Sweet Time (Sugar Rush #4)) Page 4

  “I never kiss and tell.” He closed his briefcase. “If you’re bringing the binders to Wild Child tomorrow, I’ll pick them up to make copies.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “I am.”

  “But…” Her gaze skittered to his erection, which was only a tad less prominent than it had been. He was really going to leave all jacked up?

  He picked up his briefcase and laptop.

  Apparently so.

  “I need to finish the reassessment by the end of the week so I can implement all extra measures and contingencies,” he said.

  God. Even after what he’d just done to her, he could turn back into security boss extraordinaire in the blink of an eye. She swallowed, smothering a rush of confusion and longing.

  “Okay,” she said. “I stop by the bakery after work, so I’m usually there around three.”

  “I know.”

  He winked at her, unsmiling, and walked out the door.

  Chapter

  FIVE

  Curses split through Gavin’s head. He could still hear her breathy sighs, smell her scent on his fingers, feel her body trembling in his arms. He could still taste her, chocolate chips and caramel. Her pink underwear burned a hole in his pocket.

  He pulled his black SUV into the driveway and went inside. The modern, wood-and-stucco house, isolated on a plot of land at the Santa Cruz foothills, usually had a calming effect on him. Not tonight. He left his briefcase by the door and poured himself a glass of scotch.

  Then another.

  He could start up with her. Easy as slipping thread from the eye of a needle. She was hot, willing, and ready. Her body was addictive, smooth and tight. Mia was everything he craved but hadn’t had in too long. She smelled like a goddamned flower garden. He wanted to get her dirty and messy. Her voice alone made him hard.

  But under her sexy, flirty manner, she was sweet. Young. She liked girly stuff—potpourri, makeup, fairies, pretty dresses, scented candles, pink and purple lace. She wanted to have fun. She loved her friends fiercely.

  He’d fucking ruin her.

  He took her panties from his pocket and tossed them on his bedside table. As he got into the shower, he imagined her spread out naked in front of him. Wearing the panties, so he could pull them aside while he pushed into her. She’d been so tight around his fingers. Sinking his dick into her would be heaven.

  He jerked off with the images blazing in his brain. Shot all over the shower wall while picturing her smooth cunt dripping with his come. He rested his forehead against the wall, his chest heaving and his hand still fisted around his cock.

  Maybe now he was tired enough to sleep okay tonight.

  Instead he lay awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling and thinking of old fairytales about spinning straw into gold, poison apples, sleeping princesses, and magic spells.

  He woke after a restless sleep that—at least—hadn’t been punctured by flashback nightmares. The symptoms of his PTSD had improved over the years, but sleep remained elusive and broken.

  Since he’d be meeting with Luke and Warren Stone that morning, he dressed in a suit and tie. When he was installing security systems or working out of the office, he wore the Knight Security uniform of a black shirt and pants, but for consultations and meetings, even with the Stones, he preferred the suit.

  As he returned to the bedroom for his cufflinks, his gaze fell on the crumpled pink panties on the nightstand. After a second’s hesitation—and a thousand misgivings—he stuffed them into his jacket pocket and left the house.

  He drove to the headquarters of the Sugar Rush Candy Company, assessing that the security guards were following required protocol, and that the gates and barriers worked to ensure access control.

  “Anything unusual?” he asked the guard at the gate.

  “No, sir. We had one visitor who wasn’t on the authorized list, but he left when we denied him entry. Said he needed to talk to Evan Stone about the wedding.”

  Gavin frowned. “Why Evan?”

  “Don’t know, sir. Evan Stone isn’t even on site today, so we couldn’t call up and ask him.” The guard checked his tablet. “Name was Brian Hurst.”

  “All right, thanks.”

  Gavin typed a quick text to Evan asking him to call before walking to the main office. Several Knight Security operatives patrolled the grounds unobtrusively—a new guard team Gavin had ordered last week in light of the increased threat to the Stone family. He’d implemented every single security measure on the campus, as well as at the Stones’ private residences and those of many of the company’s employees.

