Killer Kisses (21 page)

“Genie, would you like to share?”

Startled out of her reverie, she almost levitated off the folding chair. “I was hoping you wouldn’t call on me, Wendy.”

The group leader shook her head. “No way. You’re our poster child for success. Tell our new members what you did this week.”

“Well, I used to try to hide under big chef’s jackets and pants.” She avoided eye contact with the muumuu clad woman in the chair next to hers. “But this week, I had an important event to attend. So I screwed up my courage, braved the thoughts of store clerks looking down their noses at me and went clothes shopping for the first time in over a year. I bought a great looking suit and a gorgeous blouse. Now, I
did
have to tug at the waistband a bit, but I
was
able to zip the skirt.”

To murmurs of encouragement, warmth rushed up her neck. “Then, I ran into someone I knew from high school—and he asked me out for a date. So, this week I learned that just because I’m a big girl, doesn’t mean I have to hide my body under a burlap sack.”

“Awesome. Next week, we expect full details about that date.” Wendy grinned and winked at her. “Would anyone else like to share?”

A sudden, unwelcome thought crept into her mind. Maybe she was just kidding herself. Good looking guys like Jim, usually didn’t even give her a second look. Why did he? Did Jim
really
like her for her chubby self? Or was he just being nice to her because he wanted the inn?

~*~

If Vinny ever found out Tony had been outbid, the Newark mob boss would ride his underling’s ass forever. The family’s reputation depended on successful business negotiations. Tony couldn’t go back to New Jersey with his tail between his legs. He might as well put a sign on his back that said “Kick me,” because the rest of the guys would never let him live it down. He could just hear them saying, “There’s that loser who couldn’t even manage to buy a shitty, old hotel.” No way could he ever let those two idiots, especially the fat bimbo—get the best of him.

Flashlight in hand, he paced the length of the basement and checked the old copper pipes one more time. It was easy to spot the weak places and add a little more stress with his trusty hammer. Over time, water pressure would widen the cracks. He stuffed some gum into his mouth. Soon the Inn would be his.

CHAPTER FIVE

~*~

The next morning, Genie drove past the SPD and parked next to the grocery store. Even though Officer Webster Bond had been a sweetheart after she pulled into the SPD’s parking lot, honking frantically, she still felt silly. Web didn’t discount her concern, even offered to help her file a report.

But when Tony pulled away, she felt like an idiot. She must have misinterpreted his behavior, that’s all. Tony
hadn’t
been following her. He just
happened
to be on the same main drag. Summerville was a small town, it was inevitable that you’d run into someone you knew—or in this case, didn’t want to know on your daily errands. She took a deep breath and tried to focus on something pleasant—like Jim.

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 combined 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.”