The Sweetest Things

by Nikki Winter

Harper shrugged. “Outside revenue was the biggest boost before I got that distribution deal.”

  She’d told him about that. It had started out as a small one. Sweet Treats—her patisserie—had been delivering fresh pastries to cafes and law firms for a few months, then Harper was approached to do it regularly for bigger places. That was pretty good, but the real business came in when she paired up with a well-known prestigious party planning company. They took her on as a contracted member to handle all special occasions.

  Konstantine was so goddamn proud of her. He could say that. He wanted to say that. Instead, he snatched her cap and put it on his own head. “Show me where I’m laying my head tonight, wench!”

  Harper stared up at him until he replaced her hat before he nicely asked, “Could you please give me a tour of your lovely home?”

  “Having you here for three weeks is going to make me crazy, isn’t it?”

  “Aw c’mon! Its gonna be great!” Konstantine threw an arm around her shoulder. “Like one big slumber party!”

  She rubbed her temples. “Does that mean I’m gonna catch you in my underwear drawer...again?”

  “Are you still wearing training bras?”

  “No...” Harper answered slowly.

  He shrugged. “Then, yes, you’ll probably catch me in your underwear drawer again.”

  She gave him an extreme amount of side-eye, which just made him laugh. By now he was used to that look—had been receiving it for about twenty-six years now. Picking on Harper had always been easy. There was something about her that just made him want to prod her as much as possible.

  Konstantine could still remember how, days after he and Owen met when they joined the same little league softball team, his friend had invited him over for dinner. They’d stood in the kitchen doorway, watching five-year-old Harper playing Indiana Jones and the Last Cookie.

  Eventually, her attempts to do everything in her power to reach a cookie tin her mother had purposely left out of reach were just sad. He and Owen took mercy on her and got it down. They were six at the time, so it wasn’t exactly an easy feat since the tin was sitting on top of the refrigerator.

  To hear her parents tell it, she’d been a sugar fiend from the time she was conceived. As the years passed, he’d gotten to witness it for himself. Not only that, but how close she and Owen were amazed him. As an only child, he’d never seen that kind of camaraderie in his own household. And because his parents had separated when he was young, his mother moving on with her life, Owen was the closest thing he’d ever had to a brother.

  When Ivan—Konstantine’s father—had first signed him up for little league, he hadn’t been really interested. It wasn’t that he hated the sport; he was just awkward around other kids, quiet. He knew Owen would be his best friend when he purposely pitched a piece of dog shit at one of the kids playing against them who had been picking on Konstantine.

  Up until that moment, the only friend he’d ever had was Ivan. He loved his father, but the man’s business had cost him time and his marriage. An equivalent of the comic-book Stark Industries, Vetrov Corp. had the leg up on cutting-edge, energy efficient technology. It was not only good for the environment but had a hand in creating affordable homes and irrigation systems for economically destitute communities in Africa.

  As a child, Konstantine was fascinated with his father’s way of doing business. Every move Ivan made was for the benefit of someone else. Of course the man was worth millions, but he never seemed to care about money. He’d taught Konstantine at an early age that working hard for what you gained didn’t make you a man. It was what you did with what you gained that made you a man.

  Konstantine’s love for his father and Vetrov Corp. was what spurred him to get his law degree and become an integral part of foreign business dealings. The last six years since he graduated from Yale had been spent traveling abroad and closing out contracts in Japan, Cape Town, Brazil, and London. Now he was finally home, he planned on spending some time with the old man and trying to figure out exactly how he’d convince Harper she was gonna be the one to birth his many children.

  How exactly was he gonna announce that? A poem, maybe? Nah, that wouldn’t work with Harper. She’d never been the typical girl. If you wanted to express how you felt, you had to either be underhanded or outright. He could remember a time sixteen years ago when he’d been underhanded. Making that bet with Harper had opened the door on his coming into contact with the sweetest lips known to man. If he concentrated hard enough, he could still taste her cherry Chapstick.

