Sweet as Candy (Close to Home Book 3)

by Karla Doyle

  “I need to be able to do what you do. I need the money.”

  Nothing new about that. That’s why Candace had taken the job three years ago. That’s why all the women worked here. She walked around the massage table and hopped up, patting the space beside her.

  Adrienne moved forward stiffly, awkwardly joining Candace on the freshly covered table.

  “Look, it’s not all horrible. Especially once you get some regulars who treat you like a human being, not just a random collection of holes. Plus, most days, we have time to shoot the shit and make each other laugh. At the end of our shifts, we take home good cash. Addictively good cash.”

  “That’s what I need. I’m so broke.”

  “I get it, I’ve been there.” She gave the new girl a solid once-over. “You’ve got that fresh-off-the-honor-roll look that’s going to appeal to a lot of guys. Put on a kilt that barely covers your ass and tie a white shirt just below your boobs and every guy harboring a schoolgirl fantasy will come running. You’ll be as busy as you want to be, but you need to find your inner steel, and fast. No matter what persona we choose to show our clients, the women who work here need to have bigger balls than the men we service.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “I hate to sound like Yoda here, but in this business, there isn’t much room for ‘try.’ You can do it or you can’t. You’ll know soon enough which one it is.” Candy squeezed Adrienne’s fidgety hand. “Is there anything else you wanted to talk to me about?”

  The girl’s eyes opened wider than Candy would’ve thought possible. “Oh, yes. There’s a guy out front asking for you.”

  “Shit,” she said, hopping off the table. “You should’ve told me that right away.”

  “Sorry, I—”

  Candy’s raised hand halted whatever else the new girl might’ve said. “Time is money, remember? Go give your sweet little apology to the customer while you’re showing him back here to my room.”

  “I’m on it,” Adrienne said, practically stumbling over her feet to get out the door. “Be right back.”

  Newbies. Candace shook her head. Experience told her Adrienne wouldn’t last the week. Part of her envied the girl’s inevitable failure.

  She ducked into the attached bathroom to apply fresh lipstick and adjust her boobs for maximize cleavage.

  If he’d requested her, the guy in the lobby had to be a return client. Thank God for that. She knew what to expect with her regulars. Even when they mixed things up and asked for something different, it was still more comfortable than feeling out somebody new. Or getting felt up by somebody new, such as her last customer, whose sweaty palms had squeezed her boobs with more gusto than necessary. At least he’d only been interested in her upper body. Hopefully it stayed that way if he came back for another round.

  At the sound of Adrienne’s stammering, Candace moved toward the doorway. A deep, male voice answered the girl’s repeated apologizing, telling her not to worry about it.

  Candace couldn’t put a face to the voice, but it wasn’t entirely unfamiliar either. She’d find out who he was soon enough.

  She took a few steps back and struck a pose. Chin tilted down and head slightly angled, one leg in front of the other, arms at her sides with both hands braced on the edge of the massage table, boobs thrust subtly forward. A pinch demure and a whole lot sexy, without being completely raunchy. Her persona of choice here at Lucky’s.

  “Come on in,” she said, at the light rap of knuckles on wood.

  The door swung inward and the man behind the knock filled the frame as he stepped through it. Blue eyes she’d only seen twice before but wouldn’t soon forget locked with hers. “Hey. Hope this is okay.”

  Him? Seriously? The anger that’d overwhelmed her at Walmart bubbled to life in her stomach. At least this time, he’d have to fork over cash to be arrogant and assuming.

  “Of course it’s okay.” She swallowed hard, pushing her irritation as far down as possible, pasting on a smile while nodding at the door behind him. “How about you take care of that door so we can get started?”

  “In a rush?”

  “In a rush to get my hands on you, handsome.”

  The lock’s metallic click charged the air as he followed her instructions. Three strides and he stood in front of her, close enough for her to feel the heat rolling off his lean, muscular body. Close enough to catch a hint of his scent.

