All characters you recognize from the J/E Plum series are borrowed for fun, not for profit.
A super huge thank you to Carol, Julie and Kim. I could have never written this story without their tremendous amount of support and encouragement. Thank you for all of the helpful suggestions and catching my mistakes. Now, I ain't perfect, so I'll own up to any they missed all by my lonesome.
This is a Cupcake story which mentions situations up through book 18 and takes place sometime after. Thanks for reading. - T
My Cousin Vinnie's Wife's Cousin, Johnny Thumbs
Chapter 1
"Morning, Cupcake." Joe placed a gentle kiss on my lips. From the hint of mint on his breath and water droplets on my t-shirt, I gathered Joe had been up for a while and already showered. I still hadn't opened my eyes. I tucked the navy comforter up under my chin and wished for a few more minutes of sleep. Snug as a bug, I didn't want to leave the comforts of Joe's bed.
Suddenly, I smelled bacon and fresh coffee. That got me up. The first thing I saw was a mouthwatering plate of bacon, eggs, hash browns and toast passing back and forth under my nose.
Joe stopped wafting the plate while I scooched myself up and propped against the pillows. "Awww, isn't that sweet. You made me breakfast in bed."
"Coffee's on the nightstand. Too much sugar with ample cream, just how you like it."
"Whatever did I do to deserve this?" I asked coyly.
"Cupcake, I'll gladly make you breakfast every morning for the rest of your life if you promise to repeat what happened last night for the rest of mine."
I caught the underlying marriage referral in his statement. Joe felt now that we were in our early thirties, we needed to settle down. Nothing in the world would make Joe happier than to have a ring on my finger and a car seat or two in his SUV. I just wasn't sure yet if it would make me happy. We still fought quite a bit, but if we were married, it would put an end to one of our most frequent arguments.
Not wanting to worry about the future right now, I thought back to last night. We performed extraordinary maneuvers that in the gymnastic world would have required a spotter. He was right. I deserved breakfast in bed.
Instead of a reply, I offered him a smile. I reached up to cup his face and ran my fingers gently along his jaw, then down his neck. "You shaved?" The question was rhetorical.
Joe stood still and tipped the corners of his mouth up as my fingers continued their exploration. My eyes followed the path of my touch. Tanned skin covered the rippling muscles of his well defined chest. My finger paused to circle his nipple. His breath deepened. I watched the expansion and contraction of his ribs while I gently tugged at the hard pebble. A thin line of soft hair on his abdomen was partially visible and begged to be caressed. The towel hanging low in his hips hid the rest. I felt along the curve of his hip bone and across the edge of the towel. Stopping directly below his belly button, my fingers trailed down the soft patch. His stomach muscles tightened beneath my fingers and he sucked in a gasp. I think he caught me licking my lips as I stared at the swell beneath his towel. I was not ready to look up into those dark brown pools yet. I knew the minute I did, Joe would lose all restraint and my foreplay exploration would be over.
"I can put your plate in the microwave if you want to wait to eat," Joe said, snapping me back to reality. I forgot he was still holding my breakfast.
"You should have waited to shower. You know what seeing you like that does to me."
"I know. Boosts my ego," he said and flashed his pearly teeth.
"If your ego has anything to do with the rocket under your towel, consider yourself boosted." Before I could reach for Joe's rocket, a loud rumble erupted from my stomach that could have shaken the Grand Canyon.
"My stomach trumps my libido every time," I said grabbing the plate. "Especially when there's food already made."
Taking my first bite, I moaned in appreciation, "Mmmm, Joe, this is so good. Thank you. Where's yours?"
Joe rubbed himself through his towel. "My ego isn't too happy about postponing the rocket launch. Those moans you're making have my engines fired."
"We'll have lift-off when I'm done eating. Back to my question, did you make something for yourself?"
"Bob and I ate after our run." That explains why I didn't need to guard my plate from Bob, the canine garbage disposal.
"I figured I'd let you sleep a few more minutes while I took a shower." Joe sat on the bed and stroked my exposed leg. "Maybe after you're fueled up, we could take a trip to a distant galaxy together and I'll show you the stars." He was bound and determined to play spaceman.
