Sugar and Spice

by Shandi Boyes

  “First, you need to get changed, because there ain’t no way in hell you’ll get into the places I visit in that getup.”

  He smiles, recognizing the tease in my tone.

  “Second, we need to dump a vehicle. We can’t get cozy by maintaining tailgating laws.”

  The way I purr “cozy” brightens his cheeks.

  “And third?” Cormack asks, shadowing me to his car. “I don’t know how many times last week you told me nothing is done unless it is done in threes.”

  “We need to pop into a drugstore.” I lick my suddenly parched lips, hoping a bit of moisture will help deliver my next set of words. “Unless you have everything we need?”

  I watch Cormack through lowered lashes, praying I won’t have to spell out the obvious, while also hoping I perceived his invitation to an all-night event correctly.

  When he remains quiet, somewhat baffled, I clarify, “Do you have supplies?” I inwardly groan. I don’t lack confidence, but there is something about this man that makes me weak—in a good way, but weak all the same.

  A grin stretches across my face when Cormack shakes his head. It droops a little when his shake is quickly followed by, “Do you?”

  I arch a brow. “That is a very personal question, Mister. You should never ask a woman her age or how many men she has slept with. It isn’t kosher.”

  Although my tone is riddled with jest, Cormack’s cheeks ignite even more. Except this time, he isn’t blushing with carnal desires. He’s angry.

  My god—if Augustus wasn’t watching our exchange with amusement, I’d forgo the first two items on my list and drive straight to the drugstore. Cormack already holds the top spot in my ultimate book boyfriend list, but when he’s angry, he makes me forget there is a list.

  “I have supplies in my purse. . .” My hand darts up to hold my chest when a hearty growl roars out of Cormack’s mouth. “. . . But they’re so old, their expiration date coincided with the end of my sex life.”

  “You’re not making matters better,” Cormack mumbles under his breath as his arm curls around my back.

  “Who said I was trying to?” I break away from his side with a laugh.

  His smile wobbles when I skip past the passenger door Augustus is holding open for me and slide into the warm leather seat. His pricey ride’s high end trim is pleasing to the eye, but it has nothing on the giddy feeling I get when Cormack slides into the passenger seat without a gripe.

  I shouldn’t be surprised at his nonchalant response. Our faith in one another was already put to the test today, and we came out the other end smiling, so what’s another little switch up between friends?

  After sliding down the heavily tinted window, I toss my car keys to Augustus. “Go gentle on the clutch; she’s known to stick.”

  Augustus’ hairy top lip can’t hide his smile. “I’d issue you the same warning, but I’m sure you’ve got things covered.”

  I wink, hearing the message his mouth failed to deliver. He cares for Cormack, and not in the standard employee-employer type of way. I can’t say I blame him. Even his difficulty expressing his emotions doesn’t stop Cormack from being a lovable guy.

  When the rumble of Cormack’s engine vibrates through my seat, my peacock feathers bend. If it didn’t make me seem weak, I’d ask Cormack to swap seats. But since I sincerely believe anything a man can do a woman can perform just as well, I continue on—bunny hops and all.

  “Sorry. It will take me a little to adjust. I don’t usually drive with heels on.” My tone is as pathetic as my excuse.

  Cormack’s car does another three hops before he shifts his eyes to mine. “Floor the gas, Harlow. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “We end up in a fiery wreck,” I reply, stating the obvious.

  My response seems more like a premonition than a guess when Cormack smiles. “Other than that?”

  Incapable of thinking of another excuse, I shrug.

  “Well there you go. Floor the gas. Show me what you’ve got.”

  His words—along with his body—are shifted into his seat when I plant my foot to the floor. The power of his engine is showcased in magnificent detail when we rocket toward a steel gate with rusty hinges that indicate they haven’t been used in years.

  We dart onto the main road, my excessive speed slotting us between a stream of cars with scary accuracy. As my foot reacquaints itself with the brake, my eyes drift to Cormack. I expect him to be holding on for dear life or at the very least glowering at me. He is doing no such thing. He is staring at me in wonderment, and if I’m not mistaken, a smidge of thrill.

