Sugar and Sin Bundle

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  Damn, leave it to her to be practical. “You do have a job, remember? Besides, I know the best place. And the dress won’t cost you a thing. The owner owes me a favor. So you can have a borrowed dress.” Adele probably wouldn’t approve, but at this point, it wasn’t like he was using his brain. He just wanted to see her happy.

  “A borrowed dress. Who are all these people who owe you favors?” She held up a hand. “Never mind. I have a sneaking suspicion I don’t want to know.”

  “One caveat—you have to let me pick the dress.”

  She stood and the blanket pooled at her feet. “I get veto power.”

  He shook his head. “Nope.”

  “But I have to. It has to be tasteful enough for the wedding. I can’t run around in something short and cleavage-bearing.”

  Alec propped his head up against the pillows. “What if I love your cleavage?” What if I love you? But he wisely kept that last part to himself, as if by not voicing it, it didn’t exist.

  She blushed. “You really are incorrigible. It’s a wedding. An evening one, but still. I’m not going to pull a Pippa Middleton and wear white to my sister’s wedding. Or red, either.”

  With a look of mock shock, he clutched his hand over his heart. “You wound me. You act like I have no taste.”

  “Are you going to let it go?”

  He shook his head. “Do I look like the kind of guy to let it go?”

  Jaya flopped back on the bed, clutching the sheet to her breasts. “Fine, you can borrow me a dress.”

  Two hours after he returned from his shopping trip with Jaya, he and Caleb prepared her surprise. He sent a silent prayer to all the gods he could think of that she loved it.

  “Alec, why is it every time you say you need my help with something it involves manual labor?” Caleb wielded the paint roller, splashing Royal Gold onto Jaya's bedroom wall.

  With any luck, he and Caleb would get it done in a couple of hours. Of course, tonight, he and Jaya would have to sleep at his place because of the fumes, but he didn’t think she'd mind. She talked so much about how she'd loved the color of his suite, he'd asked housekeeping what it was. He was as nervous as a school kid about her reaction.

  “What can I say? You’re a sucker for a friend.”

  “Said friend needs to tell me what he wants from now on. Give a guy a chance to make informed decisions.”

  “Quit your bitchin’. Where are we with Max? I need to leave in a couple of days if I’m going to make that race.”

  Caleb shook his head as he maneuvered the edger around the top corner wall. “I talked to my buddy at the FBI. We might be able to get him some kind of deal if he comes clean with any information he has about the Sandovals. They’ll also let him keep any money he has left from his trust fund. And he’ll get witness protection, but he’ll have to testify.”

  Alec nodded. “I underestimated his ball size. Pretty sure little brother has a death wish. Not to mention, the moron gene runs through his DNA. Pisses me off that he ran out on Adele.”

  Caleb's non-committal “Mm-hmm” had Alec flashing him an irritated glance.

  “You’re worse than a chick. What’s with the sanctimonious?”

  His friend snorted. “Look, all I’m saying is you’re being really hard on him. I barely like the guy—he’s put Adele in danger—but it's not like you haven’t made any mistakes. And it's also not like you haven’t bailed a couple of times yourself.”

  Ah, so that was it.

  “Let me ask you something, Alec. What's the longest you've held a job?”

  That was easy. “Five years. I've had my business for five years.”

  “You’re cheating with semantics. But whatever. Let’s take your contracts. What’s the longest any of those contracts have lasted?”

  Alec didn't like where this was going. “Six months.”

  “And of the ones lasting over three months, how many have you terminated prematurely because of creative differences?”

  Alec clamped his lips shut. He had a reputation for being the best. But he also had a reputation for not putting up with bullshit. If things weren’t done his way, he severed the contract.

  “Cat got your tongue, buddy? Okay, how about relationships. After Adele, what's the longest relationship with a woman you've had? Shoot, you barely even keep them as friends.”

  “I have relationships.” Though he struggled to think of one that truly mattered.

