Sugar and Sin Bundle

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  Derrick spoke again. His voice tight and in control. “I’ll have security pack your things and a messenger deliver them to your apartment before week’s end.”

  Suddenly too exhausted to breathe, she stood on wobbly legs. “Congratulations. You got what you wanted. Are you happy now?”

  “You know I don’t like seeing your father unhappy. You did this to yourself.” He sniffed. “You could have turned this train around any time you liked. You chose to be an adversary.”

  Before she exited the office, she turned back to glare at him. “You must really hate me.” She shrugged. “That’s okay because the feeling is mutual.”

  Jaya managed to hold off the tears until she was down the hall, but then her resolve crumbled and hot wetness streaked down her cheeks. Come on girl. Suck it up. Or at least wait ‘til the elevator. Getting fired was so not at the top of her “Things To Do Before Hitting Thirty” list. The last thing she needed was to run into her sister or her father before she could get out of the building.

  Never let them see you cry. But her stupid tear ducts revolted. She punched the elevator button and wrapped her arms around her ribs in an effort to hold herself together. The chime of the elevator made her wince with its cheery tinkle. The tears on revolt swam into her field of vision like soldiers through a barricade, temporarily blinding her. She forced her leaden legs onto the elevator desperate to get out of the building.

  She swiped at the freefalling tears and walked into a wall of muscle.

  Chapter Two

  For the first time in his life, Alec Danthers had no idea what to do with a woman in his arms. He’d meant to steady and set her away from himself, but her scent struck him. Vanilla and roses. Not overpowering. More like someone baked something delicious while roses opened up in a vase nearby. She smelled like home. Or rather, what he always envisioned home should smell like.

  It took him a moment to register her tears. She didn’t make a single sound, but he could feel the wet droplets through his shirt. Maybe if she’d been more hysterical, he’d have given her the awkward pat on the back and made his escape on the next available floor.

  Like every other male of the species, he had an aversion to a woman’s tears. They usually made him feel powerless and lost. But there was something so strong in her silence and in the way she held it all in, only letting the tears and a small shiver escape. Too stunned to do anything else, he wrapped his arms around her shaking frame, but not before pushing the elevator’s stop button, figuring she could use a minute.

  Every protective instinct made him want to shield her and destroy whatever or whoever had made her cry. In the silence of the elevator, only broken by the soft jazz in the background, he let her cry. He rubbed small circles in her back, whispering hushed nonsense words. The kind muttered by mothers to toddlers with scraped boo-boos. Not that he knew anything about that. His mother wasn’t exactly the kissing boo-boos type. But he saw the action performed in enough movies to do a reasonable facsimile. As he rubbed, the long, thick strands of her hair tickled the back of his hand.

  Eventually, he felt her deep inhale and she stepped away from him. Every nerve and cell in his body screamed at the loss, but he let her go. She wasn’t his to hold on to. But whatever had driven her to cry in the arms of a complete stranger, he’d known pain like that before.

  “Holy shit. I’m so sorry,” she said, delicate brows drawn down. Her voice, though feminine, was strong. No hint of a waver or a quiver. And it struck him stupid. His whole being responding to it as if she’d stroked him. Skin itchy and tight, he swayed a little. Whoa.

  “I can’t believe I just did that.” She spoke again—seemingly unaware she’d had any effect on him.

  She hadn’t raised her eyes to his, but he knew when she did, there would be no more tears in them, save the ones that clung stubbornly to her lashes instead of rolling down her cheeks.

  He cleared his throat, trying to get a mental handle on his brain and body. “It’s not a problem. It happens.”

  She spoke a mile a minute then, words blending together in a stream of consciousness. “Not to me, it doesn’t.” Her hands flew to cover her cheeks. “I’ve completely ruined your shirt.” She swiped at the drying tears and make-up stains. He held on to the hiss of not-quite-pain as her fingertips brushed at his collar. He forced his jaw shut like a steel bear trap to keep himself from saying anything stupid or groaning in bliss.

