Sugar Rush

"I'm going to kill him." It would be quick and painless too. He wouldn't know what hit him.

First though, she had to make it to the little cabin in the valley and deliver the truffles. And what the hell was Edward, her business partner, thinking anyway? Accepting an order -- a small, one-box order at that -- for someone way out here in the middle of nowhere? It was bad enough that it had snowed last night, but even worse was the fact she hated driving north through the mountains in winter. For that alone, Edward deserved to die.

What in the name of all that was warm and cozy was she doing here?

Edward usually made all the deliveries. He loved meeting their customers, loved to gab more than any woman Jane had ever met, and he always used it as an excuse to go shopping in some boutique he swore he'd never heard of before. Of course there were no boutiques where she was presently. There was nothing up here at all: only trees and mountains and snow. Lots and lots of snow.

A stop sign. Great. "What the hell do I do now?" She pressed ever so gently on the brake pedal and slowed to a stop. "This is why I live in the city," she muttered. She could either walk or take public transportation. When it came to driving in the mountains, she drove like a little old lady: very slowly and very cautiously.

The bright red of the sign stood out like a beacon among the white snow and brown trees covering the landscape. She pulled out the written directions from the side pocket of her purse on the seat beside her. "'At stop sign, turn right. Go a quarter of a mile to next stop sign, take a left. Follow road to cabin.' Should be easy enough."

In truth, Jane loved the mountains. In spring and fall, especially with the rich colors, but even in winter they were gorgeous. The changing of the seasons seemed so effortless. She wished life's changes were as effortless. Especially where romance and men were concerned.

Ten more minutes, and she was driving down the winding trail leading to the cabin. The snow on the wood-lined drive was packed in, and she was grateful. Driving over a patch of ice would not be good right now. She might have a very boring life but wrapping her vehicle around a tree was something that really wouldn't improve things.

She pulled up and parked next to a nice black truck, brand-new from the looks of it, and one that she'd need a stepladder to climb into.

Jane put the small SUV in park and turned off the engine. After a quick glance in the rearview mirror to check her makeup and hair, she grabbed the box of truffles and got out. Hopefully, she could get back home before the streets started to ice over. She'd also like a few answers from Edward about why she was out delivering one and only one little four-truffle box so far from the city in the dead of winter, along with why he'd insisted she dress like a pink marshmallow in heels. He might be gay, but he knew absolutely nothing about heels and snow, but he'd been so earnest about her dressing a certain way that she'd found herself bundled up and out the door before she'd even realized how absurd her outfit was.

She stepped carefully, one foot in front of the other, not wanting to completely embarrass herself while she teetered precariously up the snow-covered walkway to their customer's front door. Did she look as comical as she imagined?

Yes, Edward was going to die for this. So help him, he'd better have DVR'd her television shows or his death would be slow and painful rather than the quick, painless way she'd been envisioning.

Lost in plotting the demise of her business partner, she slipped on a patch of ice masked as soft, powdery snow. She righted herself as she started to topple over and was able to recover her balance but not before her heart skidded to a halt in her chest. "Shit."

Standing still, she took a couple of deep breaths and glanced around. "Right, Jane. Who the hell is going to be around to witness your clumsiness in the middle of freakin' nowhere?" Well, unless the customer had seen it, and then she'd be completely mortified.

"Nothing to do about it now," she muttered, again putting one foot in front of the other.

* * * * *

"What the...?" Graham stood with his arms braced against the window frame and watched the wobbling woman outside on his front walk. Dressed from head to toe in pink and white fluff, she carried a pink box with a dark brown bow and was wearing the most absurd shoes.

Snow had fallen the previous night, and the drive up the mountains would have been a little tricky. She looked like a ski bunny, albeit a rather curvy one. He didn't do ski bunnies. Much as he liked outdoorsy, adventurous women, something about the winter resort crowd had never appealed to him. He preferred privacy and solitary mountain escapes with roaring fires.

She stepped onto the porch and lowered the hood of her jacket. Her hair was a rich, dark brown wavy mass that stopped at her shoulders, and her cheeks were rosy from the cold. She was muttering something between barely moving lips, then pasted on a dazzling smile, shook her head, and knocked on the door.

