"Logan Cocktails"
Copyright 2007 Penn O'Hara
M
A/N: See Chapter One for disclaimers.
Thanks to Bookworm37 for the little idea this time. ::big grin:: And acknowledgement again to gorengal for her drink ideas. I ended up going for effect rather than taste, but the lime juice was yours, g-gal.
Notwithstanding, thanks to all the reviewers. It's your efforts that keep me writing Logan and Barek stories, else I would be too busy with 'Cowboys' to give them any serious attention.
oOo
Chapter Four
That had to be what they called, an 'out of body' experience.
Rolling stiffly from the table, Carolyn hung onto its edge as her pleasurably aching body tried to stay upright. Her knees wobbled and her head buzzed from stimulus overload.
She swung a heavy gaze to see Mike watching her from the table, his head propped up on a fist, looking satiated and relaxed. Carolyn envied his composure. She was a mass of trembling jelly.
He was grinning at her, unrepentant for reducing her to such weak vulnerability. "Where're you going?"
"G…get my clothes," she whispered, her throat tender from her repeatedly crying his name. "Then I'm gonna make you some lunch."
"I don't need–"
She held up a hand. "I want more of what I just got, stud. You're gonna need your strength so you can deliver."
His teeth snapped into another grin.
Carolyn's feet dragged toward the living room, her body reluctant to leave the pull of his.
She sighed, still not quite believing her good fortune in having Mike as the man in her life. When they'd first partnered her with him, she'd had no inkling she would be not only co-habiting with him twelve months later, but that it would be amazingly, thrillingly wonderful.
Finding and pulling on her clothes, she stumbled back to the kitchen with Mike's jeans, seriously considering refusing to give them to him so that she could gaze upon his naked form whenever she felt the urge.
He was still stretched on his side on the table, his long length just fitting. Big, relaxed and muscular, the slight thickening of his waist was a comfortable reminder he wasn't an irresponsible youth any more. His gym work kept his maturing body looking good and Carolyn vowed to join him next time. She could do with some toning up.
His jeans still bunched in one hand, she ran her other hand down his chest to his navel. He caught it and drew it to his mouth, kissing her fingers while he held her gaze with his own.
"I thought you were going to feed me." He smiled as he took a finger into his mouth, his tongue rolling over it before sucking it through his lips.
"Ah, shit, Mike. You're a tease." She shut her eyes on the tempting sight of him and pulled her hand back. "Yes, I'm going to feed you–"
"Actually," he swung off the table and dragged his jeans from her grasp, "I'll do it myself while you finish your cupboards."
"But–"
"You don't think I can cook for myself?"
"Of course. But can you do it in the raw?" she asked, the hope in her voice more real than playful.
He paused mid-tug on his jeans, eyeing her with speculation, then finished pulling them over his ass. "Sorry. No can do. Too distracting for you." Picking up the bottle of ouzo, he handed it to her. "This is where I came in."
Carolyn groaned. "My head's still spinning from that stuff. I don't know how you handled it on an empty stomach."
"I didn't have as much." He winked at her. "You were much more creative with it than me. Ya know, I never would have guessed ouzo to be your drink."
"What can I say?" she shrugged. "I went through a Greek stage. I still like Greek food."
"But do you still like Ouzo?"
Carolyn pressed herself up against him as a cat would its favorite owner. "On your body or off it?"
He cocked a brow at her in mock reprimand. "In a mixer."
Carolyn tilted past him and opened the fridge, then stepped back to survey its contents, deliberately leaning against his body. As she predicted, his arms wrapped themselves around her, snuggling her close into him. Wriggling a little, she felt like purring. A set of insistent lips on her neck had her eyes closing, defeating her original purpose of checking out the fridge.
"All we got is soda water," he murmured against her skin.
"That'll have to do," she said, the words rumbling up her throat. "Get it for me, hon."
He had to lean more fully into her to reach the bottle and Carolyn luxuriated in the strength and warmth of him.
"This what you want?" he asked, holding up the drink.
"No, not really. I just wanted… in your arms." She gave him a lingering kiss, then whisked the bottle from his hand. "Thanks."
"Flirt."
Peering into the fridge, Mike retrieved a packet of sausages. "Ya reckon I can cook these without burning 'em?"
