Jinxed (18 page)

Jinx leaned on the opposite wall, deep full baritone ringing out. Frannie tried to suck in air but was reduced to a snorting tearful laugh.

“Stop. I’m gonna pee my pants,” Tracey gasped, waving her hands like a giant colorful bird.

Undisturbed by the commotion, Pocus bounded down the stairs and warbled for attention. Hands on his knees, Jinx reached out to pet the other cat’s fur when the animal promptly fell over in a dead faint. And farted.

{

Towel draped over her head, Frannie rubbed the water from her hair. Jinx lay across her bed, watching her.

“So what did you get me for Christmas?” Like a little child, he’d been nosing through her purchases earlier only to come up empty-handed. She’d shoved the bags in the guest room, laughing at his disappointment. She tossed the damp towel at him and ran a hand through her wet hair before sitting beside him and fixing him with a haughty glare.

“Nothing. You’re getting switches and lumps of coal. You’ve been a bad boy. Getting my cat drunk and making me talk to your mother like that.”

“Hey, my mom’s a nice lady. You’ll like her.”

“Her name’s Beverly?”

He nodded while running a hand up her back. The cotton tee was little barrier to the heat of his hand and she angled into it.

I am so weak.
“That was my mother’s middle name.”

Chuckling softly, he leaned in and kissed her nape. “Fate strikes again.”

“Fate’s a twisted little shit. Who are these ‘boys’ your mother is talking about?”

He dropped his head back against the pillow and watched her smooth lotion across her legs. Without thought, she had slipped into her nightly routine. When she registered his gaze on her thighs, she snapped the nightshirt down, making him smile wolfishly.

“Ah, the Boys, capitalized if you please, like a singing group. That’s my nephews. Rachel’s sons, Derek and Matthew, are sixteen and seventeen and Mike’s son, Alex, is twenty-three. Rachel’s married to Carl, and Mike’s on his second marriage. His first wife Christine left him about ten years ago.”

Frannie’s eyes mentally glazed over. Too many names to put to faces of people she would never see again. It was better to not even try to keep them straight. Not like she would be hanging around. She would prefer not going at all.

“I’m not so sure about Christmas with your family.” Grabbing the damp towel from him, she avoided his eyes but felt him shift on the bed, become more alert and defensive.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just I feel weird intruding. Besides, with Tracey’s mom overseas and Steve’s sister so close to having her baby, we thought about doing brunch here, just the three of us.” Guiltily, she headed toward the bathroom, distancing herself from him. She barely had time to plug in the hair dryer before he was standing inside the doorway.

“You said you’d come. Everyone’s looking forward to meeting you.”

“Jinx, Christmas is for families. You should go and be with yours. I don’t want to impose.”
I don’t want to meet your family. I don’t want to see what I can’t have and pretend it’s all okay.

“Frannie, I want you there. You promised.”

“That’s not fair, I accepted in a weak moment. You shouldn’t ask questions like that right after mind-blowing sex, it scrambles the brain. Really, just go and have fun. I’ll see you the day after or so.”

His eyebrows popped up and he stared at her. “You thought it was mind-blowing? Brain-scrambling?”

His self-satisfied, purely masculine grin perturbed her.
Good
Lawd, like he needed the ego boost
. “It worked. It had been a while. Let’s just say it was better than battery-operated and leave it alone, okay?”

“Better than batteries?”

“Yes, okay. Better than batteries but not quite as good as a half-price shoe sale, alright?”

“Ouch, Frannie, aim a little lower next time, you almost missed my balls completely with that one.”

“Trust me, fruit loop, if I wanted to bust your balls, I would have.”

That wiped the smug look from his face and his brows scrunched. “Okay, forget my balls. Back to Christmas. You’re coming to my place and meeting my family.”

Frannie snorted. “Uhm, let go of that bossy vine, Tarzan, this Jane don’t swing that way. I said I’m not going.”

