The Blind Date

by Alice Ward

  I motioned her forward as she watched the cakes travel along the assembly line, transfixed. She was one of few people who could make goggles and a hair net look good.

  “And then, of course, they pass through the chocolate waterfall. We bathe them in chocolate.”

  She licked her lips, which was what most people did at this point of the tour. But on her, it was damned sexy.

  She may have spit out that other cake, but I wouldn’t let anyone tell me that she didn’t have a sweet tooth. If I had to chip away at that hard shell of hers, I’d find it.

  I led her down toward packaging, where the items were put two to a sleeve, then packaged in boxes and readied to ship, all the while greeting the employees and shouting explanations over the noise of the machine. “The entire process from batter to ship is about half an hour,” I explained.

  She nodded as I led her to the end of the tour, which emptied out into our breakroom. I let her go first. Funny. Even though she was wearing a baggy coat and smock, I still couldn’t help admiring her perfect ass.

  When I closed the door behind her, she pulled off her goggles and hair net.

  “It’s very interesting,” she admitted, as I took the protective gear from her. “But you could modify the recipe to use whole wheat flour.”

  I shook my head. “We deal every day in that problem. Our products have been made the same way since 1950, right after World War II, when sugar rationing was over, and they could finally indulge. We have just as many people who want us to stay true to that 1950 recipe as those who want us to make things healthier.”

  She slipped out of the white coat, handed it to me, and crossed her arms over her breasts as if I’d just rendered her naked. Her fault for wearing an open blazer and a lacy, see-through thing underneath that was little more than lingerie. “Don’t tell me you’ve kept the same recipe since 1950.”

  Well, she had me on that. We’d gradually modified things to be more economical, not so much changing the ingredients, but the size had definitely gotten smaller, and the process had become economized. “Okay. But the taste hasn’t suffered. We are concerned about health and curbing obesity, but we can’t compromise on taste. That’s our number one concern.”

  She sighed, seeming disappointed as I led her through the breakroom toward the offices. We passed the mail room, and finally, the expansive gym where several of the treadmills were in operation by employees on their lunch breaks.

  “Yes, believe it or not, we have a gym,” I said with a grin. “Not only do we provide all the free snack cakes they can have, we also provide a free gym membership and healthcare credits for maintaining a healthy lifestyle.”

  She nodded but said nothing.

  When we reached the end of the tour, she said reluctantly. “Okay. So it’s… nicer than I expected. And it isn’t totally evil. Your workers seem very happy here.”

  I grinned at her surprise. “What? Are you surprised we don’t have our employees shackled to their stations to do the devil’s work?”

  She lifted her finger. “But… I still think there’s room for improvement. As a community leader, you can lead the charge in fighting this epidemic. I—”

  “I agree.”

  She didn’t stop to listen. She kept listing all of the ways she’d fix things if she could. When she got to the third point, she trailed off, looking up at me with her enormous blue eyes. “What did you say?”

  I dug my hands into my pockets and rocked back on my heels. “I said I agreed. I acknowledge we might not be making the healthiest choices. In the future, I’ll make sure your points are taken into consideration.”

  She blinked. She opened her mouth as if looking for something to argue with me about, but finding nothing, clamped it shut. I didn’t think she expected me to capitulate so easily. “Oh. Well, I—”

  “Do you always have to argue about everything with me?”

  She nodded.

  “Why?”

  She gave me a look like it was obvious. “Because you’re Mr. Heigh-di-Ho.”

  I laughed. “Mr. Heigh-di-Ho?” I tapped the side of my temple, thinking on that one. “So when I was just a guy in a tuxedo who liked your favorite museum and books I was fine, but now… I’m repellant?”

  A slow smile spread across her face. She nodded. “Pretty much.”

  “Apparently it didn’t matter in the janitor’s closet?”

  She scowled, but a smile played on her lips. “That was different. I was high on the devil’s cakes. Your fault.”