  “Way to go, Jaya.” She shook her head, covering her eyes with her hands. Sucking in a breath, she pulled herself up to full height, which put her forehead at his mouth. She dropped her delicate hands to her sides and muttered another apology. “I’m sorry. I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning on your shirt. God.” She shook her head again, fumbling for something inside her pocket. When she pulled out a card and proffered it, she leveled her full gaze on him. Almond-shaped, hazel eyes now clear of tears bore into his soul and for the first time in a long time, he felt stripped naked. He saw everything she felt in that honest and open gaze. Hoooly shit.

  Too much. The pain, the flicker of interest, the embarrassment. Everything she felt came right out in those beautiful eyes. Unused to that kind of honesty from anyone, Alec was torn between falling into her gaze and going into full retreat. She scared the shit out of him. One more glance from her and he’d tell her every secret he ever had.

  More than eager to get out of the elevator, he impatiently jabbed at the button to his required floor. Under no circumstances would he call her.

  She was a complication he didn’t have time for. Get in and get out, Alec. He would fix this current mess and be back on a plane to South Africa for the Durban Race in a few weeks. The car was all ready and he pulled a lot of strings to be allowed on that racing team, despite his amateur status. He didn’t do knight-in-shining-armor-gigs. Get out of her presence before you promise her your life or undying loyalty or some shit. “It’s okay.” He peeked down at the card. Jaya Trudeaux. “Jaya.” He liked the way her name sounded on his tongue.

  She blinked up at him, as if surprised to hear him use her name. Then the barest hint of a smile peeked out, showing off even teeth. “You do a lot of these rescue missions? You seem very at ease, considering.”

  He felt the smile tugging at his lips. “Well, I really had nowhere else to go.” He looked around. “Sort of trapped.”

  “With a crazy crying lady.”

  He inclined his head. “Somehow I doubt anyone would ever have the nerve to call you crazy.”

  She looked down at her hands. “You’d be surprised.” She shook her head, as if trying to dislodge a vision or memory. “Thanks for the shoulder….” Her voice trailed off.

  “Alec.”

  She closed her eyes. Muttered something like, “It figures,” under her breath and stepped to the side, the way people did when they first entered an elevator. His brain searched for something to say, aware that any time he had with her was slipping by with the passing of each floor.

  “Will you be okay?”

  “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine. I’m always fine.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “Well, except for just now. So maybe if you could forget it ever happened…”

  “Consider it forgotten.”

  Of all the women to stir something awake in him. Talk about inconvenient. In their five-minute interaction, she made him think about parts of himself he hadn’t thought about in years. The parts that wanted to get close and to comfort. The parts he knew better than to trust. They stirred within him, wanting to take care of this woman with the wide caramel eyes that made him think of Bambi. Keep it casual Danthers. Before you get stung. “Well, whatever it is, I promise you, it’s not worth your tears. You can do better.”

  Alec stumbled off the elevator, feeling like he’d been poleaxed. He whipped his head around as he searched for a floor number. He’d been so eager to escape her, he hadn’t paid any attention. Maybe it was the quiet strength with which she held herself together. So strong, she didn’t dare show an
yone any vulnerability. And when she had, she’d only done so because she was too far gone to keep it together. She reminded him of the only woman he ever loved. Adele.

  He paused in the middle of the hallway, earning him a quizzical look from the maid. He tried for a charming smile but knew he fell short when she raised an eyebrow. “Sorry. Do you know the way to the Grand Terrace?”

  She nodded toward the door he passed on the left. “Next floor up.”

  He mumbled a thank you and headed for the doorway, taking the stairs two at a time. Get your head together. Adele called him home because she needed him. He couldn’t afford to have his brain on frappe.

  His stepmother spotted him before he even made it out the terrace doors. The smirk on her face tipped up one corner of her lips, making her look younger than her fifty years. She dismissed her assistant in characteristic Adele fashion, with a scowl and a boot up the ass.

  Alec tried to hide his chuckle. “Do you have to be so hard on your assistants? That one looked ready to piss herself or jump off the terrace.”

