Sweet Thing Read online

  But after he’d pleasured me countless times with his mouth, his fingers and his very talented and sizeable appendage, I wanted more.

  Of course, I hadn’t said anything. Instead, I’d been the epitome of casual, like I had one-night stands every day of the week, when he’d kissed me goodnight. If he’d seen through my bravado act, he didn’t call me on it. For that, I was grateful.

  Because I’d bolted in the wee small hours when he’d been asleep, and during the twenty-minute ride from his penthouse apartment in the city to my apartment over Le Miel I replayed every single moment of our night together and knew that acting like last night didn’t mean anything the next time I saw Tanner would take monumental acting skills I didn’t possess.

  Bardley had always taunted me for being too readable. But he’d been wrong. If I were that easy to read he would’ve seen my loathing for him on my face every single day.

  Thanks to Tanner, I now knew our lacklustre sex life hadn’t been my fault. How many times had Bardley called me frigid or cold or worse? Saying I didn’t turn him on. That I was as useless in the bedroom as I was in the kitchen.

  I hadn’t cared about the sex, but insulting my cooking had been a low blow, particularly since I knew I baked like a dream even back then.

  Screw him.

  Though thankfully, I’d never have to do that again and courtesy of last night I’d replaced memories of a sad sex life with phenomenally amazing erotic ones.

  ‘You’re daydreaming again.’ Makayla bumped me with her hip. ‘You sure you didn’t pick up at Embue?’

  I felt heat flush my cheeks but I feigned nonchalance as I scrubbed my station. We’d been busy today, frantic, supplying a local private school with pastries for a teacher conference, so I’d managed to avoid Makayla’s interrogation. Until now.

  ‘I’m not the one with a story to tell,’ I said, pasting a bright smile on my face. ‘You and what’s-his-name looked mighty cosy when I left last night.’

  Makayla screwed up her face. ‘There’s a reason you date a guy and don’t go back.’ She held up her little finger and let it droop. ‘I’m smarter than that.’

  I laughed, wondering what Makayla would say if she knew that a pinkie wouldn’t come close to describing Tanner.

  ‘What about you?’ Makayla grinned as she dried her hands on a dishcloth. ‘You’re not still mooning over our dishy boss?’

  If only she knew the half of it.

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  ‘Pity he’s working off-site today. He brightens up the scenery.’ Makayla pursed her lips and tapped them. ‘He’s nothing like Remy, is he?’

  She got that right. Remy and Tanner might be biological brothers but that was where the similarities ended. I couldn’t think of two siblings who were so different.

  ‘Yeah, they’re nothing alike,’ I said, grateful Makayla had moved off the topic of last night and onto safer ground.

  ‘I’m not just talking about looks.’ Makayla struck a strong-man pose. ‘Tanner’s like this big tough guy who swaggers around, and Remy’s soft and gentle.’

  Tanner could be soft and gentle when it counted, and I’d counted last night. Many times.

  ‘Do you know much about their background?’ Makayla leaned against the bench. ‘I don’t know Remy that well but you’ve worked here for a year. What’s the story?’

  I shrugged. ‘We don’t talk much about our pasts.’

  That was the truth. I’d divulged the basics to Remy about my crappy marriage and my dreams to become a pastry chef. He’d told me he’d opened this place many years ago, had never met the right woman and his only living family was Tanner.

  When we chatted during a rare lull in our busy days, we talked pastries, the latest cooking reality show on TV and gave our critiques of the newest cookbooks.

  I valued our friendship, especially since he’d offered me a place to live and a job when I’d needed it most, but we weren’t the kind of people to reveal too much. I preferred it that way. Until now. Because I’d give anything to discover what made Tanner tick.

  ‘If Remy hasn’t revealed much to you, maybe Tanner will?’ Makayla’s exaggerated wink made me laugh. ‘Don’t you love that whole bad-boy thing he has going on?’

  ‘Yeah, he’s hot.’ I settled for a smidgeon of honesty so Makayla wouldn’t think anything was wrong.

