Nothing's Sweeter than Candy (8 page)

“It ended months ago, but I don't think he's gotten the message yet.”

“I have a feeling this guy doesn't think your message applies to him. He looks like trouble to me, Candace.”

“You're probably right. But there's nothing I can do about it right now.”

• • •

The more Brice learned about Candace, the more fascinated he became with the woman behind the voice. The evening had been a success, in spite of the unwelcome interruption by Andrew Nash. Now there was a man with some obvious issues. There was something overtly disturbing and sinister about him, and Brice didn't like the uneasy feeling he felt simmering in his gut. He had a feeling she hadn't heard the last of him.

Pushing nagging concerns aside about whatever unknown element Nash brought to the equation, Brice's thoughts returned to dwell on Candace. He considered calling her just to make sure she'd arrived home safely—and the thought surprised him.
Careful buddy, that's the first sign of getting sucked in.
But after only a few moments of hesitation, he ignored the warning and made the call anyway.

On Monday morning, Candace looked up in surprise to see Joyce standing in front of her desk, hands on her hips and tapping her foot impatiently. “So? How did it go? I didn't grill you for details when you called after your date because it was late. But it's time to spill the goods. What was it like? Did you have fun? Was he nice? Is he a good kisser? Are you going to see him again?”

“Whoa, Nelly. Take a breath, okay?” Candace laughed. “I know it's been a while since we've dished about my love life because, well, I haven't had one. But it was just dinner.”

“Humph. ‘Dinner,' my ass. I saw the way he looked at you. I'd bet my Louis Vuitton luggage that his mind wasn't entirely on the menu.”

“He was a perfect gentleman. So whatever you think he had in mind didn't happen. He kept his hands, his thoughts, and his lips to himself. Honestly, I had a nice time. Unfortunately, there
was
one snag in the evening—and he goes by the name of Andrew Nash. He showed up at the same restaurant.”

“Um, that must have been awkward.”

“Oh Joyce, you don't know the half of it. He was acting so strange, strange even for Nash. It was like he'd gone off the deep end or something.”

“Why do you say that?

“Because he's under some kind of illusion that we'll get back together, or that we've never broken up. I'm starting to wonder if I should be concerned about him.”

Nash had changed. He wasn't acting like your regular garden-variety asshole anymore. All the signs said he was turning into something a lot more complicated. Before she'd come to her senses and dumped him, he'd made it perfectly clear that he couldn't have cared less about her, one way or the other. Now he was suddenly acting borderline certifiable? She could deal with ego and attitude. But craziness? That was a whole other ballgame.

Candace decided to tell Joyce about Nash's behavior since the breakup—including the phone call to the office. If anyone would know what to make of it, she would.

“I don't like the sound of this,” Joyce said. “His behavior shows classic signs of being a stalker. Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?”

“I didn't think it was important. I thought he was just pissed because I ended the relationship. But after Saturday, I'm not sure what to think anymore.”

“How did Brice react to the situation?”

“He seemed concerned. He thinks he's trouble.”

“He may be right. Maybe I should have a chat with Brice. If Nash continues to harass you, you let us know. We'll figure something out.”

“Hold up. Who's this ‘we' you're talking about?” Candace laughed. “What makes you think Brice is still going to be around, or that he'd be willing to get involved with a woman with a potential stalker problem?”

“Oh please. I know pure primal attraction when I see it. And I can tell by the smile on your face that the feeling is mutual.”

“Yes, well don't let appearances fool you—mine or his. I just got out of a ‘primal attraction' relationship, and look where that's gotten me. Believe me, I'm in no hurry to trade one bad situation for more of the same.”

She wasn't about to admit that she wanted to see more of Brice Coleman, despite her instincts and her inner voice. Yeah, she wanted to see “more” of Brice—
a completely naked and exposed Brice.

“Do you honestly think that's what it would be like with him?” Joyce asked with quiet concern.

