Sweet as Candy - Karla Doyle Page 0,17
evasive, if not untruthful, during the most basic types of conversation. No matter how she looked at it, getting to know Jake better wasn’t in the cards. Growing to like him was definitely off the table.
On the subject of tables, she crossed the small room and patted the one her client belonged on. “How about it? Is today the day I get to explore what’s under those fine-fitting clothes of yours?”
“Maybe.”
Her stomach sank. Shame on her for expecting him to stick to his word about not enjoying her services. She should’ve known better, especially since his presence proved his word was worth shit.
She pasted on the smile she’d practiced to perfection. The one her customers wanted to see, because that’s all Jake Campbell was—a customer. “I’m glad you changed your mind about the nature of our relationship.”
He shook his head while taking a seat in the chair across the room. “I didn’t change my mind. The ‘maybe’ was in case you changed yours.” Hands folded behind his head, he stretched his long legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. “How about we start with an early dinner after you’re finished here. There’s a nice little Italian place on Duke Street. Food’s good. Atmosphere is casual and intimate. We can get to know each other better, maybe work our way up to some kissing before getting busy with those explorations you mentioned.”
“You’ve got to be joking.”
“I never joke about Italian food. Greek sometimes, but never Italian.” He made it difficult to be angry when he charmed her with his easygoing sense of humor. The irresistible twinkle in his eyes sealed the deal.
But call him on his bullshit, now that she could do. “I don’t go out with men who renege on their promises.”
He raised his sandy-brown eyebrows. “Spoken like a woman who thinks I belong in that category.”
“You do.” She huffed when he gestured for her to continue, as if the burden of proof was on her shoulders. “The last time you were here, you promised not to come back, yet here you are. Promise broken.”
“No, the last time I was here, you had me promise that when I left that day, I wouldn’t come back. I didn’t come back that day. Promise kept.”
That explained why he’d so readily agreed to her terms—he’d only planned to honor them in the most literal sense. The cat-that-ate-the-canary grin he sported suited him. Too bad it wouldn’t last.
“Dinner’s still a no, smarty pants. I told you I don’t date customers.”
“Customers pay. We’ve been in here five minutes and you haven’t mentioned money once. No payment means I’m not a customer.”
“You distracted me, that’s all.” The distraction part was true. That there was nothing more to the omission than an oversight was a big, fat lie. One she needed to cover before it bit her in her barely covered behind.
She extended her hand, palm up. “I’ve got half an hour left in my shift, so you’re only on the hook for eighty.”
Gaze locked with hers, he dug some folded cash from his front pocket. “You can take my money,” he held up the bills between two fingers, “but it won’t be in exchange for services. I’m still not your customer.”
Time she proved him wrong. She moved toward him, each slow step calculated for maximum sex appeal. She straddled his outstretched legs, then his lap. Hands on his broad shoulders, she rocked her hips side to side, slowly lowering herself onto his groin. Seated there, grinding against his hidden hardness, her breasts flush against his chest, everything changed. She changed. Heat flared between her legs, igniting a craving she’d almost forgotten.
“Candy—”
“Shh,” she whispered, placing a finger over his lips. “You know you want this. I can feel how much you want me, how hard you are because of me.” She slid her hands up and down his arms, gripped his biceps while rolling her hips back and forth. Friction built between her legs, pushing her closer to the boiling point. “This is all we’re ever going to have, Jake. This chemistry, in this room. Enjoy it with me.”
He pulled her tighter onto his lap. He grasped her hips, curled his fingers until each blunt end became a pressure point.
She had him, she was making him a customer. But he had her too. Another minute of this lap-dance-turned-dry-humping session and he’d accomplish something she’d only faked within these walls. That made him a hell of a lot more than a customer.
His grip tightened and