Sugar and Spice

by Shandi Boyes

  The slightest hue adorns my cheeks when he pulls his thumb back far enough a smudge of pink icing becomes visible. Damn it. I thought he was touching me because he wanted to, not because I had frosting on my face. That’s a bigger let down than when news of Stan Lee’s passing reached my ears.

  The heat on my cheeks switches from embarrassed to needy when Cormack pops his thumb into his mouth. He doesn’t hold back his appreciation of the sugary goodness invading his taste buds.

  I fan my cheeks, suddenly overheated. Did he forget to turn on the air when he arrived? I know it’s fall, but it’s real stuffy in here.

  “Mmmm. Soooo good.” The gruffness in Cormack’s voice exposes he loves baked goodies as much as me, but that isn’t the only thing it divulges. He’s teasing me. Again!

  Straightening my spine, I thrust out my chest. It’s time for this player to meet a professional. “I’m so glad you’re satisfied with the service I supplied today. Harlow’s Scrumptious Haven prides itself on ensuring our customers are well satiated. You’ll never be left wanting after devouring our sugary treats. We have a satisfaction guarantee. If we don’t get it right the first time, you can come back until you’ve reached the pinnacle of satisfaction.”

  I mentally fist pump, pleased my rusty dating skills aren’t as corroded as first thought. My counter-tease was over the top, but necessary. Now he’ll not only be unable to outwit me, he’ll be incapable of hiding the effects of my tease either. If I lose this match, I’ll bow out with my head held high. But if Cormack reacts the way I’m praying he will, fuck social status. No one walks away from fireworks—not even a blind man.

  As the creases in Cormack’s pants flatten, I add up the tally: Baker – 2. Billionaire – 0.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, my voice as sweet as the treats that brought us together. “You’re looking at little flushed. Aroused, even.”

  I expect him to laugh, glower, or blindside me with a witty comeback. I don’t get any of those things. I get the one item I never anticipated, but will give a left lung to hear again and again and again.

  I get a growl.

  Then. . . then I get a pair of luscious lips.

  Chapter Five

  Cormack

  My lunge for Harlow is so violent, I knock her chair from underneath her. I save her from falling to the ground for the second time today by banding my arms around her back and pulling her body flush with mine. She groans into my mouth, the heat of her core as devastating to my perception as her wittiness.

  I thought the cupcakes I devoured practically whole were delicious. They have nothing on Harlow’s mouth. I wasn’t supposed to kiss her—I’m not supposed to be kissing her—but just like her sass unraveled my plan of attack last night, it has once again rendered me stupid.

  After a restless night, I woke up more determined than ever this morning. I decided not to woo Harlow out of her panties; I would merely show her the benefits she could get by agreeing to Colt Enterprises’ proposal. I understand she loves baking. I appreciate she wants a career so she can rely on no one but herself. But I can’t comprehend why that can’t be achieved two streets from her current location.

  If she would just peruse the proposition I personally drafted for her, she’d see I have the perfect solution. I am offering her a lifetime lease on a property worth millions of dollars for chump change. I even agreed to have the kitchen upgraded before her relocation. But, for some unknown reason, she continues denying my proposals.

  Although, I now have sympathy for what my acquisition team has been up against the last twelve months, I’m not a man who shies away from a challenge. I am as stubborn as a mule.

  Harlow is just as passionate. In a world filled with greed and nepotism, she strives for humility. That is a rare commodity in this industry. If her grit wasn’t something I aspired to myself, I’d call her foolish. Her astuteness on paper falls short of her optimism in person. Experiencing her go-get-them attitude in the flesh is fascinating. Clearly, since I’ve spent more time striving to make her smile than discuss business all morning.

  My plan of attack last night was simple: in and out with a signed contract in under two minutes. I left with the sale agreement sitting in my pocket and a decreased likelihood of a takeover. It wasn’t our spontaneous food fight that made me unhinged. It was arranging for the local grocer to replace the eggs I scrambled with my backside. I haven’t entered a grocery store in years, yet it seemed second nature to do it for Harlow.

