Passionate Kisses

by Various

  “No, wise ass. I meant in other ways. Looks, brains, personality. The whole she-bang. I mean, why can’t I meet a lady who has it all together like they do?

  “This LaRita doesn’t have the she-bang you’re looking for?”

  “Oh, I’m sure she’s got the ‘bang.’” His high-pitched chuckle was soft.

  “Now which one is LaRita?” It was hard to keep track of Alex’s women. He went through them faster than a baby went through diapers. He wasn’t being judgmental, as he could say the same about himself. The difference was Alex went into each relationship expecting it to be “the one.” John, on the other hand, had no such plans. He was just looking for female companionship and hopefully a good time in bed.

  “She’s the one who applied to teach our Saturday Latin dance classes,” Alex explained.

  “The one with the curly-Q fingernails?”

  “Yep.”

  John pictured the voluptuous beauty with the red fingernails longer than his member. He certainly wouldn’t want anyone with fingernails that freaky within ten feet of his private parts.

  “Oh, great,” Alex said. “You’ve got that look on your face, John-boy.”

  “What look?”

  “You don’t like LaRita either, do you?”

  “I don’t know the woman.”

  “Uh, huh. Your opinion is just dyin’ to get out.” Alex scooped the air between them. “So, come on. Out with it.”

  “Like I said, I don’t know this LaRita. She’s probably a nice woman, but…” John rubbed his chin. “You want to settle down, but it seems to me you’re asking out the wrong type of woman. I mean, seriously. Can you imagine LaRita changing a diaper with those fingernails?”

  Alex seemed to picture it a moment and grimaced.

  “Take Sam, for example,” John continued. “If I’d been in the market for a wife, I certainly would never have asked out someone like her.” Sam’s image popped into his brain. Just thinking about her made him feel horny, guilty, and pissed all at the same time.

  “Speaking of Sam, when was the last time you saw her?”

  John didn’t need to glance at the calendar to answer. “Ten days,” he said. “I expect to hear from her any day.” He frowned and rolled up the blueprint.

  “You haven’t spoken to her either?” Alex asked, shifting his big form on the couch, the leather cushions creaking. “That’s kind of, uh—”

  “Weird?” John finished.

  “I was going to say ‘fucked.’”

  John shrugged. “That, too. She’s a hard one to figure out.”

  “You still plan on stickin’ it to her ‘til she comes up pregnant?”

  John shrugged again. “I have to,” he said quietly, knowing Alex understood. “Besides, I get good sex out of the deal and it’s not like I’m seeing anyone else right now.” Even after that disastrous last “date,” after which any sane man would despise her, he couldn’t get Sam Rossi off his mind. He feared it went deeper than her being Sammy Jo. He could reason with himself it didn’t matter one iota what her personal feelings were for him, but it did matter. He wanted her to like him, to respect him. It irritated the hell out of him she didn’t appear to do either.

  His phone beeped. He glanced at the small screen. “Speak of the devil.” His mouth thinned and he answered. “Hello, Samantha!” he said in his best smart-ass tone. “Gosh, it’s good to hear your voice. How the heck are you?”

  There was silence on the line, as if she didn’t know how to respond to his mockery. When she finally spoke, she didn’t acknowledge his acerbic greeting, but cut right to the chase. “According to my temperature this morning, it’s time. I would like to meet after work this evening. Same place as before.”

  He glanced at his desk calendar and saw he didn’t have plans. He held it up so Alex could see. “After work? Gee, I can’t. I’m busy.” Alex chuckled quietly from the other side of the room. John picked a piece of wrapped candy from the candy dish and threw it at him.

  “What about later tonight, nine o’clock or so?”

  “Busy.”

  “With what?”

  “Maybe I have a date. Maybe I’m mowing my lawn. Maybe it’s none of your damn business.”

  Her silence lasted longer this time. He heard her sigh. “Tomorrow then.”

