Sweet Escape (Sugar Rush #2) Page 2

  “All sweet things?” He put the can down and stared at her in astonishment. “What about ice cream? Cookies? Chocolate cake?”

  “Not really. I could never see what all the hype was about.”

  “Dessert,” Evan said emphatically, “is one of the great wonders of the world.”

  “I’ve seen the great wonders of the world. Cake isn’t one of them.”

  “What about candy?” He lowered his head to peer at her, as if he were trying to determine if she was lying. “Tell me you like candy.”

  “When I was a kid, I liked candy.” Hannah stepped back to scrutinize the symmetry of her whipped cream scroll. “Not so much anymore.”

  “Have you tried Sugar Rush candy?”

  “Your brother gave me a bag of Sugar Rush Jelly Rolls before he and Polly went to Paris,” Hannah said. “I mean, they were fine as far as candy goes. Just too sugary for me.”

  Evan frowned, his gaze tracking over her face. “I don’t buy it.”

  “What?”

  “You have a sweet tooth,” he said. “Everyone has a sweet tooth. You’ve just misplaced yours.”

  “I assure you…” Hannah pressed her lips together to conceal a smile over the absurdity of this conversation. “I have not misplaced my sweet tooth.”

  “Yeah, you have.” Evan narrowed his eyes. “But don’t worry. I’ll find it for you.”

  “You will, huh?”

  “You’re dealing with a man who has sugar in his DNA,” he said. “I assure you I’m a veritable archaeologist when it comes to long-lost sweet teeth.”

  Hannah didn’t look at him as she squeezed dots of whipped cream onto the pavlova. She was not getting soft and fuzzy inside. She was not on the verge of being charmed by a man who was cute, hot, handsome, and sexy all at the same time.

  A man who was the brother of her sister’s fiancé. A man whom she barely knew and didn’t want to get to know because aside from Polly and Wild Child, Hannah couldn’t have any other connection, no matter how tenuous, to Rainsville.

  Not when she needed to leave.

  “So you don’t like surprises, dessert, or sugar.” Evan squeezed florets onto the tops of the napoleons. “What do you like then, Hannah Lockhart?”

  “Spanish tapas. Russian vodka. The flamingos in the Laguna Colorada in Bolivia. The Great Barrier Reef. Masala dosa from a street vendor in Mumbai. Spicy Moroccan coffee that’s so good I learned how to make it myself. Watching the fog drift over the Paro Valley in Bhutan.”

  “That’s it?” he asked dryly.

  Hannah smiled. Evan winked at her. A warm, pleasurable current flowed between them.

  “What do you like, Evan Stone?” she asked. “Besides dessert, I mean.”

  “Sex. Christmas Eve. Grilled steak and Hennessy. Kissing. Wild Child Declairs. Golden Retrievers. Navy blue. Running. Classic cars. A woman who calls me instead of texting so I can hear her voice. Sex.”

  Hannah’s pulse sped up. Freaking poetry, that list spoken in his deep, hypnotic voice. She wished he’d keep going. She could have listened to him forever, his likes flowing into her like hot honey.

  Sex. Navy blue. Declairs. Sex. Sex. Sex.

  “The fact that you have whipped cream on your ear and don’t know it,” Evan continued.

  She blinked. “I have…”

  He drew his thumb across her cheek to her ear. He took her earlobe between his thumb and forefinger and rubbed. A flame flickered in Hannah’s core. She struggled to pull in a breath. Had her ears always been such a heightened erogenous zone? Or was she simply reacting to the way he was caressing her earlobe with such gentle intent, as if he were enjoying the sensation as much as she was?

  Her knees weakened. What would it feel like if he touched her in more intimate places with that same tender precision? Warmth collected between her thighs, and her nipples budded up against her bra at the thought of Evan gliding his hand over her naked breasts and down farther and farther until he found the wet folds of her sex and—

  Hormones!

  Oh, hormones, my ass.

  It was him. He was the reason she was getting all hot and bothered. Evan Stone with his wine-and-ravioli deliciousness, his sweet tooth detection, and that ridiculously sensual way he had of fondling her earlobe…

  “There you are.” A sharply musical female voice chilled the air several degrees.

