Menage Amour 82: Tasty Treats Volume 1

by Jenny Penn, Eve Adams, Amber Carlton

  She heaved a sigh and held up a finger. The screech of a woman shattered her eardrum. She flinched and held the phone out. Her sister's voice echoed around her, "Ohmygod, ohmygod."

  Mac lowered her arm and pressed the phone to her hip. "Apparently I have to take this."

  Micky nodded, and she whirled around in the other direction, preparing herself for the agony of dealing with Miss Perfect, make that Mrs. Perfect.

  Chapter 3

  "What's up, Cathleen? Win the lottery again?"

  "Ohmygod, Mac, no! So much better." Cathleen took a huge gasping breath, and Mac prepared herself for the excited squeal. Dear lord, could Cathleen's life possibly get any better with her perfect saltbox house, her adoring husband, that beautiful pool, her glamorous job and

  "I'm pregnant! Oh my god, Mac, I'm pregnant!"

  Apparently Cathleen's life could get a whole lot better.

  As Cathleen gushed and Mac struggled to find a suitable response, congratulations, how exciting for you, you'll be a great mother, I wish I were dead , Mac felt the bottom drop out of her miserable world. Could one more thing go wrong in this horrible day?

  She whirled around, mouthing "one more second," to find Micky, Cute Kid Number Two, had vanished with Sean of Number One fame into the wilds of the grocery store to find the elusive submarine sandwich. Well, so much for the small tidbits of greatness in her day. They certainly had better stuff to do than hang around a ma'am .

  She let Cathleen have her moment in the sun, though Mac wrapped herself in a dark cloud trying to hide from the brilliance of Cathleen's life. It seemed so much easier just to let her sister talk. She nodded in all the appropriate places, though she knew Cathleen couldn't see her and wouldn't care. She'd been blinded by hormones and another checkmark on her list of perfect things.

  "Well, that's wonderful, Cathleen. Just wonderful. You and David will be so happy. Yes, I can make it on Sunday. I'll see you then. Congratulations." She nearly choked on that last word as she hung up and shoved the phone into her pocket.

  She'd made it to the bakery section. The teen behind the counter tilted her head. "What can I get ya today, ma'am?"

  How fucking old do I look today anyway?

  She ran a finger under her eye. She knew she looked tired and haggard, but maybe her mascara had smeared, creating hideous dark circles that made her look like a banshee. She peered into the case, which looked pretty empty. "I want something really decadent. Maybe a chocolate cake, something like that."

  "Sorry, ma'am. About the only chocolate things I have left are some sugar cookies and a couple donuts, but they're from this morning."

  What good are you? For some stupid reason she wanted to cry. All she wanted was some God-damned cake. "Never mind. Thanks anyway."

  She pushed her cart back to the frozen foods and decided if she couldn't have a three layer chocolate cake she'd kill herself with ice cream. She had plenty of that at home because she never ran out of ice cream. She grabbed a bottle of chocolate syrup and flung into the cart. On her way to the checkout, her mind on Cathleen, she found she'd wandered through the toiletries aisle. Well, why let this little side trip go to waste? She picked up a bottle of strawberry-scented bubble bath. She glanced at the label which read scented with artificial strawberry .

  "They probably put it in Pop-Tarts too," Mac mumbled. "I'm going to have to start eating better."

  She snagged up a package of buy-one-get-one-free toothbrushes. She had no idea why. She didn't need them, but she liked a bargain.

  Pushing a cart that felt like it had been loaded with concrete, Mac trudged to the express checkout. She mentally counted her purchases and realized she had trouble counting past four.

  Man, I really need that wine. Wonder if I could drink some of it here.

  She fumbled in her purse for her wallet, yanked on it too hard and an avalanche of stuff swamped over the edge and tumbled to the floor. She dropped down then her skirt hiked up her thighs again. As she struggled to pull it down, an incredible pair of jean-clad legs dropped down next to her. She whipped her face up to stare into the gorgeous green eyes of Cute Kid Number Two.

  Stop thinking of him as a kid. He's a young man, Mrs. Robinson, Jr., and his name is Micky.