The sudden roar of the hair dryer meant an end to the discussion. He was supposed to accept her decision and go back to the bedroom. He was not supposed to get irritated, cross his arms and cock that damned left eyebrow at her. The screeching drone of the ancient appliance had been known to drown out smoke alarms, children crying and the occasional drunken neighbor. She should have known it wouldn’t work on Jinx.

“Mtttkichouuuuu.” In the mirror, she watched his mouth move but only heard a garbled string of nonsense. Perfect.

“I can’t hear you.” Blatantly ignoring him, she flipped her head over and switched the hair dryer on high. “You’re going to have to wait until I’m done.”
And then I’m going to jump your bones and make you forget about my ducking out on your family
.

Pleased with her game plan, she shuffled the hot air over her scalp. The fine wisps danced like Bambi on ice, flying this way and that. From this vantage point, she could see the faded denim of his crotch and legs. He leaned with one hip on the doorframe, unmoving. Inspired, she turned her back to the door, bent at the waist. He should have a clear view of her bare ass this way. That should get his mind on other things.

The hair dryer died. Still bent over, Frannie shook it then flipped the switches. Nothing. Swiping her hair back, she stood and froze at the reflection in the mirror. Jinx had not moved. Except now he held the hair dryer plug in his hands, twirling it absently.

“You said you would come, I told my parents they would meet you and you’re coming. End of discussion.”

Irritation swelled and she spun around to face him. Hair dryer pointed like a gun, she poked him in the chest. “What in the hell are you doing? That was rude!”

“Rude is backing out on a promise. You’re going and that’s it.”

“I don’t want to go, okay? I don’t want to meet your family and get all cozy, like Little House on the freaking Prairie.”

“I carried you once and I’ll do it again.”

Stubborn crashed into obstinate and they glared at each other. Her eyebrows tightened and his scrunched. Her lips pursed and his flattened. Her shoulders squared and his straightened. Light brown eyes bored into black ones and black ones bored back. He was not giving up. Thrusting the small machine into his chest, she complained, “You’re stubborn.”

“And you’re headstrong.”

“You’re being a pain in the ass.”

A devilish grin erupted on his face. He looked down at the still warm nozzle pressed against his chest and then back at her.

“So what are you going to do, blow me?”

“You wish.” She jabbed the hair dryer into his chest once more. “Fine, I’ll go. But do not expect me to be pleasant.”

“Never. I expect you to be yourself.”

{

Frannie listened as Jinx’s breathing deepened in sleep. Curled against his back, her arm around his waist, her voice was feather soft. “You still awake?”

“Hmm.”

Deciding that was an affirmative, she propped her chin on his shoulder. “Did you and Becca discuss things like kids?”

“What?” Eyes heavy with slumber, he jerked to a half sitting position. “Why?”

“Just curious. I assumed since you two were together so long you did. How many kids did you guys want?”

“Frannie—” Jinx made an uncomfortable sound and pulled himself to sit upright in the dark. “I told you about my past but I don’t want it to be a huge deal between us. What Becca and I had or wanted doesn’t matter anymore. That part of my life’s over.”

“Jinx, stop blabbering and answer my question. How many kids did you two want?”

Fully awake and agitated, Jinx snapped on the bedside lamp. “You told me to back off your marriage and I did. So back off this, okay?”

“When did you back off my marriage? I seem to recall you poking your nose in several times after I told you to drop it. And it’s just a simple question. How many children did you and Becca plan to have?”

“Why? What does it matter now?”

“I just want to know.”

“Yeah, well I have a few questions of my own that you’ve never answered. About your ex-husband.”

Frustration grumbled loudly in her throat. A muttered curse slipped from her lips and she whipped the blankets off. Bare-assed naked, she strode to the bathroom and snatched her robe off the back of the door. The cotton sash whooshed as she knotted it tightly.

“Where are you going?” Jinx called to her back.

“To the kitchen, okay? See, I answered your question.”

Her feet slapped the stairs like a drum roll. Seconds later, Jinx thundered down the same steps wearing only his unsnapped jeans. Mussed and tumbled, his hair looked like a dark dancing flame. The sparse hair on his chest trailed down to a thinning arrow which disappeared beneath his zipper.

