Bad Boys Online Page 8

  "We're not a couple, Harold. We don't need counseling." He tugged on the pant leg of his black suit trousers and tried not to panic.

  He didn't want some unlicensed Internet shrink telling him he had the hots for his mother or some other such sick shit.

  "Yes, you do. There are unresolved issues between you, maybe some domination control problems from your past life, and I want this resolved before we lose Chunk o' Chocolate." Harold pointed to his computer, sitting on his large masculine cherry desk.

  "You're all enrolled, ready to go. This is a three-hour session. You are not to leave my office until you've finished the session and given me the printable certificate of completion."

  Jared couldn't breathe. Oh my God, Harold was locking him in the plush corner office with Candy for three hours? Alone? With a touchy-feely counseling session to muddle through?

  Maybe he could suddenly develop a fever. Or trip and take his eye out on the corner of Harold's desk.

  Trouble. Had he pegged her or what?

  * * *

  Candy watched the horror flash across Jared Kincaid's face with interest. He really didn't like her.

  She had joked about it, but it was starting to bother her. Everyone liked her, especially men. She had been born a flirt, had always known how to work a smile and a hair flip. It was in her genes, passed down through the women in her family, and instead of fighting it, she had learned to embrace it.

  Candy was proud of her femininity, but even more so of her brain. But just because she had that brain didn't mean she wanted to deny she was a woman. She liked wearing heels, and soft flirty dresses when the occasion warranted, and she liked the casual push-pull between men and women.

  She liked to flirt, and she was good at it. Candy knew she in no way qualified as a slut, having slept with only two men by the age of twenty-seven. Nor was she a dick-tease as her ex-husband had once accused her. To her mind, you were a tease only if you let a man touch, then taunted him with no. You were a tease only if you promised him sex, then laughed in his face.

  Those were nasty games she wasn't interested in playing. But smiles and friendly conversation, that she couldn't resist. And men responded.

  All men except for Jared.

  She was starting to take it personally.

  Jared was saying coldly, "I don't think I can do that, Harold. I don't see the value in that type of exercise."

  Ouch. Probably not the best thing for Jared to say. Candy waited, watching Harold's bowling ball-shaped face turn pink.

  "I think there is value. And that's all that matters. Don't make me angry, Jared. We're all about love here at Stratford Marketing."

  Jared's jaw twitched. Candy pressed her lips together to prevent laughter from spilling out.

  She didn't think Jared was all about love. Jared was all about getting his job done and getting the hell out of the office, from what she could tell. He didn't socialize with any of the staff, and he was downright cold to her.

  There was a control, a raw edgy dominating control that flickered in his black eyes, and showed in his rigid stance every time she saw him.

  It fascinated her.

  And he was gorgeous.

  It took a lot to draw Candy's interest. Usually men were falling all over her, in a semi-idiotic tongue-wagging sort of way. Maybe that was the reason her eyes were drawn to Jared over and over again.

  When he looked at her, she burned. Deep between her thighs where it mattered.

  He always looked away with a flicker of disinterest. He never smiled.

  Whereas she knew she tended to look as if the wind had blown her into a room, Jared was impeccable in his black suit and merino blue shirt and tie. His black hair never changed, but was short and smooth with a touch of gel that flipped the front up half an inch.

  Jared stared at Harold. "So you're saying I have to do this?"

  Harold, bless his confused and misguided heart, said firmly with lips pressed together, "That's what I'm saying."

  Candy wasn't looking forward to answering probing questions about past lives and intimacy issues either, but she was looking forward to three hours alone with Jared.

  Surely in three hours she could make him smile.

  Or groan.

  Oh, my, where had that thought come from? Appalled at herself, she shifted in her chair and clenched her thighs together. There was enough energy between them to light up the Chicago skyline for three days and nights.

  Or heat up Harold's office for three hours.

  "Fine." Jared broke eye contact with Harold and leaned back in his chair, unbuttoning his suit jacket. His casual slouch belied the anger apparent on his face.

  Candy smiled. "What a great idea, Harold. Jared and I are going to have so much fun getting to know each other."

  In more ways than one if she had any say in it.

  Harold nodded. "I thought so too. Here." He turned his laptop around to face them. "You're all set to go. See you in three hours."

  "Okay." She gave Harold a little finger wave as he headed for the door.

  Harold paused. "Be nice to each other."

  "I'm always nice," Jared said in a hard low voice that shivered over Candy.

  Exactly how nice could she convince him to be?

  Candy knew she should be ashamed of herself. But never, ever had she engaged in a casual affair. Nor had a man ever taken so much as one minute to think about satisfying her. They all looked at her and wanted. No one ever cared about what she wanted.

  Since the day Jared had walked into the office two months ago, she had been watching, wishing, imagining he would be different.

  Jared was making her crazy, making her so achy and desperate that she was liable to start rubbing up against her desk at work if she didn't find some kind of release soon. Would it be so wrong to indulge a little?

  If she could break down Jared's mysterious defenses, she would see he was like any other man, out to please himself, and the urgent need would dissipate. Then they could do the Chunk o' Chocolate ad, and she could get back to concentrating on something other than what his chest would look like bare.

