Divine and Dateless (6 page)

"Are you ready to join me in the afterlife," he whispered into my ear.

A jolt shot down my neck, zinged down my spine, and arced like a wayward bolt of lightning, straight to that point of pleasure that made me want to spread my legs right there at the Pearly Gates.

When he laced his fingers through mine, skimming my palm with the pad of his thumb, the last thing I cared about was his scent. My G-spot was already priming for an eternity of OH, GOD, OH, GOD, and YES, YES, YESSSS!!!

I numbly followed the Swede as Pete ushered us toward the Pearly Gates. Yes,
those
Pearly Gates. Each bar was as luminescent as I’d envisioned, stretching so far above my head, I couldn’t fathom where they ended. Pete opened the gate with a key shaped like the one Grim had used to power the elevator, only Pete’s was bigger and brighter. Both huge doors swung open without so much as a squeak.

I tensed up, waiting for a chorus of singing angels or dramatic orchestra music, relieved when neither happened. A lone shadow stepped from behind a mist of swirling clouds.

When the Swede, er… my valet, told me to go inside, I was almost afraid to for fear intruder alarm bells would go off and I’d be zapped by God’s invisible electric fence.

I closed my eyes when the Swede grabbed my hand, leading me through the opening.

"There’s my beautiful grand-daughter."

My eyes shot open. A woman who sounded and looked like a much younger version of my grandmother stepped out of the fog and held out her arms.

I stood there with my mouth hanging open while the raven-haired beauty pulled me into a warm embrace. Mmm. She smelled like fresh-picked peaches and warm cinnamon, just like I remembered, but she sure didn't look like my grandma. This bombshell with the thick lashes and bright red lips could have been a 1940s pinup model

"Grandma Clara?" I asked as she pulled back, holding me at arm's length. "You look different."

"You didn’t think I’d make it all the way to the Penthouse and keep my old body, did you?" she said with a throaty laugh.

"Wow." I waved a hand at her. "So this is the younger you?"

"No, Ash." She winked as she protruded her plump double Ds. "This is the
divine
me."

I nodded at her shapely legs, outlined by painted-on black tights. “I wouldn’t mind dropping about fifteen pounds.”

She stepped back and pointed at me. “Look at yourself, Ash.”

I glanced down and could not believe what I saw. I was wearing my little black dress. No, not the stretchy skirt I’d had to practically bathe in oil to pull over my hips earlier tonight, but the
other
black dress. The one I hadn’t worn since junior year in college, the one that was dangerously too short and daringly too sheer. And what was even more amazing was my butt and thighs fit into that skimpy piece of fabric without busting the seams.

“Oh my gosh!” I twirled around as I stared down at my lean, long legs. “My thighs don’t rub together.” I squealed when I ran my fingers through my smooth hair. No more electrified mop!

“Are you ready to go to your welcome home party? Your Uncle Mikey is there.”

“I can’t wait!” I practically jumped out of my shoes.

Grandma flashed a radiant smile as she turned up her chin. “To the suite,” she called and then snapped her fingers.

“Surprise!”

A chorus of people erupted into clapping and cheers. We were no longer at the Pearly Gates but had somehow been magically transported to the most lush apartment I’d ever seen, with big bay windows overlooking a moonlit sky and a sunken living room with recessed lighting, marble floors, and plush furniture. A flirty Katy Perry song was playing in the background. Whoever owned this place had good taste.

I was so in awe of my change in environment, I nearly tripped over my own feet as I stumbled backward. Luckily, a strong set of arms anchored me by the waist before I landed flat on my ass.

“Watch yourself,” someone male rumbled in my ear.

I gasped as I tilted my head back and glanced at him. He still looked like the Swede, but hot damn, his throaty southern baritone sounded just like Grim’s.

What the heck was going on?

Before I could think to question him, I was captured in another tight hug. I wrapped my arms around the man holding me, breathing in the familiar lemony scent of his hair gel.

Uncle Mikey!

“Welcome home, pumpkin,” he sniffled against my shoulder as he rocked me. “I’m happy to see my baby niece, but so sad your life was cut short.” He wiped moisture from his eyes with a hankie.

Odd, but I didn’t think there were supposed to be any tears in Heaven.

Uncle Mikey looked like I remembered him: dark, slicked back hair, clean, crisp designer suit, and large, luminous brown eyes that were so beautiful they were heart-breaking.

“It’s okay, Uncle.” I shrugged, turning my gaze to the swirling mist at my feet. I guess this mist thing was something I was going to have to get used to. “That life was getting me nowhere, anyway.”

“No pouting in Heaven. Chin up, girl.” Uncle Mikey flashed his signature dazzling smile as he lifted my chin in his gentle grip.

I couldn’t help but smile back. “You used to tell me that all the time.”

I vaguely remembered sitting on top of my uncle’s hospital bed, my legs dangling over the railing. I’d been crying because I didn’t like all the tubes attached to his arms or the hollow look in his eyes. He’d managed enough strength to wipe away my tears and tell me to keep my chin up. We’d buried him a few days later, and I’d cried for many days until my mom brought home a cuddly, black Lab puppy. Mom had told me Uncle Mikey would be displeased if he looked down from Heaven and saw me so sad, so I’d stopped crying that day and poured all of my emotions into my dog, Jack.

“You had just started grade school when I’d died,” Mikey said as he cupped my cheek. “You look so much like my sweet sister.”

I searched his gaze as another memory of Uncle Mikey made my heart settle like a lead brick: his cold and ashen body lying all too still. My mom was draped over the casket, sobbing profusely as the pallbearers tried to take him away.

