Short Soup

by Coleen Kwan

  “You don’t need to add wrinkles,” said Mei Jing. “You just need to dress like an old woman. You know, floral prints and big vinyl handbags.”

  Tina pretended to gag. She was wearing black satin shorts and a black halter top with dangling gold ear-rings and, of course, ridiculously high heels. Mei Jing was certain Tina would choose unnecessary surgery over floral prints.

  “Come on. Let’s go,” said Tina. “I’m thinking tonight could be my lucky night. Mr. Right might be out there now, just waiting for me to walk by.”

  Mick had secured a table in the garden near the dance floor. Rod still hadn’t returned with their drinks, so Mei Jing went to check on him.

  She found him at the bar, an enraptured expression on his face. “Check this out!” he said excitedly. “They actually heated the sugar till it melted, then added vodka, then they’ve crushed the lime with a mortar and pestle. Look at the effort going into this.”

  It was impressive. The bar tender, pleased that his endeavours were being appreciated, was working with flair. He added umbrellas, and with flourish, presented the drinks to Rod.

  Rod paid and they headed outside just as Mick and Tina got up to dance.

  “OK—let’s do this together,” he said. “1 … 2 … 3.” They both sipped at their drink and then waited for the others’ judgement.

  “Best in Brisbane?” asked Mei Jing finally.

  Rod took another sip. “I’ve … I mean … We’ve found it,” he said reverently. “The best Caprioska in Brisbane. I’ve been searching for months and here it is. And it’s all because of you.” He looked gratefully at Mei Jing. “I have so much to thank you for, Mei Jing. Where would I be without you?”

  Mei Jing smiled. There’s a story.

  Excerpt from Summer Fling by Serenity Woods

  ‘I should be on top,’ the willowy blonde protested.

  She sat on the bench in front of Garth with her back against his chest and her butt nestled between his thighs. He stifled a groan. What red-blooded male wouldn’t misconstrue that statement?

  His brain had been in sex mode since she’d pulled on her jumpsuit. She’d leaned forward and the neck of her T-shirt had gaped to reveal generous breasts only just covered by the cups of her lacy white bra. He’d fought hard to concentrate on her training, too rusty at flirting to make a comment, but now the image of her sitting naked on top of him returned in full force.

  He attached the last clip of his safety harness to the one on her right shoulder and chuckled in her ear. ‘That’s kind of forward, Chloe, considering we’ve only known each other for thirty minutes. But I’m not going to argue with you.’

  The aeroplane’s engines roared, but she’d obviously heard him because she glared reproachfully over her shoulder and her cheeks turned a delightful rosy pink. Her dancing eyes told him she wasn’t really insulted though. ‘I meant when we freefall. That way, if the chute doesn’t open I have something soft to land on.’

  ‘This way’s best, believe me. For now, at least.’ He shouldn’t be teasing her, but pleasure surged through him when her lips curved at his suggestive comment.

  Their gazes met, locked. Her eyes mirrored the bright blue of the New Zealand summer sky outside the Cessna’s windows. Something passed between them, invisible, chemical, and his heartbeat raced. A tingle began between his shoulder blades and descended all the way down his spine.

  Then she lowered her long lashes, breaking the spell, and Garth frowned. What was he doing? True, a soft female bottom tucked against the groin would make most guys harden faster than quick-set concrete, let alone a man who hadn’t taken a woman to bed for an ice age. But even though he did tandem parachute jumps for a living, and strapped himself to the fairer sex anything up to a dozen times a week, he rarely gave the intimate position a thought.

  He was happy to admit he missed the regular sex a relationship brought. But the emotional baggage he carried after Jess’s death meant he hadn’t even looked at another woman in ages. Why had this one affected him so much?

  He watched her examine her shaking hands. She’d braided her long hair back, although a few wisps softened her hairline. Before they’d got on the plane, her skin had held a healthy tan like most young Kiwi women, a stark contrast to the pale skin of the girls he’d grown up with in Seattle, although now the colour had drained from her face.