"You've been a bachelor for around thirty years," she said, turning her back on him. She wasn't going to fall for the obvious ruse. "You know how to cook sausages."
Taking a glass from the cupboard, Carolyn poured a shot of ouzo into it, then checked the bottom cupboard where she kept the other spirits. She pulled out an almost full bottle of Grenadine.
Mike was banging cupboard doors looking for the equipment necessary for his culinary foray in the kitchen, before settling a pan onto the hotplate and flicking on the heat. He tossed a look her way as he ripped open the sausage packet.
"Should you put that in?" he asked, eyeing the Grenadine bottle. "Judging by the level in the bottle, it wasn't a popular buy."
Carolyn shrugged, then uncapped the bottle and poured the deep pink liquid into her glass. It curled through the ouzo in an oily red swirl.
"Ugh," Mike said. "It looks like watered down blood."
"That's the homicide detective in you."
"Hey, a minute ago, it was the homicide detective in you…"
"Don't be gross."
"You didn't think it gross–"
"Yeah, yeah. Got that."
Adding the blue Curacao, Carolyn grimaced as her concoction turned purple and muddy. Going for broke, she added the soda and sipped it.
Mike waited with brows raised for her reaction.
"It'sssss okay," she reported. "Not sweet enough though."
Disappearing into the fridge, Mike pulled out a bottle of lime juice cordial, and offered it to her. She held out her glass and he added a generous amount, then held up a finger.
"Wait. Needs to be stirred." Rummaging for a long handled spoon, he came out with a fork instead. "We're not exactly equipped for cocktail making, are we?" he said, briefly stirring the drink, before giving his sausages a quick check and prod.
Trying the drink again, Carolyn smacked her lips. "Better. That added some tang, but…" She held out the glass and frowned. "It looks revolting."
"Here. Give me that." Mike emptied the drink down the sink and grabbed a clean glass out of the cupboard.
Pouring Ouzo into it, he topped it up with soda and added the lime juice. The lime spiraled slowly into the drink, the light catching its viscosity and reflecting back. Mike sparingly dribbled Curacao in and some of it was caught and held by the thicker slower moving lime while the rest hit the bottom and spread slowly upward. Finally he dripped the Grenadine in drop by drop and it followed the lime juice in a path different from the blue Curacao, some of its red grabbing, the other falling to the bottom to combine with the blue. Levels of purple color rose in dark to lighter bands, ribbons of the red and blue tainted lime flashing in the clear soda at the top.
Carolyn's mouth opened in awe at the swirling, colorful concoction he'd created.
"How did you know how to do that?"
He shrugged. "It makes sense to use the clear liquids first. The lime is almost colorless and it's heavier than the other two. It will hover in the liquid, hence the swirl affect. The Grenadine and Curacao add the most color and, falling on different swirls, will stay separate. Missing the swirls, they'll combine."
"That sounded like a physics lesson. I thought you slept through most of college."
"Who told you I slept through college?" His look was unbelieving. "I was too actively engaged in studying the different body types and physical attributes of the female students to sleep."
"Yeah, right. That still doesn't explain how you knew enough physics to know the drink would do that."
Mike shook the frying pan before flipping the sausages over with a spatula. "I had a sexy science teacher one year. Soaked up more science that year than the rest of my schoolin' combined."
"Now, that I believe." Carolyn sipped her drink, testing the taste against her lips with her tongue as she held the glass up to the light. "I'm going to name it after you."
"Yeah?" He poked the sausages around the pan, wincing as a spit of oil exploded at him. "Long tall Logan? Lip-smackin' Logan?"
"Um, let's see." Carolyn put a finger to her lips, thinking hard. "There's Grenadine in it. Curacao. Ouzo." She sipped it again. "How about Oozin' Love Logan?"
Mike winced again. "Sounds messy."
"Maybe, but I like it."
"Can you keep it between us?"
"The name or the drink?"
He gave her a long look of pain and she snorted. "Maybe, but don't be surprised if I use it as leverage later."
"That sounds ominous."
"It was meant to. How're those sausages going?" Carolyn riffled through the cutlery drawer in search of a straw.
"They keep spittin' at me."
"Poor baby." She sucked on the straw in her drink, then held the glass up to examine the change in the color patterns. "The heat's too high. Turn it down some. Considering you did so well with my drink, I'll take over if you like."