"Krssht, Eros 1 to Mission Control, Eros 1 to Mission Control, do you read me?" Joe spoke into a pretend radio by making a fist.
"You named your space ship after a Greek god?" I put my hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh.
"Krssht, I can't hear you Mission Control. You have to push the button," he smirked and pressed his thumb against his fist a couple times to demonstrate.
"Oh, cripes." Fine, he made me breakfast. I'll play. I made a fist and held it to my mouth, "Krssht, this is Mission Control. I hear you loud and clear Eros 1."
"Krssht, Mission Control, will I need a space suit on this next voyage?"
Joe was obviously referring condoms. As a favor to both of us, I opted for a birth control shot at my last doctor visit. I kept forgetting to take my pill and always made Joe wear protection as an added measure. My sister, Val, was pregnant and the size of a city bus. It wasn't a look I hoped to achieve anytime soon.
"Krssht, I don't recall it being a requirement on last night's trial exploration. I'd prefer it if you didn't wear one today," I said with a big grin.
"Yes!" Joe did a fist pump. "I mean, krssht, thank you, Mission Control. I prefer to move about the cabin freely."
I couldn't think of a response to the corny direction this conversation was headed, so I just shook my head and took a bite of hash browns.
"What? Did I go too far?" He held out his hands, palms up, making me grin.
Damn he was cute when he was playful. His dark brown hair was starting to dry. He was in need of a haircut and it curled sexily at the nape of his neck. Realizing Joe didn't bring me a napkin, I wiped my mouth with a corner of the sheet. They needed to be changed anyway.
"Yeah. What time is it?" I looked over at the clock, but Joe's pillow was in the way.
Joe glanced at his watch. He didn't bother to put pants on, but out of habit had strapped on his watch. Obviously I wasn't the only one thinking of morning sex.
"Just after eight. When do you have to be to work?"
"Shit. I told Connie I would pick up doughnuts and be in the office by nine. Your mission has been officially postponed till tonight." I began shoveling my breakfast at a rapid pace. "That's not nearly enough time to get showered, dressed and hit the bakery. There's no way I can skip the shower after how sweaty you made me last night."
I was still cramming the food in as I walked in the bathroom. I would have screamed at my reflection if my mouth wasn't so full. How Joe ever got so turned on by this hideous sight was beyond me. My brown, curly hair was sticking up in ten different directions and mascara had smeared all the way down to my cheek.
Joe walked in and wrapped his arms around my waist. "Sorry you have to rush. Since you didn't mention anything last night, I thought it was one of those go in whenever days. I'm not working today. How about I throw some clothes on and go to the bakery for you?" He asked placing a kiss in my hair.
Chewing furiously, I turned in his arms and nodded against his chest. He released me and walked back into the bedroom. Seconds later he was back. "Half-dozen Boston Crèmes and another half mixed?" I gave him a thumbs-up and he placed the coffee mug in my hand.
I took a couple of much needed swallows, "Thanks, Joe." He nodded and went to get dressed. Before he was out of earshot, I added, "I love you!"
"Love you too, Cupcake," he said over his shoulder.
Connie would be super pissed if I was late. I was not about to be victim of her wrath. The fact that she was shorter than me didn't make her any less scary. Lately, Connie had been updating her appearance to make herself feel younger. She was a couple years older than I was and still single. She banished the grays with a jet black dye job on her shiny hair that fell just below her shoulders. The beauty shop she went to was a couple towns over to avoid any burg gossip about her hair color. Her last visit, the hairdresser convinced her to straighten the poof out of her Italian curls. She maintained the Jersey look by teasing the top a few inches above her head. Make-up was applied a little more dramatically using tips from the Cosmo magazine. Her shirts were always low cut, busting out with cleavage. The day of her make-over debut, I thought she looked like Elvira's shorter sister.
I had showered, got dressed, and did the hair and makeup thing in record time. I was in the dining room lacing up my tennis shoes. Joe walked back in with the bakery box and dropped it on the table. Bob smelled the sugar and fried dough. He walked over and settled on the floor next to my chair, waiting for something to be dropped accidentally.
