Sugar and Spice

by Shandi Boyes

  "The meeting should only last a few minutes, then we'll have an early dinner. There is a Mexican restaurant half a mile down. Their tacos are to die for."

  Harlow’s skin prickles with goosebumps when I reach the “tacos” part of my sentence, but hunger isn’t the cause of her reaction. It is me sucking her budded nipple into my mouth. Even with her having two showers since we returned from riding, her skin tastes salty. It is an odd contrast to her sugary palette.

  I stop adoring her rosy pink nipple when she murmurs, “If the Board is made up of the people I’ve dealt with the past twenty-four hours, Cormack, you need to rethink your plan of attack.” She balances on her elbows, bringing her perky breasts even closer to my face. “After your performance in the foyer, I’m certain they’ll demand a psych test before they cast their vote. They think you’ve gone bonkers.”

  I’m gone alright, just not in the way she is thinking.

  "Attwood Electric is the largest electric company in the world, but they would be nothing without the workers on the ground. The Board needs to realize that. Their pretentious, insolent ways aren't how my grandfather ran his company. He'd be mortified if he knew what it has become. I want to take our company back to the entity it was when he was at the helm, and with you at my side, I will achieve that."

  I let out a grunt when she socks me in the stomach. I assume she is hitting me because she missed the meaning behind my words, but I realize that isn't the case when I spot a sheen of moisture in her eyes. When faced with laughing or crying, Harlow will always choose to laugh. . . or maim.

  The growls keep coming when she slides across the bed and stands. I’m only halfway through sampling her body; that means I have a whole other half to explore.

  Harlow grins, loving my disappointment. “If you want me to come with you, I have to get dressed. I don’t think the Board would appreciate me turning up naked.”

  Her reply equally excites and angers me. I loathe that she is covering her beautiful body from my view, but I love that she’s going to stand at my side while I fight to secure something I didn’t want only months ago. I hate what greed did to my father, but by staying on the Attwood Board, I can ensure none of my siblings fall down the same rabbit hole he did. That alone is worth the sacrifice.

  I stop staring into space when Harlow murmurs, “Speaking of naked people. . . have you seen your brother lately?”

  The worry in her tone piques my suspicion. “No. Why?”

  She freezes with her dress halfway over her head, forcefully swallows, then continues getting dressed. “No reason. I was just wondering.”

  “Harlow. . . what aren’t you telling me?”

  She shakes her head. “Nothing.”

  I don’t need to see her eyes to know she is lying. I heard it in her tone.

  “Harlow. . .” This growl is raspier than my earlier one.

  After lowering the hem of her dress until it sits midthigh, she snags one of her sexy thongs from her suitcase, then spins around to face me. “There was a little mix up last night, and I ended up in Colby’s room instead of yours.” My heart rate climbs when she squeaks out, “He was naked.”

  "What?! What do you mean he was naked?" I don't know why I'm yelling. Yelling won't reveal how she saw my brother naked, but I'm yelling nevertheless.

  “Do you really need me to spell out how someone gets naked?” Although she is asking a question, she continues speaking as if she didn’t. “First, you take your clothes off, usually your shirt, but some start with their pants. Weirdos—”

  “I know how he got naked, Harlow. I want to know why he was naked.” Once again, what’s with the shouting?

  With a smile that makes me forget our conversation, Harlow straddles my lap. It is a smooth move on her behalf. Since she didn’t get around to putting on her panties, and I’ve been void of clothes the past hour, the heat of her core smothers my anger.

  “It was a wrong time/wrong place situation.” Although her tone is sincere, I heard the words she failed to produce.

  "That Colby used to his advantage?"

  I trust Colby, but if he discovers a way to stir me, he milks it for all it’s worth.

  “Somewhat,” Harlow agrees. “But I don’t see him doing it again anytime soon.”

  Her confidence shouldn’t be surprising, but it is.

  “What did you do?” My tone is more amused than angry.

  "Nothing bad," she purrs again, this one raspier than the first. "I just hit him with straight up honesty." She leans forward, squashing her curvy breasts against my pecs. "I doubt my comment chipped his ego for long. He's got confidence by the truckload."