  Caleb chuckled without humor. “Yeah, if by relationships you mean a string of one-night stands. Or two-week stands, as is the case now.”

  Alec wielded his paint brush like a weapon. “You got a point?”

  “Just that we all have shit we're running from. You being mad at Max ‘cause he ran is really about you being mad at yourself. Your brother, we’ll find him. And you'll bring him home. Just like you always do.” In a softer voice, Caleb added, “And yeah, you’re going to leave, but there’s a difference between the two of you. When it counts, you're always there, no questions. But you can’t be so cut and dry with him. It certainly won’t help bring him home.”

  “Okay, Oprah, I hear you. But I—” The sound of the front door slamming had him calling out. “Jai, is that you?” Lord knew how many others had keys to this place. Her sister, her friends.

  The sound of her voice got louder as she got closer to the bedroom. “Alec? You’re still here? Why does it smell like wet pai—” Abruptly she stopped talking as she stood in the doorway and stared.

  Her look of shock was priceless. “Surprise.” He spread his arms wide. “You remember Caleb? Well I enlisted his help in getting you that pop of color you’ve been looking for.”

  Her eyes darted from Alec, to Caleb, then back to Alec. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out and she closed her mouth again. Flattening her full lips. She tried again, succeeding this time. “Caleb, thank you for helping to paint my bedroom, but could you give me a minute with Alec?”

  “Sure thing.” He made haste getting out of there and threw Alec an I’m sorry buddy glance. As soon as the door closed, Jaya turned her attention to him.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Not what he expected “Okay, you don’t look happy, but really, I was only trying to help.” He dropped the paint brush into the tray and shoved his hands in his jeans.

  “Help? What made you think you were helping me? I’ll have to get a paint crew in here to undo it all.”

  “Oh, c’mon. Why the hell would you do that? I did something nice.”

  She surveyed her room. “By doing something that was more about your satisfaction than mine? I never asked you to do this. Shit, I didn’t even pick the color.”

  “It’s the same color as my suite at the hotel. You always say you like it. And left to you, you never would have made a decision on the color.”

  “So you push me into a decision? That’s bullshit, Alec. I didn’t want this. I didn’t get to make the choice for myself. And that’s kind of the point.”

  Fuck, he’d gotten it wrong. He shrugged. “It’s only paint.” He shook his head. “I guess I didn’t think it through.”

  “No. You didn’t. You got all caught up in the adventure of it. Just like you always do. Now I have to find the funds to hire painters to undo it all.”

  Anger simmered in his blood. She would undo the paint, just like she would erase him from her life when he was gone. She’d been clear she wasn’t able to trust, and he’d been clear he was not into sticking around. Except he’d gone and changed his mind. “I’ll pay for the painters.”

  Her chuckle held no humor. “Oh really? You’re on a bartender-slash-Guy Friday salary. How are you going to manage that? Like you pointed out this morning, I have a job again, so as soon as I’m clear of the shoe credit-card monster I’ll take care of it.” She sniffed. “And I’ll need to go stay at Micha’s or Ricca’s.”

  And she wasn’t going to stay with him. Fantastic. His day was certainly looking up. Well, at least he’
d accepted the job. Until now it had felt like a mistake. But maybe it was the right move after all.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jaya's annoyance poured over her like a mudslide down a mountain. “Stupid asshole painted my bedroom.”

  Micha and Ricca exchanged looks. Ricca spoke up. “Okay. So weren’t you just saying you’d been trying to paint the place for two years and could never decide? So maybe he thought he was doing you a favor.” She shrugged. “I mean, it was kind of sweet.”

  Micha gave a little shake of her head as if warning her that the cobra would strike at any moment.

  Jaya was in no mood to hear clear rational arguments.

  “So you're fine with Charles just marching in and changing everything about your life. Taking it over?”