  She shrugged elegant shoulders. “I need one made of sterner stuff. I don’t know why these twenty-something young things keep showing up, hoping I’ll teach them how to be a socialite. I expect them to work. Shit, at their age, I already had my own company.” She shook her head and scrutinized him. “How’s my boy?”

  Some of his frozen annoyance at being summoned defrosted a little. She always referred to him as hers. Even though she was his stepmother, she’d treated him like family from the first day he showed up on her doorstep, demanding to see a father he’d never met. It was the sole reason he was standing here now.

  “Your boy’s fine.”

  “Bullshit.” She placed her hands on her hips, sauntering to the railing like the fashion model she’d once been. “Is it a woman?”

  How the hell did she guess? “Nope.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he joined her at the rail.

  She faced him, arms stretched out for a hug. He enveloped her in an embrace and wondered how in the world he ever thought her to be a giant. But then and now, she was a force to be reckoned with. Even the hug she gave him was fierce and tight, as if she could take on all his problems. He returned it. Mom. The word went unspoken, but both of them knew he how he felt.

  She set him away from her and sniffed. “Let me look at you properly. Then we’ll talk and maybe you’ll tell me about the woman who has you in knots.”

  “I told you, there’s no woman.”

  “And I’m telling you not to lie to me.”

  In a hurry to change the subject, he said, “So, what’s my little brother done now?”

  She wrinkled her brow. “Don’t say it like that.”

  “Come on. I wouldn’t be here unless you needed me to clean up one of his messes. And it would have to be a pretty big mess if I’m here. Normally your lawyers handle it.”

  She sighed. A deep sigh that told of her age and exhaustion. “It’s more than one thing. I don’t even know where to begin.” She reached out and touched his arm. “I wouldn’t place this burden on you if it wasn’t important.”

  He hated that word. Burden. He owed her his life. They both knew it. But he wasn’t home out of any obligation. He was here for her. Because in all the years of running away from himself, she’d been the only constant.

  “As you know, our plan is to go public with Westhorpe, Inc. next year. Until then, we need to keep our noses clean. Stay out of the news, that sort of thing.”

  “How clean are we talking here?”

  “Suffice it to say pristine isn’t good enough.”

  Alec folded his arms over his chest. “So you need me to keep little brother’s nose clean? Honestly, Mimi, you could have your security guys do that.”

  She smiled at the use of his childhood nickname for her before she spoke. “I also need someone to look at the financials for the hotel and the hotel clubs. Synthesis has its grand opening tonight, and I don’t want the same kind of losses I’ve been seeing at the other hotel clubs. To make the San Diego Westhorpe our flagship, we need the full hotel experience—Five Star restaurant, full-to-the-brim nightclub, and the ultimate in luxury hotel. With that model, our books should be in fantastic shape. But I’ve got accounts not adding up. It was Max’s job to look into this and considering he’s not here to do it, I wanted someone who’s part bloodhound, part business wunderkind and all discreet.”

  “Get someone else to do it. I’m not the guy for the job. You need someone who’s responsible. I’m the black sheep, remember?” If he left tonight, he could be back in Durban in a day.

  “Only in your mind. I have my suspicions about why my hotels are losing money. I need you to verify them.”

  “You want Max for this. Not me.” Where the hell had his brother run to? “Did you check the usual places?” Max taking off wasn’t something new. Why Adele wanted him back so badly was the real note of interest. “You don’t need me to find him. You can hire many a private investigator. Better yet, hire Caleb Atkins. He’s got a whole security team that does nothing but solve corporate security issues.” And it never hurt to throw his best friend some work.

  “It’s a little more complicated this time.” She paused to fiddle with a flower arrangement on the table. “I’m sure you remember Sue Wentz, your former girlfriend. Well, she’s pregnant, and Maxwell has run away from his responsibility.”