  “You dissed him?” Shock resonates in my tone.

  "Uh-huh." Her reply arrives with a playful grind of my rapidly stiffening shaft. I shouldn't get hard while discussing my brother, but my cock can't feel the dampness of her pussy and not react. It is impossible.

  It takes a few seconds, but the truth eventually finds me. “You dissed Colby while he was naked?” I confirm.

  “Yep.” Harlow gives the “P” an extra pop.

  “He asked you about the half-inch, didn’t he?” I say via a chuckle.

  Harlow peers at me like I am psychic. “How do you know that?”

  "Wait until Christmas, then all your questions will be answered." A small bout of laughter thwarts my reply. Although I’m pissed Harlow saw Colby naked, as far as Colby is concerned, his half-inch question is an official welcome to the family. It is nice to know not all the members of my family are anti-Harlow activists.

  "Just a word to the wise, don't eat anything Colby gifts you. They might look like demented seashell chocolates. They aren't."

  It takes all of two seconds for Harlow to understand. “Oh my god! He brought new meaning to the word chocolate starfish, didn’t he?”

  I try to nod, but I’m laughing too hard to demand my body do anything but seek oxygen.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Harlow

  Cormack will never admit it, but I know he is as nervous as me. The closer we get to the massive boardroom in the hub of Mummo Koti, the clammier his hand becomes. He doesn’t care about the money that comes with his title; he’s worried about his family legacy. I can understand his apprehension.

  If a corporation like Attwood Electric is placed in the wrong hands, the outcome could be detrimental to the thousands of employees sheltered under its umbrella. This isn’t just two or three employees; it is hundreds and thousands of hardworking Americans. He has a right to be nervous.

  Resolute silence falls over the fifty-plus people inside the ballroom when we enter. As Cormack guides us toward the front of the gathering, I scan the room. If I had to guess, I'd say half the faces I've seen previously; the other half eye me as curiously as I do them.

  When we reach the same handsome African American man who greeted us yesterday, Cormack mutters, “What’s going on, Maximus? Why aren’t the constituents in their seats?”

  He checks his watch, mindful our hard and fast fuck against his bedroom door may have made us run a few minutes behind. Tardiness wouldn’t be an issue if Cormack understood the word quickie.

  Cormack stops glancing at his Rolex when Maximus says, “You’re too late. The vote has already taken place.”

  Cormack's balk sends shockwaves through the room. "How can the Board vote when not all members are present? This is ludicrous! Even if I am ousted from my position, I have a right to vote. I am the highest shareholder in this company—"

  Cormack’s rant is nipped in the bud when Maximus interrupts, “All but one. And her vote out rules the entire Board. You grandfather made sure of that.”

  Before Cormack can articulate one of the hundreds of thoughts I see streaming in his head, a little bundle of joy joins our dreary party.

  “Hi, K.”

  Even though I greet K with the same big hug she left me with this morning, I don’t squeeze her quite as tight. She’s so tiny, I don’t want to hurt her. “What are you doing h
ere? Is everything okay?” I keep my tone low, aware of a dozen eyes watching our every move.

  K smiles a big, hearty grin before her blue eyes shift to the side. When I follow the direction of her gaze, my jaw falls open. Same wintry blue eyes, slightly lopsided grin, and a heart so big you can see it from the outside. K doesn’t work for Cormack. She’s related to him.

  “Can someone please fill me in? I’m a little lost.”

  Since Cormack and Maximus look as stunned as me, I return my focus to K, who says, “Mieheni oli paljon sanontoja. Oma suosikki oli: menestyksellä ei ole mitään tekemistä vaurauden kanssa. Se on ystävällinen, aito ja avoin. Sinä, rakas, paljastaa sen ydin.”

  I can’t understand a word she is speaking, but the love projected in her eyes makes mine misty.

  After patting my arm, K moves to stand in front of Cormack. He kisses each of her cheeks before slanting his head to the side so she can whisper in his ear. With the room quiet enough to hear a pin drop, I can hear her words, but not one of them are English.