  Like exactly how much Tanner had revealed to me, and how much I’d liked it.

  Makayla blew a raspberry. ‘Queen of the understatement.’

  ‘What do you want me to say? That he’s so damn sexy I get hot flushes just thinking about him?’ I pretended to fan my face and Makayla grinned.

  ‘That’s more like it...’ She trailed off, as if unsure how to continue. ‘I’ve got a confession to make.’

  For an awful moment I wondered if Makayla had slept with Tanner too. The thought made bile rise in my throat and I swallowed, feeling increasingly foolish.

  Of course a guy like him would go for a girl like Makayla. She was a bombshell. Not to mention beautiful inside and out.

  ‘What’s up?’ I tried to fake nonchalance. It didn’t work when my voice came out a tad high.

  Makayla screwed up her nose, but she couldn’t hide the twinkle in her eyes. ‘I saw you. Last night. Heading into the VIP room with Hot Stuff.’

  I exhaled in relief, unaware I’d been holding my breath.

  ‘So you’ve been fishing for information this whole time?’

  ‘Gotcha.’ Makayla made a mock gun with her thumb and forefinger and fired it. ‘Come on, sweetie, ’fess up. Did anything happen between you two?’

  I’d never had a best friend. The girls at my private school had been bitches, students at uni in the few years I attended were aloof and Bardley’s friends were as bland and boring as him.

  In the few months I’d known Makayla I liked talking to her. Liked the way she breezed through life. Liked her exuberance and warmth and genuine enthusiasm for everything.

  I could lie to her. Fob her off with some lame-ass vague response.

  Instead, I found myself nodding, liking having a female confidante for once. ‘We hooked up.’

  Makayla squealed and jumped up and down. ‘Hooked up as in kissed? Or hooked up as in—’ She made lewd bumping gestures with her hands.

  ‘Yeah, that.’ I felt heat flush my cheeks. ‘But you can’t say a thing, okay?’

  ‘Good for you, girlfriend.’ She made a zipping motion over her lips, but her silence lasted all of two seconds as she eyed me with obvious admiration. ‘The quiet ones are always the worst.’

  Considering how I’d screamed the place down last night, I wasn’t so quiet.

  Makayla slugged me on the arm. ‘I want details.’

  I shook my head, not willing to divulge anything more. I didn’t want Makayla casting sideways knowing glances at Tanner and I sure as hell didn’t want him thinking I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

  I’d never been the type to blab my personal business and I wasn’t about to start now. ‘Sorry. I don’t kiss and tell.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Makayla sighed, her grin goofy. ‘I’m happy for you, sweetie. You deserve to have a little fun. But if he has a brother other than Remy, let me know.’

  She made a downward sign with her thumb. ‘I’m in a major slump. Both professionally and romantically. I’ve attended eight auditions in the last fortnight, nada. And my dating average is less than that.’

  ‘Those stage shows must be nuts not to hire you,’ I said, defending my friend when in fact I had no idea how good a dancer she was. Sure, she could burn up the dance floor with her disco moves but professionally I didn’t know how she performed. ‘As for guys, most of them have rocks in their heads, but you’re gorgeous and sweet. You’ll find a good one soon.’

  A surprisingly vulnerable smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. �
�Hope you’re right, because I don’t do so well when I’m in a drought.’ She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. ‘I need a good man between my legs offstage so I can use my legs to create great dance moves onstage.’

  ‘Maybe that’s the problem? You’re after a good man when what you need is a bad man?’

  We laughed and I impulsively leaned over to hug her. ‘Thanks for taking me out last night. I needed it.’

  ‘The dancing or the bad guy between your legs?’

  ‘Both,’ I said, my naughty grin matching Makayla’s. ‘Now, if you’re done interrogating me, can we lock up so I can catch up on some sleep?’

  ‘Sure,’ she said, pushing off the bench. ‘So he kept you up all night, huh?’

  ‘And then some.’

  The way Tanner had touched me, stroked me, caressed me—everywhere—had blown my mind. I’d never imagined sex could be so good. He’d driven me to the brink so many times, teasing and tasting, before pushing me over with a skill that spoke of years of practice.

