“Mmm. What woman?” Jinx’s eyes were closed.
“The one in the bar. The butch that whispered something in your ear right before we left.”
Jinx smiled lazily. “Nothing.”
“She said something. And it made you blush. What was it?”
“Nothing appropriate for you to hear.”
“Oh, please. What am I? A virgin?”
Jinx turned onto her side and slipped her arm over E. J.’s waist. “You’re an angel.” She draped a leg over E. J.’s thighs.
E. J. laughed. “I don’t think some of the things I did tonight were angelic.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s my house.” Jinx pressed her lips to E. J.’s neck. “My house. My rules. And I say you’re an angel. Besides, everything you’ve done tonight felt pretty heavenly to me.”
“That’s bad,” E. J. said with a giggle. But she liked it. God help me, I like it.
“You’re my angel.” Jinx snuggled closer. “My princess.” She nuzzled her ear. “My little kumquat,” she murmured, a smile in her voice. Her breath tickled E. J.’s skin.
E. J. laughed and pushed her away. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“Nope.” Jinx rolled onto her back again then off the bed. “I will bring you strawberries, though. And I promise, they’ll be way better than a bunch of words.” She crossed to the fridge and retrieved a large bowl.
E. J. rested her head on an arm and admired the strong lines of Jinx’s naked body, the firm muscle beneath smooth skin. This everything-in-one-room design had its benefits. She focused on a long scar that ran half the width of Jinx’s lower back. She had felt it under her fingers and palms when she had run her hands down the length of Jinx’s spine or gripped her waist to pull her harder against her center. She had pressed her lips to it, run her tongue over it on her way to lower places. She hadn’t been about to stop what she was doing at the time to ask about it. Could she now? She remembered the other scar, the round one along her side.
Jinx grinned at her on her way back to the bed.
There was no point in asking, no reason. E. J. would leave in the morning and, this time, she’d really never see Jinx again. She now knew Jinx was fine. She had seen for herself the state of Jinx’s and Andrea’s relationship and knew the chance of running into Jinx at family gatherings was nil. And there was no need for them to know anything personal about one another. This was the way E. J. managed her private life. No strings, no entanglements. Just a good time and then it was over. She wasn’t looking for anything more.
Jinx plucked a strawberry from the bowl and pressed it oh-so-lightly to E. J.’s lips.
E. J. took it and just the tips of Jinx’s finger and thumb into her mouth. She sucked gently. Sweetness coated her tongue, and her eyes went wide. “Mmmmm.” She took the berry fully and bit into it. “Oh, my God,” she murmured as the flavor flooded her senses. “That is so good.”
“I told you.”
“I’ve never had a strawberry that good.”
Jinx chuckled. “That’s because you probably buy them in a store.” She fed E. J. another one, then ate one herself.
“Why does that matter?” E. J. closed her eyes and savored the taste.
“Sparkle says the ones in the stores are grown for shipping.”
At the mention of the hostile little woman’s name, E. J. flinched inwardly. She would never see her again either. Not a bad thing.
“Their skins are a lot tougher and they’re picked too early. They never get fully ripe.” Jinx lay beside E. J., and they snuggled against each other again. She placed another berry on E. J.’s tongue.
I could get used to this. But she wouldn’t.
“Sparkle told me to only buy berries from the local growers because those are grown for eating. They have tender skin and are perfectly ripe right when they’re picked.” Jinx put one in her mouth then kissed E. J.
They shared the sweetness along with the heat that still simmered between them, and E. J. no longer cared about tomorrow or Sparkle or where to buy strawberries. All she cared about was the sound of Jinx’s moans, the taste of her kiss, and the feel of her touch.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jinx stood in line, staring at the menu above the counter. She’d never been in a Starbucks before, never had any reason to be. She didn’t drink much coffee, and when she did, she was happy with a basic cup from Mike’s Donuts near her house, or from whatever restaurant she happened to be eating in at the time. The best cup she’d ever had, though, was the one she’d shared with E. J., and that was because she’d gotten to look at E. J. in that thin robe while she’d taken her first swallow. Bacon fat would have tasted good in that moment. This morning, the coffee wasn’t even for her. She’d wanted to pick up a cup for E. J. since she didn’t have any in the house, and she knew Starbucks was supposed to be the be-all end-all.
