Sweet as Candy - Karla Doyle Page 0,53

was influence her daughter’s reaction to the next question. “Would you like Megan to come back and play with you again? Maybe some time when I’m not home?”

“Okay, Mommy.”

“Are you sure, baby girl?” Her mask was slipping, but she pushed onward. “Because I don’t have to go out and leave you at home.”

“Mommy, I’m almost six.”

Candace bit the inside of her cheek to keep her expression in check.

“I’m old enough to stay with a babysitter, Mommy.”

From the seat in the corner, Megan winked at Candace. “Sounds like Macy and I have a date for next Saturday night.”

Meaning Candace had one too. She turned toward the window while tapping a message to Jake.

I want to be with you too. The answer is yes.

Jake

Hitting up Curtis for a favor required one of two things—beer or barbells.

Jake really didn’t have time for a workout before this afternoon’s swim plans. Being 10:30 a.m., beer wasn’t an option. Barbells had won by default and necessity.

Now that Candace had accepted his invitation for next Saturday, it was crunch time, literally and figuratively. He had one week to ensure the gala would be a night she’d never forget. Seeing a familiar face in a room full of strangers should help with that.

He pushed out a hard-fought twelfth rep then racked the barbell. “You taking Sara to the Chief’s Gala?” he asked, clearing off the bench.

Curtis grunted while settling into position beneath the bar. “No. Not her kind of thing. Mine either.”

“Too bad.”

Curtis paused before raising the weight for his set. “Why?”

“Thought it’d put Candace at ease if she had a familiar face at the table.”

“Nice try, Campbell,” Curtis said, snorting. “You wouldn’t be caught dead at the gala and you sure as hell wouldn’t take Candace.”

“Wrong on both counts. Picked up our tickets on my way here.”

The barbell clanged into position on the rack and Curtis stood, narrowing his eyes at Jake from the opposite side of the bench. “You think taking her to an event where she’s surrounded by cops is a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Jake stared at his friend, hoping to hell Curtis would stand down.

Curtis scrubbed his hand over his jaw. Exhaled. Then did what Curtis Lawler always did—spoke his mind. “She’s a prostitute at an unlicensed rub’n’tug. Just because she hasn’t been arrested doesn’t mean she’s not on the radar.”

Sweat beaded on Jake’s forehead as his temperature shot upward. “She’s a massage attendant, not a streetwalker.”

“Different titles, same definition—sex for cash.”

A rage-fueled furnace roared to life in Jake’s gut. He slammed another plate on each end of the barbell, reveling in the echoing ting as metal crashed into metal, then he dropped onto the bench.

“You sure about that weight? That’s thirty pounds more than your best max.”

He glared up at Curtis. “Fuck you.”

“Jesus.” Curtis shook his head while stepping behind the rack, ready to give a spot if necessary. “All right, let’s see it,” he said, after Jake brought the bar down to his chest. “Prove me wrong.”

Jake gritted his teeth and pushed. Pushed with every ounce of strength he possessed. Fucking fuck, this shit was heavy. Too heavy, but he pushed it up anyway. All the way to the fucking top. Took every drop of the adrenaline coursing through his veins to get there, but he did it without assistance.

He met Curtis’s intent gaze. “You’re wrong.”

His buddy grunted. “One’s all you’ve got? Come on, asshole, rep it out.”

“Dick.”

“That’s spoken for, but I’ll lend my hands if you can’t get the big-boy weight up on your own a second time. Now lift, you stupid son of a bitch.”

Asshole. Feet planted solidly on the floor, Jake lowered the weight. He arched his back, sucked in a breath and pushed the goddamn bar up. One painful fucking inch at a time, with arms shaking harder than a naked idiot standing in the snow after a New Year’s Day polar-bear swim.

Curtis stared down at him, his hands poised to grab the bar if Jake lost control. “Little more, little more. Almost there, come on, come on, you got it.”

Exactly what Jake needed to hear. Teeth clenched, he pushed the motherfucking bar to the end position, then backward, onto the rack.

“Nice.” Curtis buddy-slapped Jake’s shoulder as he rose from the bench. “You proved me wrong about the weight. Got a plan to show me I’m wrong about the Candace situation too?”

“Wish I did, but no.” He exhaled while removing the weights from one side of the bar while Curtis did the other. Much as he