Killer Kisses (22 page)

That was
definitely
a come-on. He admired her lovely ass while she sashayed away and looked forward to the next courses.

As dusk fell, they moved into the dining room. She had placed the roses in a vase and set them on the buffet to the side. The table was set for two with fine china and glassware. Everything sparkled in the candlelight. She held a chair out for Jim, and once again placed a napkin on his lap, this time drawing out the ritual a tad longer. She was
killing
him.

She breathed into his ear, sending frissons down his neck. “I hope you like the next course.”

Just to have something to hold onto, other than her—he clenched a soup spoon. And a white dish appeared in front of him in the center of which were large lumps of—

“Rich lobster soup with curry.” She poured a thick pink liquid around the lumps of shellfish.

The scent of curry rose on the steam grabbing his olfactory lobe, taking his brain to a new plane of existence. “Oh—My—God.”

“Some
have
likened my food to a religious experience.”

The lobster swam in the smooth soup with a hint of curry while his taste buds danced and sang
hallelujah, hallelujah
. “Any chance I could get this for dessert?”

She took her apron off and sat down. “Not tonight, I have other plans.”

The low cut lace top left little to Jim’s imagination. Torn between appetites, he wondered if there was an
intermezzo
. He needed to clear his palate—and knew just who he wanted to do it with.

“Are you enjoying your soup?”

“What? Yes, very much.” He tore his gaze away from her breasts.

“Mind if we talk a little business?” she asked.

Only if it’s monkey business.
“Sure.” He put his spoon down.

“I think we’d better have a lawyer check out Beth’s paperwork.”

After she told him about the odd conversation with Beth Heade in the grocery store, he raised one eyebrow. “She said he was from New Jersey?”

“Wearing a look on her face that implied he came out of a sewer. Not that I disagree with that assessment,” Genie nodded at him.

“I have some experience with that state.” Jim rubbed his eyebrow. “Yes, we should get legal counsel. And we need to draw up some partnership papers, too.”

“Good idea.” She smiled, stood, and brushed her hand along his as she collected his dish. “Ready for your next course?”

She had
no
idea how ready he was.

Genie disappeared into the kitchen, then stuck her head back into the dining room. “Would you pour the wine for our next course, please?”

He lifted the decanter. The nose on the wine was outstanding. What was it? French? Californian?

She returned with two plates and placed them on the table. “Grilled lamb chops, pomegranate-and-saffron basmati rice.”

He closed his eyes and inhaled the aromas of lamb, the rich red fruit, and scented rice.
Heaven. He was in heaven.
“What kind of wine is this?”

“Cabernet—Robert Mondavi Reserve.”

He eyed her breasts and sipped his wine. “A perfect pair. Er—pairing.”

She covered her mouth with her napkin, but the crinkles around her eyes gave her away.

He savored every bite, gnawing at the bones until it looked as if they’d been dipped in acid. Then he licked his fingers clean. He glanced up and caught her watching him, a smile hovering on her lush red lips. Embarrassed, he wiped his fingers on the napkin. “I couldn’t help myself. The best lamb chops… Evah.”

“Think you can handle dessert?”

His groin responded before he could open his mouth. “Depends on what we’re having.”

“A simple one—hot fudge sundae.”

He groaned and his erection demanded to be attended to. He slipped off his chair, onto his knees and clasped his hands together. “Please, please, please, may I have dessert?”

“
Now
do you admit that my cooking makes men weak at the knees?”

He crawled to her chair, reached up and pulled her face down to his and slanted his mouth over hers. “Yes,” he breathed. “You have made my knees—and other parts of my body weak.” He pressed his lips against hers and she responded, opening her mouth. She tasted like pomegranates. He wanted more of her flavors.
Now.

He ran a hand down her neck and found a hardened nub awaiting his touch through the thin lace. He lowered his head to her breast and sucked at the cloth, pulling her into his mouth until she moaned. Then he moved to the other breast, but pulled the blouse down, exposing a claret-colored nipple the size of a silver dollar. He licked and sucked at that large, lovely rosebud until she clutched at his hair.

“Stop.” She panted. “We still have dessert.”

“You’re my dessert.”

“I’m not too
fat
for you?”

He looked up into her eyes, his tongue longing to return to sucking on that big bud. “Skinny women don’t turn me on. I love your curves, your hips, your big beautiful ass, your full, delicious breasts and your sweet, succulent nipples. I want to explore every inch of your luscious lovely thighs, right up to your—”

She pushed away from him, stood and took his hand. He tried to pull her back but she shook her head, smiled, and dragged him down a hallway. Illuminated only by candles, her bedroom contained a queen-sized bed, large pillows and red satin sheets. A cooking cart with a chafing dish stood ready to serve.

She turned to him. “Get undressed.”

As he ripped his shirt and pants off, she released her hair from her ponytail and peeled out of her lace top and slinky pants. She wore no underwear. He swept his gaze over her large breasts, full hips and the red triangle of hair he wanted to sample next. He stood at complete attention, pointing straight at
her
. He reached for Genie, grazed a breast and she shoved him back onto the bed. “Lie down.”

He complied, shivers running up and down his spine.

Hair draping across her face, she stood over him and drizzled warm chocolate sauce on his chest, belly button, hips and erection. Then she dropped dollops of whipped cream in swirls along the same pattern.“Just so you know, this is
all
homemade.”

Bending her head over her work, she quickly licked from his neck down to his belly button, and then in a slow, deliberate pace, continued downward. He groaned and grew harder and thicker with each lick.

He grabbed Genie and pulled her onto the bed. “I’m hungry, too.”

A dish in each hand, he drew wild patterns with chocolate sauce and whipped cream across her lush curves. After eying his handiwork, he licked his lips. “I think I’ll start with these two delicious mounds topped with these bright, red cherries. Then, I’ll follow the chocolate trail down to here.”

