Sweet as Candy - Karla Doyle Page 0,4

the hair curtaining her face from view behind one ear.

Boom. The riot that’d erupted in his gut at Lucky’s yesterday roared to life the moment he saw her face. “Hey, I know you.”

The appreciative, friendly smile faded from her lips. “No, you don’t.”

“Unless you’ve got an equally gorgeous, identical twin sister, yeah, I do.” He kept pace as she steered around him, pushing her shopping cart as if on a mission. “You’re Candy.”

She stopped on the spot, stared up at him with frosty blue eyes. “You really want to do this? Right here in the middle of Walmart? Fine, let’s do it,” she said, not giving him a split second to answer. “Whatever plan is going through that slick head of yours, I promise you it won’t work. Bigger jerks than you have tried and failed.”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Then I’ll spell it out for you—I’m off the clock.” She raised her hand when he opened his mouth to interject. “This is where you stop talking and leave me alone. You can buy time with me at Lucky’s, but out here in the real world, I’m out of your league, golden boy.” Shoulders pulled back and ponytail bobbing, she walked away, turned out of the row and disappeared from view. Seemed the blonde had a temper as hot as her body.

Not that he blamed her. To Candy, he was just some random guy who’d sauntered into Lucky’s and acted like a supreme asshole. Clearly, he wasn’t the first customer she’d encountered outside of business hours. Those idiots probably thought that because they’d previously paid for her services, they were entitled to something outside the massage parlor. Based on her comments, she’d assumed he fell into that category.

Shit. His motives may not have been pure, but they weren’t based on what she did for a living. His filthy intentions had been inspired by the wicked-hot ass he’d homed in on the moment he’d entered the aisle. He’d been in the process of hitting on her before recognizing her from Lucky’s.

He grabbed another bag of Lay’s from the top shelf. Ketchup, his favorite kind. The same flavor Candy had chosen. Made him wonder what else they had in common. She’d had a Blue Jays t-shirt on, maybe she followed baseball. Would she be kicking back on her couch later, eating chips straight from the bag while watching the game? Or would she be at Lucky’s, filling her mouth with salty substances of an entirely different type?

Potential scenarios flooded his brain. Sexy shit that should’ve affected blood flow below the belt, but it didn’t.

He hated to admit it, but Curtis might be right about needing an intervention. Maybe all those nights Jake had spent sitting in the front row, watching naked women roll their hips and rub their tits, had numbed him.

He tossed the chips onto the nearest open shelf space and headed for the exit rather than the checkouts. Appetite—gone. The empty-pit sensation in his gut remained, but it had nothing to do with a craving for junk food.

Candace

Candace’s temperature was still in the red zone when she loaded her shopping bags into the trunk. The absolute nerve of that guy, thinking he could put the moves on her in Walmart because he knew how she’d earned the money to pay for her purchases. The pig. He wasn’t the first pig and he wouldn’t be the last.

There was only one way to prevent this crap from happening. Quit her job and move. As far away as possible, someplace where she could simply be Candace, single mom of the best kid in the world. God, she’d love to do that. One day. Unfortunately, that day was not today, nor any day on the immediate calendar.

She sighed while exiting the parking lot. The weekly top-forty countdown reached its peak on the radio, filling her car with a catchy toe-tapping beat. Exactly what she needed right now. She cranked up the volume and joined in, belting out the lyrics she knew and making up words to replace those she didn’t.

Since she didn’t have innocent ears listening from the backseat, her substitutions included some choice insults about a certain too-friendly helper from the chip aisle. Things she’d never say to the guy’s face, no matter how arrogantly he behaved. Even telling him off the way she had left a bad taste on her tongue. A residual effect of how she’d been raised. Her parents had always prioritized politeness above personal feelings. Above what was right.

She