Graham opened it, swung it wide, and grinned down at her. "My oh my." He let his gaze travel leisurely from the top of her tousled mane to her pointed toes. She was a delectable, pink confection, crazy-ass footwear and all. From her mumbling on the porch and her scrunched-up face to the moment she shook it off and gave his door the most beautiful smile, his cock had stirred in his jeans and he'd had a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Oh. Wow. I, ummm...I have a delivery for..." She fumbled in her coat pocket then pulled out a card, stealing small glances up at him as her cheeks reddened further. He would bet his next paycheck it wasn't from the cold this time. "For a Mr. Graham Hall. Are you him?"

He gave it an exaggerated thought. "If I wasn't, I would certainly lie and say I was." She frowned. He grinned. "What are you delivering?"

"Huh? Oh. Ummm, candy. Truffles, to be exact."

She couldn't stop staring at him. Did she like what she saw? He sure as hell did. "I didn't order any truffles."

"You didn't?"

"Nope. I don't even remember the last time I ate candy."

Her frown deepened, and her brows furrowed. It was all he could do to keep from pulling her against him so he could taste those pouty lips. She was adorable. "I'm sorry for the mistake, Mr. Hall."

"Quite all right. Would you like to come in and warm up for a bit? I can make some coffee or hot chocolate. I might even have some marshmallows around here."

"I...uh, no, thank you. I should get back to town and see about clearing this up. I am so, so sorry for bothering you."

She wasn't looking at him any longer. "You didn't. Bother me, that is, and I really must insist that you come in and get warm. Your feet have got to be cold in those...those shoes." He grimaced as he said the word and took her by the arm, ushering her inside before she could say no again. Besides, it was damn cold out there, and he was glad to have the door closed.

She eased her arm out of his grip then backed up against the door. "Really, this isn't necessary. My car has a very good heater and...wait, what's wrong with my shoes?" she asked, looking down and wiggling her toes, lifting her feet off the ground one by one as if trying to see what he found so distasteful.

"They're nothing but two pieces of leather, a couple of strings, and a spike." And would be much better suited to digging into my ass while you were on your back. He cleared his throat and tried his best to ignore the dirty thoughts running through his mind. He glared down at her feet rather than looking at her face, at her lush mouth, in her expressive eyes. "They are the most ridiculous things to be wearing while trudging through the snow. How in the hell do you even walk in those on a good day, much less when there's ice covering the streets and sidewalks?"

"I...well, it wasn't snowing in the city, and I didn't know I would have to trudge through the snow, and I park inside a garage, so I didn't have to walk on any icy streets or sidewalks. At least I didn't until I got here. You should really shovel your walkway. It's dangerous not knowing where one is walking." Her mouth had tightened, and her eyes had narrowed in his direction. She was not happy with him or his comments, and he was falling all over it, seeing her spark. Her smile twisted him all up inside, and her irritation with him did too. He loved that she couldn't hide her emotions, that she showed everything she was feeling.

"Common sense should have told you that you wouldn't be taking a leisurely stroll once you got up here. We're in the mountains in winter. You need snow shoes, not those," he offered with a dismissive wave of his hand in the direction of her feet.

He was rewarded with a huff. She crossed her arms over her chest, boosting what little of her cleavage he could see from the small opening at the top of the zipper in her jacket. Yum.

"You know what? You said I hadn't bothered you, but you're not being very nice and over a pair of... Look, just because you don't like them --"

"I don't like them because you're an accident waiting to happen. You wouldn't have slipped on the ice if you'd had proper shoes on."

Embarrassment flooded her neck with heightened color. For a second, he felt bad at revealing that he'd seen her come close to falling on her face in his front yard, but the feeling didn't last long. She could have been seriously hurt had she fallen.

She set the box of chocolates on the table beside the door and depressed the latch behind her. "Have a nice afternoon, Mr. Hall. Keep the truffles. Give them to your neighbor, your girlfriend, or throw them out."

She opened the door. He put his hand on it over her head and closed it back again. "Stop. Please. I'm sorry for insulting your choice of footwear." She just looked at him over her shoulder, one brow lifted in a quizzical expression. "Come over to the fire. Take your...whatever they are off and warm yourself up before you go back out there."

When he made to put his arm around her waist, she shrugged him off and moved out of reach, walking over to the couch. She wasn't lithe and skinny, his candy delivery girl. The ski bunny outfit couldn't hide the natural curves of her hips and ass.

