Jinxed (8 page)

Frannie shook her head. She couldn’t get a firm grasp on his personality. Meatloaf was so normal and he was anything but. Meatloaf was for Mama’s boys and PTA dads and hardworking blue-collar men with a spare tire. Meatloaf was comfort food, not elegant fare. She scribbled the ingredients she needed and wondered if she had misjudged him. He couldn’t have such mundane tastes, could he?

She watched him in total amazement. He washed dishes and talked about holiday and Sunday dinners with his family. Soon she shared tales of her own. When she tossed out that she had once won a school bake-off with her cinnamon apple strudel, he tapped the growing list with one soapy finger and told her to add those ingredients. Playfully, she batted his hand away, pleased he wanted her to bake for him. How homey that sounded.

Hocus sniffed around the food bowls and meowed loudly in her direction. Pocus ran to join in but stopped short of the bowl and passed out, looking like a big black throw rug. Jinx pulled the bag of dry cat food from under the counter and replenished the empty bowls. Hocus stared at him, hissed and then walked away.

“Mark my words, cat. One of these days, you and I are going to make up.”

“In your dreams.” Frannie folded her list and stuck it to the refrigerator with a pineapple magnet. Jinx had secured one of his business cards there. It had his name and cell number, which was exactly like hers in reverse, and he’d penned in his home number. The stark white card did funny things to her stomach. She chose to ignore them.

“So, my day sucked. How was yours?” She went into the living room and curled up on the couch. Jinx sat beside her with a deep sigh.

“Total bust. I went out with our Research and Development department to talk to some kindergarteners about what they liked to play with that was non-computerized. The boys had typical answers like trains and cars, some sports and stuff. But the girls, man, they’re tough. I swear I think being difficult’s in the female DNA or something.”

Frannie crossed her arms with a haughty huff and cocked her head. “Oh, do tell? What did these despicable little girls want to play with?”

“Unicorns. Real unicorns with sparkly purple horns that grant real wishes.” She burst into laughter at the confused look on his face. “Frannie, it’s not funny. I can make dolls or trains or fire trucks, but I can’t pull a magical one-horned horse out of my ass. Our demographics are skewed toward boys and we have to get a better handle on the girls. But they ask for stuff like unicorns. It’s frustrating. The normal things like kitchens and dolls do all right but our number one request is for more girl-oriented non-plastic things.”

“Poor baby.” Tears of laughter dampened her eyes. “You seriously have no clue about girls, do you?”

“Nope, not a one. I have absolutely zero insight into the female psyche. If I could understand women, you and I’d already be married and on a honeymoon in the South of France, dollface.”

Silenced by his words, she bit her lip. Once again he had managed to take a simple, harmless exchange and turn it to his own purpose. She didn’t need the reminder. She knew he would propose and then leave when she turned him down. Why couldn’t he just let her enjoy the time they spent together?

“No marriage talk. You promised.”

“No, I promised not to propose for a while. I still plan on marrying you.” Unnamed emotions assaulted her and she closed her eyes. He cupped her cheek. “But let’s leave that alone for now. Tonight’s been too nice to get you pissed off at me.”

“I was asleep for part of the night.” Frannie grinned.

“Well you’re awake now.” Fingering her bangs, he tilted his head and murmured. “Your hair is so soft. I love it. Most women I know have crunchy hair.”

“Crunchy hair?”

“Yeah, hard and stiff from hairspray and other goop they put on it. It’s like touching straw. But yours is like silk.”

Caught in his liquid gaze, she couldn’t find her breath. She was close enough to smell his aftershave, a spicy blend that teased her senses. Licking her lips, she forced herself to speak. “Oh. I—I use very little spray on my hair. It’s too fine for much else. That’s why I keep it short.”

In jeopardy of drowning in his ink black eyes, she tried to refocus her attention. If she didn’t think about something other than his body pressed against hers, she was in trouble. “Do you want to watch TV?”

“Not really. I like sitting here with you.”

“This is bullshit. All you ever want to do is sit on your ass and talk. We’re married, Fran. Talking is overrated. I’m going out. Don’t bother waiting up.”

Swallowing the memory, she flipped through the Rolodex in her head, trying to find something else to talk to Jinx about. Anything to keep her mind from settling on how sexy his mouth looked and how her pulse was beginning to pound at his closeness. Inspiration struck like a thunderbolt.

