I Want Candy (30 page)

But Jacinta was still here. Turner was still here. And right at that moment, Candy realized she’d been given another chance with both of them.

She would have so much to share with Turner when she got home.

Candy stayed through the evening. Jacinta called her attorney and set up an appointment for Candy to meet with him about the building. Mother and daughter had dinner in the dining room, and Candy’s appearance attracted quite a crowd. The bocce ball crew was thrilled to see her. The bridge club asked if it were true she was staying with the sheriff. Lorraine Estes snubbed her nose at Candy on her way to the salad bar.

Candy hugged and kissed her mother good-bye after dinner, and as she strolled through the lobby toward the exit she smiled in Mr. Miller’s direction. Even he couldn’t ruin this incredible evening, and the happiness in her heart.

“Good night!” she said cheerfully.

“Hmmph,” was his reply.

Chapter 21

Candy drove up the hill to Turner’s house in the woods and saw his SUV parked out front. She smiled so big her face hurt. She practically ran up to the front door.

His lips were on her before she had both feet inside.

Turner spun her around in his arms a few times, put her down, then began peeling off her Lenny’s T-shirt. Candy tugged up on the shirttail of his sheriff’s department uniform.

“Let me get all this shit off first,” Turner said, removing the electronic gadgets and weapons that hung from his waist and placing them on the entryway table—gun and holster, radio, cell phone, stun gun, and billy club.

“How do you even walk with all that crap?”

“You get used to it,” he said, starting to unbutton the waist of her jeans.

“I love the way you walk, by the way,” Candy said, unbuttoning the front of his shirt.

“Really?”

“Hell, yes. It’s a swagger. I get wet just watching you walk across a room.”

“Good,” Turner said, unhooking her bra and licking and sucking on her nipples. “Because you make me hard when I see you walk.”

“For real? I never really thought I had much of a walk.” Candy pulled the shirt off his shoulders and ripped his undershirt over his head, then licked his pectoral muscles. “I always thought I walk like a hillbilly white girl.”

“Oh, you do,” Turner said, chuckling as he yanked open the snap of her jeans. “But you’ve got an ass that could cause a five-car pileup.”

She tossed her head back to laugh and Turner attacked her throat with a series of voracious kisses and nibbles and sucks.

“I know I probably smell like carrot cake. Sorry about that,” Candy said, tugging on Turner’s trousers even though she couldn’t lower her head to see what she was doing.

“Fine by me. I love your carrot cake.” Turner shoved his hands down the back of her jeans and panties and grabbed at her ass cheeks. “But not as much as I love your pussy.” He pushed her jeans and underwear to the floor, and Candy stepped out of them as Turner stepped out of his.

“I’ve been waiting all damn day for this,” Turner said, his mouth once more on her lips, her throat, her breasts. All the while Candy ran her hands over the hard muscles and soft skin of Turner’s body—wide, strong shoulders, cut biceps, rippling abs, the firm swells of his back and butt. She felt like a starving woman who could only be satisfied through the sense of touch, and she wanted more, more, more …

Candy was lifted. She threw her legs around Turner’s hips and felt herself being carried to the back of the leather sofa, where she was lowered. Immediately, she became lost in the vortex of hot and wet kisses, the pressure of his hands on her flesh. It was almost too much joy when he entered her, pushing deep, spreading her open to her very being. She looked up into Turner’s face, transformed by pleasure, and she saw everything she had ever desired in a man.

Kindness. Truth. Beauty. Goodness.

His eyes flew open and his hazel gaze locked with hers as he thrust deeper into her, body and soul. She felt his hands locked behind her back. She hung on to his neck. And even as he began to take her harder, with a desperate determination to have all of her, she knew she would not slip through his grasp. He had her. Turner would not let her fall.

Suddenly, she knew with certainty that he would never let her fall. No matter what.

“You are mine, Candy,” he whispered. “You’ve always been mine. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” she said, unable to say more. The physical pleasure was acute and building higher, but all the while she felt emotion rush through her, strong and insistent, and she couldn’t ignore it if she wanted to. So she let it flow. The tears welled in her eyes and she knew they were for everything and everyone … for her mistakes, for her mother’s choices, for her father’s malevolence. Candy cried for all the pain Turner had gone through without her being there to help him. She cried for Junie’s death.