  At regular intervals, he double-checked that everything worked as it should. Nothing was more important to him than ensuring the safety of the people who trusted him to provide protection.

  He walked to Luke’s office, where his friend was waiting with Warren Stone. After greeting each other, they sat around a table in a seating area of Luke’s office. Gavin took a file of copied letters out of his briefcase and handed them to Luke.

  “This makes a total of twenty since the news of the wedding went public,” he said. “One more arrived yesterday, and I brought the original to the police to keep with the others. He’s escalating his threats, which is typical of a stalker who is trying to incite a response.”

  Luke and Warren scanned the letter, their foreheads creased with frowns. Gavin had already memorized the black, scrawled writing and dire threats—I’ll fucking rip your head off, Stone, you lying, motherfucking thief. You’ll never live “happily ever after,” you shithead. I’m fucking bombing your goddamned wedding. You can’t stop me. Body parts will fly. You won’t know the meaning of “red wedding” until your big fucking day.

  Warren set the letter down, his jaw tight. “How credible is this?”

  “Any threat to cause bodily harm is one to be taken seriously. The fact that he hasn’t called or tried any other means of contact except for letters indicates he might not have the means to carry out the threat. However, I will make no assumptions. In my mind, this is cause for locking down the wedding venue to the securest and least obtrusive extent possible.”

  “Do whatever you need to do,” Luke said. “I’ll talk to Polly, but I won’t tell her the details. She needs to be aware, not scared.”

  Gavin put the letter back in his briefcase. “Have you thought of anything else that might be helpful? Anyone else who was involved in the production of the Zigzag Candy?”

  Luke shook his head. “You have all the records. We came up with the concept of zigzag-shaped candy in-house. R&D spent three years developing the prototype and full product line. I didn’t steal the idea from anyone, much less a random nutjob who’s now demanding millions in compensation.”

  “I know you didn’t steal the idea, but I’m trying to determine why he thinks you did,” Gavin explained. “If he’s a disgruntled former employee, he might have contributed to the product line in some way and believes he was responsible for it.”

  “You have all the employee records and lists of who was involved,” Luke said, his jaw tightening. “Did the investigations turn up anything?”

  “Not yet.” Aside from the threatening letters, Gavin didn’t have much else to go on. Because Sugar Rush treated its employees so well, the company had a very low turnover rate. The employees who had left, even some of those who’d been fired, still spoke highly, or at least respectfully, of the company.

  Of course that didn’t mean people weren’t disgruntled with either Sugar Rush or the Stones. Luke had battled a nasty paternity suit a few years ago brought on by a vindictive ex-girlfriend, and the company’s legal department worked hard to mitigate potential litigation. The majority of Gavin’s job was centered on providing security for both the company and family.

  This threat, however, was the most sinister yet.

  “The less people know about this, the better,” he said. “I’ve intensified security around the campus, but it shouldn’t be too evident.”

  “W
hat about the bakery?” Warren asked.

  “I have two men stationed there twenty-four seven,” Gavin assured him. “Polly knows there’s a need for tighter security because the wedding is so high profile.”

  “She doesn’t like the idea of extra security at the bakery,” Luke told his father. “But she’s dealing with it.”

  “My men are trained to be inconspicuous.” Gavin closed his briefcase. “To anyone else, they look like regular customers. I stop by both locations at least twice a day.”

  He stood and extended his hand. “Good to see you both. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Hey, we’re having a barbeque at Dad’s house this weekend.” Luke also got to his feet. “Kind of a pre-wedding party, just family and close friends. Come and join us. Starts at five on Saturday.”

  “Thanks. I’ll check my schedule.”

  Luke nodded, his expression changing to a frown. They both knew that meant “Thanks, but no thanks.” Though Gavin had practically grown up with the Stone brothers, and despite repeated invitations, he hadn’t socialized with them since returning from Iraq five years ago. Aside from a few affairs with women who ended up wanting more from him than he could give, he hadn’t socialized at all.

