the duds to mingle with people like that. Steve’s my boss, I can’t make him look bad. I need help of the boring but oh-so-proper kind.”
“Wait, back up.” Frannie rubbed the knot of tension forming between her eyes. Was today Jinx’s meeting with McGee? It must have been. “Jinx is here?”
Tracey rolled her eyes and glared at her as if she was speaking Japanese. “Yeah, but my point? Totally missed. Back to me. Drool over him on your own time, this is my crisis. What am I going to do?”
“We’ll go shopping, that’s all. Calm down. We have time.”
“Time? Are you nuts? I have to get my eyebrows done and get shoes and I figure I’ll have to lose the nose ring and…”
“Stop. You’re fine the way you are. Leave the nose ring and relax.” Frannie frowned as she felt her friend’s shoulder tremble beneath her hand. She squeezed in encouragement. “We’ll find you a great dress and you’ll have fun, I promise. McGee isn’t so bad after you get a bunch of Christmas punch into him.”
“That old fart scares me. Let’s go shopping now. Steve owes me. I’m going to knock off a few hours early.”
Frannie glanced at her watch. It was after two. Why not? Her friend needed her. It only took a minute to right her desk and grab her purse. She pulled on her coat and joined Tracey at the elevator. The doors slid open and Jinx and Steve, one dark, one fair, waited inside.
“Where are you two off to?” Steve asked.
“Thanks to your big mouth, I have to go buy a dress.” Tracey shot daggers at him. Jinx’s eyes sparkled like wet coal as he silently laughed at Tracey’s outrage and Steve’s laidback chuckling response.
“So dress shopping gets you out of work early?”
“Yes, this is a work-related expense as far as I’m concerned. I’m claiming this sucker on my taxes.”
Frannie fastened her coat buttons and shook her head. Jinx casually fixed her upturned collar, letting his hands linger on her shoulders. She smiled up at him and Tracey snorted.
“Can we stop with the cow eyes? Now’s not the time for a game of touchy feely.”
Jinx cocked his eyebrow and stared at her.
“I’ll call you later,” Frannie murmured softly, bumping Jinx’s chest with her shoulder. His hand pressed against the small of her back. Heat shot through her belly. Those hands should be registered somewhere because what he makes me feel is sinfully wicked and most likely illegal in several states.
The door chimed and he dropped a quick kiss on her mouth before he and Steve got out on the second floor.
“Have fun.” Steve tossed over his shoulder.
A sarcastic squiggle on her lips, Tracey stabbed the air with her middle finger.
“I look like a lit match.”
Frannie had to agree. The contrast of Tracey’s blaze-orange hair against the black sheath was overly dramatic. Shedding the gown like a caterpillar, Tracey reached for another dress off the dressing room hook. That one proved too small in the bust.
“I hate boobs,” Tracey grumbled.
“Spoken like a woman who has them,” Frannie shot back, holding a hot pink number to her chest. The gap between the fabric and her bust line was obvious. Tracey snorted and wriggled into another gown. When they had entered the store, she had grabbed every size eight dress she could find and lugged them into the oversized dressing room.
“That’s not bad,” Frannie said as they examined the reflected image swathed in mint green silk.
“It’s the hair.” Shaking her head, Tracey peeled out of the gown. “It has to go. It’s too distracting. Orange really isn’t a Christmas ball color anyway. Maybe I’ll dye it green.”
“Try this.” Frannie pulled her serviceable brown scarf from her coat and wrapped it around the mass of orange hair.
Tracey groaned at her reflection. “Great, now I have a dog-turd turban.”
Nothing seemed to be the right dress. It wasn’t long until Tracey was forced to don one of the complimentary dressing gowns and go raid the racks of shimmering clothing once more. Frannie searched with her. Pawing through racks and racks of finery, her eyes fell on the most beautiful wedding gown she had ever seen.
Snow white satin fell in a long flowing column from thin braided straps. A scalloped bolero jacket added just a dash of flash to the classic lines. It was elegant, understated and timeless. It was also her size and on sale. Drawn instinctively, she stroked the cool material.
“See? If you just marry loverboy, you can buy that dress.”
Frannie yanked her hand back as if the dress were a cactus and she’d just been pricked. “I already had a wedding gown, remember? I sold it on eBay.”
Her head still wrapped in brown wool, Tracey clasped a black dress to her chest and stared at Frannie. Pity colored her ey
es as she whispered, “You did it, didn’t you? You fell in love with him.”