  Sue. Pregnant? By Max? This was a round of deja vu he could do without. His mind’s eye filled with the image of the strawberry blonde girl with the kind eyes he thought he loved once. From the start he knew they weren’t a good match, but he tried to give her what she wanted. In the end, he made them both unhappy.

  Clearing his throat, he said, “Mimi, this is a family dispute. They need to work things out on their own.”

  “You know he’s spiraling out of control. I need you to help me stop it. The board gave me two weeks to bring him back and handle the situation of our books.”

  “Still not my problem.” Alec needed to get out of Dodge before she roped him in. He rocked back on his heels.

  “Do you at least care that he drained his trust fund?”

  Chapter Three

  After three days, Jaya still couldn’t pull herself out of the fog. Whenever she thought of getting up and actually getting dressed, her brain reminded her she had nowhere to go and she plunged back into the paralyzed pit of despair. She knew the situation was dire when her usual cadre of bad action movies couldn’t cheer her up.

  Cracking an eyelid open, she surveyed the wasteland that was her apartment. The urge to vomit came on strong. Chinese food cartons, empty ice-cream cartons, empty chocolate wrappers—the mess was so bad, she returned to hiding under her cover, where it was safer.

  The buzzer to her front door rang. She ignored it. Cue the cavalry. Maybe if she pretended she didn’t hear them, they’d go away. She’d managed to avoid her two best friends Ricca and Micha for the past several days, but it was only a matter of time before they insisted on seeing her. “You’re going to have to pick the lock if you want in,” she shouted, popping her head out from underneath the duvet.

  “You’re not really daring me, are you, Trudeaux?”

  For a moment, Jaya worried about her lock. Micha had all manner of skills and Jaya didn’t know if lock-picking was one of them. She eyed the door with dubious concern. Deadbolts couldn’t be picked, could they? “Go away. I’m not accepting visitors.”

  “You might be old money from New Orleans, but I don’t take orders from you. Now open the damn door.”

  “There’s no need to shout,” Ricca said in a hushed tone.

  “Thank you for coming, but I am not opening the door. I’m wallowing. Deep wallowing going on. No guests invited to this wallowing party.”

  Silence. Maybe they’d taken the hint. The sunlight streaming in from her balcony fought a valiant battle with her duvet cover, but her tugging and securing of the blanket around her won the fight in the blanket’s favor and
no light streamed into her self-imposed cave. Nausea and dread threaded through her belly.

  This was all wrong. Every romantic comedy movie ever made had their heroines feeling better after gorging on ice-cream and shopping themselves stupid. Leave it to her to feel sick at the evidence of both her attempts. She couldn’t even look at the bag she’d left by her front door. Who the hell tried to soothe a bruised ego with three-thousand-dollar shoes?

  There was some shuffling at the door. Damn, those chicks are persistent. It was, of course, the reason they were friends in the first place. Never say die. And if you do say die, make sure it’s with fabulous footwear and you take a piece of someone with you.

  Her heart lurched into overdrive as the bolt disengaged. She yanked the covers off her head in time to see Micha saunter in with a triumphant grin, jangling a set of keys in her hand. “You know, you really should tell Marco and his fine ass not to give keys to any old bitch who smiles and flashes some tit at him. By the way, I still insist you need to do him before he heads back to Brazil this summer. That is too much hotness for one of us not to take a crack at.”

  The doorman had given them the key? Traitor. Micha was right—that Brazilian piece of hotness couldn’t help himself for a pretty smile. But she wasn’t going to sleep with him. No matter how much he made her blush every time he said her name in his accented English.

  Ricca followed close behind Micha. Her smile, though, was laced with concern. It only got worse as she caught a load of the mess in Jaya’s living room.

  Micha took charge. “Ree, you get her brown booty into the shower. I’ll start cleaning up this dump.”

  Feeling mutinous, Jaya folded her limbs Indian style. “I don’t need a shower. Nor do I need you to come into my house and boss me around. What if I like my place looking like this?” She darted a glance around. Pigsty was a gross under-exaggeration. The old her didn’t handle mess well. The new-unemployed-loser her didn’t give a shit.