The Candy Bar Complete - 4 book box set: Candy Bar Series

by Patrice Wilton

  “Okay. Weather sucks, might as well find out what you are up to.” He led me into his sparsely furnished bachelor pad. “Have a seat while I change. Want something to drink?”

  “Bottled water?”

  He grabbed me a bottle and sauntered off in the direction of his bedroom. I tried not to let my mind wander there. That big bed…that night of passion…the damn broken condom.

  Too keyed up to sit I wandered about his place, which basically consisted of a leather sofa, a recliner chair and a fifty-inch HDTV that dominated an entertainment center. The open shelves were filled with books and family pictures. He had several of the twins, and one of his mother and father and his sister and him, at Disneyworld, the Magic Kingdom. I picked it up so I could get a better look. He must’ve been about eight and totally adorable in that goofy-gawky stage every kid goes through. I replaced the picture before he caught me looking.

  I checked out his taste in music and books. He was a voracious reader, I noticed—Nelson DeMille, Patterson, Grisham, and a personal favorite of mine, Mitch Albom’s the five people you meet in heaven. Our taste in music was polar opposite. He favored country, while I liked the blues and jazz.

  I was still flipping through his huge CD rack when he came up behind me. I felt his breath on the back of my neck. “Ready to go?”

  I turned slowly, my back to the wall of books. He wasn’t giving me any breathing room, and I wondered if I would be able to pull this evening off. Either way, this night could change our lives completely. “Uh, yeah.”

  He grinned, his entire expression saying ‘game on!’. “Okay, Sexy. Let’s do it.”

  Before I could second guess what he wanted us to do, I ducked under his arm and scurried to the door. He turned off his TV, switched on a lamp, and followed me out.

  We sat at the same table where I’d been drinking champagne the night we met. Because I was trying to reconstruct the night as close as I could to the way it happened, I asked Candy for a bottle of Dom.

  Candy eyed me funny but didn’t say a word.

  “This is nice.” Jed smiled at me, clinking glasses. “I was settling in for the night to watch the Marlins but I might like this better.”

  “I thought you didn’t like this place?”

  “I changed my mind.” He looked around the bar and there had to be at least thirty gorgeous single women in groups of two or three. Every damn one of them was prettier than me. Not that I cared; I certainly didn’t want to attract Jed. As a matter of fact, I wanted to get rid of the attraction between us once and for all.

  I sipped on my champagne and listened to the music. Candy had a Latino band tonight with a Salsa beat. The guy on the stage was hot in his tight black pants, with his white shirt open to expose his tanned, muscular chest. The music was fast and furious, an explosion of sound, and he was moving his hips and feet, faster and faster, and I could feel my own pulse race with the frenzied beat of the music.

  Feeling warm, I picked up some ice out of the bucket and cooled myself down. I was thinking about how Terri had pointed out Jed to me, and how our eyes had locked. I’d thought he was hot, but kind of sad too. Now, I knew how his kisses tasted, and how his body felt beneath mine. I knew he was an excellent lover who gave as good as he got.

  I met Jed’s gaze over my flute of champagne.

  He laughed softly. “Remembering? Your friend scared the crap out of me. But I thought you were too cute to pass up.”

  I set my flute down. “To pass up?”

  “Hey, I wasn’t planning on getting you into bed. I just wanted your phone number.” He smiled. “Not that I minded when it did happen.”

  “You sure didn’t.” It was freaking hot in here. I fanned my face with a cocktail napkin.

  Jed watched me with a curious glint in his eye. “So. You don’t do mushy stuff. You don’t want a commitment, and you said you never wanted to speak to me again. What’s up, Lydia?”

  I blushed, and ran the slippery ice-cube along my arms and down my neck. Maybe the symptoms I was having were the beginnings of menopause. Hormonal hot flashes, no period…sure, forty was young, but it beat the hell out of the alternative. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to apologize for being such a bitch.”

  “Are you feeling okay?” He touched my skin. “You are sizzling. Does apologizing always do that to you? I could fry an egg on your forehead.”

  I laughed. “Could not.”