“No.” Frannie shook her head sadly. “I didn’t fall. I plunged headfirst going ninety miles an hour and forgot to buckle my seat belt. Let me tell you, the crash is going to hurt. Big time.”
Chapter Seven
“It’s a secret wanting. Like a song I can’t stop humming.
Or loving someone you can never have.”
—Janet Fitch, White Oleander
Silky smooth, the heated water rushed around her skin like a snake coiling up a tree. Frannie decided instantly she preferred Jinx’s bath to her own claw-footed tub. The ultra-deep Jacuzzi hummed and sent millions of pulsating bubbles swirling toward her. Rolling her shoulders, she embraced the sensation, both luxurious and sinful. She reclined against Jinx’s chest and purred, letting the tensions of the day flow away. Though he’d resisted at first, he’d finally allowed her to add thick, spicy orange bath oil. Now the heady essence filled the candlelit room and heavy steam dampened the air. She could not imagine a more sensual setting.
“Did you find a dress?” Low and deep alongside her ear, his voice soothed her even more.
Stretching her leg up, she let the slick water sluice back down. Yeah, I found a dress. The perfect wedding gown for a princess walking to her knight at the end of a church aisle. And it has excellent resale value on eBay. But I didn’t buy it. No need.
She thrust the thought away. “I am far too relaxed, too naked and too wet to be thinking about dresses.”
With a sharp nip to her ear, he growled, “Relaxed, naked and wet, just how I like my woman.”
The tiny hairs on his leg captured the soapy bubbles and sparkled like silver beads. She traced one long finger down his knee to his thigh. The jets sent heated flumes of scented water rolling over her flesh, tickling her in secret places. Desire made her body lush, her blood thick like molasses. Half-suspended above his naked skin, the buoyancy made her brave. She wiggled her ass on Jinx’s groin.
His chest rumbled like a ’67 Corvette as he noisily nuzzled her neck and his whiskers raked sensitive spots. Her breasts hung heavy and taut, and the surface of the turbulent waves brushed her erect and aching nipples. Skin shining, she braced her hands against his knees and moved up and down slowly. The undulating water lifted her, making her movements sensual and weightless. Floating above his lap, she swirled her bottom, teasing him.
The playful mood slammed to a stop. Her behind connected with his growing erection. His breath caught and hunger roared through her. Slow and languid, she rose and fell, cradling him between the cheeks of her ass. Skin glided against skin with nothing but heated frothy water between them. It only took a few leisurely, luscious strokes and he was solid, full and ready.
“You are a wicked, wicked woman.” His voice was like torn cotton, frayed, ragged and whisper-thin. She raised one corner of her lips in sultry smile and she added a bit of a wiggle to her ass. Wantonness bloomed in her and she let a slow quiet moan escape with each downward thrust. On her hips, his grip tightened. Slowly he took over her movements, showing her what rhythm he wanted.
The tiled room filled with the heat of the bubbling bathwater, the candle flame and their rising passion. Mystery added a spark of the forbidden. She couldn’t see him, could only gauge his reactions by the sound of his breathing in her ear and the pulse of his cock nestled in the cleft of her behind. It was her ultimate fantasy position. How did he know? She saw nothing of her lover, could only feel his body and the water, what both were doing to her. Floating free, all she had to do was to feel. Feel the hair on his chest tickle her shoulder, feel the bite of his fingers into her hip bones, feel the graze of his thighs.
His breath rushed against her cheek, hot and jagged. She arched, pressing her hips firmer, increasing the friction. Lids lowered, she reveled in the gloriously erotic sensations of hard flesh, silky oil, and hot water. Internal heat blazed as her breasts dipped from the cool air to the hot water again and again. She could have let her mind drift to any man imaginable, pictured anyone brushing against her skin. But there was only one man she wanted to conjure up. One with eyes like onyx and a heart filled with tenderness.
He gave her no warning. There was no foreplay. It was pure unbridled, undiluted, carnal lust. One minute he moved her against him, the next he lifted her onto him. Her eyes flew open. The water had carried away much of her natural moisture so the penetration was firmer, harder, dryer. Heaven. Stretched and filled, she gasped loudly before a moan grew high in her throat.
Jinx whispered her name and buried his face in her damp hair. The force of his upward thrust created waves that fought against the rushing jets, battled the water for its heat. She tried to angle her legs for better leverage but his grip stopped her. With a hand on each of her knees, he parted her legs and draped them over his, exposing her split flesh to the churning water. Her clit was surrounded by hot satiny liquid and shock zinged through her. Dear Gawd, this is too wicked to be moral. Calgon, take me away!