“Hey! I have an idea. Sunday while I make dinner, will you drag all my Christmas decorations down from the attic? That way we could put the tree up early.”

He reared back and looked at her like she had grown another head. “It’s too early to get a tree. It’ll be nothing but dried-out needles if we get it now.”

“I have an artificial tree.”

“Blasphemy!” He clasped his hand to his heart as if struck. “An artificial tree is like cheating. We have to get a real tree. How can you even think of denying me the yearly trip to pick out the perfect tree? It’s one of the best parts of Christmas.”

She snorted in disagreement. “I tried a real Christmas tree the first year I lived here. Pocus peed on it. The needles got everywhere. I was still finding them at Halloween. Nope, I do a female fake tree and that’s what I’m putting up. If you want a real tree, we’ll get one for your house.”

“Whoa, back up. What’s a
female
fake tree?”

“Female, you know, without balls. I use ribbons and different ornaments but no Christmas balls.”

A tortured look on his face, Jinx shifted away slightly and tugged at his crotch, as if her words had threatened his masculinity. “That’s just wrong. Christmas trees need to be real and have red and gold glass balls on them. What kind of Christmas can a kid have if his tree is some piece of emasculated plastic crap?”

Frannie laughed. “Well, I doubt any child would care as long as Santa put presents under it. Besides, I don’t have any kids and I pay the mortgage so I can have whatever I want.”

“Fine, but once we have a child, we’re getting a real tree—
with balls
.”

He’d done it again, taken a very nice conversation and turned it around on her. Why did he continue to pester her with this fantasy? She narrowed her eyes. “We aren’t having children because we aren’t getting married.”

Jinx pretended he hadn’t heard her and plowed straight ahead. “I’d love to have a little girl, one with big brown eyes and dimples, just like yours. I’ve got nephews so I know boys. I mean, a boy would be great, too. I’d like at least one. I can’t wait to teach him how to pitch a ball or make a tackle. They deserve a real tree with balls, doncha think?”

“Jinx, we are not having children.” Her firmness seemed lost on him.

“Of course, we should look at buying another house first. This one, while perfect for a couple, is too small for kids. And mine is—I don’t know, not kid friendly. And we should get a dog. Kids need a dog. As soon as the weather warms up, we should start looking at places.”

Oh hell no, we will not be getting any damn dog!
“We can’t get a dog. I have cats, numbskull.”

“But the kids would love a dog.”

“The cats wouldn’t. Besides, dogs need a lot of room to run.”

“I hear there are some nice places about an hour south of here that have great schools. The R&D department went out there last week and talked about how nice it was, very Rockwell Americana-esque.”

Angry heat flashed on her face. How dare he think he could just up and move them without discussing it with her? “I can’t move an hour south. What about my job? If you think I’m quitting just because the stick turns blue, you’re crazier than I thought.”

“Come on, Steve’ll let you work from home a couple days a week, won’t he? And you can commute when you have to. But if you’d rather just stay home for a while, it’d be fine. I mean, having kids has got to make it hard to work and travel much, at least until they’re all in school.”

“Then it’s Little League and ballet classes, field trips and homeroom parties.” She shook her head firmly. He could argue all he wanted, she meant what she said. “And what’s with this
all in school
business? Who’s having more than one? No, too many kids means too many obligations. I’d be happy with just one.”

“But think of the first steps and first words, all the sticky kisses and bedtime stories.”

Rolling her eyes, she tried to bust the Ward Cleaver bubble he was blowing. “Dirty clothes and chicken pox and flushed matchbox cars. No, one child, two at most.”

“Three.” Like a child begging for a cookie, he held up three fingers.

“Two. You aren’t the one going to be dealing with stretch marks, morning sickness and swollen ankles.”

“I’ll take the night feedings and diaper changes. That has to count for something.”

Frannie’s brows crashed together. Again. He had done it again. Confused and distracted her and drawn her into his delusional world. Nervously, she realized she liked being there. His dreams sounded so plausible. But they were only dreams. Dreams shatter when morning comes and you have to face the daylight of reality. With a shake of her head, she replanted her feet firmly back in her bland, boring life.

“We are
not
having children.”

“We’ll see.” His enigmatic grin was infuriating.

