Passionate Kisses

by Various

  He stiffened. “Have you kissed him?”

  “No.”

  He kissed her to remind her she was his. She clutched at his shirt and made those little whimpers in the back of her throat that got him every time. He broke away abruptly. He had to focus on the job.

  She smiled dreamily at him, eyes soft, a gentle smile playing on her lips.

  His voice came out low and gravelly. “I can’t wait to get you back to my place.” He glanced at the restaurant door again, still no movement.

  “Me too.”

  Their gazes locked, until he reluctantly turned back to the door.

  She started talking about Gran, and he gladly let her rattle on about how well she was doing, how happy she was. He was glad she was still looking out for his grandmother. In the back of his mind, he kept thinking about what Liz had said earlier, that he was meant for better things.

  Harvey finally left with his mistress, and they followed them to her condo in the same town. He snapped a few pictures of them walking up to the front door, his hand on her ass, her looking up at him under her lashes. Then kissing in front of the door and barreling through it in each other’s arms. Good enough.

  “I got the evidence,” he said. “We’re outta here.”

  “Good,” she said softly.

  He headed toward home. “What’d you mean when you said I was meant for better things?”

  “I’ve seen the way you help your family. You’re good at helping people. And I just think you can do better than the cheating spouses business.”

  Helping family was one thing, facing a kid with a gun something else. With no real intention behind it, he told her, “I’ll think it over.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Liz woke with a start to the sun peeking in the sides of the shades in Ryan’s room—way past dawn. Her arms and legs were tangled with Ryan’s. Shoot. She eased his leg out from where it had wedged between hers, slowly rolled over, and sat up on the side of the bed. She’d just started to stand when his arm shot out and grabbed her wrist. She gasped in surprise. She’d thought he was sleeping.

  “Hey,” he said, his eyes still heavy-lidded with sleep. “You want to grab lunch later?”

  “I can’t,” she said. “I have plans with Rachel.” She didn’t, but she could stop by Book It anytime. This was the first time she’d ever been with a man just for fun, and she didn’t want to do anything stupid like get attached. She knew he wasn’t looking for long term. She had to keep him in this one compartment of her life—nighttime fun.

  His fingers stroked up and down her wrist. She burned at his touch and found herself leaning toward him while her brain screamed at her to get out while she still could.

  “You said you had plans with Rachel tonight,” he said.

  “I do.” She stood abruptly. “I have both—day and night plans.”

  He laid flat on his back and scrubbed a hand over his face. “You never go out with me in public.” He turned his head and pinned her with his sharp gaze. “Too ugly for you?”

  She looked at his beautiful tousled caramel brown hair, hazel eyes, stubbled jaw, all that golden muscle—how could he think that? He was the sexiest, most gorgeous man she’d ever set eyes on.

  She crawled back on the bed and kissed him soundly on the mouth. “You are too hot for your own good.” She pulled back, up and off the bed, before things could go any further. Grabbing her purse, she headed resolutely for the door, ignoring the throbbing parts that ached for him. “Go back to sleep.”

  “Call me,” he said as she left.

  She stopped in the hallway just outside his bedroom, struck with the fact that maybe he wanted more with her than just a casual fling. Then she heard him mutter, “Pathetic,” and feeling rather indignant, she took the stairs at a brisk pace.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Liz stood on the side of the library’s large meeting room for a special mystery author event, hosted jointly by the library and Rachel’s bookstore. The four cozy mystery authors sat in folding chairs at the front of the room, prepared to discuss their latest books—Cupcakes and Corpses, Knit Killers, Meow is for Murder, and Killer on Ice (part of the Ice Cream Shop series). Maggie sat right upfront, her knitting group across the aisle, all of them huge fans of the Knit One, Kill Two series. Rachel stood at the ready to refill the authors’ water glasses.

  The Cupcakes and Corpses author went first, talking about the newest adventure for pastry chef/detective Cherry Parsons. Somehow Liz knew the moment Ryan arrived. Her eyes met his as he walked in with Shane and took a seat. What were the two brothers doing here? The audience was nearly all women, with a few husbands that were dragged along. Ryan smiled, and her heart sped up. She still had to get used to the effect of a full-wattage smile from him. Shane waved. She gave a little wave back.