  Don’t misconstrue my nobleness; I still want to add Harlow’s bakery to the assets I’ve accumulated the past six years. I’m just going to sample every inch of her mouth first.

  Harlow’s moans vibrate my tongue when I drag it along the roof of her mouth. Our tongues duel in perfect harmony, increasing my awareness that I’m sailing in waters out of my depth. Everything about this woman intimidates me, but in a way I can’t help but admire.

  I’ve barely dated since a lawsuit with a scorned woman nearly cost me my reputation and more. If that didn’t already make me wary, most candidates want background checks, recent bank balance receipts, and an extensive criminal history check before agreeing to exchange numbers.

  To say the world of a single, successful man is brutal would be an understatement. A major one. But do you know what? Harlow didn’t ask about my company, its clients, or where I plan to take it the next five years. She probed me on my family, my hobbies, and whether I am happy.

  She didn’t seem to care that I have enough money to keep the lights of America on for the next century. I’m confident her tactics aren’t a ploy, either. Her eyes are too honest to conceal an underlying ruse. My answers interested her more than money ever could. She was more worried about my reaction to her forgoing college than discovering I went to the most prestigious business school in the country.

  This will be a little weird considering I currently have my tongue halfway down her throat, but Harlow reminds me of myself when I fled my family compound with nothing but the clothes on my back. I didn’t want money. I just wanted freedom. Now, instead of being crippled by my father’s demands, I’m being strangled by revenge. He’s dead, yet I can’t give up my campaign to prove him wrong.

  The tightness spread across my chest eases when Harlow grinds down on my stiffened crotch. My desire to kiss the leering grin off her face was so intense, I’m just realizing I have her pinned to the frosted wall of my conference room. I want to pretend my quest for privacy was noble, but the viciousness of my kiss proves my decision was all about pent-up sexual frustration. I barely slept a wink last night, my endeavor ruined by an auburn-haired beauty with a ravishing smile and even more striking personality.

  Usually, a stream of numbers keeps me awake until the wee hours. Not last night. Nothing was on my mind but Harlow. Not a single thing. I’ve never had this insane need before. I’d like to say the thrill of the chase is fueling my crusade, but that isn’t the case. Away from Harlow, I’m shrewd, perceptive, and rational, but that isn’t who I am. This man here—the one kissing her like every stroke of her tongue unshackles the chains I’ve been carrying the past nine years—is who I really am. I’m restless. I’m rebellious. I’m free. I just got a little lost trying to prove my father wrong.

  “Whoa, hold on,” I mutter against Harlow’s mouth when she frantically tugs at my belt. When her eyes raise to mine, the lust in them thickens my blood, but the disappointment in them is my greatest concern.

  “You don’t. . .” Her curved brow finalizes her sentence. She can feel my cock braced against her. She knows the effect she has on me. She’s just confused as to why I’m not acting on my desires.

  I want to. I want to fuck the hesitation from her eyes as badly as I want to reacquaint our mouths, but that wouldn’t just have me walking headfirst into a lawsuit; it’ll have me skimming the depths of hell. I have to disclose my interest in her bakery first, then I’ll be free to have her beneath me. It’s the right thing to do.

  We breathe as one when I rest m
y sweat-drenched forehead against hers. Her eyes meet mine, her airy gaze pinching the air from my lungs. The look of satisfaction is all over her face. Her pupils are wide, and her swollen lips expose the greed of our kiss. Her flushed appearance entices recklessness—blinding I’ll regret this for the rest of my days recklessness.

  Her sweet-scented breath hits my lips when I drag my tongue across her pouty mouth. I taste her slowly, devouring her with the dedication I should have used the first time around. She gives me all-inclusive access, slanting her head left to right depending on which part of her mouth, neck, and face I want to ravish.

  When the outside of her mouth can no longer quench my thirst, I thread my fingers through her silky mane, then plunge my tongue between her parted lips. Her skin quivers with need when my other hand creeps up her tight-fitting cami. She gasps into my mouth when I cup one of the many sources of my restless night—her bountiful breast. Its generous swell is too much for one hand, but with my other one occupied keeping our crotches aligned, I use what I have.

