Killer Kisses

by Sharon Buchbinder

  He was different from the other men in her life. The restaurant business demanded so much attention and energy that love, marriage or just dating had to come second. This time she had a chance for some sanity. Not that the Inn wouldn’t demand every waking moment of her life over the coming year, but it would be hers—and Jim’s. She wanted to make a go of it now in more than one way. Was it possible to combine work and love?

  The dinner she would prepare for him had to be special, sensual—seductive. Her nipples hardened at the thought of pouring warm, sugar-free chocolate sauce all over Jim’s body, then licking it all off in slow motion. Whoa, girl. While she was an advocate of the phrase, “Life is short, eat dessert first,” there was something to be said for long, slow foreplay. She shook her head, took a deep breath and headed for the seafood counter.

  “Hey, Genie. What are you cooking up tonight?” The elderly fishmonger greeted her with a big grin. Sam always set aside the best for her. But, she noted, the lobster tank was empty. That could be a problem.

  “Think you can get some lobsters in for me tomorrow?”

  “You betcha. How many?”

  “No more than two—one-and-a-half pounders.”

  He quirked an eyebrow at her. “That’s it?”

  “Oh no, that’s just the beginning. A pound of squid, the most tender ones you have. And a half-pound of salmon.”

  “Ah, that’s more like it. Cooking for a big crowd?”

  She felt herself blush to the roots of her hair. “No. It’s more of an intimate affair—for two.”

  Sam scrutinized her carefully and whistled. “You’re catering to a different kind of party. Anyone I know?”

  She thought she’d burn up right there, in front of all the trout and cod staring up at her. “He’s not from around here.”

  “Well, you tell him for me that he’s is one lucky guy to have you cooking for him. I’m jealous.”

  “Oh, Sam, you’ll always be the one that got away.”

  He waved at her as she turned to head for the produce aisle—and ran her cart right into Beth Heade.

  “Oh, my gawd! Twice in one week. What are the chances of that?”

  “In this town? The chances are very good.” She eyed Beth’s cosmetically altered body and wondered how much she’d spent on remodeling her figure. Genie bet she could rehab the entire Inn with the cash the other woman spent on her tits and face.

  “So, are you happy with your purchase? No buyer’s regrets?”

  “No. Why would you ask that?”

  “Just wondering. Tony seemed to really want that property. Too bad he didn’t have enough cash to seal the deal.”

  What the hell? “Jim and I bought the Inn fair and square. I would think you’d be orgasmic with your fee. What’d you get, Beth? Thirty percent? Easy money for fifteen minute’s work.”

  Beth flushed. “I spent a lot of my own money marketing and advertising that place. Not to mention organizing the auction.”

  Something smells fishy and it isn’t the cod. “That guy. Tony? He seemed to think he had an in, like he was going to get the place for a song.”

  “What are you saying?” The blonde practically vibrated with anger. “I did everything by the book.”

  “Settle down. I didn’t say it was you. He just acted like he was used to getting what he wants—and was really pissed off when he didn’t.”

  Mollified, Beth glanced around the nearly empty aisle. She lowered her voice. “I think he’s—” She raised her eyebrows and widened her already over sized eyes.

  Genie had no idea what she was getting at. “He’s what?”

  The realtor looked around again and whispered. “From New Jersey.” She bobbled her head several times and frowned, as if to emphasize that was one state not to be from under any circumstances.

  Convinced the blonde had been sipping the cooking sherry in aisle three, Genie said, “Okay. Thanks for the tip. I’ve got to get going now.”

  Beth did not seem to be in a good state of mind. In fact her comments were downright bizarre. She and Jim had better get a lawyer to review all the paperwork for the purchase of the inn—just in case. Who knew what the realtor might have slipped into the fine print?

  ~*~

  With butterflies dancing the hoochie-koochie in his stomach, Jim stood on the front porch of Genie’s house at the appointed hour, clutching a dozen hot-pink roses, his finger poised to press the doorbell. A Halloween witch that appeared to have flown into the siding stuck out of the wall and cobwebs were draped over the light fixture.

  Why was he so nervous? It was just dinner. Right? Visions of Genie’s teasing cleavage danced before his eyes. No. He wanted it to be more than dinner. A whole lot more. He took a deep breath and leaned on the bell.

  A moment later, the object of his desire appeared framed by the doorway, fiery hair pulled up in a ponytail, her luscious breasts covered by a huge black apron that read, Never Trust a Skinny Chef.