  Evan stepped in front of Hannah so swiftly that he was blocking her from sight before she’d even had a chance to look up.

  She drew in a breath and tried to calm her racing pulse. Behind his back, Evan held out the Reddi-Wip toward her. Hannah grabbed the can from him and quickly tossed both his and her cans into the cupboard beneath the sink.

  She fixed a smile on her face and peered around his shoulder. Tall, elegant Julia Bennett strode across the tiled kitchen floor, her silver metallic gown skimming her gorgeous figure like water. In her late forties, her natural beauty enhanced to level ten with artfully applied cosmetics and sleek, honey-butter blonde hair, the Stone family matriarch walked the earth like a medieval queen expecting the peasants to do her bidding.

  “The auction has started,” she informed Evan. “So I’d suggest you get backstage pronto.”

  “On my way.”

  Julia pursed her lips and studied the desserts. “They look lovely, Hannah. I’m glad to know you’re running Polly’s bakery with the same attention to detail and quality she employs.”

  Evan coughed. A laugh bubbled in Hannah’s throat. She didn’t dare look at him.

  “Of course,” she said.

  Julia nodded and swept out of the room. Evan turned to Hannah. She swore the expression in his eyes was one of regret. Mirroring hers.

  “Thanks for your help,” she said. “I owe you one. Or a few thousand.”

  “It was my pleasure,” he replied. “And now I have to go be auctioned off like a side of beef.”

  “Then you’d better get moo-ving.”

  He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners, as he walked backward toward the door. “We’ll meet again, Lockhart.”

  “After you find my sweet tooth?”

  “No,” he said. “When I come looking for it.”

  He winked at her again and disappeared into the foyer.

  Chapter

  TWO

  Focus.

  Hannah attempted to smother her warm, Evan-inspired fuzzies as she finished decorating the pastries and brought them to the table in the great room of the villa. After the desserts were arranged with their Reddi-Wip rosettes glowing like snowballs in the lights, she hurried into the bathroom and shrugged out of her chef’s jacket.

  Underneath she was wearing a purple silk blouse that likely wasn’t as fancy as what the other women were wearing, but her goal was to be invisible, not stand out. She pulled a pair of black pants and evening pumps out of her bag, changed, and did a quick check of her reflection in the mirror.

  She pulled the band out of her ponytail and brushed out her long brown hair, leaving it loose around her shoulders. An application of lipstick and powder, and she could safely watch the auction from the edges of the crowd without anyone thinking she was slacking off on the job.

  She grabbed her camera case and hurried through the foyer. The beat of “It’s Raining Men” thumped into the house from outside, along with ear-splitting feminine squeals and laughter.

  Hannah walked out to the courtyard. Lanterns glowed from between the trees, heat lamps chased off the evening chill, and a bar was set up near the mosaic wall fountain. The guests sat at the tables around the stage and runway, on which a handsome young man with chiseled features and dark blond hair walked out from behind the curtain.

  A female announcer spoke into a mic, her voice animated and eager. “Twenty-eight-year-old Adam Stone—yes, you heard me right, Adam Stone of the Sugar Rush Candy Company family—is the very hunky owner of an adventure travel company.”

  As Adam started down the runway, a palpable excitement lit the air. Hannah didn’t bo
ther trying to find an empty chair; she stood in the shadow of a colonnade and took a small notebook and pen from her camera case.

  “Adam’s date package is A Walk on The Wild Side!” the announcer called. “Join him for a trip to the Harley-Davidson store, where you’ll be fitted with your own personal riding gear before you and Adam take an epic coastal ride on his Harley! End your ride in San Francisco and a gourmet dinner at Fresca on Union Square. Then you and Adam will enjoy a night of dancing at the Saint Francis Hotel and two separate rooms for the night… unless you decide that bunking together is more your style!”

  Hannah scribbled a few notes—women between the ages of twenty-five and forty, very expensive date packages, bachelors showing off their best assets.

  “Let’s start the bidding!” The auctioneer, a portly man whose bow-tie was askew, stepped to the podium. “We’ll begin at five thousand dollars, ladies!”

  A frenzy ensued as Adam walked down the runway, casting meaningful glances into the crowd before pausing to unbutton his tuxedo jacket. The women screamed their approval, several standing to wave their paddles in the air. Hannah set her notebook aside and snapped several photos.