  He returned to the parking lot, pausing when his phone buzzed.

  “Hey, Gavin, it’s Evan. You wanted to ask me about someone who showed up at Sugar Rush?”

  “Yeah, said he wanted to talk to you about the wedding. Brian Hurst.”

  “Rings no bells. Did he say what he wanted?”

  “No. Security turned him away because he wasn’t authorized. He hasn’t called you?”

  “No, but I haven’t checked my Sugar Rush messages. I don’t know why he’d want to talk to me about the wedding. You want me to call you, if he left a message?”

  “Yes, any time of day or night.”

  “Will do. You going to Dad’s on Saturday?”

  “No, can’t make it. Thanks for calling.”

  He ended the call and put his phone back into his pocket. He returned to the Knight Security offices, a glass-and-steel building on the outskirts of Indigo Bay. Several of his security operatives worked with different clients, but Gavin had dedicated most of his team, as well as himself, to both the Stones and Sugar Rush.

  He ran a check on Brian Hurst, which turned up the information that he’d attended the same university as Luke and owned a fireworks import and display company. On the surface, there was nothing suspicious about the guy, but Gavin would take no chances.

  After working through lunch, he found himself glancing at the clock as it inched toward three. He told himself he was impatient only because he hadn’t stopped at Wild Child yet that day. Not because he had Mia’s underwear in his pocket and couldn’t stop thinking of her sweet, hot body.

  He shook his head with a humorless laugh. He was a fucking idiot. Touching her last night had been like the first hit of a drug, one he now craved more and more.

  But it didn’t matter if he couldn’t detach himself from her. Soon enough, he’d scare her away.

  Chapter

  SIX

  Gavin drove to the Indigo Bay branch of Wild Child, where several customers sat at the round tables. His men were at two separate tables, one close to the door and the other near the counter. Both were alert and vigilant, despite the empty coffee mugs and plates in front of them.

  One assessing sweep of the interior told him Mia wasn’t there. Not that he needed to assess anything. It had gotten to the point that he felt her presence or absence the second he stepped into the bakery. Instinctively, he was either pleased or vaguely disappointed—and both emotions were directly tied to a pretty blonde princess.

  He exchanged nods of greeting with his men before taking an empty table.

  “Hi, Gavin.” Polly approached, wiping her hands on her apron. “Can I get you a Declair or a croissant?”

  “Not today, thanks.”

  Though he always declined, she still always asked. He’d tried the Declairs when Polly was first inventing the recipes, but didn’t often have one when he was at the bakery.

  “I’ll just have a black coffee, no sugar,” he said.

  “Coming right up.” She gave him her friendly smile, but he detected the faint concern in her eyes, the lines of stress around her mouth.

  Shit. Like Luke, the last thing Gavin wanted was for Polly to worry about the safety of her friends and family—especially right before her wedding.

  “Hey.” He put his hand on her arm. “I won’t let anything happen to you or anyone else.”

  She smiled. “I know. It’s just weird stuff to deal with when all I care about is being married to Luke. Well, and for everyone to have a great time. I’ve dreamed of a big, happy wedding since I was a little girl, but of course I never expected to need all sorts of security.”

  “You’ll have a big, happy wedding,” Gavin assured her. “My team and any additional security will be barely noticeable. All you need to do is focus on marrying Luke and enjoying yourself. Everyone will stay safe and have a great time.”

  “That’s the only wedding present I really want.”

  “You’ll have it. I promise.”

  “Thank you.” Polly smiled and squeezed his hand before glancing past him. Gavin’s body went into full alert, his senses tingling even before Polly said, “Hi, Mia,” and stepped away from him.

  “Hey, Pols.” Her voice spilled into the air like music. “I need you to pick out new ribbons for the favors. The supplier doesn’t have enough for the extra ones. Here are the samples.”