  He tipped his head to the side, studying her high cheekbones and straight nose, and smiled as she chewed her bottom lip. That was another reason why he’d reacted to her words. In spite of her attempt at humour, her anxiety was palpable. The urge to alleviate it had risen inside him instinctively.

  He admired the way she was trying to cover her fear. He’d jumped with hundreds of people over the past year and had witnessed every gamut of emotion from exhilaration to fake bravado to downright terror. Chloe didn’t quite register at the bottom of the scale, but she wasn’t far from it. Her face now matched the whiteness of the clouds scudding outside, and she shook in her thick yellow jumpsuit.

  He forced his mind away from the press of her between his thighs and the softness of her throat inches from his lips, and tried to concentrate. Now wasn’t the time to get distracted. He had to remember, ‘safety before sex’.

  Smiling at the catchphrase, he checked all the clips connecting his harness to hers. Then he went over them again. Bottom left, bottom right, top left, top right. And again. ‘You’re all clipped in, Chloe. Check with me, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’ She lifted her right hand, and he moved it to either side of her waist and then to each shoulder. She tugged the clips with long, elegant fingers. An image popped into his head of that hand stroking his body and closing around him.

  Jeez. He had to stop thinking about sex for five seconds.

  He cleared his throat. ‘All secure. Are you happy?’

  ‘Right now I’m too terrified to be happy.’ Her forehead glistened with sweat and panic filled her eyes.

  He sighed. Damn it. Another mule. Sometimes customers got all the way to the door before they dug their heels in and refused to jump. It didn’t occur as often as he’d expected when he first set up the business. In fact, it had only happened to him twice, and both times he’d managed to talk the person into jumping. They’d thanked him afterward, but he’d much rather have the sort of passenger who didn’t balk.

  He understood why most people suffered from nerves before throwing themselves out of a flying metal box with a tiny piece of fabric to hold them up. But being nervous and being petrified weren’t the same thing, and Chloe obviously fit into the second category. He frowned as her chest rose and fell noticeably with her rapid breathing. Why leap out of a plane if the very thought of it terrified her?

  His first ever jump remained clear in his mind, but he had no memory of terror or panic, only elation at the thought of freefalling into the clear blue. He still got that buzz every time he leaped out the door, which was the main reason he kept doing it. Because the second his feet left the safety of the plane was the only moment he actually felt anything nowadays.

  Or it had been, until he met Chloe. His skin prickled as he recalled the heated look they’d exchanged. But he blinked and forced his mind away from the thought of taking it further. He shouldn’t be thinking about sex. Chloe shook visibly, and he had to reassure her and make this as pleasurable an experience as possible.

  He rested his hands on her upper arms and rubbed them through the long sleeves of the jumpsuit. In late January – the height of the New Zealand summer – the temperature read in the mid-twenties on the ground, but at this altitude the air had a distinct bite to it.

  ‘Are you cold?’ he asked.

  ‘N-no.’ She shivered in spite of her denial.

  He continued to rub her arms, lending her the warmth of his body, and glanced at Andy sitting opposite them, who’d be skydiving with them to video her jump. Andy raised an eyebrow, presumably to query whether she’d go through with it. Garth shrugged in return.

  ‘You okay ther
e, little lady?’ His tone was gentle, comforting. ‘Won’t be long now, and then it’ll be time to go. No more waiting.’ The anticipation was the worst part for most people.

  She nodded and swallowed, but didn’t reply.

  He tipped his head to look at her profile again and tried to think of something to say to reassure her. ‘I’ve done this hundreds of times. Don’t worry – everything will go like clockwork.’

  She closed her eyes. The pulse beat frantically in her throat. She gnawed on her bottom lip again and continued to shake in his arms.

  He had to distract her or she’d be unable to move off the bench. ‘Why do you smell of chocolate?’ He’d been wondering since she first sat in front of him.