His fingers grazed the tight bud and she bowed, but he held her fast. Around her hips, his arms kept her tight against him. A multitude of conflicting vibrations coursed through her. Thrusting, pulsing, tweaking, caressing, each motion fueled her internal fire. Dizzy with soaring desire, her stomach tensed. Her nails dug into his forearms like claws as he carried her closer to oblivion. He rocked into her and drummed his fingers against her core. The bubbling water licked and lapped her skin. She was being consumed by liquid passion.
His name was torn from her lips and he ratcheted up the sensation a notch by sinking his teeth into her neck, branding her. She exploded violently, quaking and quivering, whimpers pouring from her mouth. One last plunge brought him to the same plane and he trembled with her. One soul, one body, they reached for a star and caught it as it streaked across the midnight sky.
In the blissful decent back to reality, her relaxed body naturally curving into his, one thought raced through her mind. How could she ever let this man go? And how could she not? Shooting stars were fiery and awe-inspiring but they burned out and crashed to the earth, leaving only a dead smoldering lump.
{
It started as a tingle just below the surface. Soon the tingle grew into a hard, throbbing bump. Frannie couldn’t stop thinking about it. Her fingers ached to touch it, to glide over the hot swollen flesh. But a staff meeting was not the right place. Tucking her hands under her behind, she tried to concentrate on what Steve was saying but all she heard was Charlie Brown’s teacher.
The nub pulsed with a life of its own. Aching for release, the knot pounded, distracting her. Frannie couldn’t take her mind off the prickling sensations. Could anybody tell? Are they looking at me funny? Unable to stand it any longer, she nearly ran into the bathroom. The burning was just too powerful to ignore.
“Just great. A mammoth freaking zit.”
Under the blazing fluorescent light, the spot on her chin was red, raised and totally incapable of being concealed with makeup.
“For the love of God, Frannie, this happens every damn month. Can’t you get some Proactive or something? Other women don’t walk around with ugly-assed whore bumps like warts on a witch’s chin. It’s not like you have the looks to spare, you know?”
Growling in frustration at Mark’s remembered words, Frannie popped her pimple and stalked back to her office.
Well, one way to get rid of Jinx faster is to start losing what looks I have. Mount Vesuvius on my chin helps a lot. The thought did nothing to improve her surly mood.
{
“Oh no.” Frannie stared at her panties in disbelief. Damn, she’d forgotten all about stopping for tampons. Grumpy as a bear with a thorn in its butt, she’d come home early and spent an hour doing nothing but internet surfing. After changing into halfway decent sweats and slathering on another layer of acne cream, she’d peed and had received a surprise.
The cabinet under the bathroom vanity yielded one lone tampon in a crushed box. It would be enou
gh to let her run to the store. She wanted to go back out like a hooker wanted the clap but she had no choice.
“A woman’s gotta do what a woman’s gotta do,” she muttered, smacking the bathroom light switch. She reached for her purse as the phone rang. For just a second, she thought about letting it go to voicemail, but somewhere in her genetic makeup was a gene that prevented her.
Jinx’s voice made her heart speed up. Cruelly, her cramps began. “Let’s do Chinese tonight. I’m at the mini-mall on Delta Avenue and can slip into Wang’s for takeout. What do you want?”
“Uhm.” Fingers pressed to her still swollen pimple, she looked around for her tennis shoes. “I thought I’d just make some soup for myself or something.”
The stillness on the other end was deafening. She could hear the traffic in the background and his slow breathing before he spoke again in quiet measured tones. “I take it that means you don’t want to see me tonight.”
“No. That’s not it.” A war raged internally as she pressed the phone harder to her ear. “It’s just…I don’t want you to see me.”
“Why?” His voice was soft and she swore she heard a note of pain. Heart twisting in guilt, she confessed in an embarrassed rush.
“Because I have a huge zit the size of Cleveland on my chin. It’s ugly.”
He had the audacity to laugh. “Is that all, dollface?”
“No, that’s not all.” In her hormonal crankiness, she lashed out at him. “I just discovered you’re not going to be a father.”
That shut him up. The silence hung heavy in the air before he cleared his throat. “Were you worried about that?”
“No. Really, no, I wasn’t. It’s just— Look, I have to go out for a bit. I have an errand to run.”
“I can run your errand for you and still pick up Chinese, unless you’d rather have something else.” He seemed so eager to please, so anxious to be with her it brought tears to her eyes. Gawd, I love how sweet he is. Gawd, I hate hormones. She sniffled.