"Looks like I don't have the day off after all. A witness came forward with some information about a case I'm working. She's coming down to the station in a while to make a statement. I really want to be there to see what she has to say."
"Will you be able to make it to my parent's for dinner? My mom made me promise to be there tonight since we've cancelled so many times lately."
I gave my mother every plausible excuse I could come up with, short of a medical emergency requiring surgery, so that Joe and I could have dinner alone at his place. Most mornings I woke up in Joe's bed. I visited my apartment daily to feed my hamster, Rex, and to retrieve clean clothes. Our relationship was finally in a good place. Ultimately, I knew my mom would complicate things between Joe and I by introducing the subject of marriage during dinner. I'd just have to cleverly skirt the topic if it came up tonight.
Meals with Joe had consisted of beer and meatball subs or beer and pizza from Pino's. After eating the same thing for weeks, I actually craved my mother's home cooking. Not to mention, she promised double chocolate cake for dessert.
"Yeah, I know. I'd really hate to disappoint your folks, but it depends on how this meeting goes. If her information gives me some kind of lead, I'll want to follow up on it right away. The chief has been on my ass to close this case. We've pretty much hit a brick wall. I'm really hoping this lady had something useful." Joe ran his hand through his hair. I could tell he was frustrated.
"What's the case?" I knew he wouldn't tell me, but my inquisitive nature never stops me from trying.
He tilted his head and stared at me for a few seconds. The look he gave me said I should already know the answer to that question.
"You know I would tell you if I could. I'm not keeping secrets from you. Confidentiality is just part of the job."
"I know, I know," I said submissively with a hand wave. "I'm just trying to help. You know that the people we deal with sometimes run in the same circles. I might stumble across something useful to you."
Joe's slow grin turned into a low chuckle, "Steph, you don't stumble across anything. You usually fall face first into a pile of garbage."
Probably he wasn't intending to hurt me, but he did. "Oh, sure. I do it on purpose, too. My day isn't complete until I'm covered in somebody's coffee grounds or leftover spaghetti. Just go ahead and say it, Joe. I suck at my job and you want me to quit. You know what, never mind. Just forget I said anything."
I was right on the edge of starting a full fledged shouting match. The cannon was loaded and ready. Whatever he said next could light the fuse. I had the premonition of Joe flailing his arms around with crazy Italian hand gestures. Joe put his hands to his hips and studied me. It seemed he was working out the back and forth exchange that was about to happen. I wasn't in the mood for a speech about his Maalox consumption. I sprung up off the chair, grabbed my purse and doughnuts, ready to storm out the door.
Joe gripped arm and put my back against his chest. Quickly, he wrapped his arms around me to prevent me from leaving. My breath was coming out in short, angry huffs through my nose.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I shouldn't have said that," he paused, gathering his thoughts. "I'm really looking forward to your mother's home cooking tonight. More importantly, I'm looking forward to being with you. Please don't leave mad." He rested his cheek against my hair before turning his head and placing a kiss in my curls.
"You have to understand, it's not just about where you work. I'll always worry about you. It's just that I can't— if anything ever—" he blew out a sigh and nuzzled my hair. "I can't imagine living my life without you, okay? Not ever."
Bob spun around in a circle three times on the tapestry throw rug in front of me before he decided to lie down. Joe tucked a curl behind my ear, leaned in and asked, "Are we good?" Damn it, he had done it again. The situation had been diffused in literally seconds. I wasn't sure if he was able to do this because of his cop training or if it was just plain Morelli magnetism.
Most Morelli men were born with a charm-your-pants-off gene. My thoughts drifted to what our son might be like. I'm only part Italian on my dad's side. The other part is horny Hungarian. The combination of our DNA would be lethal. Maybe there was a higher power preventing me from giving in to Joe's desire to get married. God was doing the female population a favor by preventing us from procreating.
Turning in his arms, I looked up into Joe's pleading eyes. How could I possibly stay mad at a face like that? I left him in suspense for a few seconds while I concentrated on his face. His bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly and I let the wall of rage crumble.
"Yeah. We're good."