  “You speak Finnish?” I ask Cormack when he returns to my side to join me in watching K cross the room. The way the crowd parts for her makes it appear as if she is royalty. The occasional few even bow their heads.

  “Yes, but not very well.” Cormack’s chuckle loosens the knot in my stomach. He laughs like a man who doesn’t have a care in the world. Like a man whose placement in his family company isn’t hanging on by a thread. Is he insane?

  “Why are you smiling? This isn’t a laughing matter.”

  Despite a dozen pairs of eyes watching us, he cups my cheeks and raises my eyes to his. “You don’t have a clue, do you?”

  Although it makes me look clueless, I shake my head. I’m the most lost I’ve ever been.

  “K isn’t a baker. The last I heard she wasn’t even allowed in the kitchen.”

  I grimace, hating that I’m going to have to lie to keep K’s secret. She loved her time in the kitchen, so I won’t let anyone take that away from her.

  I stop plotting ways to sneak K into the kitchen when Cormack adds on, “K is my grandmother, Harlow. She is the majority shareholder in Attwood Electric. She is also your number one fan.”

  His last confession has more impact on my heart than his first two. My lips wobble as I struggle to hold in my tears. "K’s your grandma?" Nothing but admiration echoes in my tone.

  “Yes,” Cormack answers with a nod. “And because of you, I get to keep my position.”

  My earlier confusion triples. “What does any of this have to do with me?”

  Cormack’s thumb rubs at the groove between my eyes. Once he is satisfied I’m wrinkle-free, he asks, “Do you remember me telling you why my grandfather built Mummo Koti for my grandmother?”

  I nod, finally beginning to understand. “He wanted a palace fit for his queen.”

  "That's right," Cormack agrees with a smile. "And every king knows it is the queen who truly rules the empire." He grunts when I punch him in the stomach, but it doesn't stop his words. "So my grandfather put measures in place to ensure his queen would always rule her empire. No matter what decision the Board makes, Kyllikki’s vote will always be final.” He says his grandmother’s name with the same twang K used last night. “She voted to keep me in, which overruled the rest of the votes. That is why the vote was over before it began.”

  The gratitude in his voice makes me smile. “I’m glad you achieved the outcome you hoped for, but that still doesn’t explain anything. You’re K’s grandson; of course she’d vote for you.”

  Cormack’s throat works hard to swallow before he reveals, “The person who initiated my derailment was Clara, so favoritism never played a part in my grandmother’s decision. She made it because she believes you will be more suitable to take her place than Clara.”

  “Clara as in your sister Clara?” I have a mountain load of questions about his last confession, but I start at the one that affects the present day and not some long-way-off, may-never-occur, fairyland day. K’s belief in me fills me with pride, but I don’t want to run a billionaire company. I was born to bake, and it is what I will continue to do until the day I am laid to rest.

  My teeth grit so firmly, my molars crack when Cormack nods, confirming my suspicions.

  “I’m going to kill her.”

  With the determination of a ninja, I sidestep Cormack and charge for the exit. I barely get two steps away when my campaign for justice is derailed by Cormack seizing my wrist and dragging me backward. The violent crash of our bodies does stupid things to my insides, so image the chaotic mess when he seals his mouth over mine.

  I am too stunned to do anything but melt into his embrace. It is a pulse-racing kiss full of passion and heat, making my heart ache and my eyes weep. His thanks, his pride, his utmost admiration is displayed by the generous sweep of his tongue and the subtle movements of his lips. He devours me—wholly and without restraint.

  By the time he pulls his mouth away from mine, the crowd is now longer gawking at me in disdain. Many are clapping; a handful are wiping away their tears, and the remaining few angry glances have morphed to envy. I’ll let them have their resentment. I’d be green with envy too if I had just witnessed something so magical.

  As his beautiful blue irises dance between mine, Cormack quotes, “Don’t let Clara ruin our happiness because she can’t find her own.”

  That was what I said to him earlier today when his quest for revenge was as violent as mine just now. By reacting to Clara, whether in anger or worry, we play into her hand. We are above her, so we don’t need to stoop below her.