  I laughed, thinking I’d better quit while I was behind because I’d never get ahead. I motioned her to follow me out to the parking lot. “Everything is, apparently.”

  She ignored the dig. “So when do you think you’ll start?”

  We reached the limo, and Carl opened the door for us. Again, I’d gotten myself transfixed by the way her ass made that professional suit look sinful, the way her glossy hair shone in the sun, the way she could turn everything I did to impress her around on me. “What were we talking about, again?”

  I realized her playful smile had faded as I slid into the seat beside her.

  Definitely the wrong answer.

  “Looking into making your foods healthier,” she muttered with a scowl. “Remember?”

  Oh, right. Shit. That. She made it seem like it was so easy. But there were things I had to consider. It couldn’t happen overnight. In fact, with so many moving parts involved in it, I couldn’t see it happening in the next year. We were a big company. We had a bureaucracy.

  “I’ll start working on it right away,” I fudged. “I’ll make it a priority.”

  Maybe another woman would have bought it. But Juliana wasn’t just any woman. She crossed her arms in front of her, let out a little “hmph” as if to say, I’ll believe it when I see it, and turned to face the window.

  I’d never had a woman make me work this hard.

  But hell, maybe I liked to workout, after all. If I ended up in bed with Juliana, then it would all be worth it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Juliana

  What was wrong with me? He was Mr. Heigh-di-Ho. Made of a bunch of fluff and filler and completely worthless inside.

  At least, that was what I tried to tell myself.

  But the farther I walked through the factory, the harder it was to believe that was true.

  His employees loved him. I could tell from the way they greeted him, the pleased glint in their eyes, the genuine smiles. They also loved their jobs. They loved the company. They loved the products.

  And Mr. Heigh-di-Ho? He’d agreed with me without an argument, without me hardly having to lift a finger. He told me that he thought we should do something to contribute to the health of America’s youth.

  It was almost enough to make me think I’d been wrong about those cakes.

  Almost.

  On the flip side, little things happened that cast doubt on everything. When I took off my jacket, I noticed his eyes were on my cleavage. When we got outside, I caught him staring at my ass. It made me wonder if he was capitulating simply to tell me what I wanted to hear so that I would sleep with him again.

  But why me?

  That was the question that kept ringing in my head. This man could have any woman he wanted. Hell, he could buy any woman he wanted… and he still wanted me. I couldn’t help but be flattered by how evident that fact was.

  Why would he go through so much trouble for… me?

  Maybe he really did feel something for me?

  Maybe there really was something special between us?

  Or maybe I was just naïve and stupid?

  Gah. The questions were driving me mad.

  I needed to focus. I needed to fortify my willpower and harden my discipline. It didn’t matter how much I wanted him. I could at least try to put those feelings aside to focus on my work.

  But could he?

  Apparently, he was a horndog all the time. And in a large way, I was flattered by how much he appeared to w
ant me. I wanted him too. Craved him even. With every look he gave me, I was perilously close to capitulating and jumping into his arms. Dangerously close.

  But… I had to keep my distance. Be the sensible adult.

  I frowned as the scenery blurred outside the car’s window. It was simply better that I look anywhere but at him.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, his hand coming down on my shoulder.

  I swallowed hard and continued to look out the window. “Nothing. I just know how big corporations are. They always choose the easy way over the right way. It won’t be easy to make changes.”

  In the window’s reflection, I saw him studying me, and in the dying light of the afternoon, his face took on a sexy, shadowed look, his stubble more pronounced on his strong jaw. “What? You don’t believe me?”

  I could’ve lied, but I didn’t have the energy. “I don’t. I don’t think you’re the devil, Zach. But I know you have pressures on your head that make doing the right thing difficult.”

  “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

  I nodded. “And hope.”

  “Yeah. Hey.” He reached over to the seats opposite us and lifted the lid on a small box. “Hungry?”