  "I'm nice too," Candy reassured Harold as he gave them both a doubtful look.

  Then the door closed and they were alone.

  Jared did nothing. He sat in his chair without moving a muscle and stared out the window.

  "Well, no sense in pouting, Jared." She stood up and leaned over Harold's desk, dragging the laptop toward her. "Let's get started."

  If she were completely ignorant of her own sexuality, she would have no idea that her backside was in Jared's face. But she was aware of her body, and knew very clearly that bending over meant she was showing a long display of leg. And that her behind with her skirt hugging tight over it was pushed slightly out toward him. She even knew to splay her palms on the desk, lock her elbows, and bend one knee to make the view all the more enticing.

  Candy knew how to attract a man's attention. She just didn't know how to keep it focused on her once she had it. Jared, who displayed such iron-clad control, looked as if he would never walk away from a woman until he knew she was satisfied. It would be a matter of pride for him, she suspected. And whoo-whee, was she ready to be satisfied. She wanted a reaction from him.

  "Shit," Jared said in a nasty angry whisper.

  That was a start.

  Candy grinned at the computer screen. "Hmmm? Did you say something?"

  He spoke louder. "I said shit. I can't believe I'm letting Harold get away with this."

  Candy read the title of the online course in front of them. "Rediscovering Harmony: An Intimate Step-by-Step Guide for Couples in Jeopardy."

  Jared snorted.

  "We have to type our names in." She starting typing and felt Jared stand up and move beside her.

  "You're not really going to do this, are you?"

  He filled her space, smothering her with a heady masculine scent of cologne and coffee.

  "For my job, I can do Harold's silly little counseling
." She flipped her hair out of her eyes. "I don't have anything to hide, and it's not like it means anything."

  "True."

  There seemed to be a world of meaning in that word and she shifted away from him, her cheeks burning. He was leaning over her to read the screen, his suit jacket brushing against her hip.

  "Is Candy your real name?"

  It was the first time Jared had ever expressed any interest in her, and she felt her confidence shake a little. Jared might just be too much for her to handle. But she'd never know unless she tried.

  "Yes. It's not short for Candace or anything."

  He made a noncommittal sound.

  She typed JARED kincaid into the spot for the partner's name. "What's your middle name?"

  "Just skip it."

  Instead, she typed in HOOVER, then smiled at him. "Am I close?"

  "No." He didn't even pull a half smile. "Let's get on to the first question."

  Candy nodded. She was eager enough herself. To see exactly how far Jared would be willing to go.

  Chapter Two

  Jared waited for Candy to click on the first question. They needed to make their way through this stupid counseling as fast as humanly possible. Before he grabbed her, threw her on the desk, and shot all his control to hell with a taste of her.

  If they rushed through the questions, he could be out of here in an hour and run to the break room and toss ice cubes down his pants. It was his only hope.

  This was all Harold's fault. Or Candy's, for having the nerve to walk around with an ass like that. He could blame Jessie, who had gotten him fired from his last job. Or it could be because he'd never been smart enough to get married and indulge himself with regular sex.

  Or maybe he was just a horny idiot.

  With a soft spot for pouty doe-eyed women.

  Candy leaned over the desk again. "Okay, keep your shirt on."

  Jared ground his teeth together.

  Candy's lips moved as she read the question silently.

  "Well?" He waited for her to enlighten him as to what embarrassing personal details they had to reveal.

  "This isn't bad at all, Jared. I think it's supposed to illustrate to couples how little they really know about each other. And to rediscover their interest in one another."

  Whatever. Jared sat back down in the chair so Candy's thigh would stop brushing his arm. "So what does it say?"

  "Question number one just asks where you're from. You know, where were you born and where did you grow up."

  Candy was right. It wasn't as bad as he had suspected. And if Harold wanted to pay him to talk about growing up in Skokie, that was fine with him.

  She glanced back at him with a smile, her long legs still straight, her elbow resting on the desk. "Guess where I was born."

  He pictured her wandering around a wicker-filled bedroom with louvered windows, wearing a satiny camisole and panties and biting a peach. God, when had he gotten such a vivid imagination? And why did it have to involve Candy in her underwear? " Georgia."

  She scoffed. "No, dead wrong. Tennessee."

  Oh, there was a difference? "Sorry, I'm not an expert on Southern dialects."

  Her little pink tongue slipped out and wet her bottom lip. The full one. The one that demanded he bite it. Jared shifted again, wondering if it was possible to sustain an erection for three hours with no other stimulus than dirty thoughts.

  "You're a Yankee through and through, aren't you?"

  She made it sound like that was slightly more desirable than an ant infestation in her kitchen.

  "I've lived in Chicago all my life."

  "Brothers and sisters?" Candy wasn't looking at the computer screen, but was just lounging there draped across the desk, looking mildly curious with a little curving smile gracing the corner of her mouth.

  He had no reason to answer. He should suggest they get on with the damn quiz. Instead, he found himself saying, "Three older brothers and one little sister. My parents were insane, apparently."

  She threw her head back and laughed, those blond wispy curls tumbling down her back. "Your mother must have loved kids, that's all."

