Love You So Sweetly

by Tara Lain

  Harper pushed up his glasses. “Honest.”

  “I believe you.”

  Harper kept leaning forward in his chair. “Thank you, because I really want to work here. When I found out you didn’t need me, I was so disappointed I thought I should quit, but all the work has been so interesting. I know I just started, but I think I can make a contribution to the company, and—”

  Remy held up a hand. “I’ve heard good things.”

  “I make great coffee.” He grinned, but his eyes were soft.

  “It’s not part of your job, but if you’ll keep doing it, you can stay with me forever.” He actually gasped trying to get those words back in his mouth. No such luck.

  Harper rescued him. “I’ll be honored to serve in any capacity you choose. And I’m very tight-lipped.”

  Somehow that image made heat rise in Remy’s cheeks. “Uh, good.”

  “So I can stay?” He pushed his glasses up his nose again, clearly anxious.

  “Yes. Yes, of course.”

  “And can I help?” Deep dimples sank into his pink cheeks.

  Remy sat back in his chair and picked up his sandwich. He concentrated on taking a big bite and chewing. Letting Harper know about his problems was a risk. Loose lips, pillow talk, and all that. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of Harper in bed with Hoag. Actually, the idea made him some combination of sick and mad, and he forced his brain to shy away from it. Still, the guy was new blood and new brainpower. Maybe he could bring a different viewpoint. Oh God, what would it be like to have real help? “Okay.”

  Harper looked surprised. Remy had taken so long to answer, Harper must have given up. “Well, good.” His smile spread all over his face, lighting up his wide eyes. “So…?” He leaned forward attentively.

  “Go get yourself something to drink. If you’re hungry, grab food. Then be prepared to think.”

  Harper gave a cute laugh and leaped out of his seat. The view of Harper’s butt in the slim black jeans made Remy pause midbite.

  He was still catching his breath when Harper hurried back in carrying a glass of brownish liquid with ice cubes bouncing in it. Remy asked, “Iced tea?”

  Harper closed the door carefully. “Sweet tea. You can’t be Southern without it.”

  Remy smiled. “You can be Southern Californian without it.”

  “Ah, but why would you want to?” He hurried over to the desk.

  Remy chewed his last bite of sandwich, stood, and laid the reports and charts he’d printed out on his glass conference table. “Okay, come take a look.”

  Harper walked over slowly and took the chair beside Remy.

  Instant heat, like someone opened the door on summer.

  Okay, maybe I didn’t think this through completely. He scooted his chair a tiny bit, but if he moved too far they couldn’t both look at the printouts. Remy took a deep breath. “Let me explain. As you know, despite the shift to online retail, no company has really been able to convert customers to online grocery shopping. People buy a few things from time to time, but then they go back to pinching the peaches, as Mama says.”

  Harper chuckled, which raised a few goose bumps on Remy’s arms.

  Remy sipped the last bit of the beloved coffee. “I really think that Merced is better positioned to dominate this online grocery market than any other enterprise. We have more brick-and-mortar stores that we can use as distribution centers, and we have the brand identity.”

  “Yes, people trust Merced to feed them.” Harper nodded.

  Remy stabbed at the reports. “We’ve developed algorithms as good as any in the industry. We can manage the orders and deliver groceries rapidly and on regular schedules, but look at the results from our trial locations.” He flipped the pages toward Harper.

  Harper slid them closer. “What does Mrs. Merced say?”

  “Good question. She says that people are devoted to looking at their food before they buy it. She’s not convinced that we can ever change it.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose “Which, I’ll be honest, worries me, since she has about the best retail instincts in the business.”

  “Umm.” Harper leaned forward and stared at the reports. He scooted them around the table, looking at one after another. He pushed one forward. “Did you notice that this region did better than the others?”

  Remy looked and nodded. “I did but I don’t know why. I’ve combed through all the reports, and I can’t figure it out.” He shrugged. “I can only chalk it up to demographics.” He chewed the inside of his lip. “Maybe you want to check into that? If we can figure out what kind of communities take to online shopping, maybe we can at least expand operations in those areas.”

