Man Candy (12 page)

garage door opener, but there was a key

to the service door on the ring Alex had

given me.

Fuck, it was cold. I’d have to get

used to Michigan winters again. I never

slept in clothes, but before I got into bed

I put on some pajama pants (part of a set

my mother gave me our last Christmas

together) and a T-shirt. I got under the

covers and stretched out on my back,

hands behind my head, staring at the

ceiling above me.

I could still smell her, and it made

my cock start to stiffen.

She’s up there right now.
Was she

asleep? Was she warm enough? On

nights like this, with the snow coming

down and icy wind whistling at the

windows, was she ever tempted to break

her rule and sleep with someone? Was

she ever lonely? She was so different

from any woman I’d ever been with. So

many contradictions.

During sex, or when she wanted it,

she was so fucking hot—the way she

moved and talked and responded drove

me crazy…she was liquid and molten

one moment, fiery and explosive the

next. But when it was over, that was it.

She cooled off quicker than anyone I’d

ever known. Let me be clear, I’d
never

had a woman tell me she wouldn’t spend

the night after I’d asked her to—
ever
—

let alone make it sound like going out

with me was akin to torture, somewhere

between a full body wax and a root

canal.

I wasn’t sure which side of her made

me want her more, the fire or the ice.

The fire made our physical connection

sizzle, but that ice made her more of a

challenge, and it made me more anxious

to get closer to her…not to break her,

exactly, but maybe melt her a little. Get

her to open up.

If it were anyone else, I might think

she was just playing hard to get with her

“rules,” but I didn’t think that of her. I

mean, I thought the rules were bullshit

and the whole Love Doesn’t Exist thing

was just a defense mechanism as well as

a pre-emptive strike, but somehow I felt

she guarded herself that closely, kept

herself that distant, for a reason. She

said it wasn’t her family history, but then

what? Had she had her heart broken in

college? Or more recently?
There’s no

way it could be the thing with me,

right?

I wanted to talk to her some more

about it, but dammit, I’d promised her

we didn’t have to talk about
feelings
.

What the fuck was the world coming

to when a guy finally wanted to talk

about feelings with a woman and she

said no?

And why on earth had I bet her I

could make her believe in love? What

the hell was I going to do or say or show

her to convince her it was real? I wasn’t

even sure I could recognize it in myself,

let alone other people.

I lay there for what felt like hours,

imagining her right above me, wishing

she were curled up beside me, and

wondering where the crack in her armor

would be.

Her heart was in there somewhere—

she’d given me little tastes of its

sweetness in between all the teasing and

rule-stating—like the chewy, gooey

center in a hard candy lollipop.

I grinned.

Maybe I just had to lick my way to it.

TWELVE

JAIME

MY ALARM WENT off at six-thirty,

and I groaned as I shut it off. Burying

myself again beneath the covers, I

whimpered about going outside in the

frigid dark to shovel the driveway. Came

up with a dozen reasons to just say
fuck

work
and go back to sleep. Told myself

that no reasonable person was getting to

her office on time this morning.

But in the end, I dragged myself out

of bed. When something needed to get

done, I wasn’t one to put it off.

Unless it was writing a toast to give

at my brother’s wedding. Then I was an

expert at it. Just thinking about standing

in front of two hundred people and

talking about love and commitment made

my eyelid twitch.

Relax. You still have a couple

months.

Moving slowly, I pulled on thick

socks, jeans and a sweater. Tugged on

my ski pants, heaviest coat, a hat, scarf,

and mittens. Finally, I stepped into my

winter boots, laced them up a little

tighter, and clomped down the stairs and

out the side door to face the music. I

hadn’t even looked out the window yet

because I didn’t want to get too

discouraged.

So I was shocked when I opened the

door and saw that the job was nearly

done. Done! As in someone had

shoveled almost the entire driveway

already! Perking up immediately, I heard

a shovel scrape the cement and looked

toward the street, where a figure in a

puffy dark coat, wool hat, and gloves

was banking snow on the berm.

Was it Quinn? It had to be, unless it

was Alex, but I couldn’t see Alex getting

up at five just to come out here and dig

out his sister who should have called the

snow removal guys last night but was

too busy fucking his friend.

I pulled the door shut behind me and

walked down the driveway. The air was

so cold it froze the insides of my nostrils

as soon as I inhaled. Snow flurries fell

softly, dusting the freshly cleared

driveway.

“Hey,” I called, my breath creating a

silvery puff in the dark, icy air.

He turned around, and I saw the blue

eyes right away. His smile hit me in the

gut—so hard I nearly stumbled.

I didn’t like it.

What the hell was he doing? He

wasn’t even parked in the garage, so he

had to be shoveling for me. I appreciated

the gesture, but this smelled like a

boyfriend move. Was he fucking with

me?

“Hey,” he said back.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m clearing the driveway for you.”

“Why?” I tried not to sound

suspicious, but I think it came out that

way, because he rolled his eyes.

“Because it seemed like a nice thing

to do, and there wasn’t a No Shoveling

rule last night. But come to think of it, I

have
heard there is a high correlation

between shoveling a woman’s driveway

and getting her pregnant, so would you

like me to put it all back?”

Feeling foolish, I slapped him on the

arm with my mitten-clad hand. “Sorry. I

am, in fact, grateful, so thank you
very

much. I was dreading this.”

“It is pretty cold,” he admitted, going

back to work.

“Can I help?”