  Noticing my weakened jaw and unclenched fists, Cormack takes a step back. I sigh a disappointing moan. My displeasure doesn’t linger for long. With a smile that freezes time, Cormack holds his hand out in offering. A giggle rolls up my chest when my acceptance of his gesture sees me being twirled around the room. We don’t have any music, only the crazy beats of our hearts.

  We don’t need more than that.

  Chapter Thirty

  Harlow

  “We never made it to the Mexican restaurant that night. I’m reasonably sure you know why?”

  Izzy clamps her hand over her mouth, afraid her giggles will disturb my customers. “Was that the afternoon I busted you in the hallway?”

  I nod, my laughter as loud as hers. “I shouldn’t have teased him. Cormack has patience in abundance. . . until it comes to sex.”

  Some of Izzy’s laughter sneaks through the cracks in her fingers. “I can’t believe that was two months ago. Where the hell has this year gone?”

  I shrug, completely lost. If you had told me four months ago I was days away from the most amazing weeks of my life, I would have laughed. I was in a hole—a profound one. I didn’t think anything or anyone could make me enjoy life as much as I have the past few months. I was wrong. Cormack changed everything—for the better. That man. . . that man. . . I don’t have a word to describe him adequately. I have many.

  Kind. Handsome. Intelligent. Beautiful. Did I mention handsome?

  Our trip to Mummo Koti was fabulous, but the two months that followed were even more magical than that. I found a little apartment within walking distance to my bakery that is within my budget, yet stylish. Cormack’s record label is buzzing with excitement about the attention his latest group is gaining, and Izzy and Isaac finally sorted out their shit and became an official couple a little over four weeks ago. Things are golden. Almost too perfect.

  I stop looking for the hairline cracks that usually come with perfection when Izzy asks, “Was that your record-setting day? You know. . . for. . .?” Her waggling brows finalize her question.

  I nod. “I swear my womb is still recovering from how many climaxes I had that day.”

  Izzy sighs in understanding. “Tell me about it. Isaac came four times last night. I’m still thrumming.”

  “How many?” I ask, wheezing through the coffee now sitting in my lungs instead of my stomach.

  While chewi
ng on her lower lip, Izzy holds four fingers into the air.

  I gasp so loud, air whizzes through my teeth. “In a row, or did he take a break in between?”

  Izzy looks at me like I’m insane. “Isaac doesn’t break between orgasms.” Her cheeks color as her eyes dash around my bakery to make sure we are without prying eyes.

  Confident there is no audience, I whisper, “I thought guys need time for. . . you know. . .down there to pump back up.”

  I feel like I am looking into the mirror when Izzy leans in close to build the suspense. I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve taught her my best tricks the past six-plus months. She’s becoming a natural-born tease. “So Cormack has never fucked you so hard once he came, he kept going until he climaxed another two times?”

  My throat dries in an instant. Just the thought has me wishing it was closing time.

  Cormack and I have stuck to the same routine the past two months as we did the month before we went to Mummo Koti. He wakes up with the sparrows to help me bake before leaving at 9 AM for his real job. He stumbles in my back door around 6 PM, his wobbly steps compliments of his early awakening, not alcohol, then we eat, fool around a little, then sleep. It’s bliss, indeed. I don’t need him to come four times in a row. I just need him.

  “Honestly, no he hasn’t, but I have a hard enough time keeping up with his sexual prowess as it is. By the time he does come, I’m so exhausted, I can’t even keep my legs in the air.”

  Izzy stares at me, shocked. I return her gaze with an equal amount of vigor. Our frozen stance doesn't last long. As soon as I hear the slightest squeak of Izzy’s laughter, I lose my marbles. We laugh without reservations, not the least bit worried about the suspicious stares we are gaining. It is a few minutes filled with mutual respect and admiration. Izzy is my soul sister. Cormack is my soulmate.

  Our immature giggles only stop when an elderly lady sitting next to Izzy touches her arm. “Make sure you hold on to those two fine gentlemen.” Her sparkling blue eyes flick between Izzy and me. “It is rare to find a guy who can pop a cork on a champagne bottle these days, let alone find your G-spot.”