He had never once deviated in his behavior since.
Jared said nothing. Candy kept her eyes on the screen.
"I guess I'll just type in that we met at work."
"Fine."
Her fingers trembled as she typed, and she blew her hair out of her eyes, ignoring the disappointment she felt. Dang, what did she expect? Jared to say his eyes had met hers over the length of the meeting room table and it had been fate?
There was no doubt in her mind he could not even pinpoint the first time he had seen her.
Jared was desperate. They hadn't even gotten to the hard questions yet and he was in danger of barking and drooling.
The first time he had seen Candy was branded into his mind. He had walked into Stratford Marketing and had gone into the meeting room for an eight A.M. appointment with Harold.
Candy had been there, wearing a cherry red turtleneck sweater that matched her lips. Her blond hair had been pulled back into a twist of some kind and she had on a knee-length white wool skirt and boots. He had felt as if he were staring at a life-sized peppermint, all white and shiny and sweet.
The sight had stunned him, giving him a spontaneous and mortifying erection, and had left his brain and body sizzling like a pound of bacon.
He'd gotten the hell out of that meeting room and thus had started the past eight weeks of dodging her like a bullet. She wouldn't kill him, but she'd send him back to the unemployment lines.
"Next question." He crossed his leg, widely, to accommodate for the throb in his pants, and picked a nice spot on Harold's desk to study. There was a picture of a couple of pre-teen kids. Gangly. Little Harolds with hair.
"We're cooking now," she said with a perky little smile. "We're already up to question four."
Just what he did not need. She was acting cute. It had been better when she'd been talking about her family. That had at least made her seem real, a live human being with feelings and obviously someone he could not just tangle in Harold's office with and walk away with no regrets or recriminations. But when she did this… this bent-over, smiling thing, he forgot everything, including his own name.
"What's the matter?" She sat down in the chair next to him, and pulled the laptop closer to the edge of the desk. "You're scowling and I haven't even read the question yet."
He glanced at his watch. "It doesn't feel like we're accomplishing anything. I think we need to skip a few questions or something."
With a little laugh, she let her fingers fall onto the back of his hand. Her fingers, for God's sake. On his skin. Touching him.
"What's your hurry?"
Now hold on. He turned in his chair, hoping the movement would knock her hand off his. It didn't.
He didn't like that tone in her voice. That let's-see-where-this-goes laugh.
"I thought we were in a hurry. You said you were before."
"Did I?" Her fingers squeezed his hand, her thumb sliding down around his, rubbing back and forth. "If I did then I've changed my mind. Sometimes slow is better than fast, don't you think?"
It was a struggle not to twitch. Or grab her and kiss the Southern smile out of her.
"Slow isn't better with Internet speeds. Or when you're driving on the highway. Or waiting for a paycheck."
Her head tilted. There was a gleam in her eye he just didn't trust.
"But slow is better when you're savoring a good meal. Or taking a stroll by the lake. Or making love."
Ah, hell. He'd been really, really afraid she would say something like that. Jared went perfectly still, concerned that any sort of movement, of any muscle in his body, might be misinterpreted as an invitation.
He said slowly, carefully, neither smiling nor frowning, "But we aren't doing any of those things."
Candy pulled her hand back. He was not reassured by the action since it was accompanied by her leaning way forward and undoing that loyal button on her jacket.
Those wonderful full lips parted with a little moist sound and she said, "We're not doing any of them… yet."
Jared swallowed. Hard. Instinct told him to ignore the comment, to change the subject, to spill a cup of coffee on Harold's computer and get out while he still could.
That's not what he did, of course. He had to know. Just had to. "Are you interested in doing any of those things?"
Candy had him. She had done it. She had gotten a reaction from Jared, and it was a very positive one, if the flare to his nostrils was any indication.
"I'm interested in one or two. How about you?"
He nodded. "A walk by the lake sounds nice."
She sat straight up. Was he serious? "It's March and forty degrees outside! One strong wind and we would be coated in icy lake water."
"It was your idea. And I wasn't aware we were talking about doing any of those things together."
His posture didn't change and his expression was the same neutral gaze, unblinking and in control. It took all she had not to just get up and crawl out of Harold's office in humiliation. But if she was any judge of men, which given her ex-husband was questionable at best, there was lust brewing in Jared's eyes.
Way in the back, but there nonetheless. Plus the nostril flare.
It was enough to keep her in her seat. "Well, I certainly wouldn't want to do any of those things alone. Would you?"
Candy smiled at him and shrugged out of her jacket, struggling with the sleeves. She ended up wiggling back and forth tugging on the jacket, trying to keep her blouse sleeve in place, until Jared took hold of both sleeves and stripped her of the jacket before she could even take a breath.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome. And I don't like to… eat alone either."
Have mercy. Having spent the last two years wondering why she couldn't get the least bit aroused, Candy now had her answer. She had been waiting for Jared. And all he needed to do was breathe and she found herself with damp panties.
"Question four." Her voice shattered on a mouselike squeak and Candy cleared her throat. "Where do you most like your partner to touch you?"
Candy leaned forward and looked closer at the screen. Was that really what it said or had her personal thoughts done a wishful Freudian voice-over?
Jared said, "What the hell kind of question is that?"
One on the couples' guide to harmony, apparently. Candy had read the question right.
"Harold can't possibly expect us to answer that. And we've never even touched each other, so it's completely invalid."
"Unless we just answer where we'd like, ah, someone to touch us." Candy shocked herself right out of the chair. She bounced up and paced around the backside of her chair, hiding behind Jared.
Of all the tacky, inappropriate, over-the-top things to say. He was going to give her a quarter to go buy a clue. He wasn't interested, and throwing herself at him was just embarrassing them both.
She knew it. It was coming. Where was a whale's mouth to dive into when you needed one?
Jared swiveled around to face her and said, "Well, that's easy enough for a man to answer. I think we all want to be touched in the same place. And I'm not talking about our feet."
She was sure he wasn't.
Before she could think of a response that didn't make her sound like a priss or a total slut, but a nice "I'm interested" in-between, Jared spoke again.
His hand was slung over the back of the chair, and his shirt strained across his muscular chest. "So, if someone was going to touch me, that's where I would want it to be."
Candy forced herself to stop pacing. "Why don't you type that in on the assessment then?"
Jared let out a laugh. It was the first time she had ever heard him amused enough to laugh. It was a deep rich sound that washed over her and sent her goosepimply.
"I'll do that." He grabbed the laptop and typed with both hands, fast and efficiently. "What should I put for your answer? Where would you want to be touched, Candy?"
Everywhere. Times three.
"Weeell." She drawled the word out, hoping time would give her courage. She knew what she wanted, it was just a matter of saying it out loud.