She searched the menu. Bakery. Starbucks Petites. Bistro Boxes. Hot Breakfasts. Starbucks Refreshers. Everything but…Ah, there it is. Freshly Brewed Coffee. Oh, wait…Blonde Roast? Caffè Misto? Clover Brewed Coffee? What the heck is clover brewed?
“May I take your order?” the girl at the register asked the businessman two people in front of Jinx.
She needed to make up her mind. Iced coffee? No. That just seemed wrong. Chocolate Beverages? Oooooh. Peppermint Hot Chocolate. That sounded good. Or Salted Caramel Hot Chocolate. Even better. She remembered the salted caramel milk chocolate bar Sparkle had put in her Christmas stocking last year, and her mouth watered.
Oh, wait. No, E. J. Coffee. Her brain wasn’t quite functioning yet. She and E. J. had fallen asleep only an hour before Jinx had to get up for her morning ritual and then get ready for work. She was here to get coffee for E. J. A column entitled Espresso caught her attention. That was coffee, too, wasn’t it? What was the difference? She looked down the list. Twenty-nine? There were twenty-nine different kinds of espresso? How was she supposed to decide?
“I’ll have a cinnamon dolce latte half-soy nonfat decaf,” the woman in front of her said to the clerk. “Oh, and extra hot.”
Twenty minutes later, Jinx walked out of Mike’s Donuts with a large Styrofoam cup of coffee and three containers of vanilla creamer. She balanced it all in one hand while she drove with the other, since the cup holder in her fifteen-year-old Toyota was broken, and thanked the coffee gods she hadn’t scalded herself as she pulled up to her house. When she’d stepped outside earlier, she’d been happy to see E. J.’s Lexus hadn’t been stolen or stripped during the night, and knew she had Pablo, the kid next door, and the gang he ran with, to thank for keeping an eye on her place. Now, she was just glad to see it because it meant E. J. hadn’t left. Her adventure into the land of the magic beans felt like it’d taken a decade. She glanced at her watch. She needed to get a move on.
As she closed the front door behind her, she took in the twisted sheet and blanket on the empty bed, remnants of another night of…Jinx wasn’t sure what to call it. It didn’t feel like just sex—it felt like way more than that—but at the same time, it was damned good sex. It couldn’t be making love because Jinx didn’t really know what that was. Besides, how could they be doing anything that could be called making love when they’d only just met? It certainly wasn’t anything like what she’d had with Val, except for maybe the feeling of connection, but it was a different kind of connection—way different. And it was absolutely nothing like the other homeless girls and addicts she’d hooked up with on the streets when she was much younger. She didn’t have any frame of reference for anything like what she felt with E. J.
She heard the clank of pipes that accompanied the water turning off in the bathroom. The door was closed.
“Knock knock.” She leaned against the jamb.
“Who’s there?” E. J. said after a pause. Her voice was lower than usual, her morning voice Jinx remembered from the hotel.
She smiled to herself. “Al.”
Another pause. “Al who?”
“Al give you c
offee if you open up.”
The door opened immediately, and E. J. stood with one of the two towels Jinx owned wrapped around her middle. It covered just enough, but still not very much. She had dark smudges under her eyes. “Coffee?”
Jinx held up the cup.
“Oh God, you’re a saint.” E. J. took it.
“That is what they call me,” Jinx said, handing her the creamers. “Jinx of the caffeine, patron saint of the sleepless.”
“I looked for a coffeemaker,” E. J. said while emptying the cream into her cup. “But you don’t have one.” She took a deep swallow.
“I know. That’s why I went and got you that.”
E. J. released a half-sigh, half-moan, then focused on Jinx. “I thought you left.”
“I did. I went to get you that.”
E. J. laughed and took another drink. She stroked Jinx’s cheek. “Thank you.”
The jasmine scent of E. J.’s shampoo or body wash or perfume or whatever it was, made it difficult for Jinx to think. The softness of E. J.’s touch and the warmth in her gaze stirred Jinx’s desire. She stuffed her fingertips into her jeans pockets to keep from running her hands over the soft skin of E. J.’s bare shoulders. She had to go to work.
