Sweet Dreams (A Sugar Rush Novel) (7 page)

The words
begged me to fuck you
rumbled through Polly like the trembling build-up of ocean waves. He was still loosely holding her wrist, his fingers at her pulse, and she knew he could feel the quickening of her heartbeat.

“You’re not doing it,” he said. “You’re not going to find some random asshole to hook up with. No way.”

“You can’t tell me what to do or not do.”

“Yes, I can. Because if you’re hooking up with
anyone
, Peach, that man is going to be me.”

Shock rolled through her. This was a joke, right? The CEO of Sugar Rush staking a claim on her as if she were a territory?

She tried to come up with some sort of indignant response
(“How dare you talk to me like that? I’m a modern woman! I’ll hook up with who I want when I want and how I want, and if you think . . .”)

Instead what came out was, “What makes you think I still want you?”

His grip on her wrist tightened, his fingers caressing her pulse as if he were igniting it with the sheer power of his touch. Which he rather was. Polly’s heartbeat increased, and she flicked out her tongue to lick her lips.

“You can’t hide what you want, Peach,” Mr. Stone said. “It’s one of the many appealing things about you. Have dinner with me.”

“What?”

“Dinner,” he repeated. “Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Um, is there a
question
in there somewhere?”

“No. But there will be some answers.”

The kitchen door clicked open.

“Mr. Stone, it’s almost time for your ten-thirty meeting.” A young woman who looked like a classic secretary—glasses, brown hair scraped back into a severe bun, sharp-looking suit—approached the stove. “Your brother Evan wanted to speak to you beforehand.”

“I’ll be there in a minute, Kate.”

The woman nodded and walked briskly away. Mr. Stone released Polly and stepped back. She drew in a shaky breath, aware that she was trembling from the inside out.

“You know, a little politeness goes a long way,” she remarked.

“Seven,” he said.

He was clearly not a man accustomed to rejection. Polly had a sudden image of him showing up at the door of her apartment above the bakery, with its peeling paint and spider webs. She almost winced.

“I won’t be home by seven tomorrow night,” she said quickly, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

“Where will you be? I’ll pick you up.”

God, the man was a bulldozer. “No. But I’ll meet you somewhere.”

He frowned. “Contrary to what you might think, I’m a traditionalist. When I ask a woman out on a date, I like to pick her up and take her to wherever we’re going.”

“Well, I’m a progressive who likes to do things my way. So if you want me to go out with you, I’ll either meet you somewhere or we won’t go at all.”

His eyes narrowed. A flutter of trepidation rose in her as she suspected not many people issued ultimatums to Luke Stone.

“You can come to my place.” He gave her an address.

It sounded like he’d conceded to her, but Polly wasn’t so sure about that. It felt more like he was luring her onto his turf. And she suspected Luke Stone’s
place
was a world away from the badly lit basement where she’d spent much of the past few months.

“Why can’t I just meet you at a restaurant?” she asked.

“Because I’m going to drive us there.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I’m also going to pay, in case you have any obstinate ideas about that.”

Actually, given her financial circumstances, she fully intended for him to pay. Not that he needed to know that either. She inputted his address into her phone, deciding a consultation with Mia was in order before she actually did anything.

“What’s your number?” she asked.

He rattled off his number, and she sent him a quick text with hers. A surreal feeling washed over her as she realized she was exchanging numbers and planning a date with the CEO of Sugar Rush, who’d just gotten all possessive about her.

What alternate universe had she just fallen into? Yes, she wanted to be a braver, more confident version of herself, but after the disaster at the Troll’s House she’d realized she should start small, like slowly tasting bits of fine chocolate instead of gobbling down a whole bar.

Luke Stone was more like diving headfirst into a rushing, melted chocolate river laced with sexy flavors like amaretto, salted caramel, chili peppers and—

Polly’s breathing quickened. She glanced up to find him watching her, and her gaze went unwillingly to his beautifully shaped mouth. Despite his arrogance and
I’m the CEO, obey me
attitude—or perhaps because of it—there was no question the man knew how to kiss. Really, really well. She didn’t need to have kissed a dozen boys before him to know that.

Mr. Stone rolled down the sleeves of his shirt and picked up his suit jacket. He stepped past Polly, then paused.

“By the way, Miss Lockhart,” he said. “Yes.”

“Yes . . . what?”

“You asked me the other night if I have a huge bed with feather pillows,” Mr. Stone said. “The answer is yes.”

He turned and walked away.

LUKE COULDN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT
her. The morning after his impromptu candy-making session with Polly Lockhart, he woke with the unsettling suspicion that she might even have invaded his dreams. Not that that should have surprised him.

She was such a pretty little thing—thick-lashed brown eyes, lips shaped like a bow, brown curly hair spilling to her shoulders. Nice, perky breasts, long legs, round hips. Just the memory of her warm, curvy body pressed against his made him hot. She’d tasted like whipped cream, chocolate, and rainbow sprinkles. Birthday cake. He’d had to fight not to run his hand up her bare leg and between her thighs to discover how hot and wet she’d been.

He groaned, tilting his head forward to let the water of the shower pound against his neck. After the Troll’s House encounter, he’d ensured Polly and her friend were safely in the car and on their way. Then he’d cursed himself for failing to get Polly’s last name. Because even then, he’d hated the thought that she’d go off again looking for another guy to artlessly hit on.