“The kitchen? You call that an answer? Shit, Frannie, it wasn’t even a real question. But, hey, if you’re throwing out answers, try this one. Who filed for divorce, you or your ex?”

“Why does it bug you so bad?” Hands thrown up, she whirled on him. “What difference does it make? The marriage is over.”

“And Becca is dead.”

His words stopped her. He was right. Filling her chest with a slow breath, she tightened her lips and nodded once. She flung the refrigerator door open and grabbed a carton of milk. Sarcastically, she toasted him with it. “You’re right. They’re both in the past. You want to know who filed? Fine. Mark filed, okay? Happy now?”

His eyes darkened like clouds before a storm. Stillness circled, a vulture in the echoing room. “Did you want to stay married to him then?”

She snorted. “That’s like asking a drowning man if he would rather be eaten by sharks or rescued by cannibals.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you had your answer. Now where’s mine?”

His jaw worked side to side as he scrutinized her. Blank faced, she stared back, refusing to tremble. Acquiescing, his shoulders lost their arrogant posture and he looked away. His nearly whispered voice was tinged with memory.

“Three. We wanted three kids.”

“Boys or girls?” The pained look he sent her made her heart catch but she smiled gently. “It’s okay to talk about her to me, Jinx. You loved her. She helped make you who you are. How could I ever resent that?”

Lip tilted on one side, his dark eyes stared at her, tenderness making them shine. “You’re incredible, know that? Most women don’t want to hear about old girlfriends, no matter what.”

“She never did anything to me or to you. She died. Her name shouldn’t be off limits.”

Eyes closed, he reached for her hand and she gripped his willingly. “She wanted two girls and a boy, as if she could control that.”

“Thank you.”

Tension faded, leaving the room ultra quiet. Frannie poured a second glass of milk as he sat and handed it to him, a sad smile thinning her lips. He took it and then pulled her onto his lap. His face buried in her neck, her arm around his shoulder, she stroked his nape.

“Why do we do this, Frannie? Argue over stupid things that don’t mean anything.” Warm and damp, his breath tickled her skin.

“Just trust me, okay?” Eyes closed, she brushed a soft kiss to his temple. “I have a reason for asking about her.”

“Ah, Frannie, haven’t you figured it out yet? I’d trust you with my life.”

A ball of emotion snagged in her sandpaper throat.
Gawd, why can’t you be real?

“Hey.”

“What?” he asked.

“Want a couple cookies?”

His laugh was soft and low. “Oreo?”

“Is there any other kind?”

The cookies disappeared, each in a single bite, washed down with milk. Sweetness filled her mouth that had nothing to do with Nabisco. Milk and cookies should not be sexy, but they were with Jinx. Something about the way his jaw moved as he chewed made her heart pound. Tiny crumbs settled in the corner of his lip and she stopped herself from licking the bits from his skin. Milk clung to his lips like a kiss before his slick tongue whisked it away.

He caught her looking at him and drew her over with a gentle tug on her robe. Breathless, she stood between his knees, her butt pressed against the table. The sash fell open with a whisper and bared her body to him. Mouth even with her chest, a sexy smirk lifted his lips.

“The only thing sweeter than Oreos and milk is your skin. And I’m still hungry.”

Chapter Nine

“Love is passion. Obsession. Someone you can’t live without.

Someone you fall head over heels for.

Find someone you can love like crazy, and will love you the same way back.

Listen to your heart. No sense in life without this.”

—William Parrish in
Meet Joe Black

The church aisle seemed to never end, stretching forever. She could feel the burn in her calves as she ran full tilt down the petal-strewn walkway. Somewhere along the way, a veil slid from her head. Sweat streamed down her face and her breath came in harsh lung-burning gasps. At last, the altar appeared. Dozens of full blooming roses adorned the church, with swags of baby’s breath and greenery dotting the pink flowers. Organ music blared so loudly she had to cover her ears. It drowned out her screams.

There was no groom.

She was alone.

Frannie shook awake, her breath painful in her chest. Heavy-metal drum lines pounded behind her ribs.