  “Now it makes sense,” I murmur, my eyes bouncing between Cormack and the cars I’m dangerously veering between. “Your bike. Your business. Me. You’re an adrenaline junkie.”

  I lower my speed some more when Cormack replies, “Not generally. Just something someone said to me one day kind of stuck. I haven’t been able to get it out of my head since.”

  “What did they say?” It must be important if it’s stuck with him this long.

  Cormack’s chest expands with pride when he quotes, “One stupid mistake can change everything, but who says all mistakes end badly?”

  It takes me a few seconds to recall where I heard that saying before. “Oh, you’re smooth,” I mumble under my breath when I catch sight of Cormack’s devilish grin. I relinquish my death-grip on the steering wheel to sock him in the stomach before kicking it up to breakneck speed. “Let’s see if I can iron out some of those wrinkles in your suit.”

  Cormack’s throat works hard to swallow as his pupils widen. His response is expected, but still highly amusing. It isn’t every day a billionaire pulls his Bentley into a Walmart parking lot.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cormack

  By the time we’ve wrangled Walmart and eaten ribs and curly fries at a saloon I didn’t know existed on the outskirts of Ravenshoe, we arrive at our final destination with the moon hanging low in the sky. Even wearing threads that make me more itchy than comfortable can’t alter the facts: tonight has been amazing.

  You should have seen the gleam Harlow’s eyes got when I handed our purchases to the Walmart cashier. She thought she was so smug putting ten packets of condoms and multiple bottles of lube into our basket of goodies. She soon learned I may blush like an imbecile, but it has nothing to do with shame.

  I can’t say the same for Harlow. When I asked if she intended to test out the products before leaving the parking lot, her face turned the color of a beetroot.

  That started our five-hour long game of tit for tat.

  It’s been an interesting evening, that’s for sure. And it was done without a soul recognizing me. They say the man makes the suit, but the residents of Ravenshoe proved that isn’t true. I can’t step foot in New York without being bombarded by the media, but tonight, the only second glances I got were from zealous women.

  I’m not usually a fan of overeager women, but I appreciate them when I have Harlow on my arm. Not because I’m interested in what they are offering; I just love the way her eyes tapered with every ogle I got.

  I’m not as enthusiastic when men bestow the same attention upon Harlow.

  Jealousy has never been an issue for me. . . until it comes to Harlow. Isaac and I have been competing for years—in and out of the boardroom—but I’m not overly competitive. I participated to cure boredom, not for the glory. I honestly didn’t care who won. But one admiring glance directed at Harlow has me seeing red. I understand why they gawk; she is a beautiful woman. I just hate the chauvinistic edge it brings out of me. I thought the only top spot I’d be striving for would be the top rung of a corporate ladder. I didn’t have a fucking clue. There is only one thing I want to climb, and she isn’t a ladder.

  With the sun setting hours ago, the lake we are cruising toward is barely visible. The moonlight bouncing off the inky waters gives it an eerie feeling it usually doesn’t have. I haven’t been to this watering hole in years, but it was one of my f
avorite spots when I was younger.

  “It’s even more exquisite than I remembered,” Harlow murmurs when my car glides over the horizon, exposing the lake in its entirety.

  With her morning starting several hours earlier than a standard 9 to 5 worker, her eyes can’t hide her tiredness, but they can’t conceal her excitement either. During a conversation about summer break, it dawned that we visited this very lake at the exact time every year during our teens. Not once did we run into each other. That’s phenomenal. It is a big lake, but still, what are the odds?

  I don’t care if she swears on the Bible, Harlow must have hidden her seductive curves in the cabin her parents rented two weeks out of a year, as there is no way in hell I wouldn’t have noticed her. We have a three-year age gap, but that’s nothing when you’re a horny teen. Before Lucinda nearly stripped me of my freedom, I was constantly on the prowl. Even being saddled down with a “family-obligated” girlfriend didn’t stop my hunt.