  He pulled me up and our bodies were touching. A flash of heat scorched me, and it wasn’t the Salsa King, or menopause. It was all Jed.

  “Come on. Since you’re already hot, let’s dance.”

  He held my hand and led me on to the dance floor. I’m not the most coordinated woman in the world, so I hoped he’d keep it nice and simple.

  His arm went around my waist, and I felt myself pulled in close. His chest touched mine, and it was warm and solid and made me want to inch closer. Where had that thought come from? I was here to make things go away, not to add to the complexity of our problems. I pushed myself gently back. His arm was solid around my waist, and he had my other in a firm grasp. He led me around the dance floor in a fast paced tango inspired waltz, and we spun and spun, and I had to hold on tighter and give myself up to him.

  He was a very accomplished dancer, and my feet moved effortlessly across the floor. For the first time, I felt the music inside me, and my body was in tune with the music instead of fighting it. As he twirled me, I let my head drop back, and saw lights, sparkling lights flicker on and off. We were dancing and I felt a rush of something deep inside me, something warm, something sweet, something that felt just right.

  Just then, thunder boomed and the amps flickered sound on and off. Our eyes caught, and we shared a smile. He was so cute and so incredible—I knew that if ever I wanted a baby, I would want his. The thought leapt into my brain and lodged there, and I tried to shake it out. I pulled away from him, too shocked to say anything. My mouth was frozen in horror. I couldn’t get my brain to free itself from that one terrible thought.

  Candy was trying to catch my eye. She was waving frantically, and I nodded, unable to speak. I hugged my middle, more upset than ever. I’d had a chance to make things right, and instead I’d fallen for Jed’s charms. Again.

  “Lydia, you all right?” He was holding me up, leading me to our table. “Come sit. You look dizzy.”

  I saw the lights continue to flicker, and I didn’t turn around, but I knew the brick wall would be slick with sweat. Just like Candy had said. The magic was here all right, but I hadn’t reversed it. Instead, I had sealed our doom. Still, I fought it with everything in me. I tried to make the thought disappear by saying the opposite, repeating, ‘I’m not pregnant, I’m not pregnant,’ like a silent mantra.

  He caressed my bare arm, then handed me a full glass of water and, like a parent, watched over me until it was empty. “Good. Want another one?”

  “No, I’ll be fine. I just need a moment.” I knew it was a lie. I would not be fine. I had really gone and done it this time. I was fucked.

  We stayed a little longer, while I waited in vain for the magic to return. It was gone. Finally I pleaded a headache, and Jed blamed himself for spinning me around on the crowded dance floor.

  “It wasn’t that.” I looked at him closely. “Did you feel anything back then? When I stopped dancing? Something funny in the air?”

  “No.” His brows came together with concern. “Was I supposed to?”

  “Probably not.” Which meant it was my magic. Hell, it was my wish which was going to ruin my life. I just wanted to get home and away from the Candy Bar and its magic, and away from him. I was so screwed.

  “Ready to leave? I’ll just get the bill.”

  I put my hand on his. “No, you won’t. This was my treat tonight. So don’t even think of it.” Once I told him what I’d done, he’d be demanding more than expensive champagne!

  He pretended to look scared. “Boy, I can see it would be pointless arguing with you. Are you this tough
in a court-room?”

  I tried to lighten the mood. “You’ve seen nothing, pal.”

  He took me home and I expected him to drop me off and say good-night. Instead, he followed me in.

  “You still haven’t told me why we went there tonight. That was the deal, right?”

  I needed some time to think, so I said, “The deal is off because it didn’t happen.”

  “What didn’t happen?”

  He was up close to me again. His scent, absolutely, didn’t make me sick. Why was that? Instead of repelling me, it was like an aphrodisiac. This is so wrong. This is not the way it is supposed to happen!

  Ignoring his question, I walked to the kitchen to get us something to drink. I poured some bottled water into two ice glasses, handed him one, and guzzled the other. I shrugged when I saw him watching me. “I was thirsty.”

