Delicious

by Lori Foster, Lucy Monroe, Sarah Little

  At least, he had never believed in that stuff before.

  And then Mona took his hand and led him to the back of the house, to what was clearly her bedroom, and he thanked all of the stars and pennies and clovers in the universe for whatever had gone through this woman’s head to make her decide that this was a good idea.

  Looking at her in those little black shorts, he felt certain this was a good idea.

  But when she turned to face him, her pale green eyes turned dark with desire, her skin seeming to glow from it, he knew this was a great idea.

  She took a step back and he followed, deeper into the room. She ripped the Apple of My Pie tank top off, and as she did, her hair came loose and fell in soft waves around her face and over her shoulders. She was amazing. She had a little bit of a tan, that healthy glow of someone who spent a lot of time outdoors. He had noticed her skin before, and appreciated it. But tonight she seemed lighter, luminescent.

  And very, very touchable.

  “You’re glowing,” he said as he approached her, because he thought she should know.

  “It’s the moon,” she said, indicating her open curtains. The moon was huge, and light seemed to come off of it in waves, cutting through the clear, cloudless night. Mona walked over to the window and started to close the curtains.

  “Don’t,” Dan said, taking just a quick moment to rip his own pink shirt over his head. “You look beautiful. And the neighbors are far away, right?”

  “Right,” she said quietly, then turned back to the moon.

  Dan came up behind her and ran his hands down her shoulders, over her arms to capture her hands and move them from the curtains. She turned, then released his hands and reached around herself to unclasp her bra. It fell on the floor between them, but Dan barely noticed. He just put his hands back on her shoulders and pulled her close, feeling skin on skin, and took her mouth in a deep kiss.

  Her hands felt amazing on his back. They were warm and strong, and he shuddered as she ran them up and down his spine. He wondered if his skin felt as good to her as hers did to him. She was soft, but underneath that softness he could feel her strength. The girl had muscles everywhere—her shoulders, her arms—and she shuddered, too, as he ran his hands down her back. Her back was probably tired from all that standing and leaning, so he pressed harder, massaging, and she melted into him, her mouth opening wider. He didn’t think it would be possible to do it, but he deepened the kiss, their tongues clashing, and he felt her arms tighten around his waist. God, she was sweet. She felt hot and amazing.

  She sighed and let out a little moan. Part of him wanted to rub her back all night if this was how good it made her feel. But the horny part of him won out, and he ran his hands lower, over those little black shorts and over the curves of her bottom. Then he ran up her back again—she liked it, and he was a giver—and then back down, this time reaching into the waistband of her shorts, feeling her flesh under his hands. She squirmed against him, and her hands mirrored his movements. He didn’t think it would have been possible for him to get any harder, but those strong hands running over his backside squeezed and he pressed closer to her heat and he thought probably he should get these pants off, soon.

  She pulled away and looked up at him. She was flushed, her lips swollen, her curls in a tangle around her face. He brushed her hair away and tried to catch his breath. She was beautiful, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

  She looked into his eyes for a moment, and something was happening in that brain of hers, because she smiled, just a little quirk on the side of her mouth, and her hands reached for his belt.

  “Let’s see what you’ve got going on under those khakis.”

  Holy crap. Mona thought by now she should be over it every time Dan surprised her. She’d thought he was uptight, but he turned out to be sweet and thoughtful. She’d thought he was a flimsy pencil pusher, but he was strong; he was damn muscular. His shoulders were wide and defined, and the layer of dark blond hair on his chest did nothing to hide the musculature there. And his butt. That was pretty good, too.

  So many surprises.

  When they’d started talking earlier, she’d thought he had a one-track mind, that he would be all business. But, surprise, surprise, his one-track mind seemed to be focused in a much more pleasurable direction.

  What other surprises did this Khaki Love God have in store for her?

  She undid the buckle on his sensible brown belt, the leather making a zipping sound as she pulled it through the loops. Her hands fumbled a little with the button on his khakis, but she managed. She pushed them down over his hips and he stepped out of them. He was wearing boxer briefs, and normally she would say that those were a silly kind of underwear for men who couldn’t decide what they wanted, but this was no time for joking. Not when she saw what he was packing inside those briefs.

  Mona took a hold of him then, and he was hot and heavy in her hand, even through his underwear. Dan swore under his breath but she heard it anyway, and it was another surprise for her that he even knew words like that. He pulled her hand away, a strangled “not yet” coming from his throat, and then his hands were all over her. She started to work his underwear down over that amazing accountant butt, but as soon as his lips hit her neck, she lost track of all of the parts of him she wanted to touch. Because at the same time as his lips hit her neck, his hands came up to cup her breasts, and he was doing amazing, reverential things to them, weighing them gently in his palms, running his fingers over her nipples. Then he started being amazing and reverential with his mouth and she almost lost it right there, right against the window with the curtains wide open and the moon shining in on them, making his hair glow.