  “Tomorrow is what? Saturday?” He made a show of checking his calendar even though she couldn’t see him. “Hmm. Oh, lucky day. I’m free. Would afternoon or evening work better for you?”

  “It’ll have to be evening. I’ll be at my mom’s house in Marysville tomorrow,” she said, not reacting to his sarcasm. “Actually, this works better for me. I can leave for Mom’s tonight. It’ll cut down on my driving time tomorrow.”

  As usual, she’d turned the situation around to suit her, and as usual she made sure he knew it. Damn her. “Fine,” John said curtly. “I’ll pencil you in.”

  “Fine.” She hung up.

  He busied himself with sorting through the papers in his IN box, knowing Alex watched him, waiting to say something. Finally, John snapped, “What?”

  “If you dislike her as much as you seem to, why in hell are you still messin’ with her?”

  “Because I’m a poor, pitiful excuse of a man.”

  “Well, yes, but—” Alex ducked as another piece of wrapped candy flew at him.

  “Like I told you before, I owe her.” John shook his head. “I mean, she has this Texas-size chip on her shoulder toward men, and I can’t help feeling I’m somehow responsible.”

  “You didn’t kidnap her.”

  “No, but I knew what those guys were up to. I could’ve stopped them.”

  “So you’re helping her out over guilt.”

  “In part.” He shrugged. “Besides — and this’ll probably sound crazy — I kind of like the thought of a part of me living on, even though it won’t have my name. It was always hard knowing my bloodline would end with me, but this way…” He shrugged again.

  Alex was quiet a few moments, then he said, “Let me ask you something, John-boy. We’ve been friends a long time, right?”

  “Yeah, yeah. What do you want to say? You think I’m nuts for helping her?”

  “A guy would be nuts not to want to boff her, you know? What I’m getting at is…” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Do you think this has more to do with Amber and Amanda Finch?”

  John’s teeth clenched and he shot his friend a warning look. “Don’t go there.”

  “Don’t get testy with me. I mean, if you’re helping Sam out of guilt, fine. Even if it’s just cuz you appreciate the regular humps, then that’s okay by me, too.”

  “So glad you approve.”

  “I’m just wondering if maybe the reason you really decided to help Sam was because...” He cleared his throat. “Is this your way of trying to make things right with the Man Upstairs?”

  “Alex.”

  “You blame yourself for taking two children away, now you have the chance to put one back—”

  “That’s a bunch of B.S.”

  “Is it?” Alex asked softly. “How long are you going to punish yourself for what happened, John? You weren’t even driving. It’s not your f—”

  John flew out of his chair and glared at his friend. “Not my fault? Two little girls are dead, Drake. They would be alive today if it hadn’t been for me and my stupid friends. I distracted Morris, he missed the stop sign, and we hit that car. The fact I wasn’t the actual driver means jack shit.” He backed off a bit, shoving his fingers through his hair. “Do you know what it feels like to go through life knowing you were in a big way responsible for taking the life of two children, for taking them away from the parents who loved them?”

  “No. Can’t even imagine. But you can’t change what happened. You’ve done everything in your power to make things better. I know about the all money you’ve given to MADD, and the money you’ve anonymously sent to the girls’ parents—”

  “Enough!” John circled his
desk and grabbed a file from a drawer. “Let’s go over our new marketing strategy for the gym.” He slapped the file on the desk and sat roughly in his chair. “I think we need to allocate more money in the budget for radio. What do you think?”

  Alex scratched the long, crescent-shaped scar on his bald head then nodded. “Sure. That would probably be a good idea.”

  Twenty minutes later, they’d moved on to a discussion about the kids at the SCHS program, the tension between them having diffused for the most part. “I think you’re right about Brian,” Alex said. “One of us should pay a visit to his mother. And I nominate you, white boy.”

  “Great. Thanks a—” A knock on the closed office door halted John’s words. “Yo!” He called out.