  Harper looked up with a smile. “Sure. I’ll look into it. That’d be interesting.”

  “Thank you.”

  Harper pushed his glasses from where they tended to slide down his nose. The dark frames outlined the Mediterranean blue of his eyes. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  Remy’s lips parted.

  “Oh, I know.” He grinned and stood. Leaving the papers on the table, he hurried out of the office with the door ajar. Before Remy got his heart to quit beating too hard, Harper came back carrying a large cup and set it on Remy’s desk, and then, with a smile, he gathered the reports and walked out.

  Remy approached the coffee with reverence, picked it up, and drank. Oh man, orgasm in a cup. Over the top of the rim, he glanced at the table where Harper’s glass with a remnant of sweet tea in the bottom sat making a wet ring. Mama loved sweet tea. Remy hated it on principle. It was just so damned Southern, like grits, which had no taste he could discern, or humidity, which he couldn’t force himself to love. Remy had even jettisoned his Southern accent and at ten started mimicking a Californian, whatever that sounded like.

  He touched the sweating side of the glass. Can’t resist. He raised it to his lips and turned the glass to drink from the spot Harper’s mouth had touched. Stupid conceit. He let the dark liquid touch his tongue. By habit, he cringed, but then he relaxed and let his brain and his taste buds harmonize.

  He couldn’t help it. He smiled as he licked his lips. Sweet. Very, very sweet. And that didn’t just apply to the tea.

  He remembered reading that humans loved sweet things because almost nothing in nature that was sweet was also poisonous.

  I sure hope that’s true this time.

  CARRYING THE stack of reports, Harper threaded through the cubicles to his own desk. He tossed the papers beside his computer and flopped into his chair. In the fishbowl of the open-space office, it wasn’t wise to look too befuddled, but oh my, befuddled he was.

  Using the excuse of pushing up his glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to squeeze some sense into his murky mind. I’m an attached man. I just moved here from a place I love to be with Sylvan—and now I’ve got a wandering eye. Damn.

  For years in Arkansas, he hadn’t found anyone special. He hadn’t had a real boyfriend since undergrad school. That was one reason he’d fallen so fast for Sylvan, with his captivating mind and seductive attention. But now every time Harper saw Remy Merced, he went a little wacko, which in fact was wacko because not only was Harper spoken for, but so was Remy—to a woman! Harper’s body didn’t care. See Remy walking down the hall. Sproing. Smell his soft, spicy aftershave. Double sproing. Harper woke up in the middle of the night lying beside Sylvan having dreams of Remy Merced hammering his ass. It was definitely sinning in his mind, as old President Carter used to say, but damn if he seemed to be able to stop it.

  He gave himself a shake and reached for the reports. Here was another thing. He really wanted to ask Remy Merced if there was any way one of the MercedMarts near Windy Pines could be saved, but Remy seemed so stressed over the future of the grocery empire that Harper couldn’t see himself bringing it up. Which made him feel like a turncoat rat.

  Oh hell, get on with it.

  Checking the one region that appeared to do better in online grocery sales than any
other, Harper went into his company directory and looked for information on the personnel they’d used in that experimental program. The region was in Michigan, and somebody named Burt Flannery was listed as the online sales manager for the region.

  Here goes. Harper picked up the phone and dialed. Two rings later, a voice said, “Flannery.”

  “Mr. Flannery, my name’s Harper Treadwell, and I’m calling from Merced Technologies.”

  “Technologies? You sure sound like a MercedMart guy out of Fayetteville.”

  “In fact, I’m from Fayetteville, but I’m calling from California.”

  “Long way from home.”

  “And that’s the truth. Also the truth is that your team seemed to achieve some level of success with online grocery shopping.”

  “Success? Hell, we didn’t make our quota.”

  “No, sir, but neither did any other region. You actually did the best.”

  “Well, hot damn. That makes me feel a little better.”