  Lucinda’s accusation let the wind out of my sails, but in some ways, her charges were a godsend. I was walking a thin line before my arrest. The fall was hard, but the freedom that came with it was incalculable. Nothing in life is guaranteed, but my life improved for the better when I was close to losing it. It is funny how one person’s perspective on life can alter another’s.

  Before Harlow entered the equation, I was cautious of everyone’s motives. My father’s deceit brutally scared me. But listening to Harlow talk about her dad and the love she still has for him years after his death, makes me realize what happened wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t even my dad’s. It was greed. He let his hunger for success consume him. I’m not going to make the same mistake.

  Because it is well past midnight, the parking lot is empty. I pull my Bentley in front of a long wooden jetty. With mature trees surrounding the lake, the howling winds coming from the west are blocked, giving the water a smooth, crystal-like appearance.

  “Wait,” I request when Harlow curls her fingers around the door latch.

  I climb out of my car and rush to her door to open it for her. Harlow hates my old-fashioned ways, but my mom always quoted, “Being male is a matter of birth; being a man is a matter of age, but being a gentleman is a matter of choice.” Archaic or not, I want to treat Harlow how she deserves to be treated.

  “Thank you,” Harlow says, her praise only thwarted by the tiniest roll of her eyes.

  The shudder of her heart zaps down her arm when I curl my hand over hers and commence walking to the water’s edge. I assume the increase in her pulse is compliments of the eerie surroundings. I realize I am way off the mark when she drops my hand to yank her skirt down her slim thighs. I stifle a groan when the material shimmies away without too much coercion.

  When she bends over to unclasp the straps on her heels, my earlier stumble into chivalrous territory flies out the window. I’m a red-blooded man. There is no chance in hell I can tear my eyes from her delectable ass. The globes of her backside are barely hidden by the tiny pair of panties she is wearing. These are even more risqué than her previous two pairs. They are an assortment of wicked.

  After slanting her head to the side, Harlow stares unashamedly at my crotch. I can’t hide the effect her impromptu strip caused to my body, so I don’t bother. When her eyes return to my face, she purrs, “Are you coming?”

  If she keeps looking at me the way she is, I will. In my ten-dollar Walmart pants!

  Harlow’s tiny body jolts forward when I give her a playful smack on her ass. I don’t mean to add to the sexual tension firing in the air; I’m just striving to wipe the smug grin off her face. She’s been teasing me so much tonight, the chummy relationship her attention creates with my zipper and my cock is the worst it’s ever been. She merely needs to breathe and I’m snared in her hunter’s trap, so imagine how bad I was hooked when she moaned with every forkful of ribs she devoured? And don’t even get me started on dessert.

  It was overkill for me to order every item on the menu, but her appreciative purrs made it worth the sacrifice. I initiated our all-night foray. Harlow is merely nourishing my wish with a massive boost of nutrients.

  With a playful wink, Harlow pulls her fitted shirt over her head. It’s barely floated to the ground when she dashes down the wooden pier. I stand frozen a beat, my brain too occupied storing images of her in nothing but a pair of panties and a black bra to command my feet to move.

  It is only when Harlow dumps her bra onto the wooden surface seconds before she is swamped by blackness do my feet move. I remove my white tennis shoes and pants I usually wouldn’t be caught dead in without incident, but I nearly kill myself while yanking my shirt over my head. It isn’t my frantic speed that has me stumbling over my feet. It is the image of a pair of tiny panties entering my peripheral vision. I recognize those panties. They were barely covering the sexiest ass I’ve ever seen mere seconds ago. I’ve never had an interest in collecting panties until now.

  I’m saved from tiptoeing toward Seedyville when Harlow squeals, “Come on, Cormack! It’s so warm, it’s like a hot spring.”

  As the sound of splashing water filters through my ears, I tug my boxers down my legs and throw them on top of Harlow’s panties. The old wooden boards of the dock creak under my feet as I increase my pace. I’m the barest I’ve ever been, but my confidence is at an all-time high. The most daring thing I’ve done the past decade was pay Isaac’s buy-in at his first underground fight. That dividend paid tenfold. I am sure tonight’s risk will be just as beneficial.