The corners of his lips tipped up as his eyes twinkled to match his smile. He lowered his head and placed his lips to mine softly. I parted my lips when I felt his fingers threading into my hair at the base of my neck, forcing the kiss deeper. He tilted his head to get a better angle as our tongues danced. I almost dropped the bakery box when his hand cupped my butt cheek and molded me against him tightly. Desperately needing air, we separated from the kiss. He rested his forehead against mine. I watched his chest puff in and out as he regained control of his breath.
"How mad would Connie be if you were late?" He leaned into me forcing me to either walk backward, or fall. My heels contacted the wall before my back did. Joe slid his hands down my rear to the backs of my thighs. His tongue tasted my neck, just below the ear, before pulling the skin into his mouth and grazing it with his teeth. He tugged at the back of my legs, urging me to wrap them around his waist. Much to his dismay, I kept my feet firmly rooted to the floor. He pressed his hard erection into my stomach and began to grind, showing me how deep his desire was as he continued suck and bite my neck. A noise crossed between a moan and a purr rattled my throat.
"Fuck, Steph," Joe breathed into my ear. Within a blink, my pants were unbuttoned and the zipper slid open. I felt his strong palm on my stomach as he worked his fingers under the elastic. A surge of heat ran through my body straight to my—oh, God! My panties were about to be ruined. The desire to rip off his clothes was overwhelming. He knew exactly what he was doing. A few more seconds of his warm, moist mouth on my neck and we would both be naked.
It nearly killed me to say the next words, but it had to be done. I put my free hand on his chest, "Stop," I panted. "You have to stop. Connie will take one look at my face and know exactly why I'm late. I gotta go." I managed to pry his hand out of my pants and put several inches of space in between us so I could fan my hand at my face. I needed to cool off.
"Seriously?" His hands squeezed my hips and I nodded. "Okay." He gazed into my eyes and held his Cheshire smile. Joe's devious hand began to work itself around my hip, under my shirt and up my rib cage. Wrapping my hand around his wrist, I put a stop to his sneak attack before he reached my bra.
"You're killing me, Morelli." I pulled his hand out and tugged my shirt back down.
"Oh yeah, Plum? Look what you do to me," he pointed at the huge bulge sticking out of his grey sweatpants. I sidestepped away and moved several feet into the living room to put more distance between us. Inches were just too close right now. The doughnut box rested on the back of the couch while I righted the zipper and button of my jeans.
"Connie sent me a text while you were gone. All it said was '9 A.M. Sharp'. Connie isn't a texter. Something's up. I can't be late today. Besides, you need to change for your meeting. Sweatpants probably aren't considered casual attire in the Trenton PD Handbook."
"I didn't have work in mind when I picked out my pants today. I wore these for you, easy access." He snapped the waistband.
"Don't be an ass."
"Awww, you love my ass."
"Of course I do. Every woman in Trenton loves your ass. But, I better be the only one who sees it naked."
"Just you and my doctor, Cupcake," he said with a quick little peck. "I'll call you if I'm running late tonight. Just save me a plate. You can have my dessert. I'll be having Cupcake later," he winked and turned away.
I watched Joe's ass as he took the stairs, two at a time, to change for work. The sweatpants didn't do him justice. When he wore the faded Levi's with little rips here and there—whew, those were some jeans I could really sink my teeth into.
I patted Bob on the head and thanked him for not eating my underpants last night. Bob was Morelli's lovable, orange, overgrown mutt that considered anything left on the floor to be edible. When Bob decided you had left him alone for too long, he would eat the sofa or the recliner. With every couch Joe bought, it became an internal struggle for him not to give up and replace the entire living room set with wrought iron patio furniture.
I headed out the door and was greeted with the view of my current shitty car. A black faded '94 Toyota Corolla. It wasn't a pretty sight. The dented passenger side door made a loud popping sound when it opened or closed. The previous owner was someone's grandma who didn't think she needed glasses and just happen to miscalculate the distance of a fire hydrant. Her license was revoked after refusing a court ordered vision and road test at the DMV. Her kids made her sell the car which had only 50K miles on it. For five hundred bucks, I couldn't pass it up.
I rolled down the windows and enjoyed the fresh air. It was a beautiful, sunny September day. Upper 70's with a slight breeze. Warm enough for shorts, but not hot enough to need the air which surprisingly worked in this old beater.