  I should’ve felt jealous at the thought of him using his mastery on countless women in the past. Instead, all I could feel was grateful. Very, very grateful.

  ‘Come on, let’s close up before I begin to hate you.’ Makayla smiled and bumped me with her hip. ‘And a word of advice? Don’t overthink things with Hot Stuff. He’s not here for long, so you should be in this for a good time.’

  Whatever ‘this’ was. Because right now I didn’t have a freaking clue. I’d labelled last night as a one-night stand. But from what I’d read in magazines, you didn’t usually have to see your one-night stand again. Me, I’d have Tanner in my face for the next few weeks.

  Was I really that good an actress that I could pretend nothing had happened and erase the memories of him licking me all over?

  Worse, did I want to?

  I throbbed just thinking about what we’d done last night. How much stronger would the urge to jump him be when he was standing in front of me?

  Did I have the willpower to resist another shot at achieving mind-blowing pleasure?

  With the prospect of Tanner showing up for work tomorrow, guess I’d soon find out.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Tanner

  I KNEW THE second I opened my eyes she was gone.

  I should’ve been ecstatic. I never let women stay over. In fact, I rarely brought women here. Over the years I’d been in Sydney I could count the number of dates I’d brought to my penthouse on one hand.

  Then again, Abby hadn’t been a date.

  She’d been...what? A one-night stand? A chance hook-up? A goddamn mistake? Technically, all of the above, which begged the question: Why the hell did I feel so disgruntled to find her gone?

  That was another thing. I’d slept better last night than I had in years. Usually I liked the bed all to myself, hated having anyone encroach on my personal space. Yet after the fifth time we’d fucked she’d spooned me and I’d liked it, to the point I’d fallen into a deep slumber, so deep I hadn’t heard her leave.

  Shit. Why did she have to sneak out of here like some damn fugitive?

  Peeved, I pushed out of bed and headed for the shower. Alone, when I’d had grand plans for the two of us in my expansive double shower complete with rain head and angled jets. Lots of possibilities with those jets. Especially with how responsive she’d been... I could’ve turned her to face the back wall, where she would’ve braced. I could’ve bent her forward. Adjusted the jets to hit her sweet spot. Taken her from behind...

  Swearing, I turned the taps to cold. Ice cold. Jerking off wouldn’t ease the desire pounding through my veins like the insistent beat of a drum. Burying myself in Abby would, but that wasn’t an option. Not now. Probably not ever again.

  Last night had been an aberration. It had to be.

  I’d vowed to not touch Remy’s protégé but that had shot to shit when she’d come on to me like an eager virgin. I should’ve had stronger willpower. I hadn’t. Not getting laid for months had short-circuited my brain. Both the big and little one.

  A lousy excuse because I could’ve stopped her. I should’ve stopped her. But I hadn’t, and now I had to live with the consequences.

  Namely seeing her every day at work and keeping my hands off her.

  I wasn’t a complete idiot. I knew we couldn’t have a repeat. That would be a disaster of monumental proportions.

  Women like Abby didn’t do one-night stands. They did romance and bouquets and all that crap, no matter how much they protested to the contrary. Especially if she hadn’t been with a guy in a year.

  That blew me away. How could a beautiful woman who’d come out of a shitty marriage not have wanted to purge her past? Then again, maybe her ex had done such a number on her that she’d sworn off men for a while? Whatever the reason, I’d been the beneficiary, because the way she’d reacted to my every touch had blown my mind.

  That was what had me rattled the most. The flashbacks of what we’d done. Her on her front, me entering her from behind. Her with her legs spread, me eating her out. Her riding me like a cowgirl. Her clawing my back and biting my shoulder and tentatively licking my cock like it was the best damn popsicle she’d ever tasted.

  ‘Fuck,’ I muttered, towelling off and dressing in record time.

  I couldn’t go to the patisserie, not today. Couldn’t face her. Not without my every erotic thought replaying like an X-rated flick on constant repeat.

