How Sweet It Is (9 page)

“You’re not lacking,” he said without needing to think about it.

“I suppose it’s a matter of opinion. I found him lacking, and I never did anything about it. What does that make me?”

“Loyal.”

“It’s a matter of opinion, isn’t it?” she replied, sounding thoughtful.

If he ever ran into the tosser, he’d hit him. “No, it’s not.”

Viola smiled. “You’re sweet, you know? How do you feel about macarons?”

“I don’t have any.”

“I do.” She got up and fetched her purse. As she returned, she opened a little bag and held out a bright green cookie. “It’s pistachio. Do you want one?”

He hated pistachio, but she looked so eager that he said, “Yes, please.”

Smiling happily, she brought it to him. Then she sat back on the stool.

He ate his in one bite so it’d be over quickly.

Viola, on the other hand, ate hers slowly, making sex noises, like someone was eating her and she loved every second of it. As she finished the last bite, she glanced up and caught him staring at her. She tipped her head, not speaking until she finished chewing. “I was enjoying it,” she said unapologetically.

He shifted, his crotch tight. He set the sandpaper down. “I’m done for now.”

“You are?” She pouted.

“Yes.” He would not be swayed by that tempting mouth. He wiped his hands on a rag as he went to get her coat.

“This is rather abrupt,” she said as she held her arms out for him to help her into it.

It was for both their good. As he slid it up her arms, he was close enough to inhale her scent, sweet like the macarons but so much more appealing. He squeezed her shoulders, unable to help himself.

Viola turned around, suddenly in his arms. “Did I offend you?”

If being gorgeous was offensive. He stared at her lips. “No.”

“Then what is it?”

He lifted her chin and imagined kissing her. It’d taste of lust and sugar. “I want you.”

She blinked once, long and slow. Her cheeks flushed, just the way they would if he slid his hands all over her body, the way he wanted to.

When she spoke, her voice was husky, as though she could already feel his hands on her. “I don’t want to mislead you. I want your art.”

“You’re not getting it.”

“I’m very convincing.” She looked him in the eye without an ounce of guile or seduction. “I think you’ll give in to me.”

He pulled her closer. “The only way I’m giving in to you is if you’re naked under my body.”

Her face went as crimson as her coat.

Good—maybe that’d give her pause. He stepped back and handed her the purse. “Think on that. And don’t come back unless you’re willing to have sex with me.”

She blinked, obviously not used to propositions. She walked out without saying a word.

He closed the door after her, knowing he’d scared her off. He wasn’t going to see her again.

At that moment, Marcel joined in the jazz, which had gone mournful—a low wail in the gray morning.

Chapter Nine

“Hey Chloe!”

She didn’t have to turn around to recognize the voice. She hunched over the books in her arms and held her breath. Hopefully he’d pass her by.

Hunter Vicks slowed down right next to her. “Are you trying to be invisible?”

She sighed. “It’s not working, is it?”

“It’d work on anyone else, but I can see past your invisibility.” He smiled. “It’s a scientific principle, and I’m really good at science.”

He was really good at everything, including making her breathless when he smiled. She scuffed her toes against the pavement.

“So when do you want to start?” he asked.

That was direct. She looked at him, and her heart beat faster. “I don’t need a study partner.”

“I do,” he said brightly. “That way we can divide the work and I’ll have more time for other things.”

“Like what?”

He blinked like he hadn’t expected her to show any interest. If only he knew how interested she was.

Leaning in, he lowered his voice. “Can you keep a secret?”

She’d managed to keep it secret how badly she wanted to kiss him, hadn’t she? “Of course.”

“I play the guitar. I’m practicing to join a band.”

She imagined him on a stage with girls grabbing at him, and she frowned. “Are you good?”

“Not at all, which is why I need all the practice I can get.”

She bit her lip, trying not to smile.

“So what do you say?” He brushed his hair back, his gaze unfaltering. “Let’s get together at lunch tomorrow to talk about it.”

“Lunch?”

“Where we eat together,” he clarified. “It usually happens midday. Unless you’re morally opposed to food?”

