“He walked into the house, smelling baked cookies. Now if that didn't make a house a home, nothing would. "Mmm!" he said loudly to announce his presence. "Something smells good!"Cricket poked her head out of the kitchen. "Come poach a cookie or two.""Yes, ma'am." He strolled into the kitchen and was pleased to see Suzy dressed in a pretty pink apron with red hearts on it. "Hello, Priscilla," he said. "Hi, Suzy.”

“Sugar,” Jake said, “I’ve wanted you since the first time you sassed me.”“I wanted to punch you in the nose.”He laughed and kissed her forehead. “My advertising skills left something to be desired.”“You rooked three unsuspecting women.”“I know.” He kissed her lips, taking his time. “I’m offering you a chance for payback.”“And that payback is sex?” He smelled awesome, like a hot, sexy man who’d been in a kitchen trying to please her. Or maybe please himself. With Jake, you never knew.He pulled her tighter against him, kissing her slowly, thoroughly. “I’d do my damnedest to make you a happy woman the second time I sold you something.”Sugar looked into Jake’s eyes. He was too hot, too sexy, almost taking her breath away. “I think your gravy’s burning.”“Nice try. I turned it off.” He tugged her hips against him, kissing her as if he’d never tasted anything as good as her mouth. Sugar moaned and let Jake hike her up on his waist. “If I’m moving too fast, say so. I’ll back off and feed you the best shrimp and steak dinner you’ve ever had. Just good friends breaking bread together.”Sugar gasped as Jake sank his teeth gently into her lower lip. Heat and warmth filled her, stealing her desire to tell him no about anything. “I’m not really that hungry.”His smile turned dangerous. “I am.”

“How dare you touch my cookies, you bastard!” Jason said in utter disgust before popping the cookie into his mouth and heading back to his house. “Damn those looked good, too,” Brad grumbled. Haley sighed. “Don’t worry I have a second plate on my counter.” The words were barely out of her mouth when Jason abruptly changed course and headed towards her house. “Well, there was,” she said, watching Jason walk into her house like he owned it. A minute later he walked out of her house, carrying both plates and the gallon of milk she had in her fridge. He headed back to his house, but not before he glared at Brad. “You cookie thieving bastard,” they heard him mutter. Brad rolled his eyes, chuckling. “And people wonder how I lost weight rooming with him in college.”

“March 6, 1961I remembered a party in a house outside of Ann Arbor. There was a jazz band -- piano, bass, drums, and sax -- playing in one of the large rooms. A heavy odor of marijuana hung in the air. The host appeared now and then looking pleased, as if he liked seeing strangers in every room, the party out of his control. It wasn't wild, but with a constant flow of people, who knows what they're doing. It became late and I was a little drunk, wandering from one part of the house to another. I entered a long hall and was surprised by the silence, as if I had entered another house. A girl at the other end of the hall was walking toward me. I saw large blue eyes and very black hair. She was about average height, doll-like features delicate as cut glass, extremely pretty, maybe the prettiest girl I'd ever seen. When she came up to me I took her in my arms and kissed her. She let it happen. We were like creatures in a dream. Holding her hand, I drew her with me and we passed through rooms where people stood about, and then left the house. As we drove away, she said her name was Margo. She was a freshman at the university, from a town in northern Michigan. I took her home. It was obvious she'd never gone home with a man. She didn't seem fearful, only uncertain, the question in her eyes: "What happens next?" What happened next was nothing much. We fell asleep in our clothes. I wasn't the one to make her no different from everyone.”

“The shots left a hard ringing sound within the closeness of the brick walls. Terry held the pistol at arm's length on a level with his eyes--the Russian Tokarev resembling an old-model Colt .45, big and heavy--and made the sign of the cross with it over the dead. He said, "Rest in peace, motherfuckers," turned, and walked out of the beer lady's house to wait at the side of the road.”

“What’s that smell?” Reynolds asked.That smell is the stuff they grow mushrooms in.” DeForrest sniffed the air. “Shit?” he asked. Captain Suzie shrugged. “Manure.”

“When I got inside, I just sort of stood there. There’s nothing stranger than the smell of someone else’s house. The scent goes right to your stomach. Mary’s house smelled like lemon furniture polish and oatmeal cookies and logs in a fireplace. For some reason it made me want to curl up in the fetal position. I could have slept right there on their kitchen table.”