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WHAT HE WANTED
An absent thought swept through Ian’s sex-crazed brain: How would her hair look against his chest, the red-gold shimmering fire intermingled with his own dark mat?
Bollocks! What the hell had come over him?
He stared out the window across the cobbled yard, unconsciously seeking out the kitchen. Had she left? Had she cleaned it up by herself?
Damn the woman.
This was no time for him to be distracted by her gemstone eyes or her pert little nose. He was thinking about how her breasts would fit in his hand. Comfortably, enough to hold and worship.
“Damnation!” he roared.
Kisses to Go
Irene Peterson
ZEBRA BOOKS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
For Sandy
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 1
“Give me a boost, Lutrelle. I have to see for myself.”
The six-foot three drag queen shook his head.
“Uh-uh, girlfriend. Believe me, you don’t want to see what’s going on in there.”
Abby Porter stood with her hands on her hips, her whole body shaking.
“Please, Lutrelle.”
Her friend, obviously desperate for an excuse, held out his newly manicured fingernails. “I just had these tipped. I don’t want to break one.”
“Please,” Abby begged, the urgency making her voice echo in the dingy freight elevator shaft. “I’ll…give you my beaded evening bag if you help me out.”
Playing dirty, she knew how much Lutrelle admired that black clutch purse. Her friend’s lips twitched, his eyes sparkled; he was wavering.
Placing hands big enough to palm a basketball on either side of Abby’s waist, Lutrelle gently lifted Abby up to see into the small, reinforced-glass window on the metal loft door.
Abby’s short curls bounced against her cheeks as she settled unsteadily, turning her face to the glass. Her eyes bugged open; she stopped breathing. Lance was in there all right, standing naked in front of her stainless steel worktable, his back toward the bolted door. His buttocks jerked back and forth; his dark hair slicked onto his sweaty neck while the soles of two rather small, definitely feminine feet rested on his shoulders.
“Seen enough, baby?” Lutrelle asked in soft contralto tones.
Abby nodded, for words wouldn’t come.
Her friend carefully lowered her until her feet touched the beat-up elevator floor. Abby sagged, her knees giving out just a bit. Lutrelle pulled her up easily and held on. Abby sucked in a deep breath and felt something snap inside her. Lunging for the steel door, her arms windmilling in fury and her one foot raised to strike the door a fatal blow, she let loose a string of cusswords that would make the dead blush.
“Lemme at him!” she screeched. “I’ll slice him and dice him! I’ll…I’ll nail his balls to the table! The shit! The no good shit!”
Good thing Lutrelle was so limber and Abby was so petite. He picked her up and whispered in her ear.
“Easy, baby. He ain’t worth it and now you know why.”
Then wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders, the leggy transvestite led her down the hall to his apartment.
“Sorry, miss, but it’s too late to cash in your second ticket,” the pert, overly made-up woman behind the check-in counter told Abby. “The flight is boarding.”
Abby stared at the woman in numb disbelief. She had no real money on her. Her checkbook and savings book were still back in the loft, behind that locked door. Ooooh! Lance and his dimpled darling might very well be doing it on top of her life’s savings at this moment. The only money she had in her shoulder bag was what remained from her brief shopping spree on the way home from picking up her passport uptown. And maybe her ATM card. Maybe.
She mentally cursed herself for being ten times a fool.
All right, she should have told Lance about the surprise trip to England she’d booked and paid for completely. What with her new job and the old job and his upcoming one-man show at the Breckenridge Gallery, she was busy, he was busy. Busy, busy. In fact, they hadn’t really been together in months. And not all that much before then, either. So she’d been so understanding. She’d supported him in every possible way. She’d even bought his razor blades!
How could she have been so stupid? Stupid, stupid, stupid. She should have called the cops and had them break down the loft door. He had no right to lock her out of their apartment!
So. The apartment was in his name and tough shit about her stuff?
Let him pay the rent.
And buy his own food.
However, that left Abby with no other alternative at the moment. Too embarrassed to call her parents for help after all the warnings they’d given her about Lance, she realized that she had no friends left to ask for anything, either. Except Lutrelle. Lance, in his own sneaky sonova-bitch way, had severed all her outside relationships.
He had systematically taken away her identity, long before taking away her pride. Her jaw ached and her molars would crack if she gritted them any harder. But, in a way, he’d finally done her a favor. The Great Turning Point had arrived. She came from a long line of tough people; Porters had survived much worse than this. She wasn’t going to let that jerk keep her from leaving and enjoying England. No way in hell.
So, after a security check that bordered on intimate, she found herself facing this painted woman at the airport, with little cash, a passport, and a big plastic shopping bag containing her few earthly possessions. How much worse could things get?
Through the thud-thud-thud in her pounding head, Abby heard the woman say, “Of course, we can upgrade your ticket to first class, miss. That’s the best I can do for you right now.”
Something managed