She didn’t understand any of it. None of it was part of any kind of grand plan that she could accept. God wasn’t that cruel. It just …
was
.

Candy gasped. Turner was taking her to the edge. She was so close. And right as she felt she was about to reach orgasm, she saw it.

All of it—the pain and the mistakes and the loss—it belonged to the past. It did not belong to this moment, this beautiful, perfect slice of time. In Turner’s eyes she was reminded what this moment was all about. It was so simple.

“I think I’m in love with you,” she whispered.

Oh, God, she hoped Turner had heard her because she didn’t think she could say it again—sharp, deep waves of pleasure had left her breathless. She was coming.

Turner grabbed her by the back of her head and lifted her close to his face. “Candy,” he said, his eyes boring into hers. “I don’t
think
. I know. I love you, baby. I always have and I always will.”

He slammed his mouth on hers and shoved his cock into her and she was gone. It felt as if she’d hit a wall of bliss, a million pieces of her soul flying out through the world and into Turner.

The man who loved her.

*   *   *

Gerrall pulled his girl’s picture up on his cell phone for the thousandth time. But now, seeing it filled him with anger. Anger for the way she’d flirted with him every time they were together. Led him on. Made him believe she wanted him the same way he wanted her. Then she’d gone off with Turner Halliday, making a mockery of their relationship and leaving Gerrall feeling empty, alone, and filled with unbearable rage.

Earlier that day, he’d hidden in the trees outside Turner Halliday’s house, and he’d seen all he’d needed to. Candy was a whore and a liar. And it was made worse by the fact that Turner Halliday was the one who’d stolen Candy away from him. This wasn’t the first time the man has stolen his woman.

First it was Miss Junie Halliday, his favorite teacher. Gerrall knew that he was special to her, too. They’d spent long hours together after school while she helped him with his homework, and she always invited him to her house for dinner. Even back then, Gerrall had hated Turner for being so close to her. Resented the fact that he had to share Miss Junie’s attention and affection with that cocky son-of-a-bitch cop, walking around all smug and conceited like he could have any woman he wanted.

The truth was, Turner could never love Miss Junie the way Gerrall did. Just thinking about her filled him with a deep sense of loss that Turner could never understand.

That was another reason Gerrall hated his dad. The night Miss Halliday was killed, Bobby Ray got blind drunk and admitted that he was the one who ran her off the road. He’d meant to send her a message—stay away from my house, my son, and mind your own damn business. But instead of leaving her running scared, he’d left her dead. And Gerrall would never, ever forgive him for it. Even worse was his father’s complete lack of remorse as he drunkenly bragged about what he’d done. Laughing and mocking Gerrall the whole time.

Gerrall put the phone away and grabbed the wig from the floor of his dingy rented room. Gerrall had gotten the wig—along with a dress and some makeup—from the second-hand store down the street. It was his disguise for when he needed to go out for food, or just to clear his head.

The gang his father worked with had surely gotten wind of his disappearance, and he knew there must be a lot of people looking for him right now. He hadn’t gone far. He was just in the next town over. But they’d never think to look for him in his current disguise, he thought with a grin. And they’d never imagine what he had planned next.

He knew exactly what to do to outsmart everyone who had hurt him. He just needed to wait a little longer. He’d have his opportunity soon enough.

*   *   *

While Candy talked a blue streak, she folded another piece of pancake in half and dipped it into a puddle of syrup on her plate. Turner sipped his coffee, trying not to laugh, but honestly, he’d never seen anyone eat a pancake like that. He supposed it was one of a million little things he would be learning about Candy along the way.

It was six
A.M.
and he’d not slept much, but Turner was a happy man. His body was humming with the kind of deep satisfaction that comes only with incredible sex and good company, and he’d had a whole lot of both in the last eight hours. Candy was a sensual miracle, a woman open and giving of herself, sweet and lighthearted, a girl who loved to laugh.