  I was. I’d been too nervous to eat any of the delicious morsels I’d had the caterer provide, and none of them were vegan, so I hadn’t had anything but a banana for breakfast. Now, it was nearing dinnertime. But as he poked through the box, I began to get worried. “Um. It depends.”

  “On?” There was a glint in his eye.

  He knew exactly what it depended on.

  He lifted out a sleeve of snack cakes. Not Heigh-di-Hos, but ones I’d never seen before. They were big, white puffs of coconut-covered sinfulness.

  “This is a new product R&D is testing,” he said, opening the package. I detected the strong scent of coconut. Mmm. My mouth began to salivate. “Coco Crazies.”

  He might as well have been holding a live rattlesnake. The too-sugary smell was enough to bring back that gag reflex I’d had on the stage at the open forum. “What… are they?”

  He lifted a giant circular cake out of the sleeve and held it in his palm, offering it to me. “Coconut marshmallow frosting with a raspberry center.”

  I stared at the thing, hypnotized. It probably contained all of my sugar allowance for the week. One bite and all my vitals would go completely whackadoodle.

  “Have you tried it yet?” I asked, trying to stop my nostrils from inhaling the intoxicating scent.

  He shook his head, and as he did, a shock of dark hair fell rakishly into his green eyes. “Want to, together?”

  There were a lot of things I wanted to do, together with Zach Vaughn, right then. And actually, eating a stupid snack cake was probably the most inconsequential of all of them.

  Why was I making a big deal of this?

  Clarity flooded in. Because once you start certain things, cowslut, you don’t know the meaning of the word stop.

  But that wasn’t true. Back then, maybe I’d lacked the confidence, but I hadn’t tested myself recently. I was stronger now. I worked out like a fiend even on the days I didn’t want to. I now had discipline in spades. One stupid snack cake couldn’t break that wall of willpower down, surely.

  I plucked the package from his hand and read the label. “Oh, my god. First ingredient is enriched bleached wheat flour. Killer.”

  He snatched the package away from me. “Do you always read the labels on your food? You are some fun date.”

  “This isn’t a date. This is a business meeting, where I was just in the middle of telling you how grossly unhealthy your products are.”

  “Really?”

  He took the cake, and with great flourish, lifted the sugary treat to his lips and took an enormous bite. His face turned rapturous.

  I was instantly jealous. Not of him for getting to taste it. But of the snack cake, for clearly being adored by his lips, his mouth, his magical tongue…

  “Fuck, this is good,” he said with a full mouth. “I feel sorry that your taste buds will never experience the true, orgasmic joy of enriched bleached wheat flour.”

  Him saying “fuck” and “orgasmic” in practically the same sentence was like a grenade going off on my libido. I pressed my thighs together, trying to quell the longing to have him lick me the way he was licking the raspberry from the middle of that damn cake.

  I looked away. “Don’t. I’ll be fine.”

  He held it out to me. “One bite?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  He waved it under my nose. I pressed my lips together. But oh god, even the smell was rapturous.

  “Just one taste?”

  I could smell the raspberry now. I loved raspberry anything. Add in cream and coconut… Lord, help me. Plus, it didn’t help that he was so close, and I also wanted to taste him. It was just a buffet of temptation all lined up in front of me.

  I turned to meet him face-to-face. “I’ll take a bite if you’ll eat a stalk of celery when we get back.”

  He blanched, and I almost laughed out loud. “A whole stalk for one bite?” He looked violated.

  I crossed my arms over my chest but couldn’t stop the smile from playing on my lips. “Yep.”

  He waved the deliciousness under my nose again, but I resisted taking a chomp of it. Proud of my willpower, I held steadfast.

  He pouted. The billion-dollar man actually pouted. “Deal.” He looked like he’d just agreed to sell the devil his soul.

  I smiled. Maybe we could find some common ground.

