Jim walked into the Starbucks and ordered his usual: black, strong coffee, the manly type. None of this girly iced venti 6 shot, 2/3 half-caf, 2 1/2 pumps sugar free cinnamon dolce, 2 1/2 pumps sugar free vanilla, 1 pump sugar free gingerbread, splash of 1% milk (half 2% and nonfat) 2 splenda, 3 honey packets (stirred in with the espresso first to melt) light ice, light whip, with cinnamon dolce on top, as the guy in front of him ordered.
Crap. It took the guy fifteen minutes just to order the damn drink.
He sat at one of the tables next to the black-haired man who was giving him an amused glance over his own cup of manly coffee. "Mr. Iced Venti again?"
"Yeah, Dan. How did you guess?" Jim rolled his eyes. "What ever happened to good old American black coffee?"
Dan grinned at his friend. "Every week we meet here for coffee at exactly the same time and exactly the same day. You always arrive a couple minutes before seven, and Mr. Iced Venti always arrives exactly three minutes before you do. I would think by now you would learn either come earlier or come later." He saluted his friend with his coffee cup before taking another satisfying sip.
"Are you trying to tell me I'm predictable?" Jim was insulted. Although, he had to admit, things did run better when they were scheduled. Like catching up with an old friend over a cup of coffee.
Dan snorted. "Predictable? They could set the atomic clock by you."
The two men sipped at their drinks and caught up with their lives, all the while indulging in one of their favorite pastimes: people watching. "See that goth guy with the triple-pierced labrum? I bet he orders a chai latte," Dan smirked.
"And that plump older woman is simply dying for a triple espresso with extra caffeine," Jim countered.
And then she walked in.
Every bit of air left his body as he forgot how to breathe.
Damn, she was fine. She was wearing tight black yoga pants and an even tighter white sweater, and oh, his eyes lovingly followed all those killer curves. Her skin was like creamy, white silk and her hair was curly-blonde and up in a messy ponytail.
She sashayed (Seriously, he thought, there was no other word for it) up to the barista who literally had his tongue hanging out and ordered a caramel macchiato in a low, sexy-raspy voice that went straight to Jim's groin.
The woman was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Jim's green gaze followed her to the table she claimed and watched as she pulled a book out of the big blue tote she carried. She immediately became absorbed in it.
"She's late," Dan remarked, watching his friend's fascination with the beautiful blonde.
"Late?" Jim parroted. His mind was definitely taking a detour into some very active fantasy areas.
One that involved him, Blondie and a bed. Or a wall. Or, seriously, that table where she was seated.
Dan almost choked on his coffee. Frayne and his blondes. He rolled his eyes, knowing exactly where his friend's mind was. "She's usually here when I get here and leaves before you arrive," Dan explained. The men both watched as another patron tried to engage Blondie in some conversation. She certainly shut him down fast enough.
"That's what always happens. She sits there reading for a while and gets hit on. She never, ever lets a guy get beyond the 'Is this other seat taken' stage." Dan shook his head.
"Maybe the right guy isn't approaching her." Jim's green eyes took on a wicked glint, and his mouth curved into a matching grin.
"Oh, no. You're not gonna…" Dan moaned.
Jim winked, patted Dan on the shoulder and grabbed his coffee. There was something about the gorgeous blonde pulling him in.
He eyed his prey as he approached, and the closer he got, the more his hormones went into overdrive. For all he knew she could sound like Camille Soprano and her dese, dem and doses, but man, this babe was hot.
He stood in front of her table, eyeing the name of the book she was so interested in on the bright, blood-red cover. Sexual Homicide, Patterns and Motives by John Douglas. Well, now. That was something unusual. His interest in little Ms. Blondie ratcheted up a few notches.
Without even looking up, she said, "Not interested."
"Oh, but I am," Jim countered smoothly. "Your choice of casual reading is very… unique."
The blonde bombshell lifted her eyes from her book, clearly annoyed at the interruption and it was then he went right over the edge. He stared into the biggest, widest, bluest eyes he had ever had the pleasure to see.
The Blonde stared up into emerald green eyes that were twinkling with amusement. But something… dangerous… lurked in their depths. Something decadent. Something wicked.
