[Anthology] @Going Up, Going Down@ Celia Kyle, Renae Johnson %March Madness% by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-03-08T00:18:49.828000+00:00

HEAVENLY BODIES

Renae Johnson

Dedication

To My Brain Twin: Who knew an e-mail conversation could spark all this?

Chapter One

Samantha Beasley never expected Saint Peter to be hot.

Well, to be fair, Sam wasn’t sure if this guy was actually the Saint Peter, but the fact that he was standing outside the pearly gates greeting people made her think he could be Saint Peter. In all her imaginings, she’d never pictured him as a black-haired, chocolate-eyed epitome of masculinity. Her mouth became dry just looking at him.

She tapped her foot and tried to look away from his blinding beauty as she waited for her turn in front of the angel of hotness.

Unbidden, her gaze was drawn back to him. God, the man was beautiful. He smiled at a woman in line ahead of her and Sam thought she -- and the other woman -- would surely go up in flames at any moment. Was it suddenly hot up here, or was it just Saint Peter?

Sam tapped her foot again and belatedly realized she wasn’t meeting much resistance. She looked down. What the hell? Was she really floating on a cloud? And here she’d thought the whole clouds and angels thing was a bunch of bullshit.

“You might want to watch your language, Samantha.”

She started at the deep masculine voice and found herself at the beginning of the line. She looked up into the deep brown eyes of the angel of hotness and felt her stomach flutter. Could she go to hell for being aroused by a heavenly being?

He smirked.

“I’m sorry. Did I speak out loud?” Her voice actually sounded somewhat normal, all things considered.

His smirk widened into a smile. “Not exactly.”

Sam folded her arms across the ample bosom that had been the bane of her existence since the age of eleven. If this really was heaven, maybe she could talk the angel of hotness into dropping her from a size twenty to a size two.

“This is heaven, Samantha. We accept people as they are. No changes.”

“Well, hell.”

He raised a black eyebrow. “I could send you there if you wanted.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I think I’ll pass.”

He crossed sinewy arms over his broad chest, which was shockingly bare. Who knew angels ran around topless in heaven? “Do you know why you’re here, Samantha?”

“Well, I’m guessing I must have died at some point.”

She swore he rolled his eyes. Were angels allowed to do that?

“Do you remember how you died?”

She propped her hands on her hips and tried to recall what had happened. “All I remember was making a chocolate milkshake.”

He nodded. “That’s right. You were using the blender. The blade wasn’t attached properly. The top popped off from the force, and the blade flew out. It sliced open your jugular.”

“I died making a milkshake?” Seriously?

“That would be correct.”

“I swear this shit only happens to me,” she muttered.

“Samantha, you really shouldn’t use that kind of language here.”

“Sorry. It’s just that in my line of work -- well, what used to be my line of work before my blender went homicidal on me -- blue language is…was…part and parcel of it all.

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