Sweet Love

by Kayla, Mia

  The smile slipped from her face and she stepped into me, reaching for my hand. “Okay, but we’ll have to schedule dinner, just the two of us. I miss my girl.”

  I squeezed her fingers between mine. “I love that idea.”

  Part of the reason that I wanted to do this exhibit was to showcase all my artwork, all in one place so she could see it all at once. Then maybe seeing everything and witnessing everyone admire my work, she’d realize that this was not just a hobby for me, that it was built in my bones—to create.

  “Remember that day that I told you I have something special planned?” I asked. “You blocked out that date, right?”

  “Of course.” She ran one hand down my cheek, pinching my chin. “It’s already blocked.”

  Automatically I wrapped my arms around her and melted against her chest. The movement surprised her, but a nanosecond later, her arms wrapped fully and tightly around me. I sighed into her, needing this, needing this closeness from her.

  * * *

  We were back at it, in the same room—the conference room—with the same Chinese food, brainstorming on concepts.

  Concepts. Concepts. Concepts.

  But things were different now, weren’t they?

  Luckily, we were so deep in thought that there was no room to think of him naked. Not when we were on a deadline.

  I sat Indian-style on the chair, tapping the pen against my chin, my gaze flickering between the Chinese food down the long mahogany table, my sketchbook, and at Connor beside me.

  He pushed his hands through his hair and stared at the blank paper in front of him.

  When I laughed, his head peeked up, and he frowned. “What’s so funny?”

  “You.”

  He smiled then and straightened in his seat. “What do you think is so funny? That we have been at this forever, yet we have nothing? That my marketing team cannot think of a single thing to bring our ideas to fruition?”

  “No. Just that you are too serious. Way too serious. I mean, this should be kind of fun, right? We need to display that in the product.”

  He overly sighed and leaned back in the chair, rubbing at his eyes as though we’d been at this for hours, though we were only thirty minutes in.

  I shoved at his shoulder, and that same discouraged look crossed his features.

  “We’re so going to rock this. I feel it.” But did I feel it? The thing was, maybe we were thinking about this too deeply, and ideas would flow if we eased up a little. “Can you pass me some fried rice?”

  Connor stood, scooping fried rice onto a paper plate. After passing me my plate, he served himself one.

  Then, it hit me like a wave of ideas and words in my brain, the way creativity was sparked and a waterfall of ideas pushed through.

  Food. Family. Chocolate.

  Family eating.

  But how did the family get to that place?

  I dropped my plate on the table and began to sketch, emptying my ideas on the blank canvas.

  It was crazy how my fingers could not keep up with the amount of ideas filtering through my mind.

  “What are you drawing?”

  When Connor peeked over my shoulder, I flipped it over and shot him a look.

  “I’m not done, and you can’t ruin my flow here.”

  “Just let me take a peek.” There was a seriousness in his tone that was quite comical.

  “No.” I pointed to the Chinese food. “Keep eating. This might take a while.”

  I stood and moved to the opposite side of the twenty-person boardroom table and continued to draw.

  And draw.

  And draw some more.

  Thirty minutes later, I was still at it, but I had the concept. I smiled big as I continued the last finishing touches.

  “Charlie …” Connor began again.

  This man was impatient beyond words.

  “I’m almost done.”

  He had finished all the fried rice, crab rangoons, and noodles and now was pacing the room.

  I blocked everything out. Every. Single. Thing.

  And I concentrated on the sketch.

  When I flipped the page, he inched closer. “You done?”

  “No.” My head hadn’t lifted from the paper in front of me, and my pencil moved of its own accord. “Why can’t you just let me work?”

  “I’m not a very patient man. You should know this by now.”

  He inched closer like a stealth cat, but I ignored him because I was nearly done.

  I felt him looming above me, trying to take a peek, and I laughed. “Get away, you stalker man, you.” Then, I shut the sketchbook. “Done.” I stood and lifted my chin. “But since you don’t listen to directions very well, I’ll show you it tomorrow.”