  The door opened and in walked Sam, looking as sexy and seductive as always. One look at her sucked the tension right out of John’s body and into his crotch. She wore a belted black leather jacket that barely covered her short skirt. Black stockings sheathed her gorgeous gams and she had on the usual stilettos. God, why couldn’t she look ugly just for once, he thought angrily. He was hardly in the mood to be turned on right now, leastwise by her.

  “Oh. Am I interrupting?” She looked back and forth between the men.

  “Yes,” John barked.

  “No,” Alex said at the same time. “I was just leaving. Nice to see you again, Sam. Later, John-boy.” He elbowed John in the side as he left.

  “I don’t have a lot of time,” John told her. “You should have called.”

  “Sorry.” Sure she was. “I was in the area.” Sure she was. She glanced at the blueprints on the desk and crossed the room for a better look. She pulled off her leather gloves one by one. “What’s this? Are you building another gym?”

  “Yes.” He didn’t trust her for a minute. She wouldn’t stop by without a reason. She never did anything just because. She was wearing a dress, which meant she was up to something. God help him.

  “Oh? Where?” She untied her coat.

  “SoDo.”

  “You don’t usually have gyms so close together, do you?”

  He planted himself in the middle of the room, his arms crossed over his chest in his most defensive stance. “Alex and I are opening a center for inner city kids. Now what do you—?”

  “What a great project. What made you decide to do something like that?”

  “I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details, Sam. Why are you here?”

  She blinked fast a couple of times, then said, “Well, I know we’re meeting tomorrow night, but I really didn’t want to miss a day, so—”

  “Wait a second. You want to do it here? Right now?”

  “You said you had a few minutes.”

  “A very few minutes, Sam. It would take longer—”

  “We can make it a quickie.” She gave him a playful grin and started to remove her coat. The dress underneath zipped up the front. What was it with this woman and zippered clothes? It was enough to drive a virile man crazy.

  “No.”

  She stopped what she was doing. “What? Why not?”

  Was she really that shameless? “Because I’m not going to jump when you say jump. I’m tired of playing by your rules. I’m tired of meeting at that damned motel. And frankly, I’m just not in the mood for impersonal sex right now. Okay?”

  She stared hard at him. “All right fine, Mr. Sensitive. Tomorrow night. Be at my place at eight.” She pulled a business card from her purse and jotted her address on the back. She handed it to him. “Don’t be late.”

  Sam paced the small living room of her condo, her hands shoved deep into her jeans pockets, not an easy feat considering she’d had to lie flat on the bed to zip them. She either needed to cut down on her Ben and Jerry’s consumption or mix in the occasional run.

  She was as wired as a stolen Corvette. Part of it was having spent the night and most of today at her mother’s. She always came away from those visits feeling generally crappy about life. Her mom could never resist making disparaging remarks about Sam’s love life or lack-thereof. And it always depressed Sam to see firsthand how little her mom cared about herself or her surroundings anymore. With each visit, Sam’s resolve to stay happily single was strengthened. She would never allow herself to become so emotionally attached to a man that she’d still be pining over him years later.

  Her agitated mood was also due to John’s imminent arrival. She hated that she looked forward to being with him. She hated that she wore her prettiest bra and panties beneath her clothes. She should be angry with him for the way he’d toyed with her yesterday, even though she’d deserved it. He had an irritating way of getting under her skin, kind of like a rash. She could ignore it for a while, but eventually she needed to scratch.

  She didn’t need to feel anything toward him. He was the donor father. She had to be in control. Yet, whenever she was with him, she was just the opposite. She didn’t like not having a handle on all her emotions where he was concerned.

  She took a deep breath. She could handle John Everest. But could she handle herself? Yes. Yes! This was her house. This was her agenda. She was in control. Total detachment. No emotions.

  Footsteps echoed on the stairs outside. Her stomach flip-flopped as if she were on an exciting but frightening carnival ride. She opened the door before John knocked. He shook out his umbrella and placed it point side down against the outside wall. “I’ll take your coat,” she offered, waiting as he shrugged out of the anorak. He looked great as usual. The royal blue polo shirt set off his eyes, and those pants, well, she didn’t need to be reminded about how good he looked in Levi’s.