  Polly took the folder, and they consulted for a moment.

  “Mia’s special caramel mochaccino?” Polly asked, heading back to the counter.

  “Extra whipped cream, as usual,” Mia replied. “To go.”

  Then she moved into his line of vision. Blonde hair caught in a high ponytail. Tight purple shirt. Polka dot mini skirt. White tights.

  Instant hard-on.

  “Hi.” She stepped closer, her voice uncertain. “I have all the binders in the car.”

  “I need them to make copies.”

  “You can’t keep them.” She eased into the chair across from him. “I don’t want them out of my sight. They’re too important.”

  “You can come with me.” He studied her, not liking the faint purplish smudges under her eyes. “You didn’t sleep well.”

  She shrugged, shifting in her chair and glancing around. Then she leaned closer and whispered, “Well, you left me in quite a state.”

  His mouth twitched. He liked her forthrightness and honesty. He might even have liked the fact that she was making him smile more often.

  “You want me to make it up to you?” he asked.

  A flush rose to her cheeks before she said, “Yes.”

  Christ. His dick throbbed. Served him right. For all his self-censure about starting up with her, he wouldn’t be able to help himself. She was too tempting, too sweet, too willing… and it had been too fucking long since he’d experienced anything close to what Mia Donovan could offer him.

  If he ever had. Her bright, happy world with its heart-shaped pillows and ice cream would shine a welcome light on his darkness, if only temporarily.

  He’d known that for the past year. But now that he’d had a taste of her whipped-cream lightness…

  He stood and took out his wallet, dropping a few bills on the table to pay for his untouched coffee.

  “Let’s go,” he told Mia.

  After getting her takeout dessert drink—no way would he call that concoction coffee—Mia walked to the door. He pulled it open and stepped aside to let her exit in front of him. His gaze drifted to her ass encased in the short skirt. He wanted to flip her skirt up, pull her tights down, and—

  “I’m parked over here.” She walked to an old Toyota sitting at the curb. A pair of pink fuzzy dice dangled from the rearview mirror, and a UC Santa Barbara sticker decorated the bumper.

  “When did you graduate?” he asked, no
dding at the sticker.

  “Two years ago.” She set the coffee on the roof and hefted a stack of binders from the trunk. “I moved back here when I couldn’t find a job.”’

  “Polly told me you were working at a florist’s.” He took the heavy binders from her.

  “They shut down a while ago.” Her mouth twisted. “I work at an insurance company now.”

  “As an agent?”

  “No. I sit in a windowless cubicle and collate reports.” She slammed the trunk, collected her coffee, and fell into step beside him. “Sometimes I even staple them together. If there’s ever a contest for the world’s most boring job, I’m pretty sure I’m a number one contender.”

  “Why do you stay?”

  “Because I’m a French lit major who got through all four years on a full scholarship, thereby eliminating my need to work and gain valuable career skills.” A bitter note threaded her voice. “So while I can talk endlessly about Renaissance France or the politics of Proust, I have very little actual job experience. Imagine my surprise when I discovered employers don’t care a whit about feminism in medieval French epics.”

  Gavin stopped. She took two steps before realizing he was no longer beside her. She turned, a frown pulling her eyebrows together.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You’re being petulant,” he said.

  Mia stared at him before giving a short laugh. “I’m being petulant? Are you serious?”

  “Yes. You can get discouraged, even upset, when you hit wall after wall. Which it sounds like you’ve done. But sulking about the fact that employers need to hire people with practical skills will do nothing to change your situation.”

  “Good lord, Gavin.” Mia shook her head in disbelief. “You’re a freaking robot, aren’t you?”

  “As you discovered last night…” he noted the telling blush rising to her cheeks “…I’m not a robot. And graduating from college after four years on a full scholarship is no small feat. But it doesn’t mean you’re allowed to be bitter when Fortune 500 companies aren’t fighting to hire you.”