Page 7 of Candy

“I do. It’s easy to get to work. No excuses.”

I frowned. “I guess not, but you know if Howard is selling this place, you might need to find a new place to live.”

He rested his arm on the doorframe, and I tried not to check him out. “Yeah, I thought about that a few minutes ago.”

“Not that it is any of my business,” I stated and then turned away from him as I pulled my electronic measuring tape out of my pocket to get the size of the room.

“Yeah, well, if you hear of any small apartments available, let me know.”

“I will,” I replied and typed the measurements into my tablet. He was still leaning against the doorframe when I turned, his arms now crossed and his gaze locked on the leather vest.

“If you are out, why do you have that?”

He shrugged. “I wore it for twenty years. It is a little hard to let it go.”

“Would you go back?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s time to find something else to keep me occupied.”

That sounded like a good idea, and my eyes shifted over the bed, noting it was carefully made.

His laugh was deep, and I turned to look at him. “That wasn’t the kind of thing I was thinking about,” he nodded with his chin to the bed. “But hey, if you want to kill some time between the sheets, I won’t say no.”

“Hardly,” I retorted, giving him a slightly annoyed look. I’d been thinking along those lines and didn’t want him to know. “I’m done here, but I need to carefully check the basement.”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, I have noticed a few cracks in the walls and ceiling. That would indicate a foundation issue.” I pointed one out near the stairs. “There are a couple downstairs, but they are worse up here, which makes sense.”

“Are you saying that there is a foundation issue?”

“There might be.”

He stared at the ceiling. “And you can tell that by a crack in the ceiling?”

“Yep, I can.” I stepped toward the stairs and then spun back around suddenly. Bollard was right there, and the two of us stared at one another.

“You did it again,” he said softly, and I noted his eyes were darker now in the low-level light. His gaze shifted to my lips, and then he touched my bottom lip with his thumb before putting it to his mouth, where he licked it.

A slow grin slipped over his mouth. “Cotton candy, huh? I guessed right.”

“What?”

“Your lip gloss is cotton candy.”

“It is.”

His hand slipped to my hip, and I swayed slightly toward him. “Is your mouth as sweet as your lips, Candy?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you find out for yourself?” The brazen invitation left my lips, and he didn’t hesitate to move forward when his brain realized what I had said.

His hand cupped my cheek, and his lips brushed mine before his tongue swished over my bottom lip. A second later, he pressed his mouth firmer against mine. Without thought, I leaned into him, and my lips parted, allowing his soft, warm tongue to brush against mine, and a moan, as if he were approving, vibrated in his throat.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds, and when he leaned back, I felt altered. Something deep inside me felt like it had shifted, but I had no clue why or how.

“That would be a yes,” he said as he stared at me. “Your mouth is most definitely as sweet as those lips.”

I swallowed, trying to find my voice but unable to put any words into a sentence that would have made sense.

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