  “No need to hang it up,” he said. “I don’t plan to be here long.”

  She blinked twice. “Right,” she said and draped the coat over the arm of the couch. She turned around to see him surveying her place from the entry way, which was actually just a space separating the living room from the kitchen area. His height and size dominated the place. The thud-ka-thud of her heart skipped a little faster. Neither of them really looked at each other.

  “Did you just move here?” he finally asked.

  “A couple of months ago.”

  She didn’t miss the way his eyebrows rose as his gaze skimmed the rooms. She saw what he saw — sparse furnishings and cardboard boxes, hardly a picture on the wall, nary a knick-knack.

  “I needed a bigger space for when I, um, for once I have a baby,” she explained. “I just haven’t gotten around to unpacking yet.”

  He stepped into her living room. His gaze went from the computer desk in the corner, to the stereo next to the couch, to the bookshelves. There wasn’t much else to see. “Is this a beloved pet?” he asked dryly, eyeing the flamboyant scarlet fish in its murky brandy snifter bowl on the shelf.

  Sam nodded. “That’s Scarlett.”

  “Where’s Rhett?”

  “Scarlett ate him.”

  He glanced her way. “You’re kidding.”

  She shook her head. “They were a gift for Christmas — this red one and a dark blue one. They were together less than one night when she killed him.”

  “Sam, this is a Beta. A fighting fish. That’s what they do. That’s why they come in individual bowls. You’re not supposed to keep them in the same tank with each other.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the tip.”

  The tension between them thickened. If she had a knife… She cleared her throat. “Could I get you something to drink? All I have is water and Diet Coke. I, uh, thought you might bring wine again, but—” She glanced at his empty hands.

  His hard gaze pierced her. “What would be the point?”

  She felt a sharp pang deep inside she didn’t understand. She gave a quick nod. “Right.”

  She hoped her outward appearance gave him no clue to her jumbled emotions. It was good he no longer thought of their times together as romantic interludes requiring wine and roses. Those had been sweet gestures, yes, but unnecessary. She swallowed hard. Entirely unnecessary.


  “I suppose we should just… get on with it,” she said.

  “Fine.”

  She led him to the bedroom and didn’t bother switching on the light. She took off her clothes without looking at him. He did the same. They crawled into the queen-size bed, pulling the quilt over their bodies. They stared at the white ceiling. Not a single part of their bodies touched. Finally, he slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. His warm breath fanned her lips as he kissed her. But it was different than the other kisses they’d shared. Those had been hot, passionate, lusty. This time was… as flat as the white painted ceiling above them.

  “John, what—” she began, her words mumbled against his mouth.

  He lifted his head and pulled away. “You’re right. Kissing isn’t necessary to conceive a child. What was I thinking?”

  She blinked back unexpected tears. That’s not what she’d meant at all. She’d planned to ask him what was wrong. But she certainly wouldn’t show him any concern now. Why was she even upset? This was just how she’d envisioned these trysts to be. Unstimulating and quick. The duller the better. Now she hoped he would just hurry and get it over with.

  John didn’t know if his body would even respond to her tonight. She was as detached and unfriendly as that murderous little Beta fish. But even as he thought that, his body tightened and hardened. Sam Rossi was like poisonous candy. Delicious and deadly. And he was unable to resist.

  If he wasn’t already in her bed, he would leave. But he might as well take advantage of the situation. He’d been wound tight as a clock all week, what with putting together the city council presentation and with — dammit! — thinking about her. Sex had always been a good stress reliever for him. A relaxant. That’s just how he’d think of it. Sam certainly didn’t put an emotional spin on it, why should he?

  With a slight shake of his head, he reached for her. Hating himself for his weakness for her, he kissed her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. She moaned and urged her body closer. His resistance faltered. He drew a hot nipple into his mouth. She gasped and tangled her fingers in his hair. He was just about lost to her. He slipped his hand between her legs and caressed her. She purred.