  Feeling his eyes on me, I leaned in, stuck out my tongue, licking the sweet cream. Then I took the tiniest of nibbles, just scraping some of it into my mouth with my top teeth. “Happy?” I said before the taste fully registered.

  Once it did, I was transported to heaven.

  It was orgasmic. The bitter-sweet zing of the raspberry jam, the smooth sugary sweetness of the cream, and the fluffiness of the white cake all melded together in something that was beyond even my best memories. I let out a little moan as it slid down my throat.

  “Good?”

  Lie. I needed to lie. I needed to tell him how horrible it was, how offended my taste buds were, but I could tell by the way he was smiling at me that he knew the truth.

  “Maybe.”

  “Want another bite?”

  I lifted a brow and ignored my taste buds, which were screaming bloody murder for a bite. “Will you eat a stalk of celery and a brussels sprout?”

  He honestly gagged a little. “Anything but brussels sprouts.”

  I swallowed the saliva pooling in my mouth as the snack cake continued to hover just inches from my mouth. “How about I make you a green smoothie?”

  He frowned. “Is it as horrible as it sounds?”

  I smiled. I loved this little boy side of him. He was so adorable. “It’s actually very sweet and satisfying. You can just about get your daily intake of veggies in one yummy drink. Willing to try?”

  His pupils dilated. “Will you eat the rest of this snack cake… off of me?”

  Zachary Vaughn covered in that coconut yumminess?

  Yes, please.

  I longed to taste the combination. Did I dare? If I went down that sexual rabbit hole again, would I ever find my way out?

  Leaning forward, I opened my mouth and sank my teeth into the sweet cake. This was my test. If I could take this one bigger bite and not become cowslut again, maybe I could trust myself to do a little more.

  His nostrils flared as I began chewing the bite. Remembering what I told my clients, I chewed until it was completely dissolved. I could do this, and in a way, I was grateful for having been pushed to prove to myself that I wasn’t the same girl I was before.

  He watched me as I savored the treat, and I thought he got off watching me enjoying something his company made. Something I’d previously been so against. When I was done, I licked the last of the sweet sugar off my lips, picking a sliver of coconut off my skirt and eating it too
.

  He dropped the uneaten portion of the cake back into the box before turning to me, licking the frosting off his thumb. My stomach twisted as he took his time cleaning his fingers, and I wanted to dive on him, do the job for him.

  His gaze focused intently on my lips, he hooked a finger toward me.

  “What?”

  He pointed to his chin. “You have something… there.” I blushed and wiped at it, but he just kept shaking his head. “I’ll get it for you.”

  As he leaned toward me, my heart began to pound even as my breath caught in my lungs. His eyes were the greenest I’d ever seen them, and I was mesmerized by their intensity.

  He dipped a hand under my chin and rubbed at the corner of my mouth with the pad of his thumb. His forearm pressed into my breast, and the nipple hardened at once. Every single cell in my body started to bend toward him.

  “Better?” I asked, barely able to say the word.

  He shook his head. “Nothing will ever be better without this…” He wrapped his hand around my waist and pulled me into him. He used his thumb to tip my head up until my eyes were level with his. Then he lowered his mouth to where his thumb had been and pressed a soft, lingering kiss there.

  My lips parted as instantly as if he’d turned a key in a lock, and he covered my mouth, his tongue slipping between my lips to tangle with mine.

  He pulled back, but only long enough to whisper against my lips, “Everything’s better now.”

  He kissed me again. Not hard, heavy, and demanding, but slow and languorously, as if we had forever to do nothing but this. His hands slipped up my shoulders, tangling in the hair at the nape of my neck, just holding me in place as we tasted the sugar on each other’s tongues.

  Even if it was just high fructose corn syrup, I didn’t think there ever was a kiss so sweet.

  All I was aware of was the beating of his heart, the firm, slick heat of his lips, his warm tongue melding with mine. Heat rushed through my blood as I slipped my hands into his hair. He groaned against me, pulling me tighter.