  He wondered what her lips tasted like now—what all of her tasted like now. Was she a screamer or a soft moaner? Would she pull his hair, leave scratches on his back, or grip him tight enough to show how much she needed him but not tight enough to leave a mark? How would she like it the first time—on her back or her knees?

  “And this is your room,” Harper said, interrupting his train of thought. She’d been giving him a tour, but his focus had been on his nefarious romantic ideas rather than what she was saying. That kind of worked to his advantage because now he’d be able to storm into her room and accidentally see her naked...once he figured out where it was, and swear that he’d gotten lost.

  The guest room was large and inviting with wall-sized windows, a king sized bed, and various shades of baby blue and chocolate. There were even a few framed baseball jerseys up from various teams. Without a word, Konstantine dropped his bag and ran for the bed, diving onto it and sighing.

  “Um, before you start dry-humping my good linen, I think you should know there’s a full bath right across the hall. I’m running out to the farmer’s market because I’m sure if I open my fridge right now, bats will fly out.”

  Snorting, he rolled over and dug into his back pocket to get his wallet. “Take my card.”

  “Koz, I’m not—”

  “Do you want me cranky?” he barked, cutting her off before holding out his debit card. “Take it. Use it. The PIN is my birthday. Don’t argue with me or I will get off this bed.”

  “Konstantine—”

  “When’s the last time someone gave you a wedgie?”

  She clamped her lips shut and snatched the card out of his hand. “Asshole.”

  He rolled back onto his stomach and buried his face in a pillow. “Love you too, Sweets.”

  ***

  He made her crazy; had been doing that forever. Giant, hairy bastard. The thing of it was, she couldn’t exactly deny the way her chest warmed when he said he loved her. It wasn’t like the words were foreign to her. Any time he’d talked to her, they’d left his mouth with an ease that couldn’t be paralleled. There was something about that subtle New York accent and the huskiness of his voice that made her go still, waiting for the next word.

  From the time Konstantine and Owen had helped her reach a cookie tin in her Mama’s kitchen, Harper had been fascinated by the tall, lanky kid with the out-of-control black mane and the startling ice-blue eyes. Konstantine’s manners, humor, and innate sweetness had made him a regular in the Sweet household. She knew he had a close relationship with his father but lacked the traditional family structure that helped all kids learn how to interact with others their own age.

  When he first came around, Harper had expected him and Owen to avoid her but they never did. They included her in every little thing. If she were honest, Konstantine was the reason she became a softball little league all star. It had been his idea for her to learn how to play when she got old enough, and Harper discovered she loved the game almost as much as she loved sweets.

  Years went by, and she stopped focusing so much on her sport and more on what else she loved to do—bake. It had been Elena’s idea for her to learn to make different desserts since her mother ran a small cake baking business. Her father, David, owned a lucrative marketing company—Owen had taken it over a few years ago—which was how he and Elena met. She did the very same thing Harper did now with distribution, dropping off fresh pastries every day for the lounge at
David’s office.

  Harper’s childhood had been full of laughter and all the things that an adult could look back on and smile. Her parents weren’t perfect, but they had been loyal to one another and the family they built. Elena had pushed her into attending NYU for her business degree and shortly thereafter her father helped her research culinary art schools until she found the perfect one.

  When Sweet Treats began, it was Harper selling snacks off a cart on the blocks of New York City. David had offered to back her into getting a building and investors but she refused, wanting to do it herself. By night, she worked in a coffee shop, living at home; by day, she marketed cookies, cakes, pies, and anything else she could make. Before she knew it, she’d been discovered by none other than a businessman who worked with Ivan Vetrov.

  He’d given her the money to find a location, set up, and get started. When Sweet Treats took off, Harper was able to pay him back with interest. Years later, here she was, more than a little proud of her success. Wandering around the farmer’s market never failed to get her juices flowing. So many fresh ingredients gave her multiple ideas on what her next big dessert test could be. During Thanksgiving, her sweet potato cheesecake had been a huge hit, and when Christmas rolled around, her gingerbread-crusted pies had been another big seller.

