I Want Candy (3 page)

But to Turner, this wasn’t just another case. It was probably his last shot at linking Spivey to Junie’s death, and he’d have to do it before the meth investigation came to a close.

“So. Anything good going on?”

Turner looked up at J.J. and smiled. This was their daily dance, and by now, they were damn good at it. He and J.J. Decourcy had been best friends since kindergarten. After high school, Jay had gone away to UNC to study history and political science, then he’d run off to travel the world and eventually work for a news service in New York City. Since he was a country boy at heart, that hadn’t lasted long, and J.J. came back to work for Garland Newberry at the
Bugle,
where he’d been ever since.

Turner, on the other hand, had done two years with the Marine Corps, then went to Western Carolina on the G.I Bill, majoring in criminal investigation sciences. He’d married Junie right after graduation and joined the department as a deputy. Within three years, he was the boss. And not long after, Junie was dead. In a flash, his beautiful wife—the only woman he’d ever loved with all his heart and soul—was gone from the world.

Turner let his gaze wander to the small silver frame he kept on his desk. Junie looked back at him with those dark, almond-shaped eyes and her trademark smile. He never got used to it, really, the idea that a spirit so full of joy could exist one instant and vanish the next. But he knew she was gone. He was called to the scene of the accident. He saw his sweet, funny, passionate wife slumped over the wheel, lifeless. Dead.

Turner kept living. J.J. liked to point out that it was more like
existing
—just a cycle of breathing, eating, sleeping, and working—but somehow, he’d managed to keep going.

He checked out his friend now, sitting where he sat nearly every weekday morning, primed for the mental tug-of-war in which Turner would play coy and J.J. would try to get him to reveal more than he intended. After years of this, they considered themselves at a tie. They both knew the daily standoffs were more about friendship than work, anyway.

“Pretty quiet,” Turner answered him. He shoved the task force reports into a file—that was one topic that would never come up with his best buddy during one of these chats. Although J.J. had been privy to Turner’s suspicions that Spivey was involved in Junie’s death, his friend would hear about the meth ring only about an hour before everyone else did—when the task force called a press conference to announce an arrest. Anything else would compromise the investigation and put an undercover agent’s life at risk. “But something kind of interesting went down early this morning,” Turner added, nodding slowly.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. I pulled some chick over for not having her headlights on, and she tried to flash me to get out of the ticket.”

J.J. roared with laughter. “Damn, man. You have the best job in the world! You let her go with a warning, no doubt.”

Turner felt himself grin at the memory of that spectacular sight—lots of creamy, milky, ivory-white cleavage, messed-up blond curls past her shoulders, and a pair of the pinkest, wettest lips he’d ever seen.

Candy Carmichael drove him fuckin’
crazy
. Always had, always would, and for good reason. That girl was a sweet treat that had continually been dangled just out of his reach. Intentionally or not, she’d flat-out tortured him in high school. The memory of her had left a permanent, voluptuously shaped indentation on his libido. And now, suddenly, all these years later and for no apparent reason, she decided to kiss him.

It had damn near short-circuited his brain.

“Yeah,” he said to J.J., sounding as nonchalant as possible. “I gave her a warning. And then she gave me a little somethin’ to show her appreciation.”

J.J. sat up straight in the office chair, alarm on his face. Quickly, he looked over his shoulder, making sure Turner’s office door was shut. “Uh, is this going to be a
Penthouse
Forum
kind of story? Because if it is, I need to prepare myself psychologically for this watershed moment.”

Turner laughed aloud. Along with reminding him that he was still alive, J.J. had made it his mission to try to convince Turner to start dating again. He’d never even been tempted. It was as if that part of him had died with Junie.

That was, until about six hours ago, near mile marker 47 on the shoulder of westbound State Highway 25. “Sorry to disappoint, but all the woman did was lean out the car and give me a kiss.”

J.J. blinked. He waited. He shrugged. “And? Then what? Did you charge her with assaulting an officer? Can I run this on the front page?”

“No, and no.”

“So what happened?”

“I kissed her right back.”

His friend collapsed against the chair and his jaw fell open. “Wanna tell me who the woman was?”