  A cool wind blowing from the west prickles my skin with goosebumps when I stretch my arms above my head and dive into the lake. My balls lurch into my throat when I break through the freezing water. Hot spring my ass. My teeth violently clatter as I swim to the surface. I’m so eager to get out of this ice box, I forget why I’m skinny dipping to begin with.

  It is only when the moonlight highlights the beads of water careening down Harlow’s olive skin does reality come crashing back. I swim toward Harlow, mesmerized and in a trance. My god this woman is beautiful. Her eyes are gleaming with mischief, and her smile outshines the moon. Even her long locks sitting flat on the top of her head can’t hide her appeal. She’s entrancing.

  “You made it.” Her breaths fan my lips when she curls her arms around my neck. Because the water is deeper than we are tall, we either tread water or drown.

  “Did you think I’d chicken out?”

  Harlow half-shrugs. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure. I’ve always seen the fire in your eyes, I just didn’t know if you could feel it.”

  The fire she is referring to is only there because of her. She relit it.

  “Is that why we’re skinny-dipping in an ice-cold lake? To douse the flame?”

  My worry of going into hypothermic shock dies when Harlow smiles a blistering grin. “No. I just wanted to see you naked.” She gives me a sassy wink. “I can’t give you an adequate book boyfriend score without first checking out all your assets.”

  “And how did I measure up?”

  I’m not seeking brownie points. . . Actually, yes, I am. I want her praise as much as I want her mouth on mine. I want her approval. I want her breath to hitch like mine does every time she enters the room. I want everything she is willing to give me. Then I want ten percent more.

  “I can’t tell you all my secrets, Cormack. You might stop trying if you think you’ve got me figured out.” Her voice is a seductive purr.

  “There is no chance of that ever happening.”

  Years couldn’t unravel a woman as complex as Harlow, but that doesn’t mean I won’t strive for greatness. Harlow’s blind faith in me tonight will be rewarded in a way she’ll never see coming.

  “Cormack?”

  “Hmm.” I’d like to give a more confident reply, but with her thigh brushing my midsection as she strives to stay afloat, a better response is beyond me.

  I stop trying to sneak a peek at the generous swell of her breasts when she asks, “Did you leave your ligh
ts on?”

  Following the direction of her gaze, I find the cause for her high tone. A large circular light is heading our way, but instead of having the two bright dots generally associated with headlights, there is only one.

  It isn’t rare to spot a patrol car with only one spotlight.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Harlow

  Cormack glances my way as he places his license back into his wallet. It isn’t the glare of an angry man; it is one from a man who is famished of taste. Damn Ryan and his dislike of seaside locations. If it weren’t for his morbid hatred of Ravenshoe’s prime hookup spot, I’d be celebrating the birth of a new day in the most glorious way.

  Instead, I’m leaning on the back quarter panel of his unmarked patrol car, pretending I wasn’t moments away from telling Cormack his naked dash down the pier didn’t just knock my last book boyfriend front-runner off his podium; he smashed the list to smithereens.

  In case you’re wondering, the evidence stacks up. Even the nippy night couldn’t weaken my confirmation. Cormack has it all. The looks. The package. The crazy, eccentric family every hot guy seems to have. He’s just lucky his personality makes up for the latter.

  Tonight has been unlike any day I’ve ever had. When the idea to go skinny dipping popped into my head, I wasn’t sure Cormack would follow suit. He’s extremely laidback considering the prestigious family he grew up in, but that didn’t mean he’d accept my endeavor to push him out of his comfort zone without backlash.

  Just like he has done time and time again, he proved me wrong in the best way possible. The naughty side of my head wants to pretend my brilliant plan was just to confirm my book boyfriend rating, but that isn’t the case. I wanted to lighten the tension as well. That’s what tonight has been about. Cormack stripped himself bare. He showed me a side of him I doubt many people have seen. I wanted to repay the trust.