"Great!" He opened the fridge and pulled out a sealed packet of bacon and an egg carton, holding them up hopefully.
"You are hungry," Carolyn said, putting down her drink and taking the food from him.
Mike checked the wood grain baby pendulum clock on the wall. "It's almost ten to twelve. I missed breakfast and now it's pushin' lunch. Besides, you worked me hard this morning." He picked up her Oozin Love Logan and sucked deeply on the straw, his eyes on her, heavy with lust. "You might have got the comfortable part of our screw against the wall, but I got the long hard end of it."
"Ain't that the truth?!" she crowed.
Bending his knees, Mike gyrated his pelvis in a thrust that would have made Elvis Presley pause. "I'm oozin' love here, baby. You gonna let all this go to waste?"
"Make up your mind. I thought you wanted to be fed." Carolyn laughed, but inside she was creaming again.
Mike lunged in and bent her back over the bench, his hands resting either side of her on its rounded surface, imprisoning her with his body. The food slid forgotten to the counter before she grabbed his head and threaded her fingers through his hair.
"Fuck bein' fed, babe. You're food enough." He pressed his face against her neck and groaned. "I can't get enough–"
A knock at the outer door ripped a grunt of frustration from Carolyn's throat.
"I'll get it," Mike murmured and pulled away from her.
"I'll save your sausages– Damn! They did burn."
Carolyn turned down the heat and tossed the charring food onto the plate Mike had made ready. She would check if any could be salvaged but first she emptied the packet of bacon into the pan. The subsequent sizzle was loud and vicious.
"Hey!"
Carolyn whipped round to see Megan Wheeler at the doorway to the kitchen. Carolyn's eyes widened with alarm, then she narrowed them, her mouth tight.
"No! You're not taking him!" she cried. "For the love of– Wheeler, it's our day off!"
Mike was right behind her, shrugging into his shirt. He held up a hand, waving her down. "Wheeler's got some photographs from a case she wants me to go over with her. That's all."
"You're not leaving?" Carolyn was still suspicious.
"No, we'll just set up on the dining room table."
"This table will do," Wheeler said, opening the envelope in her hand.
Carolyn's eyes slid to the table where they'd made hot, sweaty love only minutes before, and held her breath. Mike hastily steered Wheeler round and pointed her in the direction of the living room.
"Not a good idea, Wheeler. Set up out there. I'll be with you in a moment."
"You might want to check your jeans before you do," Wheeler tossed over her shoulder as she left them.
Carolyn's gaze darted to Mike's open zip and saw what Wheeler had to have seen.
"Shit!"
Carolyn snorted, holding in her laugh to spare his feelings, but the look of horror on Mike's face as he did up his fly was her undoing. She laughed out loud, doubling over at the waist.
"You should have put your boxers on first, hon," she gasped. "That has to be sensory overload for a sweet young thing like Wheeler."
"You didn't give me my box– Shit!" His mouth opened in dismay. "They're still out there! Where we were against the wall! I found my shirt, but I didn't see them."
"Then, given the laws of the universe," Carolyn said, her voice strangled, "Wheeler will."
Spinning round, Mike leapt out of the kitchen and Carolyn was right behind him. She came up hard against his back as he jerked to a halt.
Wheeler was examining the wall against which Mike had pressed Carolyn earlier, her gaze traveling up and down its length. One hand was on her hip, the other was held out, Mike's cream satin boxers snagged on her index finger.
"Wheeler! Put those down!" Mike ordered.
Megan gasped and snapped round, flinging away the boxers and flattening herself against the wall.
"Get off that wall!" Carolyn shouted.
Jumping, Wheeler launched herself from the wall and stumbled over to the dining table, one hand on the table, the other against her heart.
Carolyn stared at Megan's fingers splayed against the table and thanked her lucky stars they hadn't engaged the services of that surface this morning.
Wheeler's eyes followed Carolyn's gaze. She snatched her hand from the table, then looked at Mike and Carolyn hovering, frozen, in the doorway to the kitchen.
Carolyn saw Megan's throat swallow hard, her eyes widening with discovery.
"There too?" Wheeler asked, her mouth open.
oOo
Finis.