  “Charlie!” There was a little whine to his voice that was hella adorable.

  When I hid the sketchbook behind my back, a small smile crept up his face.

  “You are not being very nice.”

  My smile was bigger. “I never said I was nice at all.”

  “Charlie …” His tone sounded like a parent scolding a child. “Do you know what I hated most when I was younger?”

  There was a long pause after his sentence, and I shrugged as if to say, What?

  “I hated Kyle teasing me. He’d tease and tease and take my toys and taunt me, and I’d stay utterly quiet until … I’d had too much.”

  I laughed, which was the wrong move because he took a step forward, his face dead serious, devoid of any humor.

  “I’ve eaten all the Chinese food, paced a short marathon on this floor, and been patiently waiting for you to finish.”

  “Patient? You?” I scoffed. “Well, that’s your view on things. Let’s test that patience, shall we? I’ll let you see it tomorrow morning.”

  He reached for my sketchbook, and I squealed as I propelled myself toward the opposite end of the room.

  “Connor!” I lifted the sketchbook above my head, taunting him.

  He shook his head. “I’m a whole head taller than you. Just give up now.”

  “You’ll see it tomorrow,” I said, putting it behind my back again. “Just be patient.” Seriously, I had just been kidding before, but now, I was considering keeping the plans from him, given his foul mood.

  “My patience has just run out.”

  He dashed in my direction, but I swerved toward the other side of the room. Connor’s stance changed, and he charged forward once again as I moved toward the center of the boardroom. He closed in with a slight smirk on his face, like he was going to win. Determined, I veered right, but I was too slow as he closed in on me.

  I hopped on the table and lifted the sketchbook above my head as though I were the queen of the universe with a sword lifted high.

  He reached for the hem of my long shirt. “Get down. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  “I have insurance.”

  “You’re so annoying,” he said, a smile surfacing.

  He surprised me by getting on top of the table too. He was indeed a whole head taller than me, so I brought the sketchbook behind me. Thank God for tall ceilings.

  “Charlie …” There was his scolding tone again.

  Stepping backward, I tripped on my own feet. Half my body was off the table, and when Connor tried to save me and pull me back from falling, he toppled on top of me.

  Instead of relenting, I clutched the sketchbook to my chest. “No!”

  I could feel his body on mine, his chest against my chest, his hips against my hips. Connor was a few inches from my face, and our breathing met in a slow tempo.

  His hand gently brushed against my hip and I inhaled deeply. His eyes locked with mine, and the whole world stopped.

  My breath caught in my throat, and everything around me turned vividly clear.

  His scent filled my nose, and I felt an undeniable urge to close the gap between us to kiss him, to see how he tasted.

  Connor

  She was beautiful. The way her eyes squinted when she was l
aughing, the way her hair was splayed into tiny ringlets above her head. My stomach muscles tightened, and having her beneath me had me thinking dirty, dirty thoughts. My eyes flickered to her lips, and shit, I wanted to taste her, feel her lips against mine.

  My cock hardened as I pictured us in the same position but with her naked beneath me.

  Yep, not happening.

  I cleared my throat and stood before she felt my hard length pressed against her.

  I extended my hand to assist her, unable to meet her eyes.

  All this sexual tension was about to make me combust.

  Why was the universe throwing us together, naked first and now on top of each other the next?

  I would have taken this as a sign, if only I believed in signs.

  When her hand met mine, my cock pressed harder against my jeans, as though she were the On button of his happiness.

  I shifted and pulled her up.

  Man, oh man. I needed to remind myself why I shouldn’t date my employee.

  1. We worked together, which would complicate things. Our creative sessions would include brainstorming on the different positions I could make her come.

  2. I couldn’t get attached to anything here. This wasn’t my home. New York was.

  3. Lastly, I was leaving. I didn’t want to start something with Charlie and not be able to go anywhere with it because that was where it would go—nowhere. Not when we were in different states.

