Page 11 of Misadventures With The Mistaken Twin
I raised an eyebrow at his tone. He wasn't being funny. “I keep busy. You didn't talk much tonight.”
“Not much to say when a woman eagerly tosses a cock ring in your lap.” One side of his mouth ticked up. “Just so you know, I don’t need one of them for staying power. And talking? Not needed, other than to ask, 'Where do you want it? In your mouth or?—'”
“You wish, Reid,” I said, cutting in, not letting him finish his obscene, and admittedly very erotic sentence. Myorclenched and got wet.
Hot, manly pheromones were rolling off Jack in waves. Sexual chemistry was not a problem for us. He was right, perhaps it was best if we didn’t talk. Other things though…
Jack rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. I didn't say much because I don't kiss and tell.”
Nope, Violet did. “About your gift bag?”
Jack lifted a hand and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. His fingertips brushed the sensitive skin there and sent tingles throughout my body. “Are you asking me what I like to do in bed?” he whispered, his warm breath on the side of my neck.
Hoo wee. Not only was I asking, I was picturing him in bed. With me. And it involved a lack of clothing and a whole lot of?—
“I like kinky,” he commented, repeating what he'd told me when I dropped him off at the ER.
“What do you consider kinky, Jack?” I wasn’t asking because I wanted to know. Nope. No way. I was just doing my job. That’s it. But still, I stopped breathing while I waited for his answer, my mind whirling with possibilities, hoping for some stupid, insane reason that he wasn’t into whipping or animal fetish or someother way-out-there kink that would force me to permanently erase him from my fantasy list.
Jack chuckled and planted a chaste kiss on my cheek. “Why don’t you fill my bag with toys that you’d like and then we can discuss it in more detail?”
His lips were pure velvet seduction on my face, and I wanted more. Damn it. Why did he have to be so hot and such a two-faced jerk? “Not in this lifetime, Jack. You weresoten years ago.”
I walked to the kitchen to thank Mike and didn’t look back, afraid Jack would see the lie in my eyes. I was always a horrible freaking liar because my interest in him was right now. This minute.
7
I only had enough opportunity over the course of the night for those first few fortifying sips of gin and tonic. Jack had had enough beer—and most likely painkillers—floating around in his system to want to stay around for some male bonding. I, on the other hand, had had enough of men by nine-thirty. Mike volunteered his guest room—just for the night—to Jack. Relieved I didn't have to deal with him, and his belief that I liked kinky sex, I ducked out and headed home. The whole ride I considered his comment. Had Jack said he liked kinky because he really did like kink? Or had he said it because he thought I liked kink and he wanted me? Regardless, my body wanted him. My brain didn'twantto want him, but my body was currently winning the fight. My nipples were tight, and I had to squeeze my thighs together to stop the tingling in that general area just thinking about the man. As for my panties? Ruined.
I slept late, even with the too hard mattress and the unfamiliar light streaming through Violet's bedroom window. It was my turn to open the store. Fortunately for me, Goldilocks didn't open until one o'clock on Sundays. I took a quick shower—I knew the water heater wouldn't allow me more—and threwon a pair of jeans, pink turtleneck and cream-colored scarf. I put my hair up in a twist with tendrils hanging down in a casual look and put on the usual make up. I bundled into all of my layers, brushed the new snow from the van and waited for the windshield to defrost. Even though the store was only eight blocks away—I counted one rainy day when my dad had had the van and I’d had to walk—there was no way I was walking in this frigid temperature. It was too dangerous and I would be frozen solid before I hit Main Street.
I tossed my purse on the passenger seat and it landed on top of George the Gnome, Zach’s little garage sale sidekick. About twelve inches tall, he was hard ceramic. Red jacket, white beard, blue pointy hat. He stared at me with beady eyes and had a smile that said lots of different things. Right now, George was saying,Good Morning!I shook my head and smiled back. I'd forgotten Jane was dropping Zach's gnome off before they left town. He was officially my apprentice plumber now, at least until they returned.
Goldilocks was located one block off Main Street, right downtown. I parked in the lot behind the building and trudged through the two inches of snow that had fallen after midnight. It was fairly quiet, no one walking around. It was too cold. It had been at least a week since it had been above ten degrees. I couldn't remember when it had been above freezing last. Probably before Thanksgiving. As I fiddled with the key in the lock, I noticed a woman standing in the doorway of the restaurant across the street. She huddled there, clearly cold and miserable. She held a to-go coffee cup between her hands. One hand was mittened and one wrapped up like it had been injured.
She was short, mid-forties, wearing dark pants, winter boots and a pink puffy jacket. Her hair was pulled back into one of those fleece headbands that covered her ears. Long, blonde strands of hair blew in her face from the Chinook wind that hadbrought the snow. Even from across the street I could tell she was staring, no, make that glaring, at me.
I pulled the tinted glass door closed behind me, savoring the dry warmth of the building's ancient heating system. The day before, Goldie had said someone had stopped in for me, that she was petite and blonde with a bandaged hand. Was this the same woman? I wasn't planning on going back out in the cold to find out. If she wanted me, she knew where I was.
I turned the overhead lights on and started my opening process. Under counter lighting, cash register, open sign. I stuffed my hat and mittens into my coat pocket and hung it on the hook behind the door to the storage room.
The afternoon was quiet, with it being Sunday and cold. It was the perfect time to stay at home and have sex, and everyone was probably content to make do with the sex toys they already had until it warmed up a little. A few customers had come in to return videos, but I spent most of the afternoon making the party bags for Mike. Jack’s bag was a challenge, especially with the cock ring fiasco, and the fact that he’d offered me no guidance.
I debated being vengeful and barely stopped myself from tossing in some male leather chaps, a strap-on dildo and a prostate tickler. He'd only have fodder to tease even more, so I eventually went with safe, tame selections and hoped he’d drop the kinky vibe with me. Strawberry massage oil, a blindfold and handcuffs, a cock ring—I still had enough nerve to throw that in—and a feather. And nope, I absolutely did not imagine him using any of those toys in bed with me.
Goldie came in like a winter blizzard, all cold air and chaos. Goose bumps popped out on my arms from the tundra gust following her through the door.
“Sorry I'm late,” she said, as she unraveled a thick pale blue scarf about her neck. Beneath, she had on a bright fuchsiasweater with a large portion of cleavage showing, black stretchy pants and a pair of black patent clogs. “I was reading this romance novel, you know, one of those bodice rippers, and lost track of time. I was right in the middle of the sex scene”—she patted her poofed hair back into place—“when I should have left. But I'm not one to stop in the middle of good sex.” She shook her head. “No, sir.”
“No problem,” I replied, not wanting to get into a conversation about Goldie's sex life. “What's the book called?”
Goldie returned from hanging up her coat. “Ravaging Rakes.”
I tried to picture the cover art on that book. Bodice ripping definitely came to mind.
“I'll bring it in for you when I'm done. I tell you though”—Goldie looked up when a customer came in—“Let me know if you need anything!” She returned her gaze to me. “We could write a good romance book. Hell, we're the queens of romance.”
I chuckled as I put a variety of individual condoms in the different party bags I'd arranged on a side counter. “Queens of romance?” I questioned. “You, maybe. You've been married for forever.”