Just Like Candy. Kimberly Kaye Terry
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their gazes locked. His eyes were trained on her mouth and seemed to darken when her tongue swiped along her full bottom lip.
Her gaze traveled over his face, cataloging features that were already burned into her memory.
He’d recently returned from Florida, and had gained a light olive tan. The color contrasted vividly against his light-gray eyes.
Although he wasn’t handsome in the typical model, GQ way—no, his harsh good looks were beyond anything so tame as model perfection—he exuded raw masculine appeal that drew her in like a magnet every time she was anywhere in his vicinity.
Davis Strong had the ability, no matter how put together she thought she was, to make Candy feel like a ten-year-old naughty schoolgirl.
Although the feelings he stirred in her whenever she was in his presence weren’t the feelings a young girl would, or should, be having.
Naughty or otherwise.
Not that she wouldn’t mind playing the naughty little girl for him, if ever he was so inclined.
Despite her wayward dreams of late, where she’d cast him as the unsuspecting male lead in her very own porn flick, he had yet to ask in real life.
But heaven help her if he did. Or help him, as she knew exactly what she wanted from him.
Despite the disapproving looks he would cast her way, she knew he was attracted to her, no matter how he pretended otherwise.
But he’d yet to act on it. And she damn sure wasn’t so desperate for attention to be the one to initiate anything. No matter how fine he was, she told herself, clenching her thighs together when her body taunted her, quickly responding to his simple touch.
When he finally released her and moved away, she released a sigh, not realizing she’d been holding her breath. “I need to talk to you about Angelica,” he said, bringing her mind back to the reason he had sought her out.
“Please, have a seat.”
When he turned his head from her, his eyes surveying her messy office, she refrained from rushing into an explanation that she’d come in early to clean.
As he sat in one of the few chairs in the cluttered office not filled with papers, Candy’s gaze wandered over his big body, subtly, from the corner of her eye.
The gray T-shirt he wore clung to his broad chest. It looked as though it had been washed a thousand times at least, it was so soft-looking. The light gray color of the T-shirt was the same color as his eyes, but didn’t come close to matching the intensity.
His long legs were encased in worn jeans, his hard thighs bunching against the material as he sat.
Yet, for all his good looks, Candy was drawn to him for reasons beyond the physical. Reasons such as his love for his daughter, along with the way he treated the kids who frequented the center.
He took time out to laugh and talk with them whenever he was there. He was real with them, no pretense.
Candy longed to get to know the real Davis, the one he presented to the kids, when he thought no one was watching. She wanted to be the one responsible for making the deep slashes in his lean cheeks appear whenever he smiled or laughed at one of their jokes.
The Davis she saw was one who closed up around her, a scowl on his handsome face as he broodingly watched her, when he thought she wasn’t looking.
The Davis he presented to her made her wonder what in hell she’d done to make him so surly around her, yet gave off enough sexual sparks to cause a brush fire.
To make matters worse, whenever she was within a five-mile radius of him, she turned into a blushing, gauche, tongue-tied woman who was about as sophisticated as one of the teen girls who attended the center.
“Sorry to barge in like this. Your assistant told me you were in,” he said, after settling his large frame in the small chair.
“It’s fine. I came in early to clean.”
“Is this what you normally wear to clean?”
Candy noticed his gaze centered on her midsection, and glanced down at herself.
He would have to come today, when she’d dressed even more casually than normal.
Her plan had been to clean, not entertain one of her girls’ parents. Even if said parent was incredibly fine and sported hard chiseled muscles outlined to perfection beneath his T-shirt.
She tried to discreetly tug the skimpy top she was wearing, emblazoned with the phrase taste like butta, into the waistband of her jeans when she saw him staring at the small gemstone she wore in her belly.
Candy refused to admit, even to herself, how his attention to her body jewelry affected her. His gaze then traveled from her belly button, up the length of her body, his gaze hot and direct when he met her stare.
The intensity in his light-colored eyes caused her pulse to quicken, her breath to catch in her throat, as their gazes locked.
She folded her arms over her breasts, to hide her nipples’ reaction. After walking to her desk, she sat down. It was that, or embarrass herself and fall down.
“I’m here because of Angelica.”
When he mentioned his daughter, his somber tone made her forget her irrational, unrequited and silly obsession with him for the moment.
“Is everything okay with her? She’s not hurt, is she?”
“No, nothing like that. She’s been cutting school. Her principal called me into the office yesterday to tell me. Seems like she’s been doing it for a while,” he admitted, and ran a hand through his short, dark-blond hair in frustration.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Strong.”
“Please, Ms. Cain, call me Davis. We’ve known each other long enough to dispense with formalities,” he offered.
Candy was thrown off guard. He’d never extended the offer for her to call him by his first name.
“Thank you, Davis. And please, feel free to call me Candy,” she offered in return. “That’s my nickname. The girls like to call me that. They think it’s funny my last name is Cain.”
“Candy Cain, huh? I once wondered if that was your real name or not.”
She quickly glanced over his expression, to gauge his intent. The look in his eyes seemed more curious than condescending and Candy relaxed.
“No, I understand about unconventionality. My Aunt Mildred raised my sister and me, and, as you know, Aunt Mildred isn’t a conformist in the least,” he laughed huskily.
Mildred Davis had been one of the first women to own and operate a large construction and architectural firm in the city of Stanton. She’d also been the first female millionaire in the city.
“What’s going on with Angelica?” She guided the conversation back to the reason Davis had sought her out.
“Angel cut school on Thursday and gave the teacher a forged permission slip from me. And it wasn’t the first time it happened.” Once again, he raked a hand through his hair in frustration.
“It wasn’t the first time she skipped school, or forged a note?” Candy asked.
“Both, unfortunately. This is her second time skipping and forging a note with my signature. She had a substitute teacher the first time and the second time around she timed her absence when she knew Mrs. Douglas, her regular teacher, would be gone.”
“She missed the day Mrs. Douglas was teaching, and the day the substitute came, she returned to school?” Candy asked, seeking clarification.
“Yes.”
“At least she’s creative in her manipulation.”
The laugh he uttered was more like a snort, and his expression was sheepish