She pictured eating with him and she already started to choke. He wasn’t going to want to eat with her when he found out what an awful partner she would be. She had nothing to contribute.

“I can’t. I have to”—a light came on in her head—“
go home to walk my dog.
”

“Is that like having to wash your hair?”

She sighed. “I really do have a dog.”

“What’s its name?”

“He doesn’t have a name yet.” At his disbelieving look, she shook her head. “My mum got me the dog this week and I haven’t named him yet. I didn’t even want one, but now he’s mine.”

“That is a problem, and you can’t just give him an arbitrary name.”

She perked up. “Exactly, because a name is important. It’ll shape his future. As Chloe Lloyd, I’ll never be respected as a lawyer. My name is too soft.”

“I don’t know. I think
Chloe Lloyd
sounds like she can do anything.” Hunter stuck his hands in his pockets. “What choices do I have as Hunter Vicks?”

“A famous scientist who cures cancer.”

He laughed, his face lit up.

She felt the pit of her stomach warm. She liked making him laugh. She started to step away.

“Wait.” He grabbed her arm.

She looked at where he touched her. She wore lots of layers, but she could feel it all the way through to her skin. It tingled.

“I was afraid that you wouldn’t be able to meet today, and we still haven’t discussed the project, so I divided it up into two parts, one for each of us.”

She lifted her head.

His lips were right there. She stopped breathing, afraid he could hear her.

“I thought you could write a story.” He let go of her arm and reached into one of his folders. “That way you can do it on your own time.”

“Story?” She forgot about his lips and her breathing and refocused on him, alert.

“You like to write, so I figured you could write a story to go with our project.” He handed her the page.

“You know that?”

“Doesn’t everyone? You’re a super writer.”

Frowning, she lowered her head and skimmed over the page, seeing the bullet points he’d outlined.

Leaning over to look as well, he pointed to it. “I wrote down details I thought might help you come up with a story for the project. It should be pretty clear to understand the principles, but if it’s not, I’ll describe them more.”

She nodded absently, barely registering what he was saying.

He thought she was a good writer. He’d sounded impressed even.

The words on the page blurred, and she had to blink her eyes a few times to clear her vision. “But this is science, not English.”

“Everything has a story, even an atom.” He looked at her. “You think you can pull it together?”

“Yes.” She slipped the paper in her bag, determined not to let him down.

***

“Chloe, we’re having dinner at seven,” Charles called down the hall.

She rolled her eyes. She hated dinner with Charles and Louise. Charles treated Chloe like a child, but Louise was even worse. A couple months ago, she even brought home a stuffed animal for her.

“As if I’m five,” Chloe said to the dog.

Dog must have sensed her annoyance because he looked up from the rug he was snacking on and made a whimpering noise.

“Right?” she said. “Even you get it.”

He barked once and then went back to his woolen meal.

That was the first time she’d actually understood him. She stared at him in wonder. Maybe they weren’t doomed after all.

She decided to try communicating with him, since they’d turned a corner. “What’s your name, Dog?”

He didn’t look up from the rug.

She tried again. “Is your name Brutus?”

Dog didn’t move.

“How about Pinky? Hey, Pinky, come here, boy.”

His ear flickered and he jerked his head back, like he was offended.

“Sorry.” Not her best attempt. She shrugged. “I don’t know what to do now. Want to go for, I don’t know, a walk or something?”

He hopped up eagerly and walked to the door, jumping up and down, a happy look on his face.

“I guess that’s a yes.” She took the leash he’d come with and let him out.

Somehow he knew the way to the front door. He paced in front of it, waiting impatiently for her.

“If you needed to go out so badly, you should have told me.” Shaking her head, she held out the leash. “Come here.”

He looked at her and kept pacing, yipping once.

She shook her head, holding out the leash with more intent. Her mum didn’t yell, but she made her wishes clear. Chloe supposed that was the way you had to deal with a dog. “If you want to go out, you have to put the leash on.”

The dog circled a few more times, but she held firm, holding the leash out insistently. Then he seemed to sigh and then slowly walk over.

“Good dog.” She patted its head, hoping that wasn’t condescending, and attached the leash with a little trouble to the collar. When she finally managed it, she sighed in relief. “Okay, we can go.”

