Sweet Dreams (A Sugar Rush Novel)

by Nina Lane

  Before she could pull her hand away, Mr. Stone grabbed her wrist, wrapping his fingers around it like a manacle. Her breath caught. A sizzle lit through the air. He rubbed his thumb slowly across her pulse, a gentle movement like the stroke of a pastry brush. The light touch had a devastating effect on her senses, causing her head to spin and her knees to weaken.

  She swallowed hard, unable to look away from him. In the brightness of the kitchen lights, his eyes weren’t the pitch-black she’d thought they were at the bar. No, they were a rich, golden brown, the color of caramelized sugar and dusted with flecks of gold.

  “So how did the CEO of Sugar Rush find the Troll’s House?” she asked. “I mean, did you just stumble on it one night and decide to make it your haunt?”

  “Pretty much. No one bothers me there.”

  “Except drunken birthday girls who attack you in the hallway,” Polly remarked.

  A smile tugged at his mouth. “Guess it was my lucky night.”

  Pleasure swept over her, shadowed by a twinge of regret. If she’d been at the grocery store and run into “Mr. Hottie from the Troll’s House” again, if he were a mechanic or an accountant or a construction worker . . . well, maybe they could go on a real date and find out if their hot encounter was the start of a lustful kind of destiny.

  But given who he was, and who she was . . .

  “Did you mean it?” he asked, his voice low.

  “Mean what?”

  “That you were at the bar looking to get laid.”

  Heat rose to her cheeks, but she wasn’t about to deny the truth. “Sort of.”

  His mouth twisted. “Sort of?”

  Polly glanced uneasily around, though the kitchen was empty.

  “I was out with a friend for my birthday,” she said. “And I was looking for some fun, yes, not that my motives are any of your business.”

  “On the contrary.” He moved closer to her, his eyes hardening with a distinct sense of possessiveness as his voice lowered to a rough tone. “It became my business the instant you kissed me. And then it became my business even more when you threatened to hit on another guy if I didn’t kiss you again. And then it became only my business when you begged me to fuck you.”

  The words begged me to fuck you rumbled through Polly like the trembling build-up of ocean waves. He was still loosely holding her wrist, his fingers at her pulse, and she knew he could feel the quickening of her heartbeat.

  “You’re not doing it,” he said. “You’re not going to find some random asshole to hook up with. No way.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do or not do.”

  “Yes, I can. Because if you’re hooking up with anyone, Peach, that man is going to be me.”

  Shock rolled through her. This was a joke, right? The CEO of Sugar Rush staking a claim on her as if she were a territory?

  She tried to come up with some sort of indignant response (“How dare you talk to me like that? I’m a modern woman! I’ll hook up with who I want when I want and how I want, and if you think . . .”)

  Instead what came out was, “What makes you think I still want you?”

  His grip on her wrist tightened, his fingers caressing her pulse as if he were igniting it with the sheer power of his touch. Which he rather was. Polly’s heartbeat increased, and she flicked out her tongue to lick her lips.

  “You can’t hide what you want, Peach,” Mr. Stone said. “It’s one of the many appealing things about you. Have dinner with me.”

  “What?”

  “Dinner,” he repeated. “Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  “Um, is there a question in there somewhere?”

  “No. But there will be some answers.”

  The kitchen door clicked open.

  “Mr. Stone, it’s almost time for your ten-thirty meeting.” A young woman who looked like a classic secretary—glasses, brown hair scraped back into a severe bun, sharp-looking suit—approached the stove. “Your brother Evan wanted to speak to you beforehand.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute, Kate.”

  The woman nodded and walked briskly away. Mr. Stone released Polly and stepped back. She drew in a shaky breath, aware that she was trembling from the inside out.

  “You know, a little politeness goes a long way,” she remarked.

  “Seven,” he said.

  He was clearly not a man accustomed to rejection. Polly had a sudden image of him showing up at the door of her apartment above the bakery, with its peeling paint and spider webs. She almost winced.