But she was also a woman of substance. They’d talked long into the night about their mothers’ plot to keep them apart when they’d been young, and when Turner expressed his anger, Candy reminded him that their mothers had acted in the best interest of their children.

“What would you have done if it were your son?” Candy had asked him.

Turner thought about it and said, “I’d have done exactly what my mother did.”

He smiled at Candy now as she sat across from him at the table, holding up her little pancake roll, a line of syrup dribbling down her forearm. “So what do you think I should do about the building?”

Instead of answering her, Turner snatched Candy’s wrist, licked her from her elbow up, then chomped down on the pancake.

“Hey!” she said, laughing.

Turner swallowed, then grinned. “I think you should take your time making a decision. Look at it. Talk to your mother’s attorney. And then just sit on it a while. Something might come to you.”

“I’d rather sit on you,” she said, arching one of her blond eyebrows.

Before Turner knew it, Candy was in his lap, leaving sweet kisses on his forehead. All he could do was close his eyes and melt from the soft brush of her lips, the firm abundance of her body against his, her scent, her warmth. He would never grow tired of the delight of this woman in his arms. He’d gone too long without this kind of contentment to ever take such a gift for granted.

“I know you have to leave for work soon,” Candy whispered in his ear. “I promise I’ll be good. I just wanted to hug you one last time.”

Turner wrapped his arms around Candy’s waist and buried his face in her breasts. He heard himself moan. He couldn’t help it—her words forced him to remember that this woman in his arms still planned to leave.

“You know, I think I’ve realized something…”

“Oh, yeah?” Turner raised his head. This sounded promising.

“Yeah. After my talk with Jacinta I realized that I might have been using material things as a substitute for people. Does that make any sense?”

“Of course it does,” Turner said, his heart lightening at the direction the conversation was taking. “Tell me more.”

“Well…” Candy absently dragged her fingers over his hair. “I think I got my sense of belonging through stuff, you know, like it defined me, like it gave me a place where I fit. Except for Cheri, of course, people had always seemed to be unpredictable—I
expected
them to disappoint me. But stuff was always there. And the more stuff and money I collected around me the safer I felt.”

Turner raised one of her hands to his lips and kissed it tenderly. “And then the stuff was gone.”

Candy chuckled softly. “Yeah. And what was I left with? Cheri. My mother. My hometown.
You.
It’s kind of ironic, isn’t it?”

Turner felt his stomach twist in knots. He didn’t want to push her. He was afraid to hear how she’d answer his next question, but he had to ask. Turner touched her cheek until she looked down into his face. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” she said, a tentative smile playing at her lips. “I can’t promise you anything, Turner. Please understand that. But I’m … I’m starting to see things differently. I am open to … possibilities.” She cocked her head and let her eyes explore his face. “Please be patient with me. Give me a little time to figure this out.”

He nodded, determined that she would not see the fist-pumping celebration going on in his head. “All the time you need, darlin’.”

“But Turner, what about your feelings for Junie? Do
you
need more time?”

“No.”

Candy blinked at him. “Just like that? You’re sure?”

Turner nodded. “I’m absolutely sure.”

“How did that happen?”

He fingered one of her blond curls and thought about how he’d answer her. He wanted to tell Candy the truth but didn’t want to sound like a nutcase. “I talked to her.”

Candy’s blue eyes went big. “You did?”

“Yeah. I told Junie I was letting her go and asked her to do the same. And you know what?”

“What?”

“She did. And the next thing I knew, you were waiting for me in the hallway.”

Very slowly, a smile spread across Candy’s sweet lips. Then she leaned down and touched those lips to his. There was so much tenderness and affection in that kiss that Turner was left wondering how and why he’d gotten so damn lucky—what had he ever done to get another chance at love like this? With a woman as wonderful as Candy?

“There are people who won’t like it, you know.”

Turner sighed. “Always will be. But it’s none of our business what people think of us. Do you know what I’m saying?”

Candy took a big breath. “I think so.”

He put his hands on her upper arms and held her tightly. “We have to promise each other right here and now that we won’t let them get to us. We can’t let them take away any of our happiness. If we do, we let them win.”