I could only imagine how she’d react when she discovered I’d died.

“Sweetheart,” he said, stroking my face.

I tried to answer him, but when I opened my mouth to form a response, a big, blubbering sob came out instead. He pulled me to him, and I buried my face in his crisp, clean suit and cried like a baby.

“There, there. It will be okay.” He patted my back. “This girl needs some cheesecake.”

“I think we all do,” Grandma said behind me. “Cheesecake takes all worries away.”

“Cheesecake?”

I lifted my head and slowly turned around, relieved when my uncle held onto my hand. I was so glad to have my family here with me in Heaven. Paradise or not, I didn’t know how I could have gotten through this dying stuff without them.

There were several other people lounging around a granite countertop in the open kitchen, laughing as they took bites of cheesecake and sipped champagne. When I saw my valet piling slices of the decadent dessert on a plate, my hand instinctively flew to my gut. I seriously doubted there was enough toilet paper in all of Heaven to aid me after I gorged on gluten, but it sure was tempting.

Uncle Mikey released my hand as a tall, dark, and buff Latin man handed him a big piece of cheesecake with a wink.

“Thank you, Francisco,” Mikey cooed as he dug into his pie. “I’ll summon you later when I need you.”

Francisco shot my uncle a sideways smile before
poof
, he was gone. I blinked hard, staring at the empty space where the tall hunk of tanned manflesh had been standing.

“Where did he go?” I asked my uncle, but then the Swede’s large body was casting a shadow over me.

“Here you are.” He held out three of the most sinful looking desserts I’d ever seen. “Triple chocolate chunk, dark chocolate raspberry, and cookies and cream.”

I sighed and shook my head, even as my mouth watered and my tummy rumbled. “They all look heavenly, but I have a sensitive stomach.”

“Ash.” Grandma came up beside me and settled a hand on my shoulder. “There are no sensitive stomachs in Heaven.” She took a big bite of vanilla cheesecake topped with sugared peaches, her eyes practically rolling into the back of her skull as she groaned.

“Yeah.” I frowned as my valet was trying to shove the plate into my hands. “But my stomach is
really
sensitive.”

“Stella had terrible lactose intolerance before she died. Didn’t you, Stella?” Grandma waved her fork at a woman lounging on the sofa. Her heels were kicked off and a shirtless cowboy was massaging her feet.

“Sure did,” Stella answered in a sing-song voice as she twirled a heaping bite of caramel cheesecake onto her fork.

“This is Heaven, Ash.” Uncle Mikey said. “You can eat whatever you want and not get sick or gain weight. Your hair is always flawless.” He raked a hand through his perfectly gelled hair, and every strand fell back into place as if bewitched by magic. “Your skin is forever smooth.” He patted his rosy cheek, batting his lashes.

Though it has been nearly twenty-five years, I remembered how sick and sallow Uncle Mikey looked when he’d died. The man standing before me looked like a modern, business version of the Greek god, Adonis.

“Try one,” the Swede inched close to me, his arm grazing the side of my shoulder. He stabbed a piece of cheesecake and held it beneath my nose. “I know how much you love chocolate.”

I shivered as I took a hesitant step back. How did the guy know I loved chocolate? I’m a woman, so it’s a given I would love it, but I lived for the stuff. I had wet dreams about chocolate, from fresh-baked gooey chocolate-chip cookies, to rich devil’s food cakes dripping with butter cream frosting, to brownies topped with ice cream and warm, thick fudge, all gluten free, of course. When I was not dreaming of it, I was eating it, probably one reason why I’d split my yoga pants last month at the gym, and not at all due to the fact that I was over exerting myself.

As if.

The Swede was still standing there with that plate in his hands, looking at me with the sweetest expression and not saying a word. As if he sensed my discomfort, he backed up a step. I was still trying to figure out why the guy made me uncomfortable. Maybe it was because he looked like a tall Aryan god, but he sounded and smelled like Grim.

Maybe it was because I still couldn’t get over the way Grim had reacted when I’d thanked him for not throwing me in sludge. He’d had no right to get angry after the way he’d treated me tonight, first kissing me, then acting standoffish. Being with Grim made me feel as if my emotions were tethered to a yo-yo, and he’d been stringing me up and down all evening long.

Even though the Swede was really cute and sweet, damn me for missing Grim and wanting to get strung up again. Was I always destined to fall for jerks?

While my heart and body were at war with what I should do next, the Swede made the decision for me. He dipped a thick finger in fudge chocolate sauce, leaned forward, and placed a dab on my lips. I was still hesitant to taste the chocolate, but the mesmerizing look in his eyes made me do it.

One taste.

One blissfully glorious taste was all it took to transport me to another dimension I hadn’t even known existed. It was as if my taste buds were connected to my soul, and my soul had just been untethered. I was flying high, higher than a bird, even higher than an angel, to a place where happiness, peace, and pleasure were three parts of a whole, the trifecta of my eternal bliss.

All from a taste of cheesecake. Wow. Imagine what eating a whole slice would do.

By the time I’d dug into my second slice of chocolate nirvana, I was floating, and I didn’t mean metaphorically. I meant I
was
floating. I’d actually risen into the rafters.

It was the weirdest feeling hovering above the furniture, and yet, it also felt perfectly natural. What the hell was in that pie? These ascended took getting high to a whole new level. My body wasn’t the only thing tripping. My soul was, too. I was pretty sure, when I’d first gotten here, I’d been upset over something, but I couldn’t recall what. Whatever it was, it must not have been very important.