E. J. smiled and stepped past her. “I meant, I thought I wouldn’t see you before I needed to leave.”
“You heading out?” Disappointment rippled through Jinx, but she had known that. Of course E. J. would leave. She’d said she’d only come because she was concerned about her, and Jinx had told her she was fine. She didn’t want E. J. to know just how wrecked she’d been following the scene with Andrea. She didn’t want her to know it’d taken her several days to remind herself that Andrea’s reaction was what she’d expected—before she’d gotten caught up in all the memories and learned that Andrea had wanted to keep the tree house. She didn’t want E. J. to have seen her so upset and running out of the house. In fact, if she’d thought about it when Reggie called, she probably would have been too humiliated even to go to Bella’s the previous night. She was glad she didn’t think of it.
“I have to get home.” E. J. settled onto the bed and pulled the sheet over her legs. The towel still covered her torso, its corner crimped at E. J.’s breast.
Jinx wanted to ask where home was, but the less she knew about E. J., the easier it might be to just tuck her away as a fond memory. She nodded and turned toward the kitchen counter. “I’m making a sandwich for lunch. You want a PB&J so you don’t have to stop on the road?” She opened the fridge and retrieved the blackberry jam. When E. J. didn’t answer, she glanced over her shoulder.
E. J. sat smiling at her, holding her coffee in her lap. “I think I do.” She sounded surprised. “I haven’t had a PB&J in eons.”
Jinx grinned. “Then I’ll make sure it’s the best PB&J ever. I’ll add my secret ingredient.”
“What’s that?”
Jinx rolled her eyes. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret.”
“Oh, of course. My apologies.” E. J. giggled.
Jinx found the peanut butter and bread in the cupboard, grateful for something to focus on besides E. J.’s smooth skin. As she worked, she heard movement in the room—a squeak from a shift on the mattress, the rustle of bedding, bare feet on linoleum. It felt oddly natural, relaxed, to be doing something as mundane as fixing lunch with E. J. there in her house. This was normally her space alone, but she liked having E. J. there.
“Turner and Hooch? I love this movie,” E. J. said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled into the room. She held up a DVD from Jinx’s entertainment unit.
Jinx smiled. “Me, too. It’s the best romantic comedy ever. A romance and a dog. Doesn’t get much better than that.”
“And Hotel for Dogs?” E. J. flipped another case and began reading the back. “This sounds cute.”
Jinx felt herself blush at E. J.’s discovery of the kids’ movie, but she loved that one, too. “No romance, but lots of dogs.” She shrugged. Jinx went back to the sandwiches. “So, what does E. J. stand for?” she asked without thinking. Dang it! What happened to it being easier if I don’t know anything more?
“What?” E. J. sounded distracted.
Jinx turned to look at her. She couldn’t back pedal now without it seeming awkward. “Your initials,” she said. “What do they stand for?”
Still in the towel, E. J. tapped on the screen of her phone. Without looking up, she laughed. “Oh, no. You have your secret ingredient. I have my mysteries.”
Jinx grinned. E. J. was fun. Along with the other obvious things she liked about her, she was fun. “That’s not the same thing.”
E. J. finished her message and dropped her phone into her purse. “A mystery is a mystery.” She picked up her suitcase and opened it on the bed.
“No, no.” Jinx played along. “My secret ingredient is like a family heirloom. I have an obligation to keep its identity safe. A name’s just a name.”
“What if my name has been passed down for generations, and it’s only known to our royal lineage?” E. J. began folding the shell she’d worn the previous night. “I don’t think we know each other well enough for me to divulge such a secret.”
Jinx waited, but E. J. offered nothing more. “Really?” She chuckled. “I can run my hands and mouth all over your body, give you screaming orgasms, cook for you, bring you coffee, make you a sandwich with my secret ingredient, but I can’t know your name?” She shot E. J. a glance.