  “I won’t be home by seven tomorrow night,” she said quickly, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

  “Where will you be? I’ll pick you up.”

  God, the man was a bulldozer. “No. But I’ll meet you somewhere.”

  He frowned. “Contrary to what you might think, I’m a traditionalist. When I ask a woman out on a date, I like to pick her up and take her to wherever we’re going.”

  “Well, I’m a progressive who likes to do things my way. So if you want me to go out with you, I’ll either meet you somewhere or we won’t go at all.”

  His eyes narrowed. A flutter of trepidation rose in her as she suspected not many people issued ultimatums to Luke Stone.

  “You can come to my place.” He gave her an address.

  It sounded like he’d conceded to her, but Polly wasn’t so sure about that. It felt more like he was luring her onto his turf. And she suspected Luke Stone’s place was a world away from the badly lit basement where she’d spent much of the past few months.

  “Why can’t I just meet you at a restaurant?” she asked.

  “Because I’m going to drive us there.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I’m also going to pay, in case you have any obstinate ideas about that.”

  Actually, given her financial circumstances, she fully intended for him to pay. Not that he needed to know that either. She inputted his address into her phone, deciding a consultation with Mia was in order before she actually did anything.

  “What’s your number?” she asked.

  He rattled off his number, and she sent him a quick text with hers. A surreal feeling washed over her as she realized she was exchanging numbers and planning a date with the CEO of Sugar Rush, who’d just gotten all possessive about her.

  What alternate universe had she just fallen into? Yes, she wanted to be a braver, more confident version of herself, but after the disaster at the Troll’s House she’d realized she should start small, like slowly tasting bits of fine chocolate instead of gobbling down a whole bar.

  Luke Stone was more like diving headfirst into a rushing, melted chocolate river laced with sexy flavors like amaretto, salted caramel, chili peppers and—

  Polly’s breathing quickened. She glanced up to find him watching her, and her gaze went unwillingly to his beautifully shaped mouth. Despite his arrogance and I’m the CEO, obey me attitude—or perhaps because of it—there was no question the man knew how to kiss. Really, really well. She didn’t need to have kissed a dozen boys before him to know that.

  Mr. Stone rolled down the sleeves of his shirt and picked up his suit jacket. He stepped past Polly, then paused.

  “By the way, Miss Lockhart,” he said. “Yes.”

  “Yes . . . what?”

  “You asked me the other night if I have a huge bed with feather pillows,” Mr. Stone said. “The answer is yes.”

  He turned and walked away.

  LUKE COULDN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT her. The morning after his impromptu candy-making session with Polly Lockhart, he woke with the unsettling suspicion that she might even have invaded his dreams. Not that that should have surprised him.

  She was such a pretty little thing—thick-lashed brown eyes, lips shaped like a bow, brown curly hair spilling to her shoulders. Nice, perky breasts, long legs, round hips. Just the memory of her warm, curvy body pressed against his made him hot. She’d tasted like whipped cream, chocolate, and rainbow sprinkles. Birthday cake. He’d had to fight
not to run his hand up her bare leg and between her thighs to discover how hot and wet she’d been.

  He groaned, tilting his head forward to let the water of the shower pound against his neck. After the Troll’s House encounter, he’d ensured Polly and her friend were safely in the car and on their way. Then he’d cursed himself for failing to get Polly’s last name. Because even then, he’d hated the thought that she’d go off again looking for another guy to artlessly hit on.

  Then she’d shown up at the Sugar Rush kitchen yesterday with her hair all hidden beneath a plastic cap and her brown eyes wide with shock at the sight of him. He’d been shocked at the sight of her too—actually, more like something had slammed into his chest—only he knew how to hide it.

  But Polly wasn’t a girl who could hide what she was feeling. She was too open, transparent, guileless. He’d known that the instant he’d turned from the pool table and seen her standing there, all flushed, bright-eyed, nervous excitement.