And she had to look a long way up into a handsome, rugged face with a charming, lopsided grin that gave her just the slightest tingle.
She gazed at the cover of her book and her lips curved upward. "It's not unique if one is a behavioral analyst for the FBI," Blondie tossed off. She flicked her amazing eyes over his fine body and back to her book.
Jim picked up the second chair, turned it around, straddled it and put his arms across the back of it. He leaned his chin on his arms and said, "Is one a behavioral analyst for the FBI? You certainly don't look like any behavioral analyst I've ever dealt with."
He was flirting with her. She arched her sandy brows at him. "And how does one deal with behavioral analysts?" She gestured toward him with one slender, graceful hand.
His charming, lopsided grin came out to play. That grin with just a hint of naughtiness underneath. "One deals with behavioral analysts when one is a DA," he replied smoothly, immediately piquing her interest.
His intense green eyes were sliding over her again, making her blood heat and setting off that little tingle in her core. "Name's Jim," he informed her in that sexy rumble of a voice.
"Trixie," she responded before her brain could tell her lips not to move. She leaned forward, putting her elbow on the table and cupping her chin in her hand. "And what does Jim want with Trixie?"
He leaned forward and his eyes were green flames. "I want to take you home, drink some tequila and…" And then he whispered a very explicit, very earthy suggestion. Shocked at his own brazenness, he braced himself for the impact of her hand on his cheek as he watched a charming rose flush highlight her pretty face.
Instead, her sapphire blue eyes deepened to cobalt. The tingle she felt earlier became a raging bonfire. Very slowly and deliberately she closed her book, smoothing one hand over the glossy cover. "Do you have a car? And some Patrón Silver?"
Her sexy voice and those sultry bedroom eyes just about did him in. "Yes." His voice was hoarse and his finger were itching to touch her. Everywhere.
He watched as she placed the book in her big, blue bag. "Well, then. Let's go. Jim." Trixie stood and began to walk to the exit, hips swaying provocatively. Jim jumped up, glanced over at his friend Dan who saluted and gave a thumbs up.
It wasn't until the door closed behind the couple that Dan began to laugh and laugh.
Jim steered her to a late-model high-end SUV, one with all the bells and whistles. He helped Trixie into the passenger seat, leaning in and buckling her seat belt, so close he could feel her hot, sweet breath on his neck. His arm brushed lightly against her curves and she gave a slight moan.
"Nice car," she said when he slid into the driver's seat. He was breathing heavily, trying to bring himself under some sort of control. God, she was potent.
"Thanks. I like it."
There was a short ride down a rural road before he turned into a long driveway with a sign at street level reading Ten Acres. The SUV easily crested the hill, and spread out before them was a restored Victorian mansion like something out of a gothic novel.
"Nice house." Trixie parroted her earlier words.
"Thanks. I like it." This time, when he scooted around the car to assist her, he couldn't stop himself from leaning in and tasting those lush, soft, pink lips. Her eyes fluttered closed as she opened her mouth to him, wanting it as much as he did.
She tasted like hints of caramel and something deep, dark and decadent. Her tongue was soft and hot and wet and dueled with his; damned if his body wasn't screaming for him to just take her there, right in the front seat of the car and steps from the privacy of his home.
Her hand fluttered to the back of his neck, then fisted in his thick, red hair. Hot white lights were popping behind her eyelids as his tongue slid against hers and his long fingers tangled in her curls. By the time the prolonged kiss broke, they were both in desperate need of air.
It was a good thing I wasn't standing up when he kissed me like that, she thought, because my knees are like jelly and I have grave doubts that I can support myself. "Ummm… I believe you promised me some tequila." She needed to combat the desire that was threatening to flare out of control.
He was dazed by her taste; by her touch and for a moment just stared blankly at her until his brain caught up and made the connection. "Ahh. Yeah." He couldn't help himself as she slid out of the car. He draped an arm around her, needing to touch her, keep her close.
Trixie was grateful or that strong arm wrapped around her; she wasn't quite sure that she could've walked to his front door unaided. She stared at those long, strong fingers of his as he unlocked the door and felt the heat rising in her cheeks. How would they feel on her skin with no barrier between them?