  She’d learned to block out men’s scents years ago. One of the necessary survival mechanisms in this business, as not all men smelled good, and that was putting it kindly. This guy, however, smelled great. Not like cologne. The fragrance wasn’t overpowering or obvious. Soap, deodorant, pheromones—whatever the source or combination, it worked.

  Enjoying his scent would make the job ahead more tolerable. That was her sole reason for inhaling deeply while sliding her hands up his chest.

  “I have to say, I’m surprised to see you again. Pleasantly surprised.”

  His eyebrows rose and the corners of his mouth ticked upward. “Yeah, the way you shut me down in the junk-food aisle definitely gave the ‘I want to see this guy again’ vibe.”

  She smiled again, this time for real. She’d always been a sucker for a sense of humor. “Can’t a girl have a bad day?”

  “I’m sorry you did. Especially if I was part of what made it bad.” Either he was less of a jerk than she’d pegged him for, or he was one hell of a manipulator.

  She’d bet on the second option…then beat him at his game. “You’re very sweet. But you don’t have to be. Let me be sweet to you instead.”

  “Sweet as candy?”

  “Exactly.” She dragged her nails downward, leaving track lines on his body-hugging t-shirt. At the bottom, she grabbed the soft jersey and drew the fabric upward.

  Until he stopped her with his strong hands and an accompanying head shake.

  “No need to be shy, honey,” she said. “Get these clothes off and I guarantee you’ll walk out of here feeling like a million bucks.”

  “What’ll it cost me to feel like a million bucks?”

  “Eighty for thirty minutes, one-twenty for a full hour. Plus tip. Ginger should’ve told you the rates before bringing you back here, but she’s new. Somebody scared our previous receptionist away a couple days ago,” she said, tapping her index finger against his solid abs.

  He chuckled while retrieving some cash from his front pocket. “Here’s one hundred. Half an hour plus a tip. I hope it’s enough, I’ve never done this before,” he said, tucking the folded bills beneath the edge of her bikini top. “How’s Sara doing, anyway? Have you talked to her since she left?”

  Working at Lucky’s had made Candace an expert at reading people. Also, at hiding her true emotions, yet his bomb nearly blew her façade wide open. How the hell did he know Sara’s real name? It sure hadn’t seemed like Sara knew him during their fateful encounter at the front desk. Maybe he was one of the jerks who’d harassed Sara at her old apartment, after finding out where she worked.

  None of that mattered. The guy was Candace’s problem now. Her client. Her job.

  She wrinkled her nose, pouted and tilted her head. Her emptyheaded blonde expression—always a favorite with the men here. “You must have your names mixed up. Raven was our last receptionist. But enough about her, you’re with me now.” She slid her palms down his abdomen, beneath the waistband of his jeans. “For the next half hour, I’m going to make you forget anybody else exists.””

  He groaned as she stroked him through his underwear, then he circled her wrist, halting her up-and-down motion. “I’m here to apologize.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for.” She squeezed his thickening cock. “Most definitely not.”

  “You’re not making this easy.”

  “I’d rather make it harder. I know you want me to.” Within the limits of his grip, she managed some short, firm strokes. “Let go of my wrist and I’ll show you just how hard I can make it.”

  A strangled curse
passed through his lips as he eased backward, putting a stride’s worth of space between them. “I’m not here for a hand job.”

  “Fifty more gets you the VIP treatment, but you’re on the clock, so tick-tock.”

  “You’re gorgeous and sexy and tempting as hell, but I’m not that kind of guy. I’m a cop.”

  The room seemed to tip. So much so, she grabbed the edge of the massage table for support. “You’re a cop? Are you—” Her daughter’s beautiful, innocent face flooded her mind. Oh God, what would happen to her baby girl? Candace had always known this day might come, but now that it was here… “Are you here to arrest me?”

  “I have no desire to arrest you.”

  Ah, so that’s how it was going to be. Thank God. This scenario she could handle. Manipulate. Survive.