He yelped once in joy and launched at the door.

“Wait.” She quickly grabbed the leash tightly and opened the door. Then she yelled, “Be right back. I’m taking the dog out for a walk.”

Dog dragged her out of the flat before Charles could reply.

“Wait. Don’t rush me.” She held tight, hurrying.

Barking once, he pulled her behind him, eager, marking his territory quickly over the next couple blocks. Finally, he slowed down and began to sniff at things, as though learning the unfamiliar environment.

Chloe let him do his thing. She’d expected that she was going to hate walking him, but she kind of liked it. It made her feel calm. It also got her away from Charles.

Not wanting to risk angering her father, she tugged the leash. “Dog, we should go back.”

He whimpered and set his weight, refusing to move.

She knew how he felt. “If you come home, I’ll give you a treat.”

He lifted his head as though he were considering it. Then he barked once and began to trot toward the flat. Once they were inside, she unattached his leash, gave him one of the doggie bones Rowdy had taken her to buy, and went into the kitchen.

Charles was behind the counter, heating the take-away he’d gotten. In the dining room, there were only two places set.

Getting a glass of water, Chloe frowned at the table. What did that mean? Carefully, she asked, “Where’s Louise?”

“She had work tonight,” Charles said as he set the food on the table.

Something wasn’t right, but Chloe was happy that his girlfriend wasn’t here so she didn’t want to question it. She sat in her usual spot and looked over what he’d brought home. Roasted chicken again, probably dry, with emaciated vegetables on the side.

Yum, she thought sarcastically, reaching for a leg.

“Chloe, did you wash your hands after you touched that dog?” Charles asked, spooning a heaping of mushy vegetables onto his plate.

Sighing, she got up and washed her hands, exaggerating how long she lathered them.

“Really, Chloe, you should be conscious of your hygiene,” he said as he served himself the dried-out breast.

No wonder he liked Louise—she matched his taste in food. She bit her lip to keep from snickering and just nodded.

“That dog isn’t clean,” he continued. “I wouldn’t allow it here except that it’s easier than fighting with your mother.”

“Mum was just trying to help me,” she felt compelled to say. “And Dog isn’t that bad.”

“It ate my favorite loafers.”

“Doesn’t that just show he has good taste?”

Her father gave her a flat, unimpressed look.

“When is your mother coming home?”

She shrugged. She knew he didn’t like having her around, but couldn’t he pretend to be less eager for her to leave?

“Your mother didn’t mention where she went.”

“Just to Paris,” she mumbled, pushing around the squash on her plate.

“
Paris?
” He sat up, frowning at her. “Why would she go to Paris?”

Chloe shrugged again. Maybe she shouldn’t say anything about the gallery or the new hair and clothes. It served him right, anyway.

“It’s rather odd that your mother went to Paris, isn’t it?” Charles said.

She shook her head. “Why is it odd?”

“She wasn’t interested in going before.”

Like he would know? She drank some water to keep from saying anything.

He ate in silence for a while before he said, “How’s Viola doing?”

“She’s fabulous,” Chloe said with a lot of enthusiasm, just to annoy him. “She looks amazing.”

“She does?” He frowned as though he couldn’t imagine it.

“She got a makeover or something.”

“To go to Paris?”

“Or maybe to get a boyfriend,” Chloe said, hoping it stabbed him in the heart.

Her father scowled. “Is she seeing someone?”

Chloe made an
I don’t know
face. She knew her mum wasn’t—she’d totally know if she were—but Charles didn’t need to know that.

He set his fork down. “Did she go to Paris with him?”

“Why?” Chloe stared at him and pretended she was her aunt Bea. “Do you and Louise want to join them?”

Her father flushed—Chloe wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or anger. “That’s uncalled for,” he reprimanded. “I’m just concerned about your mother bringing home strange men around you.”

“That’s funny.”

“What?”

“That you’re acting fatherly now. But I guess why not, whenever it suits you.” She picked her plate up and stood. “May I be excused?”

For a second she thought he was going to say no and tell her to sit back down, but he nodded and focused on eating his bland dinner.