  While I knead her breasts through her skintight shirt, Harlow takes control of our kiss. Our level of intimacy is high considering we only met yesterday. The strokes of our tongues, nibs of our teeth, and our moans are so perfectly synced, you’d swear we’ve been lovers for years.

  For someone so pragmatic, Harlow’s kisses are on the opposite end of the spectrum. They are controlled and precise, a stimulating fog of dominance and ravenous desires. She knows how to kiss. I’ve never had a woman knock me on my ass as well as Harlow did last night. Except now, I’m not just bowled over; I’m down for the count.

  A short time later, I hear a tap. I ignore it. With the craving I awakened just now being fulfilled, I’m not willing to relinquish Harlow’s mouth just yet.

  It is only once the annoying knock turns into a cough, closely followed by a chuckle, do I reluctantly withdraw. With a ticking jaw and a throbbing cock, I snap my eyes in the direction of the noise. I plan to tell my unwanted guest either to leave immediately or with a severance package later today.

  The humored gaze of a man I know all too well swallows my outburst. Isaac’s lips curve into a smug grin as he props his shoulder on the concealed door separating my office from the conference room. Although his arrival is staged, it is highly unwanted.

  Harlow disarmed me so fast last night, I shamefully requested Isaac’s assistance today. The jest in his eyes discloses he didn’t just arrive. He’s been here for a while, basking in the awkwardness of me performing the same two-step routine he’s been doing with a pretty brunette the past six weeks.

  “Busy?” Isaac’s question coincides with the removal of Harlow’s thighs from my hips.

  “You don’t have to go,” I assure Harlow, returning my eyes to hers. “Isaac was just leaving.” I deliver my last sentence loud enough to ensure Isaac will hear me.

  “I am?” His tone is brittle with amusement.

  “Yes, you are,” I snarl through gritted teeth.

  “It’s okay. I have to go anyway,” Harlow says, glancing up at me.

  A grin tugs her lips, as if she is entertained by the banter between Isaac and me. I don’t know what she thinks is humorous? I’m two seconds from tossing Isaac to the curb by the lapels of his three-piece suit. Screw security. When you have a matter this urgent, you either handle the situation yourself or lose. I’m not a man who likes losing.

  I lean in toward Harlow, replacing the cheek in her eyes with longing. “I don’t want you to go.”

  I hate putting her in this predicament, but what other avenue can I take? I’ve only sampled half her mouth. That means there is a whole other half worthy of exploration. Harlow said it herself, there is no fruit tastier than a forbidden piece, and she is as forbidden as they come.

  Harlow smiles, strengthening my plea for her to stay. “I’m sorry, I have to go. One of my staff resigned last night, so I don’t have anyone available to open up shop.” Her last sentence comes out in a hurry as her eyes widen. “Oh, shit. If I don’t leave this instant, for the first time in nearly a century, my doors won’t open on time.”

  She squeezes through the minute parcel of air between us. I don’t know how she does it. I’m practically crushing her with my six-foot-two frame.

  “I hope everyone loves the cupcakes. If they do, I’d really appreciate a review on my Facebook page.” Her words are as fast as her steps.

  My cock softens when she darts through the conference room door, leaving nothing but the sweet smell of powdered sugar in her wake. My narrowed gaze freezes halfway between the door and Isaac when she unexpectedly pops her head back in not even two seconds later.

  “Will you call me?” She removes the desperation from her tone with a quick huff before saying more assertively, “If you want to call me, my number is on my business card. If not, it’s cool. Whatever.”

  Isaac tries to conceal his laughter with a cough. He shouldn’t bother. I heard it coming before it was delivered. It is rare for Isaac to chuckle, but it is even scarcer for him to do it in the presence of a stranger. Obviously, Harlow’s easygoing nature isn’t prejudiced. It even disarms men not vying for a peek at her panties.

  After stuffing Isaac’s laughter into his throat with a quick glare, I return my eyes to Harlow. “I’ll call you later today?”

