Free Bedroom Eyes by Hailey North

about was her sweaty armpits. And the gun he had holstered under his jacket.
    His tongue broke through the barrier of her lips and Penelope squirmed against him. There must be something wrong with her, a fear she’d carried within her for years. Men who wanted her, she didn’t want. Men she wanted never looked twice at her.
    She stifled a sigh and tried to force herself to return David’s kisses.
    He didn’t seem to notice her lack of involvement. One hand working on a blouse button, he pushed her back on the bed, his slender body not crushing her so much with weight as with her wild thought that if she didn’t make him get off her that very instant, he’d refuse to stop.
    She pushed at his shoulders with her hands. He worked one button free, then the one below it, and slid his hand inside toward her breast. She twisted her mouth from his and said, “David, don’t. This isn’t right. It’s not the right time.”
    He raised up on his hands and stared down at her, breathing hard. Before he could speak, Penelope sniffed and said in alarm, “Do you smell smoke?”
    David kept looking at her as if he wanted to ignore the question, ignore her request to stop. Penelope shivered. The smell of smoke grew more definite.
    Finally he lifted his body off hers and stood at the edge of the bed. “Something is definitely burning.” Then he laughed and added, “Something besides me.”
    Penelope blushed. Well, it wasn’t her fault he’d gotten all worked up. She jumped from the bed and ran toward the kitchen. Had she left something on the stove or in the oven? She didn’t think so.
    However, flames danced above the stove. “Firecrackers and figs!” She raced for the fire extinguisher she kept under the sink, yanked the pin, and aimed it at the blaze.
    David walked slowly into the room behind her.
    Penelope already had the fire damped. She tiptoed toward the stove. David moved behind her and looked over her shoulder. Inside the sauté pan atop the stove were the shards of what looked like a heap of toothpicks. And sure enough, the holder where she kept toothpicks handy for testing her baking sat empty.
    David looked from the pan to her and back again.
    Penelope lifted her hands, all innocence. She certainly hadn’t started the fire in the pan.
    But she knew who had. And she knew why. That incense stick must serve as more than a pole-vaulting aid.
    “David,” she said, in a voice she forced into sweetness and light, “would you mind awfully if we rescheduled dinner? I’ve just had too much excitement today, what with fainting from the heat and that dangerous man following me home, and now this. . . this spontaneous combustion.” She didn’t add and what with you throwing yourself on me and not even taking off your gun first! She wanted him out of her apartment, and apparently so did Mrs. Merlin.
    And Penelope wasn’t one to ignore help when it came to her aid. What had Mrs. Merlin said earlier? Something about don’t question the gifts of the goddess?
    “Of course not, Penelope.” David adjusted his jacket and shot his cuffs. “You may be right. This may not be the best time for us. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
    Penelope smiled, relieved he’d taken the rebuff so well.
    He leaned over and kissed her on the lips. Again, she didn’t feel the way she thought she should. But maybe it was wrong of her to expect to experience shooting stars with every kiss.
    Yet in her fantasies she felt so alive she just couldn’t believe the feeling didn’t exist in reality. Penelope sighed, walked David to the door, and wiggled her fingers good-bye.
    She shut it after him, then leaned her back against the door’s solid surface, thankful to be alone. Or almost alone. “Thank you, Mrs. Merlin,” she called. “You can come out now and I promise you anything you want for dinner.”
    “Now, that’s music to my ears!”
    Mrs. Merlin’s voice sounded from the kitchen. Penelope ran over and saw her flour canister pushing itself