  I simply stared at her, unable to speak. I shifted my weight to my other foot and scrubbed a hand through my hair.

  After a beat, she lifted the sketchbook in the air and sported a victorious smile. “I won!”

  Fuck. I am a goner. Because she was so damn cute.

  I reached for the sketchbook, but she didn’t relent. I tugged her forward, and her soft, delicious body slammed against mine.

  I groaned.

  After a sharp inhale, her eyes flickered downward. Yep. If she hadn’t known that I had a boner before, well, now, it was pressing against her side.

  Our eyes met, locked, and loaded.

  I felt the compression of her chest, the rise and fall against mine.

  I wondered if her nipples were hard, if she was aroused by being in my vicinity.

  But the moment the thought registered, she pulled the sketchbook, turned around, and dropped it on the table. “So … yeah … here it is.” Her voice was shaky, and when I approached her from behind, I could feel the heat emanating from her body.

  Charlie. Charlie. Charlie. Why are you so damn tempting?

  “Well, show me.” I tipped my chin toward the drawings, forcing myself to concentrate. “What do you have here?”

  She turned to me, and her smile widened as a fire lit behind her eyes. “So, when you passed me the Chinese food earlier, I pictured us years from now at a kitchen table with kids, a family.”

  “Oh, did you now?” My voice was teasingly light.

  “No.” She shook her head, and a blush touched her cheeks, staring only at the sketches. “I didn’t mean you and me. I meant, a family. Any family.” She motioned to the sketchbook of a young man in front of a house, a house with a porch. With her pointer finger, she pointed to the young man with a box of chocolates behind his back. “It all starts with chocolate.”

  “The first date,” I said.

  “Yep. Always with chocolate and flowers,” I added.

  She flipped the page, and a couple was sitting at a table, seemingly on a date. “And chocolate with every anniversary going forward.”

  Another page flip.

  “Until he gets down on one knee.” She beamed.

  The picture depicted the man on bended knee, behind his back the same box of chocolates and a ring box.

  The pictures were endless.

  My God, I could kiss this woman right now.

  This is it.

  This will work. This is the concept we needed.

  “At their wedding … on their dessert table.”

  “And when she’s craving chocolate during pregnancy …”

  “Junior’s Valentine’s Day class party at school …”

  She stepped back and fiddled with the edge of the notebook. “What do you think?”

  She wrinkled her nose as though she was unsure, but how could she be unsure when the idea was absolutely brilliant.

  She let out a slow breath when I hadn’t said a thing, and her next words came out lightning fast. “So, I thought it would be a way to hit on people’s emotions and make it multigenerational, touching all ages. You can film the scenes in commercials to show the board and your father.”

  There was a long, pregnant pause, and she shifted. I liked making her uneasy. It was comical in a cute kind of way. She thought I hated it.

  She scrunched her face. “Say something. I mean, if you don’t like it, we can start …”

  I reached for her hand, so warm within mine. “It’s fucking amazing. It’s exactly what we need. It’s perfect.”

  She was perfect.

  Why did Charlie have to be beautiful and funny and smart and too damn attractive?

  I let her hand fall between us, knowing I shouldn’t hold her or touch her or think of her. I couldn’t fall for her, and a one-night stand could not happen because, knowing me, I would want more.

  “It’s perfect. And I like the commercial idea. I don’t want anybody knowing about this, just a select few. We’ll film it … together.”

  Chapter 14

  Charlie

  I knew it was gonna be a bad day. Because not only had I spilled my coffee on my suit this morning and I had to change, but my mother had also questioned my choice in clothing, so I’d changed again. If that wasn’t an indication of a bad day, then I didn’t know what was.

  I could have ignored her, but my mother would and forever be my soft spot. After seeing my mother at her ultimate low with my father’s death, I had an undying need to make her happy. And if all I had to do was change my clothes to make her happy, then that was a small sacrifice.