He slid a chocolate covered finger into her moist folds, sliding across her center, flicking her until she wriggled and arched her hips upward. He smiled, withdrew his finger and licked it. “Delicious.”

Between gritted teeth, she gasped. “Tease.”

“Look who’s talking. You’ve been driving me wild all evening.” Jim licked his way down the chocolate path. The pool of sweet brown liquid in her navel and below required extra attention to detail, and he lapped up every drop, first licking lazy circles on her soft thighs. She grabbed his head and pushed him to her silky triangle. His tongue probed her saucy folds, then nibbled at her hard nub until she moaned, screamed his name, and clutched his hair.

“I want you inside me.”

He crawled on his elbows, maintaining skin contact with each upward movement. He looked deep into her eyes and slid inside her. She rose to meet him at every stroke, urged him onward, and let him know with her touches exactly what she wanted: harder, deeper, stronger thrusts. She shuddered and screamed his name, he couldn’t hold on any longer. He came with a shout and fell on top of her.

Genie looked him in the eye. “Ready for the cheese course?”

CHAPTER SIX

~*~

Genie rolled over and felt something warm, long, and hard next to her. “Oh, baby, is that a baguette in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me.”

Jim’s eyes fluttered.

“I know you’re awake. You can’t fool me.”

Eyes still closed, he smiled and grabbed her close.

She stiffened. Something smelled—wrong, like a pan was burning on the stove. Had she left something on in the heat of the night? No. She was certain she’d shut everything off.

“Jim—get up.
Now
. I smell smoke.” At that very moment, the high-pitched sound of the smoke detector startled them into reality.

He bolted upright, flailing around in the sheets. She raced out of the room toward the smell, and into the kitchen. With the mild weather, she’d left the windows open in the kitchen overnight. Now, bright yellow flames beneath clouds of smoke billowed through the screens.

She grabbed a large fire extinguisher and hosed the window with dry chemical in a desperate attempt to slow the orange monster down. Focused on her failing efforts, she jumped when someone grabbed her arm. “Call nine-one-one. Tell them there’s a fire, and it’s not a kitchen fire.”

“We have to leave.” He pulled her out of the smoke filled kitchen and slammed the door. “It’s not worth losing your life.” Somehow, he’d been able to get out of the sheets and into his jeans, shirt and shoes. He held her robe in her hand. “Put this on.”

Thick tendrils of smoke oozed under the door. She coughed, looked up and saw the cuckoo clock. Climbing up on a chair, she attempted to get it off the hook—but was suddenly airborne. Jim threw her over his shoulder and carried her naked, kicking, and screaming out of the house.

Sirens sounded in the distance, coming closer.

“I have to get the cuckoo clock,” she shouted. “It’s the only thing I have left from my parents.”

He ran out of the house to the opposite side of the street, where an army of wide-eyed neighbors waited in their nightclothes.

A little boy called out, “Mommy, I can see Miss Genie’s butt!”

Fire engines screeched onto her street and the cacophony of trucks, radios, and men shouting distracted the crowd.

Genie buried her face in Jim’s neck and sobbed. It wasn’t bad enough she was losing her house; her dignity was burning up with it. He set her gently on the ground, sliding her down the front of him to spare her a full frontal nudity moment. Wrapping the silk robe around her, he whispered, “That’s one lucky little boy. You have a really nice ass.”

She caught herself laughing, then realized she was hysterical. She kept her face pressed against Jim’s chest, too afraid to watch, to see if the firefighters could save her home. With the exception of the time when she’d worked in New York City, she had lived in the house most of her life, coming back to touch base and reconnect with reality between bad jobs and bad men.

Her mother had taught her to make her first cake in that house. Her father had sat with her at the kitchen table every night until she went to college, making sure she did her homework, checking each assignment. Her mother’s love infused every meal she made and every flavor she tasted in that house and her father’s logic had given her the foundation of a good business sense. They hadn’t taken a lot of photos, preferring to spend their time and money on Genie’s education.

Mom had said, “Each moment is special. Capture the time in your memories, Genie. They won’t fade.” Other than a few holiday photos and the rare family portrait taken by insistent friends, the damn clock was the most tangible memento she had of her parents’ and their romance.

She heard the neighbors cheer and raised her head cautiously. “Is it safe for me to look?”

“Yes.” He turned her around to face the house. Wisps of smoke rose skyward into the early morning sun, but the blaze that had threatened to gobble up the house was gone.

A firefighter crossed the street and strode to Genie’s side, his face slick with sooty sweat, his hat under his arm. “This your house?”

She wrapped the robe around her like a cocoon. “Yes.”

“I’m Chief Von den Broeck. Could you come with me, please?”

Barefoot, Genie gingerly crossed the street, attempting to avoid sharp stones and small rocks. They walked around the side of the house, to the back, where the fire had done the most damage. Shards of glass glinted ahead of her. Jim lifted her up as easily as if she was a feather quilt.

She whispered, “You must work out a lot.”

“My daily program consists of twenty lifts of any woman who happens to be nearby.”

She kissed his neck. “Thank you. For everything.”

He found a safe place and set her down. She turned but her knees buckled at the sight before her. Jim knelt down beside her. “Take a couple of deep breaths and let me know when you’re ready to stand.”

She nodded, then opened her eyes and allowed him to pull her to her feet. The entire side of the house—what was left of it—was now a smoking blur of charred wood. The wall into her kitchen was gone—as were her cabinets, table, and chairs—everything flammable. The sink lay on the floor, the stainless steel charred and twisted from the strength of the fire. Paint had blistered over the sides of the refrigerator, range, and dishwasher.