He ushered her into the foyer where she simply dropped her blue tote next to a small table. Jim placed his keys on the table and punched the code in on the alarm system.
Because there was no way in hell Trixie was going to leave Ten Acres that night. He took her hand and pulled her down a hallway and into what was obviously a family room. An adult family room.
An intricately carved mahogany bar dominated one side of the room. Five or six cushioned barstools were lined up like sentries in front of it. A large, state-of-the-art plasma television had a place of honor over the fieldstone fireplace. There was plenty of comfortable seating.
This was a place for serious partying.
Jim cleared his throat. "I believe I promised you some tequila," he said hoarsely.
Trixie's lips curved in a slow, sexy smile. "I believe you did."
Reluctantly letting go of her hand, he went behind the bar and set out several shot glasses and a very distinctive bottle of the high-end tequila. But instead of staying behind the bar, he came out and sat on the stool right next to her, carefully filling the empty glasses.
Her slender fingers curved around the glass; she picked it up and saluted him before tossing it back. The empty glass clicked on the bar top as she watched him do the same.
"Another?"
She pushed her empty glass closer to him and agreed. "Another."
Trixie tossed back the second drink as quickly as she did the first and what absolutely did him in was when the tip of her pink tongue slipped along her lower lip. "Trixie," he said hoarsely, his eyes darkening to a deep emerald. He was off the barstool a second, roughly pulling her against him.
He didn't care about that damn tequila. He didn't care that they were in the family room. He wouldn't have cared if they were broadcasting this on HBO. All he cared about was getting her naked and making love to her until they both couldn't think…
Morning came much too quickly. The sunlight played across the bed, hitting him in the face and making him groan. He opened one slightly bloodshot eye. Man, he was hung over. He reached over to the other side of the bed, searching for a warm, comforting, very female body, only to find an empty space.
He flopped back against his pillow, groaning again. When the hell did she get out of bed?
The door to the bedroom opened, and she walked in, filling out a short, midnight blue silky robe nicely; she was bearing a couple mugs of what smelled like coffee. Trixie sat next to him as he scooted up, and placed the hot, black coffee in his eager hands.
"Got something more for you, Studly," she said. She reached into her robe pocket and pulled out a bottle of extra-strength Excedrin. "If your head is anything like mine is, you really need this."
"Baby, you're the greatest," he moaned as she shook a couple of the capsules into his outstretched palm. A deep sip of the caffeinated bliss and he was already beginning to feel more human.
Trixie sat next to him, sipping her drink and his eyes darkened as her robe loosened and he could see the outline of her lovely curves. "Well, you know what they say, Studly," she smirked. "Beer makes you pee, whiskey makes you talk, gin makes you cry, and champagne makes you flirty…"
"And tequila?" He had to ask.
"Tequila," she leaned forward and brushed his lips with hers. "Tequila makes you pregnant!" Her vivid blue eyes were dancing with merriment and something hot.
Jim reached up and tugged on a curl. "Now that would put Jamie's nose out of joint," he laughed. "When are Honey and Brian bringing him home?" He arched his brows. "Dan thinks we're crazy, you know."
"Oh, not for another couple of hours yet, and pfftt to Dan. At least he stayed with the script this time," she purred, allowing her robe to open even more as she placed their cups on the nightstand.
Before she could blink, she was under him. "Fantastic," he murmured as he kissed her soft lips and proceeded in a southerly direction.
"Why, Mr. Frayne, seducing women you just met in a coffee shop! What happened to Mr. Honorable?" she teased. Gleeps, he was making her crazy.
"He married you." Before he took her mouth again, his hot breath fanned across her curls as he whispered in her ear.
"Next time, I think we should let the Naughty Librarian out to play."
"Only if we get to play Sexy Geek Guy after that," she bargained, arching her hips against him.
"Deal," he murmured, taking her under.
And next time, they did exactly that.
A/N: The adult version (Tequila! Too...)is on my site, bwgLyrics as well as another story released for my third Jixaversary, Playing Doctor. Hope you enjoyed this!