  He sat down on the stool and faced me. “Want some wine? The night is still young.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “You sure? Or would you prefer some coffee laced with Sambuca? Since we’re recreating that night we met we should get it right.”

  “Who said we were recreating it?”

  “Well, the Candy Bar, the champagne…?”

  “No. I thought I could do something, but it didn’t work.”

  “What didn’t work?”

  “It’s nothing. Not important. But I don’t want a drink. Okay?” I didn’t mean to sound snarky but I knew I shouldn’t be drinking at all. Hell, if I hadn’t been pregnant before, I certainly was now.

  “That’s fine with me.” His eyes crinkled into a smile. “Let’s just make love.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’m not. I’m being serious.”

  I didn’t look at him when I mumbled, “My period’s late.”

  He dropped the ice water into the sink. “How late?”

  “A couple of days. It’s no big deal. I just don’t want a glass of wine, okay?”

  “No, it’s not okay.” He lifted my chin to look into my eyes. “Is that why we went out tonight? So you could tell me?”

  “No, I’m not telling you anything, because I don’t know for sure.” Stick to the facts. Proof. Tangible evidence of the crime. “Uh, I’m really tired.” That was true. I was also on the verge of a major crying jag, and I didn’t need any witnesses to my weakness.

  He studied my face. “We’re going to have to talk, this isn’t going away.”

  I continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “If I am pregnant, which is highly unlikely, but if I am, and decide to keep it, I will be the one to make that decision. I would never want or expect any help from you, or any other man.”

  His expression changed. “If you or any other women had my baby I would demand joint custody. I’ve seen what poor mothers some women can make.”

  That was more than I could handle. “I’m not one of those women. If I ever decide to be a mother, I’ll make sure I’m a damn good one.”

  He sneered. “Yeah, with the hours you keep.”

  “Let’s drop it, okay? The conversation is ridiculous ’cuz I’m not even pregnant.” Coolly, I added, “and if I was, I repeat it’d be none of your business.”

  “Lydia, drop the attitude, okay?” He ran his fingers through his hair. “God, I’m too old for this shit.” He went directly to my liquor cabinet, poured himself a two-finger scotch, and tossed it back. “Your period is late and you don’t return my calls. Fucking great.” He poured a smaller one this time and took a seat across from me.

  I didn’t say a word because I was fighting back tears.

  He sighed, and rubbed his hand over his face. After a long few seconds he said, “We’re two adults. We can handle this. Let’s start with an honest conversation.”

  “There is nothing to discuss. It’s probably a little hasty to even think about it. Hell, it’s only two—three days late. Tomorrow I’ll probably be laughing this off.”

  “Have you ever been late?”

  “It’s none…” I stopped when I saw the murderous look in his eyes. “Sure. Once in awhile. When I’m stressed.”

  “How about if I run to the store; pick up one of those kits, and you try it right here and now. Then we’ll both sleep better tonight.”

  “I can’t.” I shook my head furiously, “I just can’t. Give me a day or two, and if nothing happens by the weekend, I’ll try it then.” I squared my shoulders and looked him dead in the eye. “Won’t make any difference knowing now or later.”

  “Lydia, please, see reason here. This would be the worst possible time. Not only for me, but for you. Your senior partner knows we slept together, and this wouldn’t look good.”

  “What we did was totally innocent on both our parts. Nobody needs to know anything.”

  “How do you plan on keeping it a secret? By starving yourself throughout the pregnancy?”

  “No. I wouldn’t do that. I’ll say—that the baby was my birthday present to myself—fathered from a reputable sperm bank, a faceless donor.” No way could I confess that I, a forty year old successful woman on fast track to partnership, had fallen prey to a broken condom. How stupid was that? Marcia, and mean old Ellen would have a field day. I would be the coffee room joke.

  His voice dropped a few degrees, and I could almost feel the chill in the air. “You told me you’d researched that option, but you haven’t gone through the application process, have you?”

  My stomach contracted as I heard the question beneath the question. “Do you think I would set you up? That I could be pregnant by a faceless somebody and pawn my child off as yours?” I laughed with hurt and disbelief.