“We are
not
getting married.”

Sighing dramatically, Jinx placed his hand on her bare thigh and stared at her. “Let’s not get into this now, okay?”

Right
,
it’s not worth arguing about because it’s a moot point
. Long before the question of children came up, he would have disappeared into the sunset. The twinge of loss she felt in her womb was pure self-pity. He would make beautiful babies. And he was a big enough child himself that he would make a wonderful father.

Making those babies with him wouldn’t exactly be a hardship, either.

Chapter Four

“He’s strong, he’s kind. He’s always there for you, and he’s handsome to boot.

He’s perfect. Perfect. Perfectly infuriating! He makes me crazy.”

—Hades in
Kingdom Hearts

Jinx started a small fire in her fireplace to ward off the chill slowly permeating the room. The firelight flickered over his pitch black hair, golden shimmers casting his face into a plane of shadows and light. The breadth of his back and the tight muscles of his shoulders began an itch deep in her center, and she wet her lips. A nap, a full tummy and an incredibly sexy man had awoken her libido. She could still feel the warmth of his hand where it had caressed her leg, and longing shot through her.

Kneeling before the fire, he turned to say something and caught her with her tongue to her lip. Passion sparked. Desire flashed in his eyes and he cast her a wicked grin. Her lips returned it without thought. He rose and flipped the lamp off, thrusting the room into darkness except for the growing amber glow. The couch cushion dipped as he sat and pulled her into his arms.

His voice was thick with want, his body warm and hard, his touch tender and sweet. “What are you thinking about?”

“You,” she answered honestly. Lust trampled down the barriers between her brain and her body and gave voice to her innermost thoughts. “I’m wondering why you haven’t tried to kiss me since I walked in the door.”

“I can fix that right now.”

His lips were gentle but insistent. His tongue slipped between her lips and she sighed. It was like coming home. It felt so right, so perfect it was nearly painful. Every nip, every lick, every nibble was like a firebrand, marking her as his. She opened herself and basked in his attentions, giving as much as she received. Her pebbled nipples ached with want and her nether lips grew slick with cream.

Dear Gawd, thank you for the invention of foreplay. Sincerely, Frannie.

Whispering her name, he sank his hands into her hair and pulled her closer. His chest was a wall of stone and she arched, thrusting her breasts against it. Delicious currents zinged through her tight nipples. His mouth shuddered under hers at the contact and she grew intoxicated with his taste, with his touch. She needed more. Straddling his hips, she pressed her heaving chest against his again and deepened the kiss to a level she never thought possible. Under her control, he let her take until her breath rasped out in loud pants. His hands raked up her back, down her spine, across her hips and up to her tummy. She leaned back slightly and his fingers danced over the soft flesh of her stomach. It wasn’t enough.

Desperate to feel more of him, she pulled at his shirt until he ripped it over his head and tossed it somewhere behind him. He reclined deeper into the couch and brought her body more firmly to his. Capturing his lips once more, she slid her silk-covered breasts across his chest, delighting in the puckering male nipples. He groaned into her mouth. He didn’t seem bothered by her small-bustedness and it strengthened her confidence.

The air licked at those apple-sized breasts when he parted her blouse and trailed hot kisses down her neck. The slight scrap of lace hiding her flesh from him became an instrument in his play as he tongued a throbbing tip through the white fabric. A moan sliced through her and escaped into the room. A sharp tug of his hair drew his mouth back to hers. Using his fingers, he rolled each nipple through her demi-bra cup, plucking passion from her like a harpists plucks a tune. Hard thighs and a harder cock bit into her flesh and she unabashedly circled her hips, riding him through his zipper.

He bucked beneath her and a pure feminine power flooded her veins. Hands braced against his chest, she scooted farther back, closer to his knees and pried her lips from his. He opened his mouth to protest but snapped it shut when her fingers found his fly. Onyx eyes locked with hers and her tongue trailed across her kiss-swollen bottom lip.

The button of his jeans popped like a cork and the sound reverberated in the room. There was no other sound except for the crackle of the fire and the ragged catch of his breath. Frannie watched him fight for control and grew drunk with her own lust. Her fingers found the metal tab and each tantalizing slow downward click of the zipper tested his restraint. Wantonly licking her lips, she relished his jaw’s clench. She slowly parted each side of his opened jeans. Muscles twitched along his cheek but he didn’t move, letting her take him to wherever she wanted to go.

