Recipes for Disaster (28 page)
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Authors: Josie Brown
“What’s your guess, did old Abe really sleep here?” Jack stares up at the Lincoln bedroom’s ornate oval rosewood headboard that rises all the way to the ceiling. It is topped by a partial gold canopy, shaped like a crown. Its white lace sheers are draped in black velvet trimmed with old braid. The Lincoln bedroom’s other elegant furnishings are also from the Victorian era.
Despite the embossed invitation, the private tour of the White House and the West Wing, and all of today’s whirlwind of festivities, I still can’t believe we’re here, and for such a momentous occasion as a presidential inauguration.
To convince myself, I run my hand over the suite’s wallpaper, a gold-white-and-red diamond pattern that mirrors a darker, larger pattern of the rug on the floor. “Mary Todd Lincoln chose the bed, but apparently he never slept in it—although several other presidents have had the honor—not to mention some deep-pocketed presidential supporters.”
A desk sits in the far corner of the room. On it sits a holographic copy of the Gettysburg address, signed by the man himself. In his own handwriting, I read the familiar words that every school child in the nation learns about and should never forget, considering the bloodshed that inspired the most famous presidential speech of all time:
… We here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain
—
that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom
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and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.
Every president since has kept this vow.
Now it’s Lee Chiffray’s turn.
One way or another, I plan on holding him to it.
Jack flops down on the bed. “I’m happy to report it doesn’t sag.” He pats the mattress. “Of course, with your help, we could give it a truly thorough road test.”
I feign shock. “Aren’t you afraid of Lincoln’s ghost? At least twenty dignitaries and staff members have commented on it, so it’s sure to show up while we make mad monkey love.”
He shrugs. “I’m more afraid of our current live, dishonest president than I’d ever be of the spectral of Honest Abe.”
“You’re not the only one.” I hop on the bed beside him. “Okay, I admit it, you were right.”
He smirks. “As much as I love hearing that, which time are you referring to?”
“When we started this mission, you claimed my woman’s intuition was wrong about Lee. With both you and Chuck the Muckraker—not to mention the opposition party—having looked up his sphincter with a microscope and come up empty, I thought I was home free. But with Carl back from the dead, now we both know you were right.”
“Glad you’re willing to admit it.” He stretches out on the bed. “I’d like my prize now, if you please.”
“Really? And what would that be?”
He doesn’t tell me. He opts to show me instead.
He pulls me down beside him. His kisses, on the back of my neck, start out light and sweet. But as they get deeper and more fervent, one hand outlines the curve of my ear, lingering on my lobe before inching down my neck. Finally it joins his other hand, which is slowly working the zipper of my dress down my spine.
Their diligence is rewarded when a plump breast lands in each hand.
He turns me around in order to take a long, sweet moment to admire them. From the look in his eye, I know he is tantalized by the decision before him: which peaked nipple should he tease first with his tongue?
He chooses the left, but readies the right one by tweaking it, oh so gently, between his thumb and forefinger.
I’m in heaven.
My anticipation to feel him inside of me keeps my hands busy, too. While one unclasps his belt buckle, the other nudges the button over his pants zipper to one side. Already he’s grown rock solid.
Jack’s groan is the cue I’ve been waiting for.
His eyes close as he shivers under my touch.
When they open again, the look he gives me speaks volumes. It warns me that he will now take control, and that what will follow will bring me joy, even as it brings me to tears.
I will plead with him to stop, and beg for more.
I will curse him for breaking me down, and bless him for loving me so completely.
Then I will do the same to him.
We’ve both learned that the best way to deal with the ghosts who haunt us is to face them, and put them to rest, once and for all.
Carl doesn’t have a chance in hell.
Next Up!
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I owe a lot to the following people, whose love and support gives me the courage to write, every day:
Karin Tabke, who first fell in love with this book, and pushed me (quite adamantly; what are friends for?) to make it a priority; Andy Brown, who is a go-to guru for anything technical and metaphysical. Andy, thanks making the virtual a reality; Rita Abrams, Kendra Williams, Pam Welsh, Elisa Turner, Janell Parque, Susan DiMuzio, Dianne Wallace, Jeanette Conkling, Kimberly Turner and Tom Johnson, who have sharper eyes than mine; Austin Brown and Anna Brown, who are my emotional touchstones, in so many ways; Eddie Concha, Andree Belle, Darien and Don Coleman, Linda May and Ben Brown, and Mario Martinez and Patricia Steadman, who are always there to encourage, nurture and feed me.
And always last but never least, Martin Brown: you complete me.
Dear readers: If you liked the story and Donna, I’d be honored to get a review from you! We authors live by them, and they are always appreciated.
Thank you,
—Josie Brown
HOW TO REACH JOSIE
www.HousewifeAssassinsHandbook.com
www.facebook.com/JosieBrownAuthor
NOVELS IN THE
HOUSEWIFE ASSASSIN SERIES
The Housewife Assassin’s
Handbook
(Book 1)
Every desperate housewife wants an alias. Donna Stone has one … and it happens to be government-sanctioned. But Donna earned it the hard way. Her husband was killed the day she delivered their third child. To avenge her husband's murder, Donna leads a secret life: as an assassin. But espionage makes for strange bedfellows, and brings new meaning to that old adage, "Honey, I'm home..."
The Housewife Assassin’s
Guide to Gracious Killing
(Book 2)
A nuclear arms summit, hosted by a politically connected billionaire industrialist, provides the perfect opportunity for a rogue operative to assassinate the newly elected Russian president, on American soil. Donna Stone’s mission: seek and exterminate the shooter before all hell – and World War III – breaks out. Also on Donna’s to-do list: file for divorce. Throw in a couple of killer play dates and a few naughty neighbors, and you’ve got a whole lot of fun.
The Housewife Assassin’s
Killer Christmas Tips
(Book 3)
’Tis the season for murder, mayhem and mistletoe! There will be no peace on Earth if Donna and Jack don’t find a shipping container filled with heat-seeking missiles. Forget Santa! Terror is coming to town…
The Housewife Assassin’s
Relationship Survival Guide
(Book 4)
In the fourth full-length novel #4 of Josie Brown's Housewife Assassin series, contract assassin Donna Stone's idea of a perfect relationship? A man she can trust in any situation. Yes, breaking up is hard to do. Then again, so is breaking out of a Mexican prison, and stopping a massacre by an international terrorist cell. So, how do you mend a broken heart? Donna finds out -- the hard way. And FYI: falling in love with a married man isn't heart smart. Then again, neither is dating a terrorist. But when an old love gets in the way of Donna's chance for true love, she doesn't cry. She gets even.