  He handed her the flowers. “Trick or treat?”

  “I’d say treat. Thanks come on in.” She stepped aside to give him room to pass.

  He wanted to grab her in the doorway, drag her into the bedroom and take her right then and there. Down boy. No need to act like a Neanderthal. He cleared his throat. “Did you get a lot of kids?”

  “About two dozen little ones with their parents. After dinner, the teenagers came out in droves. Most of them weren’t even in costume. I ran out of candy bars and turned the light off at ten. What about you?”

  “The Motel Seven wasn’t in the holiday spirit.” He grinned. “Just as well, I forgot my costume. The only thing I could have gone as was Adam.”

  She blushed and said, “That would have been interesting.” She handed him a glass of champagne. “To celebrate our purchase, I thought we’d begin with a Perrier Jouet. And, since we seem to be in an Indian summer, we’re having appetizers on the patio.”

  She led him through the living room under a cuckoo clock made to look like a green-and-red Swiss chalet. “Interesting timepiece you’ve got there.”

  “My father gave it to my mother years ago, on their second date.” She opened the sliding glass door. “He wanted her to be reminded every hour of the day that he was cuckoo for her. Corny, hunh?”

  He clinked her glass. “To corny love.”

  She pointed to the small square white dishes on the glass topped patio table. “Tonight’s amuse bouche is salmon tartare on five-spice crisps.”

  After he sat, she placed a cloth napkin on his lap. The simple motion aroused him. He shifted in his seat, grateful for the camouflage. He turned to the tasty morsels at hand, closed his eyes and crunched into what appeared to be a large wonton crisp—but with tastes of clove, peppercorn, cinnamon, fennel, and anise dancing on his tongue. Layered in with these flavors were salmon, wasabi, ginger, and a touch of spicy sushi sauce. He moaned, opened his eyes and saw Genie watching him.

  He took a sip of champagne. “More please?”

  “You may have two more—that’s it, or you won’t be able to enjoy the rest of the meal.”

  He savored each bite and realized the chef was not on the patio with him. “Where’d you go?”

  “Not to worry.” She appeared from another sliding glass door bearing a large platter covered with golden brown rings drizzled with a red sauce and garnished with something green. She placed the dish in front of him. “Sweet-and-spicy calamari, toasted peanuts, and cilantro.”

  “Can taste buds explode?”

  She inclined her head. “We shall see. Bon appétit.”

  “Won’t you join me?”

  She sank into a chair opposite from him. “Just for a few moments. I have kitchen duty, you know.”

  “Yes, and I’m grateful.”

  She smirked. “We’ll see how grateful in a while.”

  Was that a signal? Was she coming on to him? His heart raced and his pants stirred. Focus on food, Dammit. He reached for the calamari. Spicy sweet-and-sour flavors rioted with combine
d textures of crunchy light tempura batter and tender squid. He licked his fingers. “Dear God, please serve this in heaven.”

  When Genie laughed, the smile reached all the way up to her sparkling eyes. “You approve?”

  “Mmm, yes. Why aren’t you married?”

  She eyed him and took a sip of bubbly. “You first.”

  “I was.” He grabbed another piece of calamari. “To a hot blonde blackjack dealer.” He crunched, savoring the flavors.

  “And?”

  “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

  “Not fair.”

  “She left me for a higher roller. Your turn.”

  She popped a piece of calamari into her mouth and ran her tongue around her lips slowly, getting every little crumb. His pants grew tighter. “Sommelier boyfriend became alcoholic.”

  “Occupational hazard.”

  She nodded. “I swore off romance for a while and became best-friends-forevah with every gay guy in New York City. Lots of great shopping stories.” She sipped her wine. “Fell like King Kong diving off the Empire State Building for my new executive chef. Man was he hot.” She fanned herself.

  A flash of jealousy surprised him. “And?”

  “Hot, as in temper. As in throwing dishes, pots—anything at hand.” She shook her head. “He was Italian; I nicknamed him Mount Vesuvius. I left him and the job the day after he threw an iron skillet, missed me and dented the wall.” She dusted her hands off. “That was that. He’s the reason I’m here.”

  Jim reached over and grabbed her hand. Heat pulsed off her palm. “What’s his address? I’ll send him a thank-you note.”

  She stood and gave him a Mona Lisa smile. “Save your thanks for when you’re done with dinner.”

  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 downwar
d. 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.