  She frantically pawed at everything, trying to scoop it all back into the purse. When her hand touched Micky's fingers, heat flared through her entire body, and her pussy clenched against her will. What was wrong with her? She wasn't some sex-starved old maid. She got plenty of sex. She'd had plenty of really good sex just last night. She yanked her hand back like he had leprosy. He was such a good-looking guy, young, smooth, and hard muscled. Her gaze dropped to his crotch, skimmed the bulge there, and a flood of moisture filled her thong. Then she saw it.

  Oh dear God.

  He chuckled softly, and lifted a small foil package. He held it out, and she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her, dragging her into a deep dark pit.

  "Got a date tonight?" he asked.

  She stared at the condom package. He held it casually, flipping it back and forth in his strong fingers. He probably used a dozen a day. With a face and body like that, it seemed inevitable he had coeds, cheerleaders and female techno geeks drooling all over him. For one horrible moment Mac could think of nothing to say. Her fingers continued to blindly scour the floor until she felt another foiled edge. She held it up.

  "Two dates actually." She offered her best smile, trying very hard to appear less than manic.

  He burst out laughing, helped her shove the rest of the stuff into her bag-o-crap then put a hand on her elbow. She had a little trouble getting up with her skirt bunched so tightly around her hips. She teetered in her high heels and fell against his chest, his big, hard, powerful, t-shirt-clad chest. It felt perfect and he smelled like heaven. She breathed deeply, and her heart fluttered. God. Youth was sheer perfection. No wonder her mother had been robbing the cradle lately.

  He leaned closer and whispered in her ear. "Been sipping from the jug while you shopped?"

  "Wanted to," she said. "But didn't."

  His warm breath stirred her hair and swept against her ear, stealing what little reason she had left. Her eyes closed, her head tilted and her hair swept across her neck, baring her throat. She waited for the press of lips.

  "Are you okay?" he asked.

  Her eyes snapped open.

  Jesus, Mac. Don't be an ass. Get a grip.

  She tugged on her skirt. "Yes, Micky. I'm fine. Thanks." She flipped open her wallet, spilling another condom onto the conveyer belt. Face on fire, she watched it travel slowly and vanish beneath the metal lip of the counter.

  "So much for tomorrow's date," Sean said.

  Mac put her hand on her hip. "You two are quite the comedy team. Always travel together for backup?"

  Sean nodded. "Absolutely. He can't remember his routine without me. Gets him into trouble."

  Mac ran her gaze slowly down Sean's body. He'd gotten hot somewhere along the line, too, because he'd taken off his coat. He was leaner than Micky, but an entirely suitable specimen of young hunkiness. "You look like quite a bit of trouble yourself, Sean."

  "Had my share," Sean said, dropping a case of Miller onto the conveyer. "But the trouble is far more interesting with Micky along."

  Mac's glance darted to Micky. "I'll bet."

  She ran her card down the scanner and punched in her pin while the Cute Boys team finished loading their bet-payment supplies. Sean wiggled between her and the next counter, the front of his body sliding across her ass and giving her the incredible sensation of a potentially large, and probably fabulous, dick. She shivered slightly and almost melted into the floor.

  He loaded the groceries into her cart and gave her a little salute. "Thank you for shopping with us, ma'am." He held out a little card. She plucked it from his fingers. Sean Anderson . With a phone number beneath it. When she glanced back up, he winked at her.

  "It's a lot easier than trying to remember my cell number. I'm not a tech
no geek like some people." He nodded to Micky and smirked. "If you're ever in the mood for a little trouble, give me a call."

  She slipped the card into her unripped pocket, and Sean leaned over to whisper into her ear.

  "I love a woman who wears black panties under a red suit. It's a thong, right? Very hot."

  Mac's knees buckled. She fanned her face for a moment. She started to shrug into her coat and felt a tug. Micky slid the coat over her shoulders and looped her purse over her arm. Then he pressed against her back and his breath brushed the side of her face.

  "What's your name?" he whispered.

  "Mackenzie Dawson." Her voice sounded like a mechanical version of a woman that could have been Mackenzie Dawson. "Most people call me Mac."

  He held a card in front of her face. Micky Dunham. Also with a phone number beneath it. "Well, Mackenzie" Oh, his voice sounded positively seductive, not mechanical in the least. "If your date falls through, give me a call, okay?"

  His lips touched her cheek and that wonderful scent washed over her again. She nodded dumbly, dropping the card into her purse. Enveloped in the hazy aroma of pure young male, she pushed her cart toward the automatic door. She stood stupidly for a few moments until she realized she stood at the entrance. Blushing furiously and shaking her head, she backed up and tried again. This time she made it outside, and an icy blast of winter air hit her in the face and snapped her out of her trance.