  “I’d like to know why.”

  “Why?”

  “Why you were able to do better than other regions.”

  He sighed loudly. “I wish I could tell you. We have pretty damned bad weather, so maybe people figure it will be good to order groceries online in the winter.”

  “But the trial program was run in the summer to avoid that very factor.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe they were looking forward to winter or something.” He laughed.

  “Did all of your staff account for an approximately equal share of sales?”

  “No. We had a sales leader. Gave him a small reward, in fact, for his efforts.”

  “Why did he excel?”

  “I don’t know that exactly, but he did about 70 percent of our sales himself.”

  Harper sat back in his chair. “My, that’s a lot.”

  “Sure is. Why don’t you ask him the secret of his success?”

  “Excellent idea. May I have his name and number?”

  “Sure. Give me your number and I’ll text them.”

  Harper recited it, then said, “Thank you, Mr. Flannery.”

  “I gotta tell you, Harper, sad to say, but I don’t think this online food shopping’s gonna work. Most people just don’t take to it, no matter what Josh might tell you.”

  “Josh is the salesman?”

  “Yep. Sending his number now.”

  “Well, it certainly appears that you’re right about people accepting online grocery sales. Most of the folks around here agree with you. Thank you so much for your help.”

  His phone dinged with the text as he hung up. Josh Barrowman. Okay, Mr. Barrowman, let’s uncover your secret. Harper called the number.

  “Hi, this is Josh. How can I help you?” The voice was musical, completely nonthreatening, and helpful.

  “Mr. Barrowman?”

  “Just Josh is fine. To whom am I speaking?”

  “My name’s Harper Treadwell, and I’m calling from Remy Merced’s office.”

  “Wow. I’m honored.” There wasn’t the slightest trace of irony in his voice.

  “Josh, you appear to have had some success getting people to try online grocery sales.”

  “Oh, yes, I really enjoyed it. Online grocery delivery is such a problem solver for most hard-working families. It was a pleasure to be able to help them.”

  Harper smiled. It sounded like something he’d say. “Why do you think so many people bought groceries from you?”

  “Well, they didn’t buy them from me, did they? They bought them from MercedMart, and that’s a name they trust.”

  “A lot of other people were also calling from MercedMart, and customers didn’t buy from them.”

  Silence.

  “Josh?”

  “I wouldn’t want to venture a guess as to why others weren’t more successful in telling the MercedMart Online story, but I found that people were reluctant to trust warehouses and software and machines with their food. As long as they knew I was selecting their food for them precisely to their specifications, they were eager to let me do it.”

  “Hmm. How were you able to do that?”

  “In truth, it wasn’t simple, because the software only allows for a certain level of customization. So I spent a lot of time running around and calling the warehouses to be sure the people were picking the exact right produce and meat. Canned and dry goods are pretty straightforward, although I added a small specialty line of organic foods that we carried in brick-and-mortar stores but weren’t available on the online form. My customers knew they could get those from me.” He cleared his throat. “I know I was bending the rules. I hope that wasn’t a big problem.”

  “Doesn’t sound like much of a problem to me. I sure appreciate your time, Josh. Can I call you again if I have more questions?”

  “For sure. I’ve got to tell you, I love the online grocery shopping. I mean, moms with sick kids and people with no time to spare? Trust me, it’s a godsend.”

  “I’m inspired by your commitment. Thank you again.” He hung up and stared at the phone. What a nice guy. Harper leaned over his computer and started researching the progress of the online grocery market, which was predicted to reach one hundred billion in sales by 2025. When he raised his head again, the sky outside the windows was getting darker.

  Harper stood and looked toward Remy’s office. Lights were off. I’ll write up a report and give it to him tomorrow. He grabbed his jacket and headed out of the quiet office, saying good night to the engineers and programmers, who tended to work on their own timetables.

  Home to Sylvan.

  With one backward glance toward Remy’s office, he forced himself to smile.

  Chapter Six

  REMY SAT behind the wheel staring at nothing.