“I’ll give you a hint.” Turner felt a sly smile spread across his lips.

“Yeah?”

“She agreed to make me a chocolate cake in exchange for her freedom.”

“Candy Pants?”
J.J.’s voice lowered to a whisper. “You kissed Candy?”

Turner nodded.

J.J. suddenly looked panicked. “You know you two are supposed to come to the lake for dinner tonight, right? Cheri’s making some kind of marinated chicken thing. You can’t cancel on me, man.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“But isn’t that going to be a little awkward? How are you going to handle this? What’s your plan?”

Turner shrugged. “Same as my plan’s always been with that girl, Jay. I’m going to keep on walking.”

“But she kissed you.” J.J. shook his head in confusion. “You’re going to walk away after she kissed you? Just pretend nothing happened?”

“She was only thanking me. She’s been through a lot this last year or so—she was just being friendly.”

“So it was a dry peck.”

Turner bit the inside of his cheek before he answered. A peck? No. Dry?
Hell,
no. That kiss had been all about slick tongue, wet lips, and possibilities. And he couldn’t lie to himself. It may have started out as a “thank-you” kiss, but it was well on its way to becoming a “fuck-me” kiss when he’d put a stop to it.

“It was on the moist side,” Turner said.

“Moist.” J.J.’s voice was flat.

“Yeah, man. Moist and friendly.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight.” J.J. adjusted his position in the chair and cleared his throat. “Candy Carmichael—who’s been yanking your chain since before you even knew you
had
a chain or what it was for—just laid something moist and friendly on you and you’re going to walk away from it? Why? You’re single.
She’s
single. You’re both adults. I don’t get it.”

Turner took a deep breath. “You’re missing the bigger picture.”

“Which is?”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not ready for a woman in my life. Period. And besides, this is Candy Carmichael we’re talking about.
Candy,
man. I grew up with her. She’s been a friend of mine forever. That would just jack everything up something awful, especially if she decides to stay in town for a while.”

“Rrriiight,”
J.J. drawled. “First off—at the risk of sounding like a broken record—you need to start dating. It’s been over four years. You
know
Junie would have wanted you to have love in your life.”

“But—”

J.J. cut him off. “And secondly, since I’m fixin’ to marry one of my oldest friends in the very near future—a woman I’ve been nuts about my entire life—if you think I’m going to sit here and agree that a good friend can’t become a great love, you’re out of your damn mind.”

Turner opened his lips to say something, but couldn’t manage it.

J.J. grinned. “Who’s missing the bigger picture now?”

*   *   *

The instant the shiny black SUV pulled into the driveway, Candy yelled
“Bye, Viv!”
while grabbing her purse and trying to shut the big oak door behind her. Oddly, it wouldn’t budge.

That was because Vivienne had wedged her chubby leg in the door.

“Yoo-hoo!” Viv called out to Turner, nearly knocking Candy down to get to the top of the porch steps. “How sweet of you to swing by and give her a ride! These girls just don’t have much luck with their cars, now do they?”

Candy squeezed her eyes shut in mortification. It was bad enough that her damn car had stopped working that afternoon, but the idea that Cheri had recruited Turner to drive her to the lake was just wrong, wrong,
wrong.
How weird was this going to be?

“Oh, don’t you look handsome tonight,” Viv said, beaming at Turner. “Sounds like ya’ll are going to have a lovely time. Cheri’s making some kind of fancy chicken dish I never heard of, so I can’t really vouch for it, but it’s supposed to stay muggy after sunset so ya’ll might want to take a nice swim.”

Turner seemed to follow Viv’s rambling just fine and nodded politely as he strolled down the front sidewalk. He was out of uniform now, wearing a faded pair of jeans, a white and neatly pressed cotton oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a pair of sneakers, and his ever-present sheriff’s department ball cap pulled down tight. He had one hand in his jeans pocket. He had a little smile on those lips. He had one of the smoothest man-swaggers Candy had ever had the privilege to witness.

Why hadn’t she noticed this before?