  “We have five thousand… do I have six… six thousand five hundred… seven from the lovely lady at table fourteen! Do I have seven thousand five hundred? Come now, ladies, all proceeds go to the Rebecca Stone Foundation, and you’ll have Adam to yourself for a full day and night!”

  Adam pulled off his bow-tie and tossed it into the crowd, then started slowly unfastening the top buttons of his shirt. Whoops and screams filled the air as the bids rose higher and higher. After he’d unbuttoned to the waist, revealing rippling pectoral muscles and a strikingly impressive six-pack set of abs, the gavel finally came down at twenty thousand dollars. To thunderous applause, Adam descended the stage into the audience to plant a kiss on the winning bidder.

  “Our next bachelor is twenty-five-year-old Brendan Deeds!” the announcer said. “An account executive in San Francisco, Brendan loves sports, traveling, and intimate moments with a special woman!”

  The audience cheered. Hannah wrote down Brendan’s date package—a two-night yacht trip to Catalina Island. Julia had told her that all the date packages had been donated by various companies, hotels, and restaurants, so one hundred percent of the auction proceeds would go directly to the Rebecca Stone Foundation.

  Brendan and Catalina Island sold to a young woman with short dark hair who beamed with excitement when he swept down from the stage after the gavel fell. He grabbed her and bent her against his arm for a dramatic kiss. The crowd erupted into cat-calls.

  As more bachelors paraded down the runway, the bidding frenzy increased, with most of the wins landing between fifteen and twenty thousand dollars. The whole thing was an elaborate mating ritual. The men strutted like peacocks showing off their feathers before descending on the ecstatic woman for the obligatory post-win hug and kiss.

  Perfect. A lively post about a high-end bachelor auction would be excellent content to keep Hannah’s Lock Heart blog readers engaged. She could make connections to similar traditions she’d seen around the world, like the Gerewol courtship competition of the Wodaabe people in Niger.

  Hopefully the new content would also make the editor of Franklin Publishing happy. Elaine Miller had recently expressed interest in turning Hannah’s love-themed travel blog into a book, which would be a dream come true—albeit one Hannah hadn’t known she’d had until Elaine contacted her. The new possibility of promotion and making money both for and from her travels now dangled before her like an airline rewards card with unlimited free miles.

  There was no offer yet, though. At Elaine’s request, Hannah had compiled a manuscript from her blog post archives, and Elaine had responded with an emailed I’ll get back to you soon. In the meantime, Hannah had to prove she still had an active online presence, and at least the Cream of the Crop bachelor auction gave her something to write about.

  She slipped her notebook and camera back into the case and started back to the kitchen.

  “Our next bachelor is the delicious heir to the Sugar Rush Candy Company, thirty-one-year-old Evan Heartbreaker Stone!”

  Hannah stopped, her whole body charging with sudden energy. She turned back to the stage. Before Evan stepped out from behind the curtain, the women were on their feet applauding and cheering. He appeared with a somewhat abashed smile, his hands in his pockets as he started down the runway.

  Warmth bloomed in Hannah, swift and bubbling like hot springs. Unlike some of the other men, Evan appeared too self-conscious to engage in any gyrations or actual stripping—despite the calls of “Take it off, Evan!” “Work it, baby!” and “Show us your stuff!”

  Couldn’t these women see that was what he was doing? He didn’t need to do anything but walk in order to work it and show his stuff. His stride was long and certain, his lean, muscular body moving with an unconscious male grace, his brilliant blue eyes skimming across the crowd with unerring perception. Even his shy grin didn’t mask the touch of wariness surrounding him, as if he knew—

  “Ten thousand dollars!” yelled a young blonde woman seated at a table near the stage.

  Evan blanched for half an instant. His smile remained fixed, but his eyes flickered with distaste.

  Hannah craned her neck to get a look at the blonde. She looked like a porcelain doll in a green silk wraparound dress and glittery emerald jewelry, but this was clearly Lucy Clements, the Cheating Ex.

  “Eleven thousand!” called another woman.