  All sweetness.

  Tension laced through Luke’s shoulders. Despite the fact that he owned a candy company, he didn’t do sweet. His women were cool, sophisticated, and carefully vetted. Polly was not. Unfortunately, that was exactly what made her so intriguing.

  Well, that and the fact that she’d begged him to fuck her. And then snapped at him indignantly about his reputation. And called him a control-freak Capricorn, which was the truth. Not to mention, she was the reason he’d actually made candy, which he hadn’t done in more years than he could remember.

  Shit. He couldn’t do this. He also couldn’t not do this. He’d made a mistake coming on to Polly and asking her to dinner, but the thought of her with another guy made him want to explode with jealousy and anger—which irritated him to no end considering he barely knew her.

  Still. He couldn’t let that pretty girl loose on the town, looking for a hook-up. It’d be like sending a lamb into the lion’s den. Who knew what kind of dickwad would take advantage of her?

  By asking her to dinner, Luke was just keeping an eye on her. He’d have to make sure he wasn’t the dickwad taking advantage of her, but he could do that. Much as he wanted her, he was nothing if not self-controlled.

  So he’d take her to dinner, give her a brotherly lecture about the dangers a girl like her could get into, and drop her back at home with a kiss on the forehead.

  Yeah. He could do that. It might kill him, but he’d do it.

  He turned off the shower and switched his brain to his agenda for the day. First order of business was to confront his brother, who had been the reason Luke was at the Troll’s House at all the other night.

  He took ten minutes to shave, another ten to dress, then answered a few emails while eating his usual breakfast of oatmeal and egg whites with spinach.

  He got to the office three hours before anyone else, dealt with some overseas issues, put together new project teams, authorized two raises, and worked out a strategy for Sugar Rush to penetrate the “healthy candy” category.

  “Morning, sir.” His executive assistant Kate came in right at eight with his protein drink, her sharp gray suit and severe haircut signaling the start of his day interacting with employees. “Board meeting at nine.”

  “Is Evan in yet? He was supposed to be back from San Francisco by seven.”

  “He just arrived. I believe he’s in his office.”

  Luke stood and shrugged into his suit jacket. “Graphics is sending up a new design for the retro packaging. Bring it into the boardroom when it arrives, please.”

  “Yes, sir.” Kate set the glass on his desk and handed him the meeting agenda.

  Luke took it and went down the hall to his brother’s office, where the door displayed a plaque reading Evan Stone, Vice-President of Marketing.

  Evan looked up when Luke entered. Tension thickened the air. A renewed wave of resentment flooded Luke.

  “You want to explain why you didn’t tell me that Crown Foods approached you to take their chief operating officer position?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

  Evan’s mouth tightened. “When did you find out?”

  “Dad told me the other night. I tried calling you, but you didn’t answer.”

  Guilt flashed in Evan’s eyes. Luke sat in the chair in front of the desk, his shoulders tight. Not for a second did he think his brother would ever actually leave Sugar Rush, but he hated that Evan hadn’t even told him that a competitor had approached him.

  “What would you have done if I’d told you?” Evan asked.

  “Told the Crown CEO to stop trying to fucking poach from my company.”

  “Exactly. Your company. And you’d have yelled at me that I was betraying Sugar Rush by even thinking about leaving.”

  Luke stared at his brother. “You would be betraying Sugar Rush. How could you even consider working for a competitor?”

  “They’re not a candy competitor.”

  “They’re a snack foods company, which means they’re going after a similar consumer base,” Luke snapped. “What did you tell them?”

  “You really need to ask me that?”

  Luke dragged his hands over his face, hating that he’d even hinted he would ever mistrust his brother. Two years younger than Luke, Evan had been his partner-in-crime for most of their young lives—partly because they’d always gotten along well and partly because of Evan’s heart condition, which motivated Luke to take on the role of vigilant, overprotective older brother. Not that Evan had needed protecting, given that he’d always been better than Luke at everything except sports.