Then she’d shown up at the Sugar Rush kitchen yesterday with her hair all hidden beneath a plastic cap and her brown eyes wide with shock at the sight of him. He’d been shocked at the sight of her too—actually, more like something had slammed into his chest—only he knew how to hide it.

But Polly wasn’t a girl who could hide what she was feeling. She was too open, transparent, guileless. He’d known that the instant he’d turned from the pool table and seen her standing there, all flushed, bright-eyed, nervous excitement.

All sweetness.

Tension laced through Luke’s shoulders. Despite the fact that he owned a candy company, he didn’t do
sweet
. His women were cool, sophisticated, and carefully vetted. Polly was not. Unfortunately, that was exactly what made her so intriguing.

Well, that and the fact that she’d begged him to fuck her. And then snapped at him indignantly about his reputation. And called him a control-freak Capricorn, which was the truth. Not to mention, she was the reason he’d actually made candy, which he hadn’t done in more years than he could remember.

Shit. He couldn’t do this. He also couldn’t
not
do this. He’d made a mistake coming on to Polly and asking her to dinner, but the thought of her with another guy made him want to explode with jealousy and anger—which irritated him to no end considering he barely knew her.

Still. He couldn’t let that pretty girl loose on the town, looking for a hook-up. It’d be like sending a lamb into the lion’s den. Who knew what kind of dickwad would take advantage of her?

By asking her to dinner, Luke was just keeping an eye on her. He’d have to make sure
he
wasn’t the dickwad taking advantage of her, but he could do that. Much as he wanted her, he was nothing if not self-controlled.

So he’d take her to dinner, give her a brotherly lecture about the dangers a girl like her could get into, and drop her back at home with a kiss on the forehead.

Yeah. He could do that. It might kill him, but he’d do it.

He turned off the shower and switched his brain to his agenda for the day. First order of business was to confront his brother, who had been the reason Luke was at the Troll’s House at all the other night.

He took ten minutes to shave, another ten to dress, then answered a few emails while eating his usual breakfast of oatmeal and egg whites with spinach.

He got to the office three hours before anyone else, dealt with some overseas issues, put together new project teams, authorized two raises, and worked out a strategy for Sugar Rush to penetrate the “healthy candy” category.

“Morning, sir.” His executive assistant Kate came in right at eight with his protein drink, her sharp gray suit and severe haircut signaling the start of his day interacting with employees. “Board meeting at nine.”

“Is Evan in yet? He was supposed to be back from San Francisco by seven.”

“He just arrived. I believe he’s in his office.”

Luke stood and shrugged into his suit jacket. “Graphics is sending up a new design for the retro packaging. Bring it into the boardroom when it arrives, please.”

“Yes, sir.” Kate set the glass on his desk and handed him the meeting agenda.

Luke took it and went down the hall to his brother’s office, where the door displayed a plaque reading
Evan Stone, Vice-President of Marketing
.

Evan looked up when Luke entered. Tension thickened the air. A renewed wave of resentment flooded Luke.

“You want to explain why you didn’t tell me that Crown Foods approached you to take their chief operating officer position?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

Evan’s mouth tightened. “When did you find out?”

“Dad told me the other night. I tried calling you, but you didn’t answer.”

Guilt flashed in Evan’s eyes. Luke sat in the chair in front of the desk, his shoulders tight. Not for a second did he think his brother would ever actually leave Sugar Rush, but he hated that Evan hadn’t even told him that a competitor had approached him.

“What would you have done if I’d told you?” Evan asked.

“Told the Crown CEO to stop trying to fucking poach from my company.”

“Exactly.
Your
company. And you’d have yelled at me that I was betraying Sugar Rush by even thinking about leaving.”

Luke stared at his brother. “You
would be
betraying Sugar Rush. How could you even consider working for a competitor?”

“They’re not a candy competitor.”

“They’re a snack foods company, which means they’re going after a similar consumer base,” Luke snapped. “What did you tell them?”

“You really need to ask me that?”

Luke dragged his hands over his face, hating that he’d even hinted he would ever mistrust his brother. Two years younger than Luke, Evan had been his partner-in-crime for most of their young lives—partly because they’d always gotten along well and partly because of Evan’s heart condition, which motivated Luke to take on the role of vigilant, overprotective older brother. Not that Evan had needed protecting, given that he’d always been better than Luke at everything except sports.

Still, they’d become even closer when their parents had more children, with Luke not wanting Evan to be overshadowed by their younger siblings. Evan had never resented Luke’s protectiveness, but he’d been such a success—class valedictorian, scholarships, awards—that even without Luke he’d never have been overshadowed by anyone.

“Look, I get it,” Evan said. “You know that. But you also need to loosen your grip on
our
company. Your insistence that all ideas go through you is creating a bottleneck, and you won’t let anyone else handle the Alpine acquisition much less the building plans. If you don’t get back to delegating and trusting people to follow through, then we’re going to have another exodus.”

Luke was silent. He’d developed an iron-clad hold on Sugar Rush over the past year, but he’d been the reason the company’s profits, which had been climbing steadily for eleven years, suddenly nosedived.

He’d been the reason three of their top executives had jumped ship. Worst of all, he’d been the reason his family had been slandered. When the CEO of a venerable family-owned candy company became the center of an ugly, dragged-out paternity scandal, that shit hit the fan like a bullet train.