Candy Store

Callie heard a noise in the hall and looked up through the thick, frosted glass of the commercial refrigerator. A tall man in a tux was standing just outside the door.

“Oh no.”

She tried to push herself back further into the shelves, hoping that her dark pink dress would help her to blend in with the crates of supplies. Maybe if she didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, didn’t even breathe, he would go away. And she could be left in peace with her memory of the taste of his skin and the beating of his heart on her lips.

Callie had spent the past ten minutes rubbing the goose bumps on her arms and trying to convince herself that she had had enough of Derek. She didn’t need to see him, didn’t need to touch him, didn’t need any more of his kisses.

But now that he was standing only feet from her—somehow she had known all along that he would find her and now he had—it was all she could do not to fling the door open, pull him inside the cramped space with her, and rip his clothes off.

Who was she kidding? She wasn’t going to be content with just the memory of him, with just her dreams of what it would be like to feel him naked against her, writhing in pleasure.

At the same time, an annoying inner voice of reason was telling Callie there was no point to giving in to her baser needs. One night of mind-blowing sex wasn’t going to help anything. It wasn’t going to save her business.

And it wasn’t going to save her pathetic love life.

Although, she thought with a small upturn of her lips, it was guaranteed to be fun.

The doorknob turned and she stood up and backed into the wall, pressing herself back against the cold edge of the laden shelves as far as she could.

In the dim light of the refrigerator, Derek’s warm voice wrapped around her.

“I thought I might find you in here.”

Callie was both alarmed and aroused by his presence, by the way he filled up the room with his essence. The crazy mix of feelings made it hard for her to speak. Again.

“I, uh…” she said as he stepped into the refrigerated space with her.

Less than four feet from her, which was at least four feet too close for Callie’s comfort, he closed the door behind him with a soft but definite click, never once taking his eyes from her.

His voice laced with humor, he said, “There’s no lock, but at least it’s private. We’ll just have to hope no one needs any milk.”

Looking for a way out, for some sort of escape path, willing herself to think fast so that she could get the heck away from him, she said, “Actually, I was looking for the milk, for, um, coffee for the reception.” Picking up a carton of milk, she said, “So now that I’ve found it, I…”

Derek took a step towards her and Callie, who felt as if she was the lioness being hunted by a needy lion, dropped the carton of milk on the floor. It broke open and spilled onto her shoes, but she hardly noticed the wet splash of milk.

All she could feel was his heat, as if he was drawing him to her via some sort of sexual infrared.

She could try all day, all week, all year, to tell herself she didn’t want what he was offering her. But it would never stop being a lie. Because she did need it. Because she did need him.

Desperately.

He pinned her against the shelves with one arm on either side of her. “You weren’t looking for milk,” he said, his voice husky, a breath away from her lips. “You were looking for this.”

And then he kissed her.