  Still, they’d become even closer when their parents had more children, with Luke not wanting Evan to be overshadowed by their younger siblings. Evan had never resented Luke’s protectiveness, but he’d been such a success—class valedictorian, scholarships, awards—that even without Luke he’d never have been overshadowed by anyone.

  “Look, I get it,” Evan said. “You know that. But you also need to loosen your grip on our company. Your insistence that all ideas go through you is creating a bottleneck, and you won’t let anyone else handle the Alpine acquisition much less the building plans. If you don’t get back to delegating and trusting people to follow through, then we’re going to have another exodus.”

  Luke was silent. He’d developed an iron-clad hold on Sugar Rush over the past year, but he’d been the reason the company’s profits, which had been climbing steadily for eleven years, suddenly nosedived.

  He’d been the reason three of their top executives had jumped ship. Worst of all, he’d been the reason his family had been slandered. When the CEO of a venerable family-owned candy company became the center of an ugly, dragged-out paternity scandal, that shit hit the fan like a bullet train.

  “I wouldn’t doubt that Crown approached me because they heard things are grim around here,” Evan continued. “It’s only a matter of time before other companies start sniffing around.”

  Luke grabbed a handful of Sweeties from the bowl on Evan’s desk. He tossed a couple into his mouth, the hard-shelled fruit candies making a satisfying crunch with every bite. Hailey’s favorite. Funny how he could remember all of his siblings’ favorite candy.

  “Luke, if you want to change things around here, give me the acquisition of Alpine Chocolate,” Evan said. “Prove to the c-suite you still know how to delegate strategically.”

  Luke hesitated a flash of a second too long. Evan nodded.

  “Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s what I thought.”

  “Come on, man.” Frustration flooded Luke’s chest. “They came to me two months ago. With the new facility in Bern getting off the ground, I have to handle Alpine.”

  “No. You insist on handling Alpine.” Evan frowned. “Meanwhile, I’m still spinning my wheels running marketing reports and focus groups and doing the grunt work that David doesn’t want to bother with. And you told the board Sam should spearhead the Fair Trade Foundation, so that leaves me out again.”

  “That’s what this is about? You�
��re still mad about the Fair Trade Foundation?”

  Evan’s frown deepened. “The foundation was my idea.”

  “And I told you before I went to the board that I can’t afford to lose you,” Luke said. “To get the foundation structure in place, you’d have to travel to all of our regional centers, probably nine months out of the year. I wanted Sam to do it because I need you here.”

  “You wanted Sam to do it because you still don’t believe I’m capable of that kind of work.”

  Luke couldn’t respond. Because it was the truth. Evan could do the job. He’d always been good at everything. But Luke would not send his brother out on a grueling travel itinerary that involved trekking to remote farms in Africa and South America to inspect warehouses and processing facilities, set up technical training, and build strategies to improve local infrastructures.

  “I’m sorry, man,” he said. “I can’t. But if you want more responsibilities here, I’ll give them to you.”

  “It’s not about responsibilities.” Evan turned back to the computer, frustration flashing in his eyes. “It’s about making an impact and doing some good. It’s about me being part of the company in the way I want, which means without you sidelining me at every turn.”

  His “sidelining” came partly from Evan’s health issues, which had intensified his protective streak. And he would not let Evan run off to remote areas where hospitals were five hundred miles apart, if they existed at all. If Luke had to be the bad guy to ensure his brother’s safety, then fine. He’d take the hit.

  “Okay,” he finally said. “I’ll reassess, talk to Tyler. Maybe we can get you on board with the China division.”

  Evan’s shoulders slumped, his gaze fixed on the computer screen.

  “Remember that you didn’t build up Sugar Rush by being a dictator,” he said. “You did it through great leadership and a focus on our company heritage and culture. I’m telling you now you’re losing sight of both those things.”

  Not wanting to hear any more of the truth, Luke pushed up from the chair. “Board meeting in ten.”