  She moved toward him, licking her lips. “If you’re not here to arrest me, what is it you desire to do to me, officer?” Because she’d do anything—truly anything—to stay out of the back of his cruiser and get home to her daughter.

  He groaned as she skimmed her hands over his tanned forearms, then guided his hands over her bare abdomen.

  “Go ahead and tell me, honey. Or don’t tell me, just do it.”

  “Doesn’t matter what I want. I don’t pay for sex.”

  “So don’t pay.” She plucked the money from her bikini top and stuffed it in his jeans’ pocket. “Two consenting adults enjoying each other’s bodies…nothing illegal about that. You get what you came for, I get to go home at the end of the day.”

  “I didn’t come here to coerce you into fucking me.”

  “Of course you didn’t.” Between them, she unbuckled his belt. “This is a completely mutual arrangement.”

  Strong hands caught hers before she could unzip his jeans. “This isn’t going to happen. I’m not here for sex.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I told you. I came to apologize.” Time seemed to freeze beneath his unwavering gaze. He could be feeding her a line of crap. Hell, he might not even be a cop. If he was, however, she was entirely at his mercy.

  Under his warm palms, she crossed her fingers. She needed all the luck she could get. “I’m listening.”

  “I had one purpose the first time I came here—Sara.”

  “I remember.”

  He released her hands and backed up a step. “I’m not some random asshole off the street who harassed Sara because I’m a dickhead. I did it as a favor for a friend, crazy as that sounds.”

  “Not so crazy.” Her theory that he was part of the crew who’d heckled Sara and painted a message on her apartment door had been correct. “Actually, it makes perfect sense. Except for the part about you being a cop. Or was that bullshit to see if you could scare me into a freebie?”

  “No bullshit, I’m really a cop. And I didn’t come here for sex, free or paid.”

  “Now that’s bullshit.” She crossed her arms over her chest while nodding at the front of his jeans. “Dicks tell lies, cocks don’t.”

  His robust laughter filled the small room. “True. But I’m not lying. I said I didn’t come here for sex, not that I don’t want it.”

  “I don’t see the difference.”

  “I was attracted to you the first time I laid eyes on you. When I spotted you at the store yesterday, I couldn’t see your face, so I didn’t recognize you, but I was hooked just the same. Hooked by a sexy blonde with a ten-out-of-ten ass and great taste in potato chips and baseball teams.”

  Damn him for making her smile. For making her laugh, even just a little.

  Things he clearly took as an invitation. One step and he closed the space between them. Dimples accented his handsome face as his smile stretched practically ear to ear.

  “Here’s the difference. I want to have sex with you, but I won’t pay you for it. I won’t accept it because you think you’re obligated. If we have sex, it’ll be because you want it to happen. Because you want me.”

  “Don’t hold your breath. That day will never come.” Probably wouldn’t with any man, and certainly not with this one. She walked to the massage table, patting it with one hand. “This is the only place the magic happens. Take it or leave it.”

  He approached slowly, staring her down with his crystal-clear, blue eyes and six feet of lean muscle that would’ve aroused any normal heterosexual woman.

  Unfortunately, she’d exited the normal category three years ago, the day she gave her first VIP massage.

  “Sorry for being a dick the first time we met. That was intentional and I didn’t like doing it.” He withdrew the folded cash from his pocket and held it up between two fingers. “Sorry you thought I was being a dick in Walmart. That time wasn’t intentional, just unfortunate.” With a nod, he set the money on the table, turned and left.

  She was off the hook. For a massage, for sex, for a handcuffed trip to his precinct. She should be happy. Relieved, at minimum. Neither feeling was present when she picked up the cash and headed for the waiting room and her next client. Only the normal, gnawing emptiness in the space where emotions had once lived.

  Chapter 4

  Jake

  A day off, finally, after one hell of a shitty week. Hit the gym, soak up some rays by his mom’s pool, then grab some barbecue and beer, maybe hang with a buddy or go watch some ladies work the pole—that should be his plan. Not what he was doing though.