  She’d know. Then where would we be?

  If my willpower had been at an all-time low last night, now that I knew how combustible we were between the sheets, would I be able to resist? Doubtful. Which meant I needed time and space between us to gain perspective.

  That meant staying away from Le Miel.

  I grabbed a bottled banana smoothie from the fridge and headed out. There’d been a shitload of work I could’ve done at Embue last night before I got distracted. In the best possible way. The way she’d come on to me in my private room...

  Damn, I better hole away in my office and stay clear of that room. Having wavering willpower was one thing. Deliberately putting myself into a fraught situation another.

  I’d try to do the right thing where Abby was concerned but I wasn’t a saint, and I knew that keeping her at arm’s length until Remy got back on his feet would slowly but surely kill me.

  I arrived at Embue, parked in the private underground spot reserved for me and entered the club. All these years later it never failed to give me a thrill that I owned this place. That it flourished. That it continued to grow.

  Despite dear old Dad’s many dire predictions I’d never amount to anything.

  How many times had I listened to his snide comments, berating me, battering my self-esteem, while he deliberately praised Remy when he wasn’t around, knowing it would make me feel like shit? How many times had he served me the crusts off the fresh bread loaf while he got the thickest slices? How many times had he given me a shrivelled chicken wing while he ate the juicy breast?

  After Mum died, on the rare occasions Remy was home he thought Dad was a mean prick too, but he’d excused his mood swings and anger as grief. But I knew better because Dad saved his own special brand of vitriol for me alone.

  Even before Mum had died, I’d felt unworthy. That I was not good enough. That I couldn’t do anything right. He treated me like a second-class citizen but only when Mum and Remy couldn’t see.

  I didn’t get it. Had always thought it was my fault, some inherent flaw only Dad could see. Until the day Mum died and I overheard the final argument that drove her to her death. The day the old bastard revealed the truth behind his hatred and I’d vowed to never let his insults or shoddy treatment hurt me ever again.

  Because it wasn’t about me. It was about him. His ridiculous hang-ups and assumptions that had driven Mum to her death and driven me to be nothing like him.
/>   I’d rejoiced the day the prick had died. I’d attended his funeral out of respect for my brother. Remy never understood my latent hatred of our father, and I’d never told him the truth. Better that one of us had good memories rather than none.

  Then again, he’d been five years older than me and already holding down a part-time pastry chef apprenticeship while juggling school at fifteen, so he hadn’t been around to witness Dad’s ritualistic, systemic torture of me. The son he blamed for his entire miserable life.

  It meant nothing now. He couldn’t hurt me any more. But every time I strode through one of my clubs I saluted him for giving me the drive, the ambition, to be so much better than he ever gave me credit for.

  ‘Hey, Tanner, didn’t expect to see you today.’ Hudson Watt, my manager and oldest friend, slapped me on the back as I entered the bar area. ‘Aren’t you meant to be making pastries or croissants or some other fancy-schmancy shit?’

  ‘Had a stack of stuff I wanted to check up on last night but didn’t get a chance so thought I’d spend the day here.’

  Hudson grinned, the same smug grin he’d given me in high school when I’d tried to weasel out of a history assignment by devising an elaborate lie and he’d seen right through me.

  ‘Bit busy last night, huh?’ Hudson filled a glass with water and added a lime twist before sliding it along the bar towards me. ‘Here. You’re probably dehydrated after swapping spit with that hot blonde you had holed away in your private VIP room.’

  ‘What are you, twelve?’ I downed the water anyway. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Come on, man, don’t spin me some line.’ Hudson slugged me on the arm. ‘I’ve seen you sweet-talk more girls out of their panties than the number of mojitos I’ve served. And considering I’ve worked here for ten years and filled in on many occasions, that’s a shitload of mojitos.’

  I chuckled. ‘I was giving Abby the grand tour, then I took her home.’

  ‘Her home or yours?’

  I could’ve fobbed Hudson off but the guy was right. We’d been friends for a long time. If anyone knew me, faults and all, he did.