It was almost as if Turner Halliday had stepped from the shadows and started walking around under some kind of personal sexy spotlight. When had this happened? She’d been back in town for nearly two weeks and she’d certainly seen Turner enough—out at the lake house, in town, and she’d even run into him in the
Bugle
newsroom a few days ago when she’d gone to visit Cheri. He’d always been perfectly sweet. Polite. Helpful. Witty. Charming. In other words, he’d been the same Turner Halliday she’d always known.

So why the sudden change in him? Or was it simply a change in the way she
saw
him?

Just then, Turner’s eyes flashed at her, his smile spread, and it all became clear.

It was the kiss. The second I decided to kiss Turner Halliday, everything changed.

Because up until that morning, she’d never kissed him. Not once. She’d liked him, of course—he made her laugh, he listened when she complained about boyfriends, he’d helped her out of more than a few jams over the years—but she’d never even thought about him that way, not the whole time they were kids and certainly not since she left Bigler a dozen years before. Candy had never figured Turner for dating material, let alone kissing material.

How wrong could a girl get?

“Good evening, ladies,” Turner said, coming to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. “A swim sure sounds nice, Miss Newberry, but I can’t stay out late tonight. I have to get some sleep before I go back in to cover the last half of the night shift.”

“Oh, that’s right! Pauline’s about to pop, isn’t she?”

Turner chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”

Viv shook her head. “How a woman is supposed to uphold the law and raise three little ones I’ll never know.”

Turner gave Viv a quick kiss on her cheek, then turned to look at Candy. “Ready?”

Candy froze. She felt her breath go shallow. Her hands started to sweat. She clenched her thighs together, squeezing the life out of Sophie.
Ready?
Ready for what? Ready to admit that Turner Halliday suddenly turned her on like all hell?

“Yes,” she said, clomping down the steps in her sling-back sandals so fast she nearly lost her footing. “Let’s go.” She reached back for Turner’s hand and pulled him to the sidewalk.

“Y’all have a good time tonight! I won’t wait up!”

Viv’s words echoed, then rattled around in her head with sentiments like
Oh, hell,
and
Oh, damn,
because Turner’s hand had just latched onto hers and it was big and warm and she didn’t want the touch to end.

This was not possible. Candy had absolutely no desire to complicate her life. She wasn’t even sure it could
get
any more complicated! A man was the last thing she wanted. Sex might be nice every once in a while, but a
relationship
was out of the question. Especially with someone like Turner—a decent guy, a guy with ties to this town, a guy who’d been widowed at the age of twenty-six. He deserved more than a fling. He deserved a lot more than Candy could ever give him.

They got to the SUV. Turner opened the passenger door for her and she climbed up, acutely aware of the view she must be providing him. She shouldn’t have worn a skirt.

And she suddenly wondered … how many times over the years had she switched her ass in front of Turner? How many years had she pranced around him in a bikini without a second of self-consciousness? Had he ever noticed her? Had he ever thought of her as anything but his buddy?

Turner came around and hopped in the driver’s side, immediately starting the car. He gave her a sideways glance. “Seems every time I see you, you’re running away from someone.”

She laughed, a little uncomfortable with that observation, since it wasn’t the first time she’d heard it. “I can’t stay with Viv. I’ve been there a matter of hours and she’s already driving me nuts. She tried to pimp me out to Tater Wayne in exchange for him working on my car. And just before you showed up, she made me a skillet of scrambled eggs, telling me I’d need something on my stomach in case Cheri’s recipe didn’t turn out.”

Turner swung the SUV onto Wilamette Avenue, waving good-bye to Viv. “Well, I’ve got a spare room at my place, if need be. Just give me enough notice to clear out some of the junk. I swear I won’t try to pimp you or make you eggs.”

Candy turned her head away to look out the window, feeling her eyes bulge out at the thought. Yesterday, that offer might have seemed perfectly innocent, and even doable. Today, it caused her to break out in a sweat.

“Thanks, but I’ll figure something out.” It embarrassed her that her voice sounded smaller than she’d intended, maybe smaller and sadder than she’d ever heard it. That was probably because she was thinking the unthinkable—that she might actually attempt to stay with her mother for a little while. After all, she’d survived in the same house with her for eighteen years. What would a few more weeks hurt?