E. J. only smiled and put her folded slacks into her suitcase.
Jinx eyed her. She has to be joking. Was she really not going to tell her? “Elizabeth.” She took a stab at it. “Elizabeth Jane.”
“No,” E. J. said.
“Is either one of them right?” She wrapped up the PB&Js and collected several apples and some carrot sticks from the crisper drawer of the refrigerator.
“No.” E. J. pulled some clean clothes from her bag.
“Eleanor Joyce.” Jinx leaned against the counter and folded her arms.
“No.”
“Will you tell me if I guess?”
“Sure,” E. J. said. Her tone was smug. She ran a brush through her hair.
“You don’t think I can do it.” Jinx felt herself rise to the challenge.
“No.” E. J. fluttered her lashes at her.
Jinx closed her eyes meditatively. “Edwina,” she said as the name came to her. “Edwina Josephina.”
E. J. laughed. “No.” She pulled out a jewelry case and opened it.
Jinx began bagging both lunches. “You have to tell me if I get either one.”
“Okay.” E. J. slipped a small gold hoop through an earlobe.
Her superior air was starting to bug Jinx. “Ethel June. Ethel Julia. Ethel Judith.”
E. J. dropped the towel and planted a fist on one hip. “Do I look like an Ethel anything?”
Jinx took in E. J.’s tantalizingly naked body and thought of Ethel from I Love Lucy. “Not at all.”
“All right, then.”
“This isn’t fair,” Jinx said, trying to ignore the low burn between her thighs. “You know my real name.”
“I do,” E. J. said, sounding self-satisfied. “But you didn’t tell me.”
Jinx wavered between irritation and amusement. She decided to try a new tactic. “Eliza Jewel. That’s a pretty name.”
“Aww, it is a pretty name, but it’s not mine.” E. J. stepped into a pair of blue lace panties, then put on a matching bra.
Jinx couldn’t take her eyes off her. “Earl Jarvis,” she said.
E. J. laughed as she pulled a snug-fitting, pink shirt with the Bad Dog poodle on the front over her head. “Yes, that’s it. You’ve been sleeping with someone named Earl Jarvis.”
Jinx paused, trying to think of another plan.
“Why do your friends call you Jinx?” E. J. asked. She shimmied into a pair of dark blue jeans and buttoned the waistband.
Jinx laughed in amazement. “Why would I tell you that
?”
“Well, since your secret ingredient is so guarded, maybe I’ll trade my name for why you go by Jinx. A name for a name.”
Jinx studied her. Suddenly, she seemed more serious. “Some friends in high school started it.” It was only a partial lie. They were friends at the age she should have been in her senior year. “They thought I was like the superhero Jinx, so they started calling me that. It just stuck.”
E. J. stopped and tilted her head. “A superhero?” She was clearly intrigued. “What are your super powers? Other than the ones I already know,” she said suggestively.
Jinx smiled, feeling a little self-conscious. “Jinx’s super powers are being able to conjure earth tremors, create blasts of wind, dissolve solid matter, and summon emerald flames.” She rattled off the list, feeling seventeen again. She’d liked taking on the name.
“Really?”
“Mm-hm. She’s an elemental sorceress. She also has precognitive powers and can detect danger before it happens.”
“Aren’t sorceresses usually evil?”
Jinx shrugged. “She is a villain.”
“Ah, a bad girl.” E. J. gave her a sultry grin. Enjoyment danced in her eyes. “What about you reminded your friends of her?”
Jinx shifted nervously. She didn’t want to go too far. She wanted E. J. to think of her as she was now. “They said I had precognitive powers, because I never got caught doing things.” She remembered the night she’d backed out of hot-wiring a Mercedes because she felt something wasn’t right. She’d awakened the next morning to learn two of her friends had been arrested. She wasn’t going to share that, though.
E. J. closed her suitcase, then crossed to where Jinx stood. She slipped her arms around Jinx’s waist and leaned into her, her expression searching.
“What?” Jinx asked, hoping her uneasiness didn’t show.
“I’m just trying to figure you out.” E. J. ran her hands up Jinx’s back. “Your friends name you after a villain, but there doesn’t seem to be anything villainous about you.”
Embracing the Dawn Page 6