A nightmare. Just a nightmare
. Easing from Jinx’s slumbering embrace, she snagged his shirt and pulled it over her head. Her robe lay somewhere on the kitchen floor. Barefoot, she padded to the hallway and down the stairs. In the black-as-pitch night, the Christmas tree shone with golden light, like a beacon drawing her near. The scare had faded away as dreams do, leaving only a foreboding unease. She sat beside the tree, hoping any amount of cheer would rub off. Chills waltzed up her legs and she tucked them under the shirt skimming her thighs.

She had dreamed of a wedding. Her wedding. A terrible, horrible wedding. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the symbolism. If she went through with Jinx’s plan to marry, she would end up alone once again. Only this time, she
would
go insane.

Burying her head on her knees, Frannie gulped for air. She was losing it. Her growing love for Jinx welled up, threatening to spill from every pore like a dam breaking its walls. Love had never been this powerful for her, never had this excitement, this intensity. A single touch of his hand and her soul sang. His kisses were ambrosia. Making love with him was just that—making love. So vibrant and energetic, he unknowingly threatened to consume her. She couldn’t be what he wanted, even if she wanted to.

And she did want to. A shaking sniffle echoed in the stillness as she realized she wished with all her heart she could be Jinx’s Cinderella.
Jimi Hendrix might have sung about kissing the sky but he never said once you do, you crash back to earth.

The creak of the top step jerked her from her thoughts.

“Frannie?”

“Coming.” Steadying her voice, she touched one twinkling light. It burnt her cold finger. She should have known. Pretty things leave a mark, some more painful than others.

{

“Now why did I picture her hanging out in a place with strobe lights and earsplitting techno music?” Jinx shook his head in amazement.

From the surprised expression on his face, Frannie knew Jinx had expected the worst. She smiled over her drink. Tracey had declared that if she had to dress up for McGee’s party, then her friends owed her a night in her choice of clubs. Frannie knew this was no relax-and-kick-back night. This was a job interview and Jinx didn’t even know he was up for review.

To Jinx’s obvious surprise, they found themselves in an old-fashioned pool hall. Four different genres of music had blared from a jukebox from the time Tracey chalked her cue until she won the first round. Hands thrown up in surrender, Steve laughed before pulling her to him.

“Tracey’s serious about her pool, so watch out. She’s a pro.” Frannie sipped her beer and leaned her head on her hand. The slightly smoky air was heavy with the sultry tones of Amy Winehouse. Muted sounds came from arcade games and pinball machines along a far wall. The atmosphere was laid back, working class and damned proud of it.

Warm on her thigh, Jinx’s hand burned through her jeans and created wicked images in her head. She caught his eye and slowly licked the moisture from her lower lip. Coal black eyes turning liquid, he slid his palm upward, closer to the heat of her sex. Vinyl creaked and she moved closer to him in the booth, hooking her thigh over his. Wrapped in the pre-sexual haze of lust, Frannie dipped her lips toward his neck.

A loud
clunk
rattled the table, jerking her from her path. A beer-bellied man plunked down platters of buffalo wings, spicy nachos and cheese fries and ignored their provocative position. Tracey and Steve spied the food and swooped into the booth as the waiter added another pitcher of sudsy beer. The amount of cholesterol on the table was enough to induce an immediate heart attack.

Frannie’s mouth watered and she popped a heavily topped nacho in her mouth.
Diets are for wussies. It takes a real woman to be able to appreciate greasy perfection like this
. Her eyes closed in delight as the spicy flavors burst to life in her mouth.

“I think I’m jealous,” Jinx murmured, watching her with a smoldering look.

“Of nachos?”

“Of anything that makes your face go all dreamy like that. You just had a mini orgasm with that bite.”

Wrinkling her nose at him, she scooped up more gooey goodness onto her plate. Tracey made exaggerated gagging noises at him.

“You’ve got sex on the brain, loverboy.”

“Secret’s out. I’m a red-blooded American male.” Jinx shrugged, sinking his white teeth into the fleshy wings.