  Had she just been hit on by two kids who might be twenty-two at the most? She shot a quick glance back through the window. The Cute Boys team flashed their IDs at the cashier. Yeah, definitely too young. The cashier had stolen her last hope. She sighed. She shook her head at her own ridiculous behavior. She'd been flirting. With kids. She might as well change her name to Jacqueline Mackenzie Dawson. Man, what she wouldn't give for a night with them.

  "Okay, Mac, get out of dream world and start thinking about your real life. And for God's sake open that flash drive and learn how to use it."

  She stopped and tugged her gloves out of her coat pocket. As she did, her cart rolled down a little incline and headed straight for a parked car. She lurched forward and dove for the cart. Her heel slid. The pavement came up and crashed into her back. For an excruciating moment dizziness poured through her and the evening got even darker, then she heard the pounding of boots.

  "Mac!"

  A hand slid under her head and lifted it just slightly. Her eyes fluttered open. She tried to smile, but it felt kind of goofy like she'd been drinking. She knew darn well she hadn't been. Not yet anyway.

  "Hi, Micky."

  "Hi, yourself. Don't move."

  "I think I'm okay. Really. Must have hit some ice."

  Sean's face popped into view. "No ice yet, Mac. The pavement is just wet. Your shoe is worn down." He smiled. "Must be all that angry walking."

  "Not angry really," she murmured. "I'm just very busy. Got a lot of places to be, you know?"

  She struggled to sit up, and Micky wrapped his arm around her back.

  She stared at her legs where her coat separated. A huge gaping hole in her stocking snagged her attention.

  "Fuck. I've ruined another pair."

  "I'm sure you have dozens," Micky said. "You seem like a power dresser to me."

  "What would you know about power dressing, frat boy?"

  "I've got a power-dressing mother," he said.

  "Way to kill the mood, Mick," she mumbled.

  He helped her stand, and she leaned against him for a moment. She snuggled into his bulky coat, still feeling the warmth of his body.

  Sean retrieved her wayward cart and consolidated their purchases into one. Micky led her across the parking lot in the direction she waved her hand.

  "I'm not sure we should let you drive," he said. "Why don't I drive your car and Sean can follow us? We'll get you home. Promise."

  "Oh, no, I couldn't."

  "Seriously, Mac, you could have a concussion."

  She glanced up. Serial killer? No, probably not. Hunky frat boy with a seductive agenda? Very possible. She could only hope for luck like that. For some reason he seemed sweet and sincere, and she'd been alone with men a lot iffier than these two. Her last blind date came to mind.

  "Okay," she said. "If you two want to be knights in shining armor, I accept. I think the car's over here, no, wait, that was last week."

  Micky meandered with her through the lot while she struggled to remember where she'd parked her car. Finally he settled her into the passenger seat then got behind the wheel. Sean, not dealing with a dizzy, disoriented woman, had loaded his car and idled nearby. Micky turned the key and nothing happened.

  "Um, Mac, have any trouble with the battery lately?"

  "Hmm, well, my neighbor gave me a jumpstart the other day. Tim told me I should probably think about getting a new one. But I got a little busy. There's a project"

  Micky opened his door and magically appeared at the passenger side. He once again helped her, a thirty-something woman who apparently couldn't get in and out of a car by herself.

  "Anything valuable in your car?" Micky asked.

  Mac gazed through the window, thinking of her laptop lying in pieces in Tim's office. She pursed her lips then shook her head sadly. "Not anymore."

  Sean came toward them with a cell phone to his ear.

  "Battery," Micky said.

  "Hey, Uncle Jimmy. Great, thanks. The chem final? Oh, piece of cake. No sweat." Sean rolled his eyes at Micky as he took hold of Mac's other arm and helped her into the front seat of his car. "Yep. That's why I called. A friend of mine. At the grocery store on High and Jenkins. A Sebring convertible, silver. Plate number TLE 865. Appears to be the battery. We'll leave the key," he paused and glanced at Micky, who nodded. "It's under the mat. We're taking her home now. Where do you live, Mac?"

  "437 Middlebrook."

  "Mackenzie Dawson. 437 Middlebrook. Thanks, Uncle Jimmy. I'll owe ya."

