Sweet as Candy - Karla Doyle Page 0,11
took to send the two massage attendants scurrying toward the rear of the building.
“Relax, I’m only here for Candy,” he called after them. “Not as a cop, I’m off duty.” Shit, putting it that way did not sound good. He pressed both palms against the counter and met Ginger’s panicked eyes. “Look, just call her. As soon as you know she’s okay, I’ll clear out and let you all get back to business.”
“Promises, promises.”
His gaze immediately snapped toward the voice he’d been imagining all week. He straightened as she approached, unable to take his eyes off the beautiful blonde dressed in yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt. “Everything okay with you?”
“Not really.” She leaned against the archway. “Want to follow me around with that badge of yours and scare all the bad stuff away?”
“You got it, sweets.” He motioned toward the front door. “Lead the way.”
A hundred-watt smile flashed across her face. It disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a less authentic version that paled by comparison.
He glanced over his shoulder, following her sightline when she abandoned his gaze. A fifty-something man stood behind him. A prospective customer, possibly hers. Not while Jake was here.
“I’m ready when you are. Same room as last time?” Jake asked, drawing her attention.
“If that works for you.”
“As long as you’re in it with me, I’m golden.” A little play on her words from their conversation—or rather, confrontation—in the chip aisle. The legit smile on her face told him she hadn’t missed the reference. He stepped forward, settling his hand on the small of her back as she led him to the last massage room on the left. Once inside, he locked the door.
That’s as far as she let things go before facing him down and drilling him with a glare. “Just who the hell do you think you are?” A rhetorical question, obviously, because she threw her hand up the second he opened his mouth to answer. “You can’t come around here flashing a badge while asking for me. You’ll get me fired.”
“Your boss wasn’t around.”
“You think she won’t hear about the commotion you caused? Those girls out there aren’t my buddies. They’re my coworkers, sometimes my rivals. If one of them decides they want to bump me out of my Monday-to-Friday daytime slot, all it’ll take is one enlightening conversation with the owner.”
He’d come here hoping for a fresh start, not to piss her off and push her further away. “Tell me how I can fix things. If it’s legal, I’ll do it.”
“Okay.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “It’ll take three things.”
“Name them.”
“Fifty bucks each for the girls out there, as a show of good faith.”
A hundred and fifty bucks down the drain. Shit. “No problem. Next.”
“I want your name and badge number.”
He pulled a card from his wallet and offered it up between two fingers. “I’ll give you my personal cell number too, since I know you want it but you’re too shy to ask.”
He doubted she could roll her eyes any harder if she tried. And it was goddamn adorable.
“What’s the last thing?” he asked.
“When you leave today, don’t come back.”
“Deal,” he said, nodding.
“Really? Just like that?”
“Yeah.”
Her arms fell to her sides, palms up. “Then why not just walk out the door now, why bother agreeing to my other conditions?”
“Because it’s what you want.”
“And that matters why?”
A question he wasn’t prepared to answer truthfully. Not yet. He stepped closer, awareness winging its way through him as he placed his card in her palm and folded her fingers over it. “I want you to believe me when I tell you I’m not a giant asshole.”
She looked at the card, then at his face. “Same question, round two. Why do you care what I think of you?”
“I want to get to know you better. And vice versa.”
Stepping clear of him, she peeled her loose sweatshirt up, over her head and tossed it aside. She toed off a pair of canvas slip-ons and kicked them away. The pants went down and off next, leaving her in a pale-pink bra and panties. Nothing fancy, but still killer-fucking-sexy.
“Here’s how we get to know each other. Eighty dollars for thirty minutes, one-twenty for a full hour. Fifty more if you want to know everything about me.”
Good thing he’d come prepared. “Done.” He pulled out his wallet and withdrew one-hundred-thirty dollars, which he pressed to her palm. “You’re mine for the next half hour. And I want everything.”
She turned and patted the massage