His cock lay buried beneath blue cotton underwear, pushing for release. She slipped off his lap and knelt between his spread legs, laying her body against his. Her lush body touched every inch of his exposed burning skin. The small peaks of her covered nipples bit into his hard chest and her bare stomach pressed against his, hinting at how sweet flesh on flesh could be. His growing erection strained against her tweed skirt, urging her to free it.

Without warning, his arms crushed her to him. His mouth was frantic, his tongue trying to taste every crevice in her mouth. She pulled back again. Agony painted his face, his hand trailing in her hair as if he didn’t want to let her go. She sank to her knees and Jinx groaned in anticipation. Seated between his legs, she slid her hands up his calves, over his thighs, on each side of his gapped pants. The firelight bathed him in dancing hues of orange and gold, highlighting his unbridled arousal. Her mouth found the dip of his navel and made his stomach quiver. Heat emanated from his crotch and she teased her tongue along the blue elastic band.

Sinking his hands into her hair, he pulled her up gently until she left a wet hot trail from his stomach to his chest. Her sharp teeth nipped at his left nipple and a shocked intake of breath ripped through him. With an arduous growl, Jinx hauled her back to straddle his lap. He shoved his hands up her skirt, gripped her ass and pulled her against him. Her wet panties crashed against his cock. She gasped into his mouth at the fire building within her. She rocked on his throbbing sex, her clit pounding with need.

They feasted on each other’s mouths, trading fire for fire as the desire built to a fevered pitch. His hands kneaded her ass, stroking her against him. His steel glided over her wet core, teasing her. Larger and harder, her clit grew as she rode him.
I’m going to come
. The realization stunned her and she circled her hips to get even closer to him, to nudge the nub into its release.

The phone rang, its tone loud and jarring, breaking into the cocoon surrounding them.

Pulling her lips a hair’s breadth from his, she stared into his eyes. His heart thudded in time with hers. They exchanged the same labored, lust-filled breath. Like an endless night sea, his eyes pleaded with her.
Don’t answer it.

Frannie struggled with indecision. She sat on his lap, her skirt up around her waist, her blouse unbuttoned, ten seconds from an orgasm that promised to be earth-shattering. The phone rang again.

Did she answer the phone or did she move from love interest to lover?

{

Too much caffeine combined with a small bladder and a frigid winter morning did not make an enjoyable experience. Frannie pressed her thighs closer together.
Damn, I have to pee.
She buried her hands under her thighs and did a little seated dance, peering out over her steering wheel. Snow had completely transformed the world into a picture-perfect wonderland. Smoky exhaust streamed from her parked car and she jacked the heater up a notch trying to stay warm. A strong cramp hit and she tightened her butt muscles.
Damn you, where are you, Jinx? I really have to pee!

She could admit it. She was grumpy.
Sexually frustrated is more like it
.

She had no one to blame but herself. When she answered the phone last night, shattering the sexual heat that had raged between them, Jinx had dropped his head back against the couch and blew out a frustrated sigh. She wrapped her opened blouse across her exposed body while Tracey rambled, taking some small satisfaction in watching Jinx zip his pants with difficulty. Lust still blazed in his eyes as he reached for his shirt. It burnt her. It would have been so easy to drop the phone and throw herself into his arms.

But she hadn’t and he had left before she hung up, leaving only a chaste kiss on her brow and an unspoken promise of later. Under a pulsating shower she had reached a solitary unsatisfactory orgasm then tossed and turned most of the night.

Oh, don’t think about running water!

Jinx wanted her to stop by early to help prepare for his dinner party so here she was, dying to pee in the freezing cold.
Now where the hell was he?
Scanning the empty, icy street for the tenth time in as many minutes, she bounced up and down in her seat.

Oh, screw this. What’s good for the goose is sauce for the gander.
She thrust open the door and sprinted up the drive. She hopped from one foot to the other as she shoved her hand into his small door-side mailbox. When she found the taped key, she pried it loose and turned the lock with a loud, cold click.