  A rap on the car window made him jump and he opened the door to Federico who stood outside. The chauffeur touched his cap. “Sorry, Remy, I didn’t mean to startle you. Just wondered if you want me to park your car in the garage or if you’ll be leaving later.”

  “I’m not a hundred percent sure.” He smiled.

  “No problem. I’ll leave it out here. If you stay the night, you’ll find it here in the morning.”

  “Thank you.” He slid out of the car and tried to bring some spring to his step as he walked up the steps and used his key to let himself in.

  Nigel came rushing toward the door, and Remy held up his hand. “No problem, Nigel. I decided to come see Mama at the last minute.”

  “She told me you called. Florence is preparing dinner for the two of you.”

  “Thanks. I hope I didn’t wreck Mama’s plans.”

  Nigel smiled. “No, she’s always happy to spend time with you. She’s in the small study.”

  Remy walked down the hall and turned into the double doors. His mama sat on the big couch, her feet tucked under her, reading a book. She looked up with a smile and set the book on the end table next to a glass of what was likely sweet tea. “Hi, darlin’. I just love it when you come to see me.”

  “Thank you, Mama.”

  “Dinner’s almost ready I hear.”

  “Good, I’m starved.” He took off his jacket and draped it on the back of the chair next to him, kicked off his shoes, and sat in one of the comfy chairs opposite her.

  “Glass of wine?”

  He opened his mouth to reply and said, “Have any more of that?” He nodded toward the tea. What did I just say?

  Her eyes widened. “It’s sweet.”

  “I figured.”

  “I usually put a little straight tea in to cut some of the sweetness.”

  “You do? Wow, if I published that, you’d be run out of Arkansas on a rail.”

  She laughed, rose, adjusted her long silk robe, and went to her bar cart. His daddy had loved old-fashioned bar carts like the ones from forties movies, and they had them in several locations throughout the house. She took ice cubes from the bucket and dropped them into a tall glass with a tinkling sound, and then she poured in dark liquid f
rom a pitcher and added a small amount of the paler, watered-down version from a bottle. She carried it back to the coffee table that sat between them and placed it on a coaster in front of him.

  She pointed at a plate of cheese slices and crackers. “Have some.”

  He loaded a cracker with cheese and popped it into his mouth, then picked up his glass. After he swallowed the cheese, he took a sip. He raised his brows. “Son of a gun, it’s good.”

  “Of course. It’s in your genes, darlin’. Your cells are made of fifty percent DNA, fifty percent sweet tea.”

  He laughed and took a bigger drink.

  She said very casually, “Where’s Felicity tonight?”

  “Not sure.”

  “Umm.” She looked a little surprised but didn’t sound it. “How are things going with her?”

  “Oh, fine.” He focused on his glass and drank. Okay, if I didn’t want to be asked about my relationship, I shouldn’t have come.

  She gave him half a smile. “That level of energy would not light a twenty-watt solar bulb.”

  He snorted. “I know. I’m tired.”

  “Yes, and you’re not in love with Felicity Worksman.”

  He gazed at her over the rim of his glass. Did I come to hear those words? “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  “I know I’m right. I think part of your tiredness comes from having to keep pretending you like her more than you do.”

  The only good thing he could say about his mama’s level of perception was that he hoped it was hereditary. He took another drink.

  “So what are you going to do?”

  He shrugged. “Oh, Mama, dating’s such a pain in the ass. At least I know Felicity, and I don’t think she’s in love with me either.” He sighed. “It’s convenient.”

  “Ooh, the good Lord save me from being a convenient fuck.”

  “Yeah.” He stared deeply into the tea glass.

  “There aren’t any tea leaves in there, darlin’. You can’t check your future.”

  He smiled tightly.

  She sat back in her chair. “Remy, I’ll tell you this much. You could be a whole lot happier.”

  He gaped at her. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to him that she’d say that. Shit, it hadn’t occurred to him he could be happy. He rubbed a hand over his neck. “I don’t think so, Mama.”