“No, not really. Brice is a man of a totally different caliber. He's considerate, open-minded, and not at all pushy. I think I like him, but he seems as cautious as I am about moving too fast. We're both just feeling our way and taking our time. We're planning to get together this weekend. He has tickets to a jazz concert
and
backstage passes.”

“Color me surprised,” Joyce said with teasing sarcasm.

The week went by so slowly it seemed to take forever before Brice found himself standing at Candace's door with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw the small bunch of peach-colored roses mixed with green fern and delicate baby's breath. “Oh, Brice, thank you. How thoughtful and charming,” she said as she buried her face in the petals and deeply inhaled their natural perfume.

“‘Charming' is my middle name, but you can call me ‘Prince' for short,” he said with a chuckle.

“Prince Charming? Uh, I believe that name's already been taken. It'll take some powerful inducements to convince this girl you can live up to the reputation. But,” she smiled while taking another whiff, “I must say, you're off to a good start.”

“I'll have you know, I'm more than capable of rising to the task. I was trained at the hands of none other than Beatrice Coleman, my mother, the queen of etiquette and charm. She told me to never show up at a woman's door empty-handed. But, whatever I might lack in charm can be made up for in other ways.”

“Really?” she asked with a naughty lilt to her voice as she reached out to take his hand. “I can't wait to hear more.” She gave him an impish smile and guided him inside. “You can tell me all about it while I put these in a vase and finish getting ready.”

• • •

The plan was to have dinner first and then go to the concert. Brice was more excited than he let on, though still coming to terms with his growing attraction. Dinner was twice the fun and every bit as interesting as their previous date, and the concert was the icing on the cake. He was astonished to hear her singing along with the band. Discovering she was familiar with the music pleased him. Finally, when she threw her arms around his neck and sang the lyrics to him in her beautiful musical voice, he nearly melted in his seat. The woman was full of surprises.

After the concert he took her backstage to meet the band. Her eyes sparkled with excitement like she was a child on Christmas morning. He hadn't mentioned that the band members were personal friends and he'd sat in on jam sessions with them on numerous occasions. When she found out about his close connections, she looked at him with a kind of sweet and awed respect. And in that moment, he'd give anything in the world to have her look at him like that all the time.

• • •

“Thank you for a great evening, Brice. I had a wonderful time.” Candace purposely took a step back to place distance between them. The scent of his cologne and the nearness of his body wreaked mayhem with her senses. The tantalizing, masculine smell of subtle spice aroused her desire, and her head filled with new fantasies and wild, improbable ideas. The combination of no sex in God knows how long and screaming hormones put her in the perfect position to make a Class-A fool of herself. Meanwhile, the answer to her prayers was staring her in the face. The man was entirely too sexy, too enticing, and too damn fine. If this date didn't end soon, she was going to do something stupid—
like climb all over him and jump his bones.

She had every intention of ending the evening with her dignity intact and keeping her hands to herself. She leaned in to give him a sedate peck on his cheek and say goodnight, but unfortunately made the mistake of looking up into those glacial blue eyes. She abruptly stopped short and found herself captivated by the intensity of his stare.

“You're not just saying that, are you?” He laughed lightly as he gently pulled her forward and tucked an unruly strand of hair behind her ear. The steady stare and the tender gesture froze her in place. She was drawn in by the desire and unconcealed raw passion she saw swirling beneath the surface.

“Of course not,” she responded nervously, standing so close she could feel the heat from his body radiating between them. All of a sudden she felt vulnerable, unsure what to do with her hands. “Seeing how much you enjoyed being with your friends was the best part of the evening.” She spoke quietly as her fingers brushed at imaginary lint and pulled timidly at the lapels of his suit. She looked up and allowed her eyes to travel over the strong features of his face. His lips drew her focus and dragged her inexplicably forward, like two strong magnets pulling her in against her will.

Her heart pounded in her chest and thundered in her ears as she stared in near-breathless expectation. He leaned down and lightly brushed her lips, and her hands firmly gripped his lapels and pulled him forward the rest of the way. Their lips met with tentative and tender exploration, testing the softness and feeling the hunger that surged and arced between them. He tasted of wine, after-dinner mints, and the promise of blistering-hot, toe-curling sex. She pulled him closer and held on tighter as the kiss deepened and became more potent.