  Next, the author of Knit Killers explained how she used the Kitchener stitch as a key clue to discover the pattern of the killer’s crime spree. Maggie raised her hand and offered several suggestions for future books. One in Scotland: “A murder committed with an Aran sweater, and plenty of men with kilts!” One in Norway: “A murderer who leaves a different pattern of Norwegian knitted mittens at the scene of the crime, and throw in some hot Vikings too!” And one in America involving a “knitted patriotic bikini and a cowboy.”

  Liz wondered if she should interrupt Maggie’s increasingly X-rated suggestions. She looked to Rachel, whose eyes were bulging. Rachel took a step forward to intervene when the author indicated they should hear more from the next author.

  After the author panel, the audience poured into the main section of the library, where tables had been set up to purchase the authors’ latest books and have them signed. Liz spotted Shane and Ryan waiting in line to buy some books.

  “Hi, guys, I didn’t know you were fans of cozy mysteries,” she said.

  “I’m a diehard fan of the Ice Cream Shop series,” Shane said, holding up Killer on Ice. “Priscilla Matthews knows her stuff. She’s an ice cream shop owner up in Maine.”

  “I didn’t know that. Very cool.” Liz turned to Ryan. “And you?”

  Ryan grabbed a book from the next table. “I love Meow is for Murder: the Purrfect Crime. Where would Detective Tibbets be without”—he checked the back of the book—“Mr. Sparkles.” He snort-laughed, and she smiled, holding back a laugh out of respect for the author, an eighty-year-old woman not too far away, though thankfully the woman was hard of hearing as she kept asking the person waiting for an autograph to speak up.

  “You and Rachel want to stop by Shane’s shop after for ice cream?” Ryan asked.

  “I can’t,” Liz said.

  Shane shifted to the other side of the table and picked up another book.

  “Why not?” Ryan sounded annoyed.

  “I have to help her close out the register and bring the unsold books back.”

  He studied her for a moment. She could almost see the wheels turning.

  “I want to show you something,” he said. “Back here.”

  He took her by the elbow and led her to the 900 section, a corner of the library that was deserted.

  She looked around. “What is it?”

  He put a hand on the small of her back and tugged her close. “This.” He kissed her gently and, when she sank into his body, deepened the kiss. His tongue mated with hers as his hands untucked her shirt and slipped underneath to stroke the bare skin of her back. Her brain set off alarm bells. This is a public place! Her hands went to his chest, thinking she should push him away soon, but then he wedged a leg between hers, putting pressure on that sensitive spot, and her mind went blessedly blank. She moaned as he slid one large hand in her hair, his other hand firmly on her bottom, increasing the pressure. He urged her on, kissing, demanding, increasing the friction until she was panting and desperate to have him.

  He set her back from him, his eyes heated with desire. “Come over after you’re done here.”

  She touched her lips. They still tingled from his kiss, her body d
renched in pleasure. She nodded once, smoothed her hair, and walked shakily back to the event.

  “What happened to you?” Rachel asked when she appeared at the book sale table.

  “What do you mean?” Liz smoothed her hair again.

  “Your hair is a mess, and you’re glowing. Did you just…”

  “Shhh,” Liz said.

  Mrs. Peters, her old first-grade teacher, was next in line and looked Liz over. “She’s right. You are glowing.”

  Liz’s ears burned. “I stepped outside. It’s hot.” She patted her hair. “And windy.”

  “O-kay.” Rachel gave her a knowing smile.

  “Excuse me,” Liz said. “I’m going to get some water.” She fled the room. She was going to kill Ryan for leaving her in this state in front of Rachel, her first-grade teacher, and half the town. But first she was going to have her way with him and make him pay. She smiled in anticipation.

  ~ ~ ~

  A couple of days later, Liz tried to look inconspicuous sitting at the end of the bar at Garner’s while Rachel sat a few seats away, waiting for a blind date. It wasn’t too crowded on a Thursday night, so Liz figured she should be able to hear their conversation. If not, they’d worked out a signal—Rachel would clean her glasses. Given the signal or any obvious hint that the date was going badly, she was to step outside and call Rachel’s cell. Rachel could then make a speedy polite exit.