  His clever mouth stayed where it was, and she gasped and pressed his head closer to her, as if he could get any closer. But his clever hands started moving and she felt the shush against her skin as her panties hit the floor, and then his hands were all over her. He kneeled in front of her, his mouth still on her breasts and his hands firm on her hips. He elbowed her legs a little farther apart and she wanted to say, “Wait, hold on, that’s not fair, we should—” but she couldn’t get it out before his mouth was on her and his tongue was inside her and she was pulling on his hair and making loud, strange noises and throwing her head back, and the moon blinded her as she shouted out in ecstasy.

  Mona struggled to catch her breath and concentrated really hard on locking her knees so she didn’t topple all over this poor, sweet man who was still kneeling on the floor, caressing her hips gently and looking up at her with a Cheshire cat smile. She added a curse of her own, then weakly reached under his arms to pull him up toward her. She didn’t think she could actually make him move at that point—she was kind of surprised she was able to move herself—but he got the hint and he kissed his way up her belly, through the valley between her breasts, her neck, her chin, then he was back at her mouth and she was on fire again. She wrapped herself around him, arms tight around his neck, legs around his waist, and he stumbled backward onto the bed, which was what she had in mind anyway, so that was fine. She straddled him, pressed her whole body against him as they kissed, then reached over into her nightstand for a condom. He grabbed it from her hand, and that was another surprise—he was the world’s fastest condom putter-onner. She started to lean over to the side, to let him get on top, but he held on to her arm and pulled her hips on top of his and, oh, my God, she thought. She reared up, sitting up on top of him, her hands on that amazing chest, and she wasn’t sure if she was riding or holding on, but together they found their rhythm and he was deep inside of her and then she was cresting that wave again, calling out his name as she shook. The last thing she remembered as she fell into a heap on his chest was him shuddering beneath her, banding his arms around her back and whispering her name desperately into her ear.

  Eight

  Dan’s body was exhausted, but he felt, strangely, not exhausted at all. He barely had the strength to pull Mona into his arms. He managed, though, a
nd she nestled in. He closed his eyes to try to sleep, just for a second, but he found he couldn’t stop his fingers from running up and down her arm. Then she sighed and snuggled closer to him, and he shifted a little so he could follow the same path along her back.

  He just couldn’t stop touching her.

  “Wow,” she whispered into his shoulder.

  He smiled, even with his eyes closed. He felt the same. The same, but more, and if he had had more energy, he would be jumping up and down on the bed and shouting his Wow. But he was tired. Too tired to do anything but hold Mona and sweep his hands over her soft skin.

  “I should get up.” She sighed.

  That woke him up.

  But he played it cool. At least, he hoped he did. He just banded his arms around her and wouldn’t let her go.

  She laughed. “I have work to do.”

  “Just one more minute,” he pleaded.

  She sighed. “Fine. One minute. I’m counting.”

  But then she sighed again and tossed her leg over his, and he felt her back relax and she melted even closer. Ha. She wasn’t going to be counting.

  “What would happen if you didn’t count, and you just stayed here with me?”

  “Well,” she said, turning a little and looking up at the ceiling, “I wouldn’t make any money and I’d miss a mortgage payment and I’d have to live in my pink truck, which is against health code regulations, so then my business would be shut down, so I would be destitute and miserable and pathetic.”

  “I’m impressed with your post-coital banter.”

  She laughed. “Sorry, I get a little defensive.”

  He shifted over so he was on his side and propped a hand under his head to look at her. He wanted to ask her serious questions and talk about this thing that was growing inside him, that had started when they talked and now was expanding to fill half of his chest, and that he was pretty sure had to do with her, and that he was almost positive was a good thing. But the moon was still high and still shining through the curtains, and her tan skin was luminescent and she was lying there on her back, looking up at the ceiling and not at him, and he wanted to ask her what was going on in that head of hers and he would, he promised himself, he would, but his hand wasn’t listening, and he gently rubbed her stomach, up between her breasts, down her side, just feeling as much of her as he could, as if he could absorb that moonglow into him and keep her here forever.

  Mona did not want to get up. She wanted more than anything in the world to lie in bed all night with Dan stroking her skin. Everywhere he touched, he left a little trail of sensation, so she continued to feel him even when his fingers had moved on. She could feel herself start to get interested in more than simple touching. She thought maybe he had a few more tricks up his khakis, and she had a few of her own she wanted to share.

  But she couldn’t.

  She had to bake.

  It wasn’t as dire as she’d told Dan; missing one day probably wouldn’t be the end of the world, but she had told people she would be there. People were expecting her. Adam was expecting a fruit tart, because his in-laws were coming to town and he wanted to impress them.

  Plus, this was how she made her living. When the moon was full, Apple of My Pie became her life. She couldn’t throw it all away just because some guy was amazing in bed.

  She looked over at Dan. Man, she wanted to throw it all away.

  She had to make him understand. She felt pretty sure that if she just said she had to get ready for tomorrow, he would accept her explanation and that would be it. But it wouldn’t be enough. She wanted more from him. Not just more sex, although that would be . . . nice. He was nice. She felt drawn to him and it scared her, but she couldn’t help what she wanted any more than she could help that the moon was pouring in the window and it was making her fingers itch to get her hands on some flour and dough.