  Chocolate strawberries were known to be in high demand around this time with Valentine’s Day coming up, so she could perfect some new recipes. Of course Janet, her sister-in law, would make fun of her because the highlight of a lover’s holiday would be making chocolate instead of dipping someone in that chocolate, but it really couldn’t be helped. Harper wasn’t good at dating; as a matter of fact, she fucking sucked at it.

  She got really twitchy and uncomfortable around unrelated males. Having known two particular men all her life, she had the gist of what men saw when they looked at a woman, and she had no desire to become another notch on someone’s bedpost. The one time she had sex it was to finally get it out of the way, and the experience had been enough to make her feel as though she understood why nuns took vows of celibacy.

  Surprisingly, that one touch from Konstantine earlier in the airport had brought life to something she’d thought long dead—her libido. If Harper ever decided to look deeper, which she wouldn’t, she’d admit he’d been able to do that just from the sound of his voice over the phone or the picture of his face on Skype.

  When Harper looked down at her basket and realized she’d unconsciously gathered all the makings for Konstantine’s favorite dinner, she knew she was in deep.

  Three

  “Why, in the good lord’s name, do you currently have your hand buried elbow-deep in my underwear drawer?”

  The question was asked softly, calmly. But Konstantine had known Harper long enough to know the quiet should worry him the most, generally because it came before the storm. So, there he stood, with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar. At this point, he could be completely honest and say that after his shower and two-hour-long nap, he’d gotten up and out of curiosity found himself wandering around her bedroom. It was so...Harper.

  Her furniture was a light wood that went well with the summer colors adorning her walls, bedspread, ottoman, and small sitting area. Her bathroom had a tropical theme with sand-colored rugs, Mediterranean tile, and portraits of various beaches. Hanging above her bed was her framed high school softball jersey.

  Yet with all the photos and cool knick-knacks, one thing called to him like a beacon, just begging for his attention. Konstantine being Konstantine, he it said attention. Which was how she inevitably found him playing around with her underwear. Now, he could admit all that, or...

  “Uh, I was looking for the kitchen.” Blinking, he pulled his hand out of the drawer, one of her soft, pink, lace bras dangling from his fingers. He tucked his lips in and rocked back on the heels of his sock-clad feet. With that bra-filled hand, he waved around the general direction of the four walls. “Big house. I got lost.”

  “So...you thought you’d find the kitchen in the same place you found my thongs?”

  Mouth twisting, Konstantine looked down at the bra then back up at her. “Uh...yeah?”

  “I’m going to kill you,” Harper said softly. “I’m going to kill you, and then I’m going to bury you where no one can find you.”

  “Och! That’s fucking rude!”

  “Rude?” she bellowed back. “I’m rude? You’re the one who’s being a fucking skeeve!”

  “Because I wanted to know if you still wore training bras!” He wasn’t helping himself here, but dammit, right now he didn’t care. Konstantine waved that bra around. “Obviously that’s not true.” Glancing at the tag, he looked back up. “Double Ds? What the hell, Sweets?”

  “Why are you yelling at me about my bra size?”

  “Because you’ve never been kind enough to offer to show me what has quite obviously become a perfect pair of tits! So, to answer your question, you inconsiderate female, yes—you’re fucking rude!”

  She stopped, her shoulders jerking as she stared at him with wide eyes. “You’re insane.”

  Konstantine shrugged. “Some might say.”

  “You’re insane, and you’re staying in my home.”

  “What I am is outraged.” He shook his hand. “How? How could you hide something as amazing as this? I told you you’d be a late bloomer, and what’s the thanks I get for my benevolent and gracious foresight that you’d have awesome sweater puppies? You don’t let me see them!” Konstantine bit down on his lip. “You’ve offended me on so many levels.”