  Her friend toyed with the skinny straw in a glass of sangria, having already eaten the maraschino cherry and orange wedge. She wore a purple ribbon on the end of her braid so Burt Boone, Janelle from the bookstore’s cousin, could find her.

  Liz inclined her head toward the entrance. A thirty-something man with black hair parted to the side and an impressive build had just walked in. He wore a Superman T-shirt complete with a giant S on the chest. He scanned the bar with his X-ray vision, looking for Rachel. Liz bit her lip to hold back a giggle.

  Rachel turned and moved her braid to the front, where the ribbon was plainly visible. “Are you Burt?”

  “Are you Rachel?”

  “Yes. Nice to meet you, Burt.”

  “Ditto.” He signaled to the bartender. “Bud.” He slid onto the barstool between Rachel and Liz. Perfect. Liz would be able to hear everything he said.

  Rachel looked happy that her date wasn’t a troll. Go, Janelle.

  “Can I see your glasses?” Burt asked, reaching for them.

  “Sure, I guess.” Rachel handed them over.

  Burt slid the black-framed lenses on. “Who do I look like?”

  Rachel studied him and his Superman T-shirt. “Clark Kent?”

  “Exactly. Thank you.” He handed the glasses back and downed half his beer that had just arrived, ending with a discreet belch. His eyes wandered to the TV across the bar, where a Red Sox game was starting.

  Rachel sipped some sangria and waited. A long moment passed.

  Surely he wouldn’t ignore Rachel on their very first date?

  He did. The pull of the game was too strong. Liz waited for the signal from Rachel.

  But her best friend wasn’t giving up yet.

  “Janelle tells me you’re a big reader,” Rachel said loudly.

  Burt reluctantly peeled his eyes away from the TV. “Oh yeah, I read all the time.”

  Liz’s hopes for her friend soared. Now the date would really take off. It was perfect—Rachel loved books, Burt loved books. What better thing to have in common with the owner of a bookstore?

  “What do you like to read?” Rachel asked.

  “Comic books, all kinds. But I’m especially a fan of Superman, given our resemblance. Feel these guns.” He flexed his biceps.

  Rachel stared at his arm. “No, thank you.”

  “It’s okay. Touch ’em. I don’t even need that fake padding in my Superman costume.”

  Rachel gingerly touched a muscle. “Very nice.” She took a healthy swallow of sangria.

  Burt gave her a sly smile. “How do you feel about role-playing?”

  Uh-oh. Now Rachel will give the signal.

  Rachel narrowed her eyes at him, getting mad instead of fleeing the scene like any sensible blind-date victim would. “What did you have in mind?”

  Burt took that as encouragement. “I have costumes. You could be Lois Lane to my Superman. I’ve got a business suit like girl reporters wore in the forties and a press badge. It looks real authentic.”

  “I don’t think so.” Rachel enunciated each syllable clearly.

  “Or you could be Wonder Woman,” Burt went on agreeably. “I’ve got that one too.”

  Rachel picked up her drink and stood. “I don’t think this is going to work out, Burt. Have a nice night.”

  “Wait! Do you know anyone who might be into the superhero thing? Doesn’t have to be a brunette. I have a smokin’ hot wig.”

  “No,” Rachel said between clenched teeth. “I don’t know another woman to set you up with. Goodbye.”

  Burt pursed his lips, looking like a very cranky Superman. “Yeah? Well, this ball game is a lot more interesting than you.” With that, he turned back to the TV.

  Liz met Rachel at the front of the restaurant. Her friend was still clutching her sangria. “I’m sorry, Rach.”

  Rachel sighed. “My mother wants to set me up with a nice Jewish guy.”

  Alan Zinkman appeared out of nowhere. “I’m a nice Jewish guy. Why don’t you go out with me?”

  Rachel turned and shot him a withering look. “It’s hard to feel special when you ask me out, Alan. You’ve asked out nearly everyone in town. It’s like you don’t care who it is, you’ll be with anyone.”

