Sweet as Candy - Karla Doyle Page 0,8
door swung inward and the man behind the knock filled the frame as he stepped through it. Blue eyes she’d only seen twice before but wouldn’t soon forget locked with hers. “Hey. Hope this is okay.”
Him? Seriously? The anger that’d overwhelmed her at Walmart bubbled to life in her stomach. At least this time, he’d have to fork over cash to be arrogant and assuming.
“Of course it’s okay.” She swallowed hard, pushing her irritation as far down as possible, pasting on a smile while nodding at the door behind him. “How about you take care of that door so we can get started?”
“In a rush?”
“In a rush to get my hands on you, handsome.”
The lock’s metallic click charged the air as he followed her instructions. Three strides and he stood in front of her, close enough for her to feel the heat rolling off his lean, muscular body. Close enough to catch a hint of his scent.
She’d learned to block out men’s scents years ago. One of the necessary survival mechanisms in this business, as not all men smelled good, and that was putting it kindly. This guy, however, smelled great. Not like cologne. The fragrance wasn’t overpowering or obvious. Soap, deodorant, pheromones—whatever the source or combination, it worked.
Enjoying his scent would make the job ahead more tolerable. That was her sole reason for inhaling deeply while sliding her hands up his chest.
“I have to say, I’m surprised to see you again. Pleasantly surprised.”
His eyebrows rose and the corners of his mouth ticked upward. “Yeah, the way you shut me down in the junk-food aisle definitely gave the ‘I want to see this guy again’ vibe.”
She smiled again, this time for real. She’d always been a sucker for a sense of humor. “Can’t a girl have a bad day?”
“I’m sorry you did. Especially if I was part of what made it bad.” Either he was less of a jerk than she’d pegged him for, or he was one hell of a manipulator.
She’d bet on the second option…then beat him at his game. “You’re very sweet. But you don’t have to be. Let me be sweet to you instead.”
“Sweet as candy?”
“Exactly.” She dragged her nails downward, leaving track lines on his body-hugging t-shirt. At the bottom, she grabbed the soft jersey and drew the fabric upward.
Until he stopped her with his strong hands and an accompanying head shake.
“No need to be shy, honey,” she said. “Get these clothes off and I guarantee you’ll walk out of here feeling like a million bucks.”
“What’ll it cost me to feel like a million bucks?”
“Eighty for thirty minutes, one-twenty for a full hour. Plus tip. Ginger should’ve told you the rates before bringing you back here, but she’s new. Somebody scared our previous receptionist away a couple days ago,” she said, tapping her index finger against his solid abs.
He chuckled while retrieving some cash from his front pocket. “Here’s one hundred. Half an hour plus a tip. I hope it’s enough, I’ve never done this before,” he said, tucking the folded bills beneath the edge of her bikini top. “How’s Sara doing, anyway? Have you talked to her since she left?”
Working at Lucky’s had made Candace an expert at reading people. Also, at hiding her true emotions, yet his bomb nearly blew her façade wide open. How the hell did he know Sara’s real name? It sure hadn’t seemed like Sara knew him during their fateful encounter at the front desk. Maybe he was one of the jerks who’d harassed Sara at her old apartment, after finding out where she worked.
None of that mattered. The guy was Candace’s problem now. Her client. Her job.
She wrinkled her nose, pouted and tilted her head. Her emptyheaded blonde expression—always a favorite with the men here. “You must have your names mixed up. Raven was our last receptionist. But enough about her, you’re with me now.” She slid her palms down his abdomen, beneath the waistband of his jeans. “For the next half hour, I’m going to make you forget anybody else exists.””
He groaned as she stroked him through his underwear, then he circled her wrist, halting her up-and-down motion. “I’m here to apologize.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.” She squeezed his thickening cock. “Most definitely not.”
“You’re not making this easy.”
“I’d rather make it harder. I know you want me to.” Within the limits of his grip, she managed some short, firm strokes. “Let go of my wrist and I’ll show you just how hard I can make it.”
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