  “Koz—”

  “I don’t know how I can ever forgive you.”

  “Koz—”

  “I mean...unless you want to make up for it now.”

  “Koz—”

  “I wouldn’t mind some chest snuggling.” He narrowed his eyes on her breasts. “You’d have to lose the shirt and bra though...wouldn’t be proper with the shirt and the bra.”

  “My God!” Harper gasped, finally breaking and falling onto her bed face first, her whole body shaking with laughter. “What is wrong with you?”

  “Don’t mock me, woman! This is serious.” Konstantine waved the bra in her face again. “Do you know I could probably fit this over my head and have room to spare?”

  She just laughed harder.

  “Look at this!” Taking the bra, he put one cup on top of his head. “See?”

  Harper rolled off the bed.

  “Do you not understand that all these years, I’ve been searching for the perfect pair of breasts to happily die with my face buried between, and now I find out you have them and I was never told?”

  She finally managed to gasp out, “I...hate...you...”

  With a small grin that turned into a full-blown chuckle, Konstantine placed the bra back in her drawer and reached down to scoop her off the floor, putting her gently on the bed. He adjusted her until there was enough room for him to climb onto the mattress beside her. Then, without another word, he put his head in the very place he’d been yelling about just a few short seconds ago and sighed.

  Oh, God, it felt good. Damn good. Better than anything Konstantine had ever imagined. He could stay right here forever, not once getting bored—not even a little. The only discomfort he had was the fact that his cock had rocketedp the moment he touched the little lace haven she had hidden away, but he didn’t really give a shit at the moment. For one, he was in Harper’s room, on Harper’s bed. And two, Harper was in Harper’s room, on Harper’s bed, and he had his face halfway buried between two of the most luscious tits known to man. He hadn’t been joking—he could die happy now.

  As a kid, curiosity had led him to dig around in her room, looking for what he’d heard so many of the older boys his age talk about. It was silly, but that same mindset had gotten him determined to know if his fantasies were the same as reality.

  The girl next door wasn’t some psuedo description of Harper. It was Harper. She was the one woman a man searched for his whole life,
not realizing he’d found her until she landed in his lap. But the one thing that Konstantine adored about her the most was the fact she was his best friend. She knew him better than anyone else—even Owen. The irony of that wasn’t lost on him. He wanted Harper forever, as his wife, waddling around with his babies filling her belly.

  Konstantine was old enough to know by now what the consequences were when a man let something this wonderful slip through his fingers. He’d watched Ivan do it with his mother. He had no intentions of repeating his father’s mistakes. Traveling had been amazing, the deals he’d closed unimaginably good, but there was only one time he was ever truly happy while out of the country—when he was listening to Harper’s voice or seeing her face.

  He’d never had to force a woman into his arms, never had to beg for attention, and somehow that made him crave the chase even more. Harper’s dry humor and quick wit had been his saving grace on many occasions. Her ballsy attitude and inability to lie hadn’t done anything but make him regret that he couldn’t have her in on many of his conferences for Vetrov Corp. Harper was it, whether she knew it or not.

  “Um,” Harper said slowly. “Comfortable?”

  Konstantine wrapped his arms around her, burrowing deeper. “Yup.”

  “Koz—”

  He squeezed her. “Shush.”

  “You’ve been in town for four hours, and you’ve managed to piss me off, dig through my underwear, embarrass me, and cop a feel. Now you’re shushing me?”

  “Yup.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m in the middle of enjoying the bounty God has put before me. You’re ruining that.”

  “I’m ruining that?”

  “Yes.”

  “I go back to my original theory that you need mental assistance...quickly.”

  “You’re talking. Why are you still talking?”

  “Konstantine—”

  He sat up. “Listen, Sweets. I didn’t travel almost ten hours to sit in my corner office and do business for my dad. Or to slap fight with Owen out of boredom and because his huge head is one tempting target. I didn’t even come back to kiss up to Miss Elena so she could make me my favorite blueberry muffins.”