  If he couldn’t accept her for who she was, curses and all, that would be it. No more Khaki Dan, back to real life.

  She felt his hands run lightly over her breasts, just a breath.

  She could so easily just let him sleep (surely the poor man must be tired), go to the kitchen, and then wake him up for round two. It was what she had always done.

  And look how well it had worked out for her before.

  She was alone. Not really alone—she had amazing friends, and she loved her life, truly. But she didn’t have a partner. And she would never get one if she shied away from sharing with Dan the biggest part of her life. That she was cursed.

  She could do it. She had to do it.

  She just wouldn’t look at him while she did.

  “I have to get ready for tomorrow.”

  “Already?” He nuzzled into her neck.

  Damn him.

  “There’s kind of a lot to do,” she said to the ceiling, ignoring the thrill that coursed through her as his fingers roamed.

  “Can it wait a few minutes?”

  “How many minutes?”

  He looked down at her. “If I say three, will you be offended?”

  She laughed, and looked away. She couldn’t face those eyes, because she saw desire and tenderness there. And soon, that would be gone.

  “No.”

  He rolled over so he was on his back too, his arm touching hers. They looked up at the ceiling together.

  “Can I help?” he asked. “I should warn you, I’ve never baked anything in my life.”

  “Wow, that’s . . . a generous offer.”

  “I can, I don’t know, grease the pan. Or cut stuff. I know how to cut stuff.”

  She nudged his shoulder with hers. “You’re sweet, but I have to do it on my own.”

  “Oh, OK.”

  “Are you offended?”

  “No! I mean, my pride is a little.” He clutched his heart. “Ouch. But that’s fine. Do you need me to go?”

  Yes. No. Yes.

  “I have something to tell you,” she told the ceiling.

  “OK.”

  “About my business.”

  Dan sat up. She continued to look at the ceiling.

  “There’s a reason I bake only certain times of the month.”

  “Ha! I knew it! Mafia connections? Do you have to wait for the ingredients to fall off the back of a truck?”

  “That’s the first thing your brain goes to? I have a weird schedule so you think I’m in the Mafia?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “It’s just—”

  “Oh! Do you have a kid? And the kid lives with her dad most of the time and so when you don’t have her you bake?”

  “What? Dan! That—what?”

  “No kids?”

  “Don’t you think if I had a child you would have seen some evidence of her by now?”

  “Oh, so you agree your imaginary child is a girl.”

  “Dan! I’m trying to tell you something here.”

  “OK, I’m listening.” He lay back down and joined her in ceiling gazing.

  “I’m cursed.”

  He sat up. “Cursed?”

  “Well, gifted, maybe.”

  “The Mafia is ridiculous, but a curse is something I’m supposed to believe?” He flopped back down next to her. “Good one.”

  “Just . . . just listen, please.” She didn’t look at him, but she held on to his arm so he would stay put. “I don’t know where it came from, but my grandmother had it and my father had it.”

  “The curse.”

  Without looking at him, she threw a hand over his mouth.

  “Yes, the curse.” She turned, finally, and looked at him. He looked like he wanted to say something, so she kept her hand on his mouth. She took a deep breath. She told him the truth. “The curse has everything to do with my business. You know how my baking is amazing?”

  He nodded, but she kept her hand in place.

  “That doesn’t always happen. In fact, most of the time, my baking is disgusting. Like, Brussels-sprouts-and-mud disgusting.”

  He raised an eyebrow. She
kept going.

  “But during the full moon, that changes. I don’t do anything different, same ingredients, same family recipes, but suddenly everything tastes amazingly good. It happens only during the full moon and a day or two surrounding it. It gets stronger as the moon gets stronger, then it dies back down. So those are the only days I bake, and those are the only days I run my truck. Because if I did it every day, the bad days would outnumber the delicious ones and people would be so grossed out that I would have no business.”

  She stopped talking; that was kind of all she had to say. But she didn’t move her hand; she wasn’t ready for what he had to say, not yet.

  He took her wrist and pulled her away from his mouth, and then he smiled.

  OK, she thought. That wasn’t so bad.

  Then he laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling, his head thrown back and tears streaming down his cheeks.

  “A curse? Mona, come on. . . . Wait, are you being serious?”

  Forget it, she thought. Not worth it. She stood up and took one last look at him, lying naked on her bed. Maybe worth it, but not right now. She grabbed her robe and headed for the kitchen.

  She had work to do.

  Nine

  Dan was not known as a spontaneous, jokey kind of person, but these past few hours with Mona he had laughed more than he had in a long, long time. Mona brought that out in him—the long-buried silliness and fun that he had somehow misplaced while building his business. She made him fun again.

  So he was a little confused to find himself lying in bed, alone, after another hilarious quip about why her business was so sporadic. He watched her retreat to the bathroom, then head back out and down the hall. He heard noises coming from the kitchen—cabinet doors, pans on the counter, the fridge opening and closing.

  She really was working.

  What had he said that had upset her?

  And how could he go back in time and un-say it?

  Maybe her curse would help her turn back time and they could go back to the part where they were making love. He would be willing to relive that again, no problem.