  Ricca's frown was tight. “No, but is that really what—”

  Jaya didn't pay any attention to her friend’s attempts at reason. “He just barged into my life, with his sexy smile and hair to die for, and started changing everything. If he didn't like me and my white walls the way they were, what the hell is he doing painting them? You can’t just change something you don’t like about someone. You have to learn to love it.”

  Micha unfolded her long legs from the floor cushion and stood. “Okay, look. Maybe you're right. He shouldn’t try and change you, but how is it changing you if you told him your dream was to have someone magically come in and make the changes for you? So you didn’t have to do any of the work of painting, let alone picking a color. He was trying to be helpful.”

  Jaya scowled at her friends. “You’re taking his side.”

  Micha quirked a brow. “Before you go all, ‘Alec has pulled them over to the dark side on me,’ might I remind you that you were the one who decided to approach a random stranger and then have sex with him. Even though all you talk about half the time are crazed serial killers.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Aren’t you the one who convinced this poor man into helping you break into your old place of employment to go and take software that is technically yours?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Did he force you to do any of these things?”

  “No.”

  “Then why are you mad at him?”

  Having run out of steam, Jaya leaned against the cushions. “I sort of liked guessing which color. I really wanted to pick it out myself.”

  Micha rolled her eyes. “Newsflash, you're being a bitch. And a bratty one at that. You can do anything you want to the whole living room. He tried to do something special for you. And instead of being with him and giving him all kinds of raunchy thank you sex, you're sitting around my living room full of piss and vinegar.”

  “What’s really upsetting you, sweetie?” Ricca asked.

  Jaya blew out a breath. “Not being in control. He just took it out of my hands and it sucks.”

  Micha leaned forward. “Now, for that he’s an asshole—a sweet asshole, but he shouldn’t have taken control from you. You want me to straighten him out?” She waggled her eyebrows. “Could be fun.”

  Jaya leaned back in her seat, deflated. They were right. She was being a snotty brat. He’d done something sweet and she’d let her temper rip him a new one. Stupid. “Anyone have any ideas on what a really big apology looks like?”

  ***

  Alec looked up from the bar to see Jaya striding into Synthesis. A small smile hit his lips. That was Jaya. No guile. No sashaying, not strutting, just straight to the point, get to business. He liked that about her.

  As she walked toward him, she waved a little white handkerchief and smiled sheepishly. He knew she was here to apologize. And the weight he’d been carrying around since their fight lifted. But his more practical side understood that it would be easier if she’d stayed mad at him and hadn’t seen him again. But easier for who? Why did he put his hands on something that he knew he couldn’t have? “Because I'm a masochist that's why,” he mumbled under his breath.

  “What did you say?” she asked as she grabbed a bar stool and plopped a folder and her handkerchief on the counter.

  “Nothing.” He smiled. “You look dressed for an interview. Are you already giving up on Adele?”

  She glanced down at her outfit. Brow furrowed, she asked, “What's wrong with what I'm wearing?”

  The light gray pin stripe suit was form fitting and cut to fit her slender curves. And she was wearing those mouthwatering shoes again. All he could think about was her wearing nothing but those shoes as they wrapped around his back and she screamed his name. He cleared his throat in an effort to clear the imagery. “Not a thing.”

  She shrugged. “I just finished with Adele. Besides, Tamara called and wanted some help at the wedding site, so I'll go by for an hour. Best to have my armor on.”

  Ah, so that was it. “You want to drive her crazy with curiosity as to who you’re working for?”

  She shrugged. “A little. Petty maybe, but not even close to what she’s pulled.”

  “Good point.” He reached out and touched her hand. The usual rush of emotion and need didn't surprise him this time. But it did make him want do things to her in the bar that probably weren’t legal in fifteen states. “About yesterday—”

  She put up a hand and interrupted him. “No. Please let me.” She shook her head. “I was a total brat and ungrateful. I realize you were only trying to be nice. Clearly, I have a hard time with relinquishing control.”