  Mac snuggled into the seat, enjoying the heat spilling from the vent. Micky and Sean slid in beside her on opposite sides.

  "Now this is my kind of sandwich," she said.

  You naughty girl. Where did that come from?

  She laughed while Sean maneuvered out of the parking lot, leaving her latest disaster behind. She put her hand on Micky's warm thigh and settled against him.

  Chapter 4

  Sean unloaded the groceries and spread them across the table. In that instant Mac wondered where her head had been. She'd possibly left it back in Tim's office with the scattered remains of her career.

  Sean held up the pack of two toothbrushes. "I thought you were kidding about having two dates tonight."

  She stared at the frozen dinner, the garlic bread, the chocolate syrup, the waffles, the bubble bath and the industrial size jug of fermented grapes. She lifted the red bag of pasta off the table and tossed it down in disgust.

  "Chicken Alfredo. It looks delicious, but it's not microwaveable. I can't cook this."

  She plopped into a chair. Micky popped the top on a bottle of Sam Adams. He took a long swallow and Mac watched his throat ripple. His pulse point flickered under his skin, and she wanted to press her lips against it. Once again she questioned her sanity. How had these two young men talked themselves into her home? It had probably been settled when she blurted out, "After the day I've had, who knew I'd get so lucky tonight? Two for one!" and shoved them through the door.

  Sean turned a chair backwards and straddled it, while he pulled another beer from the carton. He ran his hand through his hair, which lifted slightly and settled back with a dignified, yet sporty, grace. Her own mess of hair hung in front of her eyes. She had none of Sean's casual elegance tonight.

  "I'm kind of intrigued about the bubble bath," he said. "Is that always part of your dating ritual?"

  "I'd actually planned to drown myself tonight. Just wanted to go out in style, and strawberry scented, of course." Both guys laughed as Mac yanked open a drawer. She rattled through her meager collectio
n of cooking utensils. "Where did I put that corkscrew?"

  Sean reached over and pulled the wino's wet dream toward him. She watched as he unscrewed the cap, the cords in his arm flexing and tightening. He smiled. "There's something to be said for screw tops. Saves time when you can't find the corkscrew in your cardboard condo."

  "I'm designing mine as we speak." Mac grabbed a wine glass and dropped into a chair. "Seen any appliance boxes around?"

  Micky suddenly cupped the back of her head. His fingers moved up gently, caressing her hair. Her heart thumped erratically, and warmth rushed straight through her body to settle near her pussy, where it set her clit on fire. She closed her eyes and relaxed back against the pressure. She heard the sigh, but barely recognized it as her own. Micky's quiet voice brushed against her ear.

  "How's the head? Hurt at all? I don't feel a lump."

  Mac bolted upright as heat flooded through her in an embarrassed burst of flame. She really had to get her mind off seduction and sex. These were just two nice, sweet guys helping a damsel in distress. So what if the damsel was old, used and probably of no interest to them?

  "Mick's pre-med," Sean said. "He can't keep his hands to himself. Great bedside manner, don't you think?"

  "Very calming," Mac muttered. "Mostly anyway."

  "It works on everyone," Micky said with a wink.

  "I'll bet," Mac said. "What are you, Sean? What's your major?"

  Micky's hand moved down to her neck and massaged gently. She rolled her head against his hands. Micky laughed. "Obviously it won't be chemistry."

  Sean took a drink of beer then pulled on his lip. "No, chemistry's out. Too bad I missed that final, though, because I know I would have aced it." He shrugged. "Don't really know yet, Mac. I've got enough credits to go in a couple directions. Haven't decided what I want to be when I grow up."

  "Join the club," Mac said. "After today I might be in the market for a new career. Let me know if you find something interesting."

  Micky stood up and pulled her to her feet. She smacked directly into his chest, her entire body pressed against his length. His bedside manner seemed to extend to places other than his hands. His dick pressed hard and rigid against her. He tugged on the sleeves of her jacket and magically it dropped into his hands. His gaze dipped into the low-cut blouse and lingered on her cleavage. "Definitely a power dresser. Very sexy chic, Mac." He picked up the bottle of bubble bath and pressed it into her hands. "Go take a nice, relaxing bath. Try to forget about today. Sean and I will figure out to cook your non-microwaveable dinner. We'll try not to burn down your house."