  She opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder at him again, eyebrows raised. Then she released her plump bottom lip from between her teeth and smiled. ‘I’m a chocolatier.’ She sniffed the back of her hand. ‘I guess the smell must have seeped into my skin. Like when a person works in a fish and chip shop.’

  The mention of chocolate made him think of Nick Stewart, owner of Cocoa Heaven, the confectionary shop in the nearby town of Paihia. Garth’s stomach twisted as he thought of the man who’d taken his wife. Bile rose in his throat, and he closed his eyes. He wouldn’t reflect on that now. Making a jump demanded absolute concentration. Unlike Stewart, he would not be responsible for another person’s death.

  He opened his eyes. Chloe was looking at him. Concentrating on her might help take his mind off the man.

  He lost himself for a moment in her eyes. They really were a beautiful deep blue, his favourite colour. He liked anything that reminded him of the sky…of freedom.

  She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. His gaze slid to her mouth, and she inhaled. The air between them crackled with sexual electricity, and his heart raced again. Bad idea, Rowland. Jumping with a hard-on would probably affect wind resistance. Plus it seemed impolite to strap himself to a customer and then press his erection into her butt.

  He opted for a light-hearted attempt at conversation. ‘Chocolate’s a much nicer smell than fish and chip grease.’ The warm aroma of cocoa with a bite of ginger filled his nostrils. ‘You’re making me hungry.’

  ‘And you’re trying to distract me.’ An impish smile lit her face.

  He grinned. ‘Maybe just a little.’

  Andy signalled him, and Garth squeezed her arms. ‘Okay, Chloe. We’re at nearly fourteen thousand feet. Are you ready?’

  She nodded. ‘I can do this.’ She said the words aloud, but the unfocused look in her eyes told him she was talking to herself. ‘I am brave, whatever he says. Screw you Ethan, you bastard. I can totally do this.’

  So she was proving herself to a guy. Fair enough. His admiration for her grew. ‘Come on, honey.’ He pushed her to her feet and wrapped his left arm around her waist. ‘We’ll show him how much courage you have.’

  Excerpt from New Year’s Kisses by Rhian Cahill

  Emily Warner threw another skirt back into her closet and cursed Wade Johnson. The man had her questioning every decision she’d ever made right down to the clothes in her wardrobe. Indecision was not her thing. She was a take-charge-get-it-done kind of woman. Except when it came to Wade. Her shoulders drooped and her head fell forward as all the air left her chest. How had one man managed to shake her confidence with such profound effect? If only she hadn’t needed that favour. But she couldn’t put on a Christmas concert for the children without a Santa. Refusing his offer of help to avoid a date hadn’t seemed fair.

  She’d met Wade months ago, their attraction mutual and obvious, but Em had a five year plan and nowhere was there mention of a man, least of all one who made her stomach drop and her mind wander through a white picket fence and down the garden path. With her plan firmly in place, she’d rejected every advance he made in the hope he’d give up and move on to greener, more amenable pastures. She should have known better. A man like Wade couldn’t be brushed aside so easily. He was like a dog after a bone and now that he’d finally sunk his teeth into her, she doubted either of them would come out unscathed.

  Cursing the man and his rotten timing – and her treacherous libido – Em dove back into her closet with the determination to wear the first thing she put her hands on. Whatever she pulled out next would be it. No more waffling. The black dress she came out with was the sexiest piece of clothing she owned. Wasn’t that just typical of her current off-the-track life plan that it would be the outfit she’d grab?

  “Dammit.” Emily tossed the dress across the end of her bed and stared at it, muttering. “Dammit, dammit, dammit.”

  She didn’t have to wear it. Except she’d made a decision and she would stick to it. She’d be damned if Wade Johnson was going to make her second guess one more thing. Head high, she spun on her heel, and stomped to the bathroom. He’d arrive in less than an hour and she needed every second of that to pull herself together. Heaven forbid he see her flustered. The man would pounce on any weakness she showed and Emily Warner never showed anything but calm, cool certainty. Her shoulders drooped slightly. Until Wade.