“Jinx? Hello?” Her voice echoed into the empty cavern of his living room. The ceiling soared twenty feet above her head in a sharp pitched angle. A row of floor-to-ceiling windows was bisected by a cut-stone fireplace hearth that screamed elegance. Not bothering to look further, she hurried through an open dining room. There had to be a bathroom somewhere.

The soles of her boots clicked on tiled floors before she found a half bath off a laundry room the size of her kitchen. She barely made it before wetting her pants. She washed her hands and reentered the eerily quiet kitchen and smiled. Jinx had left a newspaper scattered across the speckled granite counter top, as well as a coffee cup and the crumbs from some toast. An empty orange juice box made her think he drank it straight from the carton.

She shed her coat and hooked it on the back of a tall bar stool and went exploring. Attached to the kitchen was a formal dining room with a gleaming table for eight. Her face shone in the polished surface, making her wonder if it had ever been used. The chandelier sparkled in the harsh morning sun, sending prisms of light across the deep cherry finish. The living room, now that her eyeballs were no longer floating, seemed very masculine. Like a gentleman’s club, with its heavy furniture and brass accents, it oozed grandeur. It was pristine with not a speck of dust or personalization around. Even the fireplace was dust free and swept to picture-perfect cleanliness. The logs beside it dared not shed any bark.

Frannie fingered her lip in confusion and ventured down the hall.
Does he even really live here?
The next room answered her question.

The master suite was huge and Jinx had definitely been here. Crumpled in a heap beside the rumpled king-size bed were the clothes he had worn last night. The dresser top held loose change, a few pens, a set of keys and several folded pink message slips. Socks spilled out of an opened drawer. His unique scent lingered in the air and the room felt like a home. From the hallway, she turned to the left. A huge den held his monster-sized TV and audio equipment. On a wall-sized computer desk, two flatscreen monitors displayed screen-saver balls bouncing out of rhythm.
For someone whose company’s opposed to technology, he sure has a lot of it.

The house reflected his confusing personality. Its formal grandeur hid the slob who left towels in a heap on the bathroom floor, like his outward face hid his down-home normalcy. Was he like the architectural elegance of the living room or was he the everyday TV room with the stray popcorn kernels in the seat cushions?

Her attention was snagged by a long narrow shelf holding treasured family photos. Frannie easily picked out his parents and siblings. One old photo showed a family of four adults with a dark-haired imp peeking from behind his father’s shoulder. Jinx was an adorable child. Happiness and mischief beamed in his bright face.

A small frame shoved in a corner showed a younger Jinx, thinner and on the brink of manhood, with his arms around a blond girl who should have been modeling shampoo. A prom picture, judging from the cardboard background and the girl’s formal dress. Two other pictures showed the couple in later years, each grown into the promise of their youth. They had apparently been together a long time.
Who was she?

Touching the picture, Frannie sighed. Whoever she was, she was beautiful. This was the type of woman Jinx deserved, the type he would be content with throughout his life. His type deserved models who ate nothing but lettuce, debutantes who lunched and volunteered, American princesses who wore the latest Paris fashion. Not some bland, brainy accountant who made meatloaf and had a narcoleptic cat.

“So I like beautiful women. You make it sound like a crime, Fran. There’s only so much vanilla a man can stand when the world’s filled with thousands of exotic flavors.”

Her chin shot up in defiance at Mark’s memory and she pulled herself away from the photo shelf. That picture decided things for her. She wanted to grab what happiness she could before he left. She hoped Jinx had eaten his Wheaties along with that toast this morning because tonight she planned to give him an erotic workout.

{

Shoulder pressed to the doorframe of the laundry-slash-mudroom, arms folded in peaceful contemplation, Jinx watched Frannie. Oblivious to his return, she lay flat on her back on his island countertop. Her knees bent, one delicate foot bounced in rhythm as she softly, and off key, sang along with her iPod. First she sang “Sweet Home Alabama”. When she broke into a chorus of “Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix-A-Lot he fought a laugh. He liked Frannie when she was being silly. Unguarded, she had no inhibitions and held nothing back, letting the music dictate her actions. Her butt wiggled and her shoulders shimmied in a private horizontal dance. With a low chuckle, he kicked off his shoes and tiptoed toward her. He crept beside her and grabbed her knee.

Frannie let out a strangled cry, kicked out and her heel connected solidly with his nose. Head knocked back, Jinx saw the blood fly before searing pain darkened his vision.