  He fought a smile, but couldn't stop it. "I'm not sure that she did. She used to tell us that she was guaranteed a spot in heaven. That God would never deny entrance to a woman with five kids as bad as we were."

  She laughed.

  "Were you bad, Jared?" Her voice was throaty, her laughter evaporating, but amusement still lingering in her eyes.

  For a second, he thought she was flirting with him. And his answer slipped out before he could check it. "Oh, yeah. I was very, very bad."

  Her eyes went wide. The full smile came back.

  Shit. She was flirting with him. And he was doing it back.

  Before she could say something that he would regret, he quickly spoke in what he prayed was a casual, innocent, no-sexual-intent kind of voice. "What about you? Any brothers or sisters down there in Tennessee?"

  There was a slight pause, before she said, "I have a younger sister."

  Jared tried to picture another woman looking like Candy and couldn't quite conceive it. Candy was one of a kind. Delicious.

  "So what's her name? Taffy?" He realized immediately that sounded a lot ruder than he'd intended.

  But Candy just laughed. "Actually, her name is Margaret and she's studying the cello at Julliard."

  "You've got to be kidding me." Margaret?

  Jared got a visual of Candy sitting with a cello between her legs. Somehow the image was hard to conjure, though he did feel a pang of envy for the fictional cello and the prized position between Candy's legs. But Candy and orchestral instruments just didn't go together in his mind, no matter what erotic spin he could put on it.

  Yet he could see Candy smiling and intelligently directing a room full of ad clients. Damn. Smart and sexy. It was a lethal combination.

  "No, I'm not kidding." Candy pulled a strand of hair out of her mouth, one leg still straight, the other bending at the knee, sending her hip out provocatively to the side.

  It also dragged her skirt up another solid inch on that side, showing way more than Jared needed to see. Not that he was complaining. It just sent scissors through another thread of his control.

  "Margaret and I have different fathers. My mom says my daddy was her true love, a brief burst of passion that left her heartbroken and alone before I was even born."

  Candy shrugged. "He left her for another woman when he found out she was pregnant. So two years later she married Margaret's dad because she thought he would stick around and take care of her."

  Jared dragged his eyes off Candy's thighs. Leering at her suddenly made him feel no better than the lecher who had run out on her mom. He placed his eyes squarely on her face and vowed not to let his gaze stray. "Did he stick around?"

  "Yeah. They're still married and very happy. They really love each other and he never made me feel any different from Margaret even though I wasn't his blood daughter."

  She smiled then, and Jared was amazed at the lack of bitterness in her voice. "He adopted me and gave me the last name Appleton. I was three by then, so too late to change my first name from Candy. So I've been Candy Appleton ever since."

  Then she stood up. Her legs went way, way up as she stretched, reaching her arms over her head while she went up onto the tips of her toes in her high-heel shoes. Her blouse tugged and pulled, straining to escape the waist of her skirt and molding to her breasts. Her suit jacket splayed, held together by one overworked button, and Jared watched in morbid fascination.

  He was waiting for the whole thing to blow. The button to fly off, the blouse to slide up, her creamy navel skin bared to him all while she tottered on heels at his mercy.

  Then he would take the spot previously reserved for the cello and ease her skirt up.

  Jared calculated how much money was left in his checking account and gave himself up for lost.

  Chapter Three

  Candy hoped like heck she knew wha
t she was doing. Jared looked as if he could chew up nails and tie them into bows with his tongue. She couldn't tell if he was turned on, furious, or both.

  And what had possessed her to run on at the mouth about her mother and stepfather? Not that she had an ounce of experience in having casual affairs, but she had to assume you didn't start them out by talking about your family.

  Give her another five minutes and she'd be whipping out photos of last Christmas and her cat wearing a Santa hat.

  She finished stretching, her legs stiff from bending over the desk, and chewed her lip as she thought over her next move. This shouldn't be so doggone hard. She'd been flirting since the cradle, as her mother frequently liked to remind her. But now when she needed it, all she could think to do was smile, which was lame and appeared to have no impact on Jared whatsoever.

  It must be nerves. After all, there was a lot more at stake here than getting good restaurant service. Before she left this office today, she wanted a date with Jared. A date that would end up with them naked and Jared turning that intense concentration squarely on her.

  Time to take a deep breath and turn up the heat.

  "What's the next question?" Jared said, shrugging out of his suit jacket.

  Oh, Lord, he had broad shoulders. She didn't think she'd ever seen him without his jacket on, and it was a sight worth lingering over. She lingered so long he raised an eyebrow.

  "The question?"

  The quiz. Right. With elephantine effort, she turned around and tried to focus on the computer screen, her cheeks burning.

  Jared was turning up the heat, and he didn't even know it.

  After quickly typing in their responses to birth place, she went on to three. "Question three. Describe the moment you met."

  That was easy. Jared had strolled into the office one Monday morning back in January and she had known lickety split that he would be the one to pull her out of the sexual deep freeze she'd been in since her divorce. He had been wearing a black suit with a burgundy shirt and tie, and he had looked at her, scanned her, and moved on. Dismissed. Dissed.