  Steam from her shower still hovered in the bathroom and she had to swipe a towel across the mirror to clear the fog. Emily studied the face in front of her, but only saw the same woman she’d seen every day for years. Nothing had changed outwardly, but internally… Inside something was different. Cracked. It didn’t matter how much she denied it or fought it, there was no way to hide from the impact Wade had on her. He made her think of things she’d put aside years ago. Made her remember what it was to yearn for something she didn’t have and thought she didn’t want. Not yet anyway. And now he had her questioning the plan.

  With a sigh, Em pulled the towel from her head and picked up her comb. Her short hair was practical for work and the natural curl gave her a feminine look, but if she were being honest she’d have to admit the style was quite boyish. The robe she wore hung off her slender shoulders, emphasising the less than curvaceous body beneath. More proof she didn’t live up to the image of most men’s fantasies. With another sigh, she began to run the wide-toothed comb through her tangled curls. It didn’t take long to remove the knots and fluff the waves into place. Reaching for her make-up bag, she pulled out her meagre supply and set to work on her face. She may lack curves in the places men lusted after, but her face was her saving grace.

  She’d been called classically beautiful. What that meant Em wasn’t sure, but her deep blue eyes and long lashes were often called bedroom eyes, and drew more than a few compliments. Her full red lips had been described as kissable by a number of guys she’d dated over the years. Personally she thought they were over-large and took up too much of her face. To counteract her large mouth, Emily emphasised her eyes and down-played her lips. The one place she didn’t worry about make-up was at work; she never knew when one of the children would plaster a paint covered hand on her cheek, so it was best to not have to worry about cosmetic repairs at all.

  The old cuckoo clock that had been her grandmother’s whirred to life out in the living room. With a squeak of hinges and a time-worn voice, the little cuckoo sprang from his house and chirped seven times. She was down to thirty minutes before Wade arrived. He hadn’t told her where they were going or what they were doing but considering it was New Year’s Eve and he’d asked her to dress semi-formal Em expected to be attending a party or perhaps an upscale restaurant. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of spending hours with him. From the few conversations they’d engaged in over the last few months she knew he was intelligent and didn’t doubt he’d be a charming companion for the evening. It was how charming he’d prove to be that had her worried.

  Slicking on a coat of lip gloss she rolled her lips together to spread the layer evenly. She bypassed her foundation and blush and opted for a single swipe of mascara on her lashes. The temperature hadn’t lowered a great deal and she’d learned not to risk melted make-up disasters long ago. Sydney’s summers were best dealt with naturally
and today was no exception. If the weathermen were to be believed there’d be no relief from the heat in the next few days and her car’s climate control system had registered a stifling thirty-eight degrees when she’d arrived home at five o’clock.

  Emily checked her reflection one more time. Happy with both her hair and face, she made her way back to the bedroom and the black dress awaiting her. She pulled a matching bra and panties set out of her top drawer while she eyed the slinky material draped over her quilt. The fabric shimmered in the low light and Em couldn’t help but wonder what Wade would think when he saw her. A smile tugged at her lips. She’d never be a traffic stopper with her overly slender body, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t look good. Knowing how to play up her best assets had served her well in the past.

  Not that she was out to impress him.

  She slipped the belt of her robe free and shrugged out of the satin negligee she’d spent far too much money on last birthday. It wasn’t often Em spoiled herself, the plan didn’t allow for it for a start, but she’d never been one to indulge in frivolous things. While she hadn’t needed a new robe Em had found it impossible to pass up and consoled her practical side by saying it was a birthday gift to herself after exceeding the first year’s goal in her five year plan.

  Stepping into the lace underwear Em thought about how far she’d come. From high school drop-out to business owner in less years than it took most to get their degrees. Years spent with her nose buried in books earned her not only a high school certificate, but a degree in early childhood education and a business degree with a minor in accounting: all things necessary to make her childcare centre such a success that parents put their children’s name down on the waiting list before they were born. By most people’s standards she’d already made it. But Emily wasn’t quite done yet.