“Nah, I’m just about done.”

“How about some coffee? I could go

make some.”

“Actually, I’m heading to the gym in

a few. My class was canceled for

today.”

Jesus. Only Quinn would voluntarily

go work out on a morning like this.

Especially after shoveling all that snow!

I looked at his SUV, which was a

mound of white. “Can I at least brush off

your car?”

“No, thanks. I’ll get it.”

Shivering, I wrapped my arms

around my chest. “You have to let me do

something nice for you.”

He glanced at me. “What did you

have in mind?”

“Blowjob?”

He grinned. “You’re relentless,

although that would warm me up nicely.”

Me too
, I thought, hopping from one

foot to the other to keep my toes from

going numb.
Maybe we could even do it

in a hot shower. I could—

“How about a drink after work?”

I stopped moving and gaped at him.

“You’re turning down a blowjob for a

drink?”

“Can’t I have both?” He stuck the

shovel in the snowbank and gave me an

imploring look. “It’s
really
nippy out

here.”

I sighed, too cold to argue with him.

“I suppose. Why don’t we—oh wait. I’m

supposed to meet my friends for dinner.

It’s Claire’s birthday.”

“What do you know, I happen to be

free for dinner tonight,” he said

delightedly.

“Really. How fortuitous.”

“I agree, and I will gladly accept

your invitation to join you.”

I cocked my head. “I’m not sure I

offered one.”

“Well, it’s fucking ten below out

here, Jaime. I can’t stand around waiting

for you to be polite. I’ll die of

hypothermia.”

I groaned. “OK, OK. Fine. You can

have dinner with us.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“I’ll meet you here at seven,” I said,

backing up the driveway.

“Where are we going?”

“Antietam. It’s nice but not crazy

formal.”

“I promise to look presentable and

be ready on time.” He clapped his

leather-gloved hands together. “This is

so exciting, Jaims! Our first date!”

Oh, God.
I hurried into the house,

wondering what the hell I’d just gotten

myself into.

THAT AFTERNOON, I called Margot

to make sure it was OK that I was

bringing Quinn.

“Hello?”

“Hi. I have a problem with tonight.”

“Oh no, you can’t come? Lindsay

had to cancel because she has the flu, so

it’s just you, me, Claire, and Elyse.”

“No, I can come, it’s just—I’ll have

someone with me.”

“You will? Who?”

I spoke through my teeth. “Quinn

Rusek.”

Silence.

Then laughter.

“It’s not funny. He totally invited

himself and I had to say yes.”

“Why? Are you still trying to get him

to bang you?”

“No, we did it already.”

“What? When?”

“Yesterday.”

“How’d you make that happen?”

“Uh, it’s a long story.” One I didn’t

necessarily want to share.

“So how was it?”

I kept my voice down, since I had a

cubicle, not an office. “Amazing. Fun.

Mind-blowing. So mind-blowing I

agreed to go out with him three times.”

She laughed again. “That’s specific.”

“Well, he kept making me promise

more things in the heat of the moment,” I

complained, getting up from my desk. I’d

take the rest of this call in the stairwell.

“And I was in a weakened condition. He

took advantage of me.”

“What do you mean? Were you drunk

or something?”

“Not exactly.” I pushed open the

stairwell door and waited for it to shut

behind me. “Just…really, really turned

on. He seriously does something to me. I

don’t know what it is. Well, I know

partly. His face alone melts my panties,

but once I saw the body, I was lost. And

he’s
really
good.” I’d caught myself

staring into space ten times already

today, reliving yesterday’s sexcapades in

my head. My undies had been damp

since 9 a.m.

“Damn. You’re a mess over this

guy.”

“I’m not a mess over him. I’m simply

—” I rolled my shoulders, trying to

relax, unclench my insides. “I simply

enjoy his company in very specific

ways. And those ways don’t involve

dinner dates. That said, he’s coming with

me to dinner tonight.”

“Well, I think it’s nice he wants to do

something other than bang. It’s normal.

And healthy. And maybe you’ll actually

enjoy the dates!”

“I don’t want to enjoy the dates,

Margot. Are you crazy?”

“Why not?”

I slapped a hand to my forehead.

“Why not? Have I not explained this to

you guys like a thousand times?

Closeness kills the spark. I never end up

having good sex with guys I date.”

“That’s because you don’t want to.”

“What? Why wouldn’t I want to have

good sex?”

“Because you don’t want to have

reasons to continue a relationship. Meh

sex gives you a reason to get out. And

great sex gives you a reason to avoid

getting in.”

“That is not true,” I said. But my

eyelid began to twitch. “Look, I was a

psych major. I get it. Do I fear intimacy?

Maybe. But it’s fine, because I don’t

want it, OK? I fear giant lizards too, but

that’s also fine because I don’t want a

Komodo Dragon for a pet.”

“Do you know how ridiculous you

sound? You’re the only woman I know

who wouldn’t be thrilled about this.”

“I can’t help the way I am.”

She sighed. “Do you want me to see

if Tripp can come? I originally told him

it was girls only, but if you want another

guy at the table, I can ask him.”

I wrinkled my nose. Tripp was short

for triplet—not that Margot’s boyfriend

was a multiple. But he was the third

Percival Dodge Jewett in his family, so

they went with Tripp for a nickname,

since his grandfather had claimed Percy,

and his father was called (not kidding)

Deuce. Personally, I thought he looked

more like a Percival than a Tripp, and