She was all woman under that bundle of fabric.

She unlaced her shoes, and he heard her sigh with pleasure when she got them off. She stuck her feet out in front of her toward the fire and wiggled her pink-socked toes. There was nothing flirty or coquettish in her movements. He found that interesting. She wasn't trying to come on to him; she wasn't trying to entice him.

What a fun challenge she would be.

"I offered coffee or hot chocolate to you before. Would you like me to make some?"

"No, thanks. I'm fine."

He joined her on the couch after picking up the box of chocolates and settled into the corner behind her. "Want one?" he asked, holding out the unopened box to her.

She shifted on the couch. "No, thanks."

Graham shrugged to himself and untied the ribbon, lifting the lid. "Uh, honey? The --"

"My name is Jane."

He grinned behind her. "All right. Well, Jane, there are no truffles in the box, there's only r--"

"What!" She turned around and took the box from him, looking inside it herself, finding only small pebbles glued to the bottom of the decorative paper cups. "I'm gonna kill him. I am going to wrap his tie around his gay little neck and strangle his gay ass," she muttered.

She put her shoes back on and began to lace them up. He put a hand over hers to still her movements, but she shook him off again. He did his best to ignore the fire that licked through him when he touched her but couldn't. Setup or no setup, the woman lit him up from the inside out.

"I'm, ummm...I'm so sorry the box was empty, and I'm so sorry that he played this silly little game and that I intruded on your afternoon." She stood then walked around the back of the sofa to the door.

Graham stood as well and hopped over the back of the couch. He landed in front of her, startling her to a stop. "You didn't intrude on my afternoon. I've told you that."

"Still, this was an awful thing for him to do, and I just need to go." She made to step around him, but he moved in the way. He didn't want her leaving like this. He was so attracted to her, so taken by her that he wasn't ready for her to go.

He didn't usually fall so hard for a woman. Hell, he usually didn't fall at all, but he couldn't help it with one. It was instantaneous the second he saw her from the window. He didn't know why and while he didn't have a "type" he preferred, she was unlike any woman he'd ever been drawn to. She was real and grounded. Her rounded body was unlike the tall lithe women that he'd found his eyes following if he saw them on the street but that never went anywhere because he couldn't find anything that interested him beyond their looks. No, he found this one to be just about perfect, and that she brought out some protective instincts in him, well, all the better. He hadn't felt protective of a woman in a long, long time.

"Him who?"

She sighed and cocked her hip, irritation lighting her eyes. "Edward."

"Who is Edward?"

"He's my business partner. The one that sent me out here. The one that dr..." Her eyes widened as she looked at Graham, then narrowed until he could barely see the golden brown color. "Did you know about this?"

"Know about what?" he asked, keeping his voice neutral.

"He set me up. With you. He planned this. 'Oh, Jane. Can you run this delivery for me? I'm terribly late for a meeting.' He's never late for meetings. He never does anything last minute. He never misses an opportunity to meet clients. He's the front man. I'm the candy maker."

"You think this is a setup and I was in on it?" Graham asked, stepping back a little as she pointed a finger at him in accusation. For every step he took backward, she took one forward, poking him in the chest.

"Yes. He can't leave well enough alone. It wouldn't surprise me at all if you were a setup and this was all a ruse to get me out of the house and alone with a man. Edward's worse than a woman sometimes, always sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. At least a woman would know when another woman was ready to try again, but a man -- gay or not -- doesn't have a clue."

She sure was something when annoyed. Unwittingly, an image of her aroused and naked in front of the fire formed in his head. Her lush body all rosy and pink from the heat, her thighs spread wide, and her legs draped over his shoulders as he lowered his face to the warmth of her sex. His hand closed around her wrist, and he pulled her against him.

"What are you doing?" She tugged at his hold, but he just tightened his grip.

His hand smoothed her hair away from her face, his fingers tracing the softness of her lips before he stole a kiss from her. It was light and teasing, giving him just a taste. When he lifted his head, she was staring at him with wide, deer-in-the-headlights eyes. "Jane?"

She said nothing, just continued to look at him. After a moment, she blinked rapidly, her face scrunching up with what he perceived to be disdain, confusion, fear. He wasn't sure what she was trying to convey with that look but before he could say anything further, she shook her head and rushed out the front door.