  “Hold on, ladies!” The announcer laughed and held up her hands. “Let me tell you about Evan’s incredible… er, package before we start fighting over him! Evan’s three-date—yes, three date—package is Wine and Dine! It includes an incredible weekend in Napa Valley. The lucky winning lady will accompany Evan on a wine-tasting tour, a sunset hot-air balloon ride, a gourmet dinner aboard Napa’s famous Wine Train, and… oh, yes, a two-night stay at Napa’s exclusive Castillo Hotel. The second date is a gorgeous yacht trip on San Francisco Bay, and the third is a date of your choice. Now let the bidding war begin!”

  The auctioneer came forward. “Let’s start at nine thousand very generous dollars for this very eligible bachelor!”

  “Eleven thousand five hundred!”

  “Thirteen thousand!”

  Paddles shot into the air as the auctioneer called for higher bids. Evan stood at the end of the runway, his hands still in his pockets and his gaze moving across the crowd with faint bafflement. Lucy waved her paddle for every bid, so swiftly it might start smoking any second now.

  “Fourteen thousand!”

  “Fifteen.”

  The mood shifted. A subtle but unmistakable sharpness descended over the competition and diluted the sense of friendly fun. The claws were starting to show.

  “Sixteen,” snapped a woman in a red dress, standing from her seat and shooting Lucy a glare.

  “Eighteen,” Lucy replied coolly.

  Hannah caught sight of Julia Bennett standing near the stage, her expression mask-like but her eyes gleaming with pleasure. She also appeared unsurprised, as if she’d known her nephew would incite this kind of feminine battle.

  “Twenty-three.” Lucy tipped her paddle toward the auctioneer.

  A few gasps rose from the crowd. Evan’s mouth tightened, the spotlights making his eyes glitter. Another woman stood from the back and lifted her paddle.

  “Twenty-four,” she called.

  “Twenty-five,” Lucy snarled.

  Hannah’s heart raced. She could practically feel Evan’s rising anger.

  She glanced at the program. Out of twelve bachelors, Evan was second to last just before his younger brother Tyler. Clearly Julia knew what she was doing, putting one of the Stone brothers near the beginning to get things going, and then saving two of them as the grand finale.

  Hannah stepped away from the colonnade and toward the villa. She was hired help and shouldn’t be lingering at the auction.
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  “Twenty-six five hundred!” called the woman in red.

  Hannah stopped again. Tense silence, vibrating with expectation, descended over the event. The spotlights glared over the tables. Sweat shone on the auctioneer’s forehead.

  “Do I have a bid for twenty-seven thousand?” he asked.

  “Twenty-eight!”

  “Fifty thousand dollars!”

  Everyone went still. People turned around in shock. A spotlight suddenly fell over Hannah, blinding her even as she felt the weight of dozens of stares. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes. Deep foreboding rose inside her, along with a flicker of panic.

  But it wasn’t until she met Evan’s astonished gaze from clear across the room that she realized the voice had been hers.

  *

  Hannah struggled to pull in a breath. Her camera case slipped from her weak grip. She did not just bid fifty thousand dollars, not even a fraction of which she possessed, for a three-date package with Evan Stone.

  No way. No freaking way.

  The auctioneer shouted, “Sold to the lady standing in the back without a paddle!”

  Or a clue.

  The slam of the gavel sounded like thunder. Cheers erupted as people got to their feet and applauded.

  Hannah couldn’t move. Her panic intensified. She opened her mouth to try and say something, anything—“So sorry, terrible mistake, I have an untreatable condition where I’m occasionally possessed by a crazy woman who can’t control her impulses…”

  “Kiss her!” someone called.

  Whoops and cat-calls rose as everyone took up the rallying cry. Chants of “Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her” surged like a wave across the crowd.

  Oh my God.

  A bead of sweat rolled down Hannah’s temple. She stepped away from the spotlight. The lack of glare brought the room into sharp focus—every eye now turned toward Evan, who was descending the stairs at the side of the runway. The women erupted into cheers.

  Then Evan started directly toward her.

  The crowd parted like the Red Sea to let him pass. His attention fixed on her. His stride was long and purposeful, as if each step he took was securing the earth in its place, as if everything else had fallen away and his sole intention was to reach the spot where Hannah Lockhart stood.