  “I guess that’s what I’m asking.”

  I realized I had to be gaping like a fish, and snapped my jaw closed. Jed meant nothing to me. So, why did he have the power to make me feel both angry and sad?

  “Sure. So don’t worry about it, all right?” I stood up, rubbing my damp hands against my thighs. “Thanks for dropping by. Have a nice life. Oh, and lock my door on your way out, would you?”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I’d made it to my bedroom door when he grabbed my arms, turning me, trapping me against his solid body, and I couldn’t break free. I was shamefully aware of his scent, his chest that almost touched mine, the length of him, the power and strength of who he was. He was much too close for my liking.

  Standing tall and proud, shoulders back, chin held high, I forced myself not to tremble. My eyes were smarting and my lips quivered, but I didn’t look away. Our eyes met and held, and I saw a softening in his, a tender warmth that wasn’t there a minute ago. It made the ache sharper, more poignant somehow.

  His hand crept out and touched my cheek, and he ran his thumb lightly over my trembling lips. I watched his eyes darken, but I didn’t even flinch. I stood my ground, my eyes a challenge. With a curse, he ground his mouth to mine.

  My body weakened and swayed, but his hand swept around my waist and drew me near. He coaxed me into wanting to let go of my control, something I wasn’t prepared to do. His mouth forced my lips open, and then his tongue swept in. I’m not the swooning type, but damn, my knees buckled. His arms lifted me up and held my body fully against him, then slowly, provocatively, he slid me down the length of him. I could feel every hard part of him, but my thoughts were on just one.

  My arms reached around his neck to pull his head to mine while I kissed him ardently. Without a conscious thought my hips began a movement of their own. By now, my thoughts were scattered to the wind, and all I could do was feel. And feel I did. My hands were everywhere, in the silky softness of his chest hair, trailing down to his hard, lean, stomach muscles, grabbing at his belt buckle, until finally they found what they were seeking.

  I heard him gasp as my magic hands rendered him powerless. I dropped to my knees and my mouth took him fully, then released, as my tongue played with the underside, teasing, coaxing, intent on driving him wild. I could not get enough of him. Never in my life had I been so turned on, and he h
adn’t even touched me yet.

  He pushed me off him as if to save himself. “No, stop.” He reached down and lifted me up. “Not here. Not this way. I want to pleasure you, Lydia. I want to taste you and to be inside you, and I don’t know what I want first.”

  I laughed. “Oh, inside please. I want you deep inside me, way deep.”

  “I love it when you talk dirty.” He kissed me long and hard while his hand slid under my bra. The tips of his fingers brushed over my erect nipples. “Did I ever tell you that you have the most perfect breasts?”

  “No,” I gasped. “You forgot.”

  “I’ll never forget again. That’s a promise.”

  Half carrying me, we kissed all the way to the bed. I turned one lamp on dim, and lay down next to him. Our kisses grew soft, and then I pulled my mouth away. “What are we doing?”

  “What does it look like?”

  “I don’t know. Neither of us wants to get involved, and yet here we are. It’s stupid, crazy.” And I wanted him more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. More than my next breath.

  “Let’s take this insanity a step further.” He kissed my breast and licked my erect nipple, while his other hand headed south, over my stomach, down to the part of me that wanted his touch, and craved instant relief.

  My breath caught in my throat as his fingers roamed over my pink silk undies. “No, we’ve got to stop this. It’s all wrong.” Oh, God! It was torturous. I wanted his cock inside of me. I wanted it hard and urgent.

  His hand continued its movement, numbing my brain. For the world of me I couldn’t understand why this could be wrong when it felt so damn right.

  “Why?” He whispered, kissing the corners of my mouth. “You said it doesn’t matter what we do,” his stroking continued, “its just you and me, two adults who enjoy each other.”

  I moaned in answer.

  He bent to kiss my tummy. “The chance that you’re actually pregnant is probably a billion to one.” Softly, he kissed my breasts, one at a time. “If you were, these beautiful breasts would get fuller.”

  His words both thrilled me and frightened me. Just as being with him was all wrong and all right.