  “Alright. Cool. Sounds good.” Her unfazed act is Oscar-worthy. It’s just a pity her massively dilated eyes and flushed cheeks spoiled her performance.

  “Bye.” Her husky farewell has my cock and zipper once again becoming chummy. They haven’t been this friendly in years, if ever.

  I wait a good thirty or so seconds to ensure Harlow is gone for real this time before turning my eyes to Isaac. He takes his time absorbing my mussed hair, swollen lips, and flamed cheeks before connecting his eyes with mine.

  “You were supposed to be here at seven!” I don’t know why I’m yelling. My foul mood is based more on sexual frustration than actual anger, but I’m shouting all the same.

  “I was,” Isaac confirms, shadowing me into my office. He postpones the rest of his assurance until I slouch into the chair he gifted me two years ago. My monstrous wooden desk is also his doing. “You asked me to be your backup, Cormack, not a babysitter. You had things under control for the most part. When you didn’t, I stepped in.”

  “After I groped her boobs!”

  Isaac waggles his dark brows, frustrating me further. I just pinned a woman to my conference room wall with my cock. Fuck—I’m a walking lawsuit.

  “This isn’t funny. I’m supposed to be taking down her bakery, not her panties.” My last words are separated by much-needed breaths. I can’t think of Harlow and her panties in the same sentence. I’m sane. . . until her undergarments, beautiful face, and witty grin enter the equation.

  Pissed about the number of times I’ve lost my train of thought today, I mutter, “This is bad, Isaac. It could be another re-run of Lucinda if I’m not careful. I didn’t even ask permission to kiss her. I just went for it.” I throw my head back to peer at the ceiling, hoping a few deep breaths will settle my anger.

  “She’s not Lucinda—”

  “How do know that?” I interrupt, snapping my eyes back to him. “You’ve known her all of two seconds.”

  He smirks a cunning grin. “Considering your record-setting pace the past two days, she’ll be family by the end of the week. That’s got to mean something, doesn’t it?”

  I’d laugh at his insinuation if I weren’t worried it was true. I’ve only known Harlow for two days—two measly motherfucking days—yet I’m breaking rules I created to protect myself from shit like this. Nine years ago, I would have answered the silent plea in Harlow’s eyes without a second thought. But I don’t have that luxury anymore. I can’t trust a stranger until they prove me wrong. I’ve got too much at stake to risk on a woman I barely know.

  I stop watching my life circle the toilet bowl when Isaac says, “You knew the moment you met Lucinda that she was trouble. That’s wh
y you steered clear of her.” He nudges his head to the conference room. “You weren’t dodging bullets in there. You pinned a target on your chest because you want her attention. You’re just scared as to why.”

  A pfft noise strains through my clenched teeth. “You’re abstinent for six weeks, and suddenly you’re a relationship counselor?”

  Isaac nods immediately and without hesitation. “You’ll be amazed at the amount of brain power you have access to when all your blood isn’t rushing to your cock.”

  Even with turmoil swirling my gut, I can’t help but laugh. I’ve known Isaac since we were freshman, but this is the first time I’ve seen him absorb the word “relationship” without gagging. He even pussyfooted around the word when he was dating in college. He was with Ophelia for nearly a year, and not once did I hear him say he loved her. Yet these past six weeks, he’s ignored the string of women lining up to warm his sheets.

  He’s not denying himself because he’s on a quest for self-restraint. He just refuses to settle for second best. Maybe I should listen to his advice? If a man as assertive and controlled as Isaac can be placed under a spell by an unknown woman, why am I praying for a miracle?

  Because burns take a long time to heal.

  Frustrated at my accurate inner monologue, I cradle my head in my hands. “This shit isn’t right. I didn’t keep my dreams on the backburner the past nine years to give them up now, Isaac. I’m one step away from greatness.”

  Isaac’s smirk creeps higher up his face with every panicked syllable I issue. “There are more than two bases, Cormack. You’ve still got a few steps to take before you reach her treasure trove.”

  I glare at him, wondering who the fuck he is. The Isaac I know doesn’t joke. He is as straight-laced as I am laidback. “I was talking about my business aspiration, you ass!”