Sinful Chocolate by Adrianne Byrd Page A

thought grinded to a halt. Surely, he looked like a cartoon with his mouth hanging open and his tongue rolling onto the floor.
    Gisella jiggled and wiggled and really got into the old movie soundtrack. She was completely clueless of Charlie’s presence, much less how his erection was trying to steeple like an Egyptian pyramid in his pants.
    Forget six months, Charlie had died and gone to heaven the moment he’d entered this apartment.
    Then something incredible happened. Gisella turned around and flashed him a smile.
    â€œHello, lover,” she singsonged playfully.
    Charlie looked over his shoulder to make sure she was talking to him.
    She was.
    To his surprise, she danced and bopped her way toward him with a sly smile and the unmistakable glint of seduction in her eyes.
    Hot damn. This is my lucky day.
    When she was within inches of him, the scent of strawberries swirled around his senses, making him light-headed…and incredibly horny.
    â€œHow about a kiss?” she asked.
    Before he could answer, she planted her full breasts against his chest and swept her sweet tongue inside his mouth. He moaned and started to wrap his arms around her waist when she suddenly jerked back and screamed.

Chapter 11
    O ne should never scream while holding a cat.
    The minute Sasha’s nails dug into Gisella’s arm, she was airborne. When the startled cat landed on Charlie, she turned into a weapon of mass destruction.
    Charlie roared.
    Sasha shrieked.
    And Gisella screamed and ran from the room. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God,” she chanted, slamming her bedroom door behind her. To calm down, she paced the floor and fanned herself. “That didn’t just happen,” she mumbled. “It didn’t. It couldn’t have.” She rolled her eyes skyward. “Oh, God, please say that didn’t happen.”
    She started praying in French.
    Unfortunately, Charlie and Sasha’s continued war prevented her from sinking into denial. Gulping in a few deep breaths, she raced over to her chest of drawers and slung clothes around until she found a pair of sweatpants and a white T-shirt. Once she was dressed, she still hesitated to leave her room. What was she going to say? How could she explain kissing him like that?
    And damn. What a kiss.
    Just thinking of it caused her heart to speed up again. Who on earth would ever believe that she kissed him because she thought he was a figment of her imagination?
    Suddenly, the apartment was quiet.
    Gisella inched toward the door. Was Sasha safe? Didn’t someone say something about not trusting Charlie alone with anything with breasts and a pulse? Slowly, Gisella pressed her ear against the door.
    Silence.
    Did he leave?
    She closed her eyes, held her breath and strained to hear the slightest sound.
    â€œGisella, are you in there?” came Charlie’s low baritone.
    She leaped from the door.
    His tone was barely above a whisper, but it had the effect of an excited cheerleader shouting through a megaphone.
    â€œGisella?”
    â€œUm.” She hesitated. “What are you doing here?”
    â€œLook. I knocked, but you had the music turned up so loud you wouldn’t have heard a bomb going off.” He chuckled.
    â€œOh,” she said, unprepared for a logical explanation. But on second thought, that only answered why he was inside the apartment, not why he’d come there in the first place.
    â€œActually, I was looking for a friend.”
    She frowned. They were hardly friends. Hell, they barely qualified as acquaintances. “I never gave you this address,” she said, still weary about opening her door.
    â€œYou didn’t. I looked up the address on the Internet.”
    Okay. Was he a stalker?
    â€œWhy would you look me up on the Internet?”
    â€œOh. No. Not you,” he rushed to explain. “No. I was looking for an old college friend, Anna Jacobs. Wait. Isn’t Jacobs your last name?”
    Charlie and Anna were