  He leered at her. “Only the pretty ones.”

  She rolled her eyes. Alan headed for the bar and chatted up Cindy Rukowski, a pretty woman who worked at the dry cleaner’s.

  “Nachos?” Liz asked.

  Rachel lifted her sangria in the air. “Yes.”

  Liz found them a back booth where they could have some privacy.

  Rachel slid in to the booth. “I’m sure one day I’ll laugh about all this, but right now it sucks.” She drank to that.

  “I don’t know,” Liz said with a straight face, “I think you’d make an excellent Wonder Woman.”

  Rachel’s lips twitched.

  “As soon as you order that invisible airplane from the Superhero Transportation Dealer, you’ll be all set.”

  Rachel laughed.

  The waiter arrived with water and took their order for a jumbo nachos deluxe.

  Rachel stirred her sangria with the straw. “So are you still seeing Ryan?”

  Liz nodded. “Yeah, I see him, here and there.”

  “I have to live vicariously through you. What kind of dates does he plan? Are they romantic?” Rachel sipped her sangria.

  Liz shrugged. “I usually show up at his place.”

  “So he never takes you out?”

  Liz leaned forward to confide, “I don’t want to go anywhere. I just want to see him late at night for”—she lowered her voice—“you know.”

  Rachel’s eyes went wide. “Omigod, Liz, you just show up for sex, and that’s it?”

  “Shhhh…yes.”

  “You realize you sound like a guy.”

  Liz sipped her water and considered this. A flash of insight into the male psyche occurred to her. It was freedom, pure and simple.

  “This is the new Liz,” she explained. “The grab-life-by-the-balls Liz.” At Rachel’s shocked expression, she added, “I borrowed that from Maggie.”

  “From his grandmother?” Rachel asked incredulously.

  “Yes. Old Liz would’ve sat by the phone wondering if he’d call, wondering where the relationship was going, wasting so much time and energy analyzing every detail.” She raised her palms. “I just let all that go. It’s very freeing. I show up when I want. I leave when I want. I’m happy, he’s happy. Can I be honest?”

  Rachel gave her a wry look. “Please do.”

  “For the first time, this
guy thing is easy.”

  Rachel sipped her drink, looking thoughtful. “Don’t you care about him?”

  “Of course I do, but I’m not going to make a fool of myself and get my heart trampled on.”

  Rachel’s lips pressed tightly together like they did just before she said what was on her mind. Liz braced herself.

  “It sounds like you’re not giving him a fair chance,” Rachel said.

  “Okay, let’s say I spend a lot of time with him. I get attached, start imagining a future for us when there isn’t one. Rach, he’s never had a serious relationship, and I think there’s a reason for that.”

  Rachel stirred the straw in her drink. “Maybe he never stuck around because he just hadn’t met the right person. Maybe he was just waiting for you.”

  A tiny flutter of hope went up in Liz’s heart and then quickly died. The cold, hard truth was that Ryan had never given any indication that his feelings for her went beyond a quick lay. She’d had it right the first time.

  “You sound like a Hallmark commercial,” Liz teased. “Where’s the jaded Rachel I know and love?”

  Their food arrived, and they dug in. Liz took a chip covered in cheese, sour cream, and guacamole and bit into a little bit of gooey heaven.

  Then Rachel ruined it. “All I’m saying is if the sex is good, why not add in the boyfriend stuff. The sex is good, right?”

  Liz nodded enthusiastically. “Maybe that’s why it’s good. It’s not like we have anything in common.”

  Rachel bit into a chip and washed it down with sangria. “If one of you doesn’t step up, then you’re both idiots.”

  Liz smiled. “At least we’re satisfied idiots.”

  “Braggart.” Rachel flagged the waiter. “I’ll take another sangria, please!”

  Chapter Twenty

  Three weeks later…

  Ryan had had enough. More than a month of booty calls and Liz still wouldn’t go out with him in public. Which was why he found himself driving to her apartment on a Tuesday night after another weekend where he only saw her after she went out with her friends, which better not have included a guy.