  Jake’s gym bag mocked him from the passenger seat as he swung into a different parking lot. One he couldn’t seem to stay away from. Third time in as many days he’d been here, pulled off course by the lure of an unforgettable blonde.

  She’d haunted his thoughts and dreams like a relentless, sexy ghost. Her creamy skin and long, golden hair, her pale-brown eyebrows arched perfectly over big, blue eyes. And that body…damn.

  Palms that itched to touch her had been put to use scratching another itch—more times than usual, and that was saying something.

  There was more to it than straight-up lust. Sometimes when she stole into his mind, he didn’t get an erotic visual. He thought of her laugh or the strength in her soft voice. Caught a hint of her scent, the one from their accidental meeting “in the real world,” as she’d put it. Peaches and vanilla. Sweet and delicious.

  Unlike the multiple other trips he’d made recently, this time when he parked, he stayed parked. Exited the vehicle instead of doing a surveillance loop. Going inside would probably achieve nothing, yet he did it anyway.

  Light jazz at low volume greeted him as he stepped through the door. They’d only been open thirty minutes, according to the posted hours of operation. Should be a good time to catch her, yet there was no sign of her in the room beyond the front desk. Day off, maybe. One way to find out.

  “I’m here to see Candy.”

  The same young woman from his last visit blinked up at him nervously from her seat on a barstool. Ginger, Candy had called her. “I’m sorry, Candy’s unavailable. Would you like to choose one of our other massage attendants?”

  He ignored the two women waving at him from the next room. “Unavailable meaning she’s not here, or she’s with somebody?”

  “She’s hasn’t come in yet.”

  The knot in his stomach relaxed. A knot that shouldn’t have been there at all. He barely knew her. He sure as hell had no reason to get wound up by her workplace activities.

  This was his opportunity to turn around and walk out the door. “What time will she be in?”

  “Um, she should’ve been here at nine, so I’m really not sure…”

  “Is this normal for her?”

  “I haven’t worked here long, but this is the first time she’s been late since I started.” The girl swiveled to face the next room. “Hey, Paris, does Candy usually show up late without calling in?”

  “Never,” the scantily clad woman said. “Not once in three years.”

  Shit, wrong answer. “Have you tried to reach her?” He narrowed his eyes at Ginger when she shook her head.

  There
was probably a simple reason for Candy’s absence—something random and nonthreatening like a flat tire. He ought to let it go. Take off and come back later if he couldn’t shake his newfound obsession. His cop instincts wouldn’t let him.

  He nodded at the phone on the desk. “Call her.”

  Ginger chewed her bottom lip while fidgeting on her seat. Her gaze flitted between the phone, the women in the next room and Jake’s face. She was nothing like her predecessor. “I don’t think I’m allowed to do that.”

  “One of your most popular and reliable employees is uncharacteristically absent, but you don’t think you’re allowed to check on her whereabouts.” He pulled his badge from his wallet and flashed it at the new girl. “Consider this your authorization to make the call.”

  The young woman’s eyes practically popped out of her face. “You’re a cop?”

  That’s all it took to send the two massage attendants scurrying toward the rear of the building.

  “Relax, I’m only here for Candy,” he called after them. “Not as a cop, I’m off duty.” Shit, putting it that way did not sound good. He pressed both palms against the counter and met Ginger’s panicked eyes. “Look, just call her. As soon as you know she’s okay, I’ll clear out and let you all get back to business.”

  “Promises, promises.”

  His gaze immediately snapped toward the voice he’d been imagining all week. He straightened as she approached, unable to take his eyes off the beautiful blonde dressed in yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt. “Everything okay with you?”

  “Not really.” She leaned against the archway. “Want to follow me around with that badge of yours and scare all the bad stuff away?”

  “You got it, sweets.” He motioned toward the front door. “Lead the way.”