  Alec folded his arms instead, in the hope he'd keep them to himself. He really wanted to hold her. It had only been a week and a half since they’d started seeing each other, but it was already an automatic thing. “I should have asked you. I don’t ask very often. I just ‘do’. Sometimes it backfires. I can paint it back the way you had it.”

  The smile she gave him half melted his heart. “No. Please don’t. I kind of like it. Something for me to remember you by when you leave.”

  Ouch. He winced. That ugly little detail. He would be leaving her in no time. “Next time I’ll ask first,” he promised solemnly, but they both knew that there wouldn’t be a next time. “I've started to like your bossy Type-A style.”

  She dipped her head and changed the subject. “So, Mr. Bartender, you feel like giving me a lesson?”

  He wasn't sure he heard her correctly. “Exactly what kind of lesson were you looking for?” His libido started to fantasize.

  “It’s something on my Thirty list. I had this ridiculous notion after college that I'd find myself and tend bar or something like that to pay the rent. Either that or strip.” She shook her head. “Stupid, right? I was kidding about the stripping part, by the way.”

  “Too bad. And no. I'd buy a drink from you any day.”

  She grinned at him. “So, how about a lesson?”

  His brows drew in. “What? Right now?”

  She slipped off her jacket. “Yeah, what’s wrong with now?”

  Maybe because he was on edge, because he could still smell her roses shampoo and it was driving him nuts.

  She slid back behind the bar with him. “Show me how to make what you gave me the other night. I don’t know what was in that, but it was delicious.”

  She brushed against him just enough to have him reciting his favorite childhood baseball players. “Um, that one's pretty easy.” Bending down, he took the ingredients from the fridges under the bar. Setting down the cranberry, orange and pineapple juices, he got a glass and handed it to her. “First, rim the glass.” He winced at the obvious sexual reference. It conjured up all kinds of imagery of the two of them.

  She took it from him, her delicate fingers barely brushing his in the transfer. She dipped the glass in the sugar tray.

  He placed his hand on hers. “Like this. You’ll want to rim the glass with lemon first. It'll help the sugar stick to the glass.”

  She did as he told her, then grinned up at him. “What next?”

  “Now add one part pineapple and one part orange juice.”

  She used the little mea
suring cup and he didn't have the heart to tell her no real bartender worth his or her salt would measure the amount of juice that went into a drink. The alcohol, maybe, if trying to save the bar some cash. But not juice. But she liked things to be precise and that’s why he liked her. “Done. What next.”

  The way her smile caught the light, Alec knew he was in trouble. If by chance he made it through the next day or so, his fate would be changed forever. He loved her. It was that simple. He didn’t give a shit about consequences. All he knew was that he wanted her. Lists and all. Clearing his throat, he pulled down a bottle of Grand Marnier. “Add a splash of this.”

  She frowned. The bottle hovered just over the mixer.

  “What’s the matter?”

  She chewed her lip. “How much is a splash? More than the juice or less than the juice? Is it a big splash? Can I just measure it, instead?”

  He took the bottle from her and set it on the counter. “It doesn’t have to be perfect, you know. It's just a drink.”

  She nodded, but he could see the telltale shimmer in her eyes. “Just a drink,” she mumbled.

  He shrugged. “Or maybe it's the epitome of your whole life, and your entire existence hinges on getting this drink just right.” He took her hands. “But I promise you. It doesn’t.” Her lips quirked. He continued, “Everything doesn’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to be perfect. But newsflash, you’re already pretty perfect to me.”

  “Lists and all?”

  He flashed her a grin. “Lists and all. Go on, add as much Grand Marnier as you want.” She poured enough to give any drinker a kick.

  Handing her the shaker, he said, “Now shake it up and pour.”

  As she poured, he tried not to watch her delicate fingers and wonder where they'd be better served. He had to get a grip.

  She handed him the glass. “Did I get it right?”

  He didn't take a sip.

  “You taste it and tell me.”

  Her lips parted and his whole body jerked. As the blissful expression crossed her face as she sipped, he smiled. “Good?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, tastes just like it.”