At about seventeen he'd given up on expecting anything that resembled friendship with a woman. The only women he could ever claim to have had an honest-to-God conversation with were a former fifty-year-old coworker, and his friend Kim, whom he'd known since they were nine. He was guessing it wasn't a coincidence that Kim also happened to be a lesbian.
Even his weekly chats on the phone with his mother involved more platitudes and discussion over his laundry and the weather than anything real.
"What about you?" Candy asked him.
He thought about lying, or saying something quelling, but instead he said, "The same. Only add a fireplace to it."
The reward was a glorious smile that spread from one end of Candy's golden face to the other. "Really?"
The pleasure that little word brought him had him shifting from discomfort, and it had nothing to do with his still-very-much-there erection. It was worse than he could ever have imagined.
He had tumbled already.
He actually liked her.
Which meant he was so screwed.
"Really," he confirmed, then rushed on. "So, question eight. Here we go. Why did you choose your current career?"
Easy enough from his point of view. Because it paid reasonably well, he was good at it, and involved nothing gruesome, like slinging trash or probing body cavities.
Candy shifted so that her opposite hip jutted out. "Well, it's sort of complicated. I had to pick a career that was equal parts men and women because if I was a woman in an all-male field, I wouldn't be taken seriously." She glanced at him. "The name, you know."
The name, the hair, the legs, the accent. Just for starters.
"Yet I can't work with all women either. Women seem to exclude me and aren't friendly. I've never been able to figure it out, but it seems like the harder I try, the more they pull back."
Try jealousy. Candy would draw male attention no matter what she did, and women would react to that, he was sure. In the negative.
"So, I decided marketing had a good male-female mix and I like the challenge of anticipating the client's needs."
Well, his answer sounded stupid now. Good thing he hadn't said it out loud.
"I enjoy my job, but I still don't have many friends here. I can't seem to break into the inner circle." She shook her head sadly, all trace of flirtation and the businesswoman gone. Candy just looked hurt and vulnerable.
"No one really likes me."
His brain begged him not to say it. His heart and other body parts didn't listen. "I like you."
Candy crossed her arms over her chest and laughed, a nervous startled sound. "No, you don't. You avoid me like I have something catchy. That's why we're in Harold's office, remember?"
He stood up and turned to her, moving into her space before she could dart away. His hands fell on each of hers. Her eyes went wide as he spoke.
"Maybe that's because I liked you too much."
Then those lips that had been taunting his every waking moment, and a good portion of his sleeping ones as well, lifted and rounded into a perfect O. He took advantage of her surprise by leaning forward.
A second later his lips were on hers. It should have been short and sweet, just a light touch then retreat. The second he tasted her lips, all tangy and plump, there was no chance of that.
She was tense, her hands gripping his sleeves, but her mouth fell open for him on a soft sigh. Without warning his tongue decided to take a detour by her tonsils, and hot pulsing need gripped him below the belt.
Someone moaned. He hoped like hell it wasn't him.
Candy held on to jared for dear life and struggled to stay upright. Have mercy. It felt like he was eating her mouth, licking and sucking and tugging.
It was too much; she couldn't keep up with the hard, fast movements of his tongue and mouth. The only thing she could do was let him consume her, hang on, and groan her pleasure.
She had the moaning thing down pat, whenever there was actually time to take a breath. Mostly she was fighting for air and working hard not to wobble in her heels.
His hands rose up her arms to her face and cupped her cheeks. It wasn't tender, it was fierce, dominating, his strength holding her still while he moved over her mouth.
Confusion mixed with passion, and Candy squeezed his arms harder. This wasn't what she had expected. She had envisioned tight control from Jared, emotion firmly out of the picture as he kissed her with skill and charm.
After her ex-husband and his selfish lovemaking, she had vowed to find someone different, who would focus on her needs, not his. She had thought Jared would be that man.
But Jared was anything but reserved, and her reaction was anything but what she had expected. She was enjoying herself. It was arousing to know that she had sent Jared skittering over the edge, dropping his control somewhere back about question six.
Jared stepped away, taking his heat and masculine scent with him. "Jesus."
Candy forced her eyes open, and dragged in a shuddery breath. Wiping her wet mouth with her thumb and index finger, she watched him, wondering if he would stammer or apologize.
She should have known better. Jared was no stutterer.
"See, I told you I like you." He straightened his tie, but kept his eyes trained on her.
Candy felt her cheeks burn. She had to admit, that was a much better answer than a muttered apology would have been.
None of this was working out the way she had planned it. Her original idea had been to have Jared ask her out, then seduction would ensue.
This was wilder, more uncontrolled, almost dirty. They had been making out in their boss's office. And she liked it.
"Maybe you do," she agreed. Then with an acting ability she hadn't known she possessed, she sauntered past him, catching her arm on his as she approached Harold's desk.
Jared sucked in his breath. Candy didn't look back.
She bent over in front of Harold's desk again and propped her chin up with her hand. "So, how long have you… liked me? As a friend."
Jared pried his eyes off Candy's legs and wondered what game she was playing now. His feelings of friendship had nothing to do with that kiss. That kiss was based on two months' worth of stored-up lust.
Friendship had just come into the picture in the last half hour, and he had to assume he'd just about blown that with his grab-her-and-mash-her kiss.
He found he actually regretted the idea that he might have shattered the growing rapport between them. Maybe if he retreated now, he could salvage some kind of friendship between them.
Dropping into the chair so he wouldn't be tempted to touch her, he cleared his throat. "We haven't really talked to each other a whole lot, but I respect the work you do. You're very efficient, always on time, and your presentations are professional and thought provoking."
He sounded as if he were giving her a yearly productivity review. But better that than saying what he really thought.
Which was that she had an adorable smile and said funny things that made his heart squeeze. Not to mention she had a body that made him wish he were a sponge so he could rub all over it. Wet.
She made a noise with her teeth. "That's not what I mean. I'm talking about liking me."
He was drowning in this conversation. Since he had prom-ised to behave himself, he would not repeat a single one of the R-rated ideas running through his head, all focusing on how much he could like her.
Instead he said, "That's what I was talking about too."
There was a pause, and her finger hovered in front of the screen. "Look, question nine fits right in with what we're talking about."
What were they talking about? Because hell if he knew.
"What do you like the most about your partner?" Candy was still propped up on her hand, leaning over the desk.