“Oh yeah? So how are you at game tables, Captain America?” The challenge in Tracey’s tone brought a groan from both Frannie and Steve.

Chewing slowly, Jinx studied the sprite in front of him then wiped his fingers on a stiff paper napkin. Anticipation shone on his face. “You pick the game, Wonder Woman.”

“Foosball.”

“You’re on. I’m going to kick your ass.”

Tracey threw him a devilish smirk and crossed her hands primly under her chin. “All talk, no walk, loverboy. Put your wallet where your ego is.”

Inclining his head, Jinx pulled his wallet from his pocket and held out a twenty. “Andy Jackson says you’re going to get creamed.”

Tracey leaned over and pulled another bill out of his wallet. She tossed a fifty on the table. “Grant says you’ll be the one walking funny in ten minutes.”

Frannie shook her head and watched the two heading off to the back room with a sigh. “She’s going to kill him.”

Steve chuckled, shoveling in fries. “He’ll hold his own, I bet. He’s a nice guy, Fran.”

Locking eyes with her best friend, Frannie grinned and nodded. Jinx had passed part one of the Boyfriend Test. Mark and Steve never had more than a cursory relationship, by choice. Steve never spoke ill of her ex-husband but Mark laughingly called the other man her fairy friend behind his back. To her ex-husband, Steve was less of a man because of his orientation. To save her sanity and her friendship, she kept the two divided.

During her marriage, Frannie compartmentalized her life. Work in one box, friends in another and Mark in yet another. When her marriage collapsed, Steve and Tracey knew only the very basics. Even their limited knowledge embarrassed her. That box, the one labeled “The End” in her mind, was taped shut and sealed in the attic of her mind, never to be opened again.

A soft smile curved her lips. “Yeah, he is nice.”

“He’s got a great ass, too,” Steve teased, tweaking her cheek.

Laughter burst from Frannie’s hot-sauce-stained lips. She shoved his shoulder good-naturedly and stole a piece of chicken from his plate. “Back off, Steve, I saw him first. Besides, you have your hands full with Tracey.”

“Don’t I know it. And get your grubby paws off my wings.”

Relaxed and enjoying herself, Frannie finished off a not-so-healthy portion of the nachos. Tracey victory-danced around the corner. Jinx trailed her, shaking his head.

“Lady and Gentleman, may I present to you one walking-funny Captain America who just got his red-white-and-blue ass soundly kicked by yours truly.”

Jinx walked behind her and ruffled her neon hair. “I can’t believe I lost to a girl.”

Tracey slicked her hair back with both hands and slid into the booth beside Steve. She picked up the discarded money as Jinx’s thigh bumped Frannie’s.

“Girl? Who are you calling a girl, loverboy? Oh yeah, that would be me, the
woman
with
your
fifty bucks.”

Jinx picked up a fry dripping with thick gluey cheese and bits of bacon. He motioned to the table with it. “Yeah, you. The woman with my fifty bucks who is paying for
our
dinner.”

Frannie watched them banter back and forth with rapt attention. Tracey liked him. She never joked with you unless she liked you. Jinx had passed part two of the Boyfriend Test. The weight coming off her chest took her by surprise. Gleefully, she leaned over and pecked Jinx’s cheek. He leaned back and dropped a swift kiss on her slick lips.

“Gimme a break. Think you can go for two minutes without mauling her there, loverboy? People are trying to eat here.”

Before Jinx could reply, Steve grabbed Tracey’s face and kissed her hard. When he broke away, she had a dazed euphoric look on her face. Jinx cleared his throat pointedly and arched his brow.

Tracey blushed and picked up her beer mug. “Yeah, well, doing it and watching it are two different ballgames.”

When they all decided to try their hands at the scarred dart board, Tracey snagged her arm and whispered, “He’s a keeper, chick.”

Frannie’s stomach sank into a greasy lump.
Lawd, don’t I wish he was.

{

“Well, Cinderella, ready to go to the ball?” Jinx knocked on the bathroom door.

Frannie sprayed one last blast of hairspray. “Almost ready, give me a minute.”