He held her face in his hands as he plunged his tongue into the heated depths of her mouth, stroking her tongue and teasing her inner recesses. Freeing her face, he cupped the back of her head with one hand as the other crept lower to palm her bottom and pull her in flush against his growing arousal. There was no mistaking his attributes or his desire.
Just like in my fantasy
, she thought vaguely as reticence and resistance merged and melted away. She eagerly pressed forward, forgetting all her good intentions, lost in the heat of his kiss and the stirring sensation of his hardening manhood pushed intimately against her. The kiss was charged with electricity that infused her veins and short-circuited her brain, and neither could stop the powerful rush of energy that filled the air and crackled and snapped around them.

They were a jumbled mess of lips, arms, and legs in a matter of seconds. It seemed to go on forever, an unending exchange of breath, passion, and raw desire, curling her toes and sending bursts of scorching heat straight to her already aching core. Enveloped in a spiraling vortex of flames, she was unaware and uncaring that there was no chance of escaping being singed by the blaze. Eventually, the need to breathe prevailed. She gradually became aware of her breasts pressed flat against his chest and her back against the wall. She reluctantly surfaced and recovered enough of her senses to draw back from the edge of no return.

This had to stop, now, before they ended up stripped naked on her front doorstep. On some deep-rooted level of self-preservation, she knew instinctively that sex with Brice could mean trouble down the road. He wasn't anything like the type of men she usually dated, a warning in itself she could be dealing with elements beyond her control. The thought was enough to force her to pull away, and once again put distance between them. Taking a much-needed breath, she made herself look him squarely in his artic-blue eyes, fierce with unappeased hungry desire.

“Brice. We have to stop.” She pressed shaky hands upon his chest as her mind struggled desperately to reclaim her lost wits. “I'm sorry. I'm not a tease. Really, I'm not. But, right now, I'm experiencing a little confusion. My body's saying one thing, and my head is saying something else. There's no way I can possibly deny how turned on I am, and I won't even try. But I'm not ready to let the heat of the moment overrule good sense.”
Not yet
,
she thought, giving a nervous laugh.

Brice gave her a brooding look and brushed his thumb across her lower lip before he reluctantly released his hold and stepped back. He stuck one hand in his pocket and scrubbed the other down his face. Shaken and confused, he appeared to be filled with the same warring feelings and doubts.

“It's okay, Candace. I'm a big boy. I can take no for an answer,” he responded hoarsely. “Just—just give me a minute. I need a moment to readjust my thinking.” He took a steadying breath and backed up a little further. “I think you're right. We should slow down. There's no need to rush into something we may both regret later, after the sparks have died out. Let's just call it a night. Besides, we have all the time in the world to get to know each other.”

He reached out and gave her upturned face one last gentle brush with the back of his hand, then moved aside to allow her to unlock the door. She pressed the key to the lock, when unexpectedly the door cracked and swung inward. Brice immediately reached out and pulled her back and away from the open door. Candace's eyes grew wide in alarm.

“This can't be. I know I locked it when we left.”

“Yeah, I know you did.” Brice pulled her away from the house, back toward his car. “Does anyone else have a key?” he asked.

“No, no one except Joyce.”

He took out his phone and called 911.

• • •

“I don't want to stay here,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “He might come back. I don't want to be here alone.” Candace and Brice stood in the middle of her living room staring in disbelief. The place was in ruins, vandalized. Scattered about the living room were shattered picture frames; family photos had been removed and torn to shreds. Books had been pulled from shelves, pages torn and bindings broken, and thrown into a pile on the floor. In the bedroom, her clothes had been pulled from the closet and thrown about onto the bed, the chair, or the floor. The room looked as though it had been hit by a tornado. Her underwear had been taken out of the drawers and ripped to pieces and thrown onto the floor as well. Written in lipstick on the mirror above her dresser was the word WHORE.
The entire place looked as if it had been ransacked by an angry mob.