Bon Jovi's 'Bad Medicine' blasted through the speakers. I sang along with the lyrics, bobbing my head, not caring who could see me.
I sped right by Eddie on his cop cycle. Dropping down to a more respectable speed, I gave Eddie my signature index finger wave out the window. He shook his head looking down at the radar gun in his hand.
Being that Eddie was married to my cousin, Shirley the whiner, I hoped he wouldn't give me a ticket. Since he worked with Joe, he could be easily persuaded to make the ticket disappear, regardless. Thankfully, I was in the clear from one of Eddie's speeding lectures.
I parked my tiny, paint-chipped car right in front of the bonds office. The parking gods were smiling upon me today. Holding up the doughnuts in one hand, I waived at Connie through the plate glass window with the other. Connie gave me a less than enthusiastic wave back. Not the response I usually get with a box of bakery offering. My watch said 9:05. I wasn't that late.
Connie was the office manager at my cousin's bond agency and I was a bond enforcement agent, more simply, a bounty hunter. For the Vincent Plum Bond Agency, Connie was the bookkeeper, gatekeeper and peacekeeper. On a boring day, the peacekeeper aspect was out the window until she felt thoroughly entertained. I've seen her time killing instigations. I rushed to the door hoping I wasn't going to be her target today.
I got a weird feeling as I approached the door. This was different from the tingling at the back of my neck I usually experienced when Ranger, my mentor, was in close proximity. I had to assume the sensation was my internal alarm or my spidey senses, as I like to refer to it, signaling me of impending danger. As I pulled on the door handle, I felt a brief wave of nausea.
A familiar odor permeated my nostrils, Old Spice, old man original scent. The kind Grandpa Mazur used to wear. Except this was Grandpa to the tenth power. I set the doughnut box on Connie's desk and took in the source of the pungent cologne. A man in his early 40's, probably of Italian decent, sat in the club chair across from Connie's desk. His shiny black hair came to a stubby widow's point at the top of his forehead. It was slicked back with—Vaseline? Epoxy? It was hard to tell. He had a nice face and probably a decent build under his clothes, but his shellacked hair cancelled those aspects out. He was wearing a black suit, white shirt and a thin black tie. If I had to guess, he was either going to a funeral or he was a MIB agent with a letter for his name.
I saw him close a small, tattered spiral notebook and tuck a pencil into the metal binding. He opened his jacket, slid it into an inner pocket and refastened his jacket. Once situated, he made no attempt to hide the obvious fact that he was staring at me. It made me nervous and I pivoted in Connie's direction.
"Hey, Connie. Got any easy files for me today?" She shuffled some files around, and then set the whole stack right in front of her on the desk.
"Steph, I got a feeling that no matter who I give you, it's not gonna be easy for you today," she said putting her hands flat on the files.
"Hunh," Lula huffed and made a production of folding her arms. She was on the couch with her thick legs crossed and stretched out over the span of the cushions. Her dark complexion was coated with a fine sheen of perspiration. The fact that she hadn't asked for my opinion yet of her skin-tight outfit told me she was mad about something. I grabbed the box and made my way to her as Connie pretended to busy herself with the files.
"Want a doughnut?" I offered. Lula picked out a Cyclops, without so much as a thank you, and took a huge bite. I nodded at her feet implying she move them so I could sit. She shook her head and didn't budge an inch. I was about to pick up Lula's meaty leg, wrapped in pink spandex, when the strange man spoke behind me.
"It's okay, sugar buns. I got a seat for you right here." He made a whirly motion with his index fingers that came to a halt, pointing at his lap. Anyway, I was hoping he was pointing to his lap.
"No thanks. I'll just stand," I furrowed my brow and shot a questioning look in Connie's direction. I knew I had never met this man before, but his thick Jersey accent told me he was from around here. I hoped someone would enlighten me soon as to the reason for his presence. The suspense and tension in the office was killing me.
Connie put her elbow on her desk and pointed her perfectly painted finger nail at the man in the chair, "Sugar buns, meet your new partner, Johnny Thumbs."