Squeezing her fists shut tight, Candy tossed back her hair and went for broke. "My breasts."
Jared wasn't looking at her, but she saw his fingers pause over the keyboard. His voice was low, persuasive. "Would you say specifically your nipples, or all of your breasts, Candy? And touched with hands, or with a tongue? I want to be as accurate as possible you know, for the counseling."
Candy gripped the back of the chair to prevent falling down in a dead faint. Lord, the man was sexy even on the back of his head. "Both. Everything."
The fingers resumed. "Got it."
Then Jared scrolled down the screen. "Let's see about question five."
Candy had never been a drinker, but she felt the sudden need for a splash of bourbon. Or a barrel of bourbon. She had started this, aided by Harold's ridiculous intimacy quest, and she needed to see it through. Her crotch demanded it.
"I'm ready."
"What is the difference between sex, love, and romance?" Jared snorted. "Oh, this one's easy."
"Really?" Leaning against her chair Candy said, "So what's your answer?"
Jared didn't even look up at her as he typed. "Sex you do, love you feel, and romance you say."
Well he just had it all figured out. Candy protested, "That's not true. You can do love, too, by showing someone you love them with a gift or a thoughtful gesture. You can say you love someone. You can show romance with a candlelit dinner and you can feel romantic. Sex you most certainly can feel, and talking and romance are all involved in sex as well. They're all interconnected but very different."
As anyone could see.
Jared glanced at her with a pained expression. "You're right. I was wrong."
His answer startled a laugh out of her. "What?"
"Isn't that what you want me to say? We could argue, but I figure this just saves us time."
"No, I don't want you to just agree with me. I want to hear your opinion. I want to discuss it, have an exchange of ideas, and possibly learn something new from your knowledge."
He looked doubtful. "No woman has ever wanted to hear what I have to say. Not really."
Candy looked down at him, taking in his gorgeous dark eyes and black hair. The way his cheekbones were so strong and sensual, narrowing down into a proud chin and thin lips. She had a sudden insight. Women probably treated Jared the way men treated her.
Like an object. Like an arm ornament.
The rush of understanding made her blurt out, "I want to hear what you have to say. Whether I agree or not."
His eyes swept over her, and she stood still, defiant, daring him to shut her down. Let him frown at her now and she wouldn't mind so much.
He didn't frown. He paused, pursed his lips together, then shook his head slightly. Finally he said, "I'll keep that in mind."
It was enough for her.
He added, "But we're sticking with my original answer because yours is too hard to type in."
Candy laughed and leaned forward. She was edging closer to him, hoping to innocently glance at the screen over his shoulder. Which would force her to brush against him, of course.
"Oh, look, there's a bonus section between questions five and six. It's a tip on keeping the romance alive." Jared shook his head. "Jesus, what the hell was Harold thinking? Didn't he even look at this thing?"
"I doubt it." Candy put her hands on the back of his chair to steady herself and bent over his shoulder. If she turned to the right, their lips would be a smidgen apart. But for now, she looked straight at the screen.
"What's the tip?"
Jared turned. His breath hit her cheek. "Looking for some advice?"
She shrugged and the movement caused her breasts to brush against his back and shoulder. "You never know. It could be something good."
"It says you should massage your partner. Starting at the feet and working your way up, with special emphasis on erogenous zones."
Candy thought about Jared's hand massaging up her legs, zeroing in on her inner thighs, and settling in for a long, hot haul.
"They also suggest the use of edible massage oils, with flavors like chocolate and raspberry."
Oh, Lord. The idea of him licking chocolate sauce off her nipple contributed to her increasingly damp panties problem. If she spent much more time with Jared she was going to have to start carrying a spare pair.
Candy turned. Jared was watching her. His lips were close enough to touch. To lick. To kiss.
She whispered, "It sounds sticky."
The smell of coffee rushed over her as he breathed, a little harder and faster than was normal. Candy pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and tugged.
He said, "It sounds delicious."
"If you're hungry."
"Oh, I'm hungry, Candy. It's lunchtime, you know." Jared's eyes dropped to her lips.
He was going to kiss her, he was going to kiss her, he was going to… turn back to the computer.
Dang it. Where was a jar of chocolate massage oil when she needed it?
She was going to have to start carrying that around in her purse along with the spare panties.
Chapter four
Holy hell, he had almost kissed her. Had he learned nothing from Jessie and the clandestine copy room kiss? Work and sex didn't mix. Ever.
Even when you were locked in a cozy room with the office babe and she was standing so close a gnat would have trouble squeezing between you.
Especially not when you were discussing the titillating effects of chocolate sauce during a massage.
And certainly not when the same office babe kept lobbing off personal remarks that made you feel as if she might actually listen to you if you spoke.
Candy was revealing herself to be hiding as many layers as an onion. As Jared stared at the computer screen in front of him, he wondered how one woman could be intelligent, kind, funny, and so damn gorgeous all at the same time? If he wasn't careful, he might actually find himself tumbling into some serious like.
If she could cook too, he was toast. Crispy burnt toast, without a job.
"What's the next question?" she said.
Shit, who cared? He had bigger problems here than Harold's dumb-ass counseling. Like the massive appendage throbbing in agony in his pants.
He read the question anyway, painfully aware there was no relief in sight for his poor neglected dick. "Number six. Do you like the city or country better?"
Knowing he should be grateful for the lack of reference to smearing food sauce on each other's bodies, he answered the question quickly. "City."
As he typed, Candy said, "Country."
Jared didn't risk a look in her direction, since she was still hovering over him. But he couldn't stop himself from saying, "A country girl, huh? I'm not surprised with that twang of yours."
Candy stood up. "I do not have a twang. You can't even tell I'm from the South."
Right. Candy had Southern Belle stamped on each and every curve of her body, and she would probably even moan in pleasure with a cute little accent. "You're not a 'Hee-Haw' episode, that's for sure, but there is no way you could pass for a native Chicagoan."
He chanced a look over at her. Her hands were on her hips. "Are you insulting me?"
"Not at all."
She looked ready to argue, but he staved her off by reading the next question. "Number seven. What's your favorite way to spend an evening together?"
Did that mean before they got naked, or after?
Candy had relaxed back against his chair, her hip nestled snug against the side, the twang comment apparently forgotten. "Well, I would want a nice romantic dinner, at home. Good wine, some jazz playing in the background, and a video we could watch together. We would talk about our day, the movie, everything, and then, uh, proceed from there."
It sounded very ordinary. It sounded like exactly what he wanted.
The thought startled him. His relationships had never been particularly romantic. He didn't seem to inspire those feelings in women. Usually the only conversation involved their coaxing and pleading that he do things that he knew were bound to get him into deep shit. Like copy room kisses.