  And if the coffee and double change in wardrobe hadn’t been enough, I’d walked into the bathroom, sat on the toilet, and realized there was no toilet paper. I’d had to sit there and air-dry for at least five minutes to make sure a stream of piss wouldn’t trickle down my leg.

  I should’ve just stayed home and called in sick.

  Should have. Could have. Would have.

  When I stepped into the coffee room, Casey had two cups of coffee in her hand.

  “Hey, hey, hey, Charlie. How are you today?”

  She extended one in my direction, and I smiled big.

  Her cheery demeanor lightened my day just a tad.

  I inhaled deeply, taking the first whiff of coffee in. “I love you.”

  “I aim to please.” She rested a hip against the counter.

  After bringing the cup closer to my lips, I tipped back the cup and almost choked. This was not Starbucks, and this was not Dunkin’ Donuts. This was some new concoction that tasted like old coffee grinds that had been sitting in the coffee machine for months.

  “It’s that organic place down the street,” she said, smiling as though this coffee were a good thing.

  I coughed and ran to the sink, spitting the coffee out.

  Alyssa walked into the room with her venti Starbucks, and all of me wanted to jump her for it. “I told her not to try that shit.”

  Casey lifted her nose. “They’re a small mom-and-pop shop. We should support small businesses.”

  “I don’t disagree but not at the expense of your stomach.” Alyssa sipped her coffee, and jealousy surged within me. I wanted to tell her about my day and maybe convince her to give me her cup of joe.

  I stared at the brown recycled coffee cup and frowned. “I need some sugar.” And a lot of it.

  Casey scrunched her nose. “I tried to add that coffee creamer. The organic kind. But, yeah, it didn’t really add any taste.”

  I walked to the counter and grabbed the sugar containe
r, shaking it. I noted that it was empty, and my frown deepened. All I wanted was sugar—real sugar. With how this day had started out, didn’t I deserve at least good coffee?

  “It’s okay. There has to be some sugar in here.” I opened the cabinet, getting on my toes. “Or real creamer. Preferably a flavored one.” I swore I had seen one in the cupboard the other day.

  Casey assisted and opened the other cabinets that I hadn’t checked. “Yeah, maybe I should try some real coffee creamer. A little bit won’t send me over the edge. Anyway, I took my sugar test this morning, and it was fine.”

  Sometimes, I forgot that Casey was diabetic. I just always chalked up her eating habits to her being a healthy eater and being so slim.

  “Casey, a good day always begins with coffee.” Alyssa crossed her ankles and leaned back. “I know you’re trying to be a good friend and buy Charlie some coffee, but just know that you’re already a good friend to me. Don’t go trying to buy me coffee.”

  Casey stuck her tongue out.

  “Yes!” I lifted up the creamer and closed the overhead cabinet. It was just regular creamer, but I’d take it. After opening up my steaming cup of organic coffee, I scooped a couple teaspoons of creamer into the cup. “Did you find the sugar?”

  “Nope, but I found peanuts!” Casey’s face lit up as though peanuts were a staple food for breakfast. “I just can’t get it open.” She fiddled with the top. It was one of those containers where there was a silver ring you had to pull back.

  “Why the hell are you going to eat peanuts at eight thirty in the morning?” Alyssa threw her a look. “Oh, forget it. Give it to me.” Alyssa grabbed the container from Casey. “See here. It’s not rocket science. Simply lift open and pull back.” She struggled with the ring that she was supposed to pull back. The ring flew off, but then she pushed her finger in the slot and tried to manually pull the silver slit.

  I gripped the counter as nausea hit me full force in the face. Because I saw it. Blood.

  Not a ton, but enough.

  It was as though the scene were happening to someone else. I saw the coffee slip from my hands. Casey screamed my name. Alyssa took a step forward and gripped my arm.