“Okay, I’m going to go warm up the car.”

One more spritz of perfume between her boobs and on her neck and she was finished. Deciding to maximize her shortcomings, Frannie had chosen a Renaissance-inspired gown of rich coffee velvet. The low square neckline was tight against her unbound breasts. The empire waist forced the tops to swell upward like golden apples at harvest. Her only adornment was the dark gold filigree appliqué along the bust edges and cuffs. The deep velvet caught the light and shimmered with a life of its own. Tight sleeves warded off the night’s chilly air and made her feel graceful and elegant. Cinderella she wasn’t but she wouldn’t be mistaken for the hired help.

With a quick check on the hairclip that secured her upswept hair, she opened the door. Jinx, positively delicious in a classic tuxedo, came through the dining room. His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened.

“Frannie, you’re beautiful.”

The blush that stole to her cheeks sent tingles through her bloodstream. He was lying, of course, but she didn’t care. She felt pretty. And tonight, she was celebrating. She had finished wrapping up Jinx’s Christmas gift and was filled with the holiday spirit. Doing a little twirl, she smiled widely at him.

He caught her waist and pulled her close. “You take my breath away, my Frannie.”

“Then let me give it back.”

Just a fraction of an inch from his mouth, she pressed her lips together and blew. Fingers tightened on her sides and he dipped his head to imprison her lips with his. Flames of desire exploded. Their tongues danced and stroked, striving to quench the burning thirst that gripped them.

Uplifted and pressed together, her breasts began to swell, threatening to spill over the golden edging of her bodice. Against her stomach, his erection pressed hard and obvious. His midnight hair trickled through her fingers and she pulled his head harder to her. One step and he had her back against the wall. Down her jaw line, he blazed a trail of liquid fire, scorching her with his passion. Hot breath fanning his hair, she murmured his name. Sharp teeth nipped at her exposed throat and he sank to his knees. The perfumed cleavage seemed to captivate him. Each mounded breast felt the soft caress of his tongue over and over until the hardened crests peeked from the gown’s edge. He cupped the underside of each breast and an intoxicating quiver grew in her when he mouthed a rosy tip. A low moan wrenched from her throat.

Her hand on his shoulder shook. “Jinx, stop. We have to go.”

“Forget about the party.” His voice was raspy, filled with want.

“We can’t. McGee’s expecting us and we’re supposed to pick up Steve and Tracey.”

Reluctantly, he pulled his mouth from her skin and closed his eyes.

“I know, damn it.” Opening his eyes, his smoldering gaze locked with hers. “Tonight, we finish this.”

“Oh, most definitely,” she whispered, wiping lipstick from a corner of his lip. Looking down into his face, she fought the words that wanted to escape. Instead she opted for sassiness. She leaned down and whispered in his ear. “Tonight, while we are surrounded by people, I want you to think about something.”

“What?”

Her voice dropped another notch and she dared a tiny lick on the side of his ear. “I’m not wearing any panties.”

She left him kneeling before the wall, fists clenched, jaw tight and pants tented in the front.

“Tracey, I mean it, I love your hair! You look gorgeous,” Frannie gushed to her smiling friend.

Tracey, true to her word, had traded in her neon orange hair for locks the shade of a wet raven. The glossy color, enhanced by the halter gown of beaded red, framed her elfin face. She shrugged her bare shoulders self-consciously. “I figured it was time for a change. It’s temporary, anyway. I can wash it out in a couple days. But I’m not losing the nose ring for anybody.”

“Good for you.”

The women stood talking and Steve and Jinx went for drinks. Around them, nearly a hundred other guests mingled and chatted to a string quartet playing classical holiday music. Ice sculptures glistened in frosty splendor and the twinkling lights strung overhead mimicked the stars outside. McGee’s annual holiday party was always held in his huge glass-enclosed sunroom, which offered a grand backdrop of snowy hills and ice-encrusted trees swaying in the wind.

“Swanky.” Tracey’s smile vied for attention with the lights when the men appeared bearing alcohol. Latching on to her Manhattan like a newborn calf, she revealed her nerves.