The Sweetest Things (3 page)

Eventually, her attempts to do everything in her power to reach a cookie tin her mother had purposely left out of reach were just sad. He and Owen took mercy on her and got it down. They were six at the time, so it wasn’t exactly an easy feat since the tin was sitting on top of the refrigerator.

To hear her parents tell it, she’d been a sugar fiend from the time she was conceived. As the years passed, he’d gotten to witness it for himself. Not only that, but how close she and Owen were amazed him. As an only child, he’d never seen that kind of camaraderie in his own household. And because his parents had separated when he was young, his mother moving on with her life, Owen was the closest thing he’d ever had to a brother.

When Ivan—Konstantine’s father—had first signed him up for little league, he hadn’t been really interested. It wasn’t that he hated the sport; he was just awkward around other kids, quiet. He knew Owen would be his best friend when he purposely pitched a piece of dog shit at one of the kids playing against them who had been picking on Konstantine.

Up until that moment, the only friend he’d ever had was Ivan. He loved his father, but the man’s business had cost him time and his marriage. An equivalent of the comic-book Stark Industries, Vetrov Corp. had the leg up on cutting-edge, energy efficient technology. It was not only good for the environment but had a hand in creating affordable homes and irrigation systems for economically destitute communities in Africa.

As a child, Konstantine was fascinated with his father’s way of doing business. Every move Ivan made was for the benefit of someone else. Of course the man was worth millions, but he never seemed to care about money. He’d taught Konstantine at an early age that working hard for what you gained didn’t make you a man. It was what you
did
with what you gained that made you a man.

Konstantine’s love for his father and Vetrov Corp. was what spurred him to get his law degree and become an integral part of foreign business dealings. The last six years since he graduated from Yale had been spent traveling abroad and closing out contracts in Japan, Cape Town, Brazil, and London. Now he was finally home, he planned on spending some time with the old man and trying to figure out exactly how he’d convince Harper she was gonna be the one to birth his many children.

How exactly was he gonna announce that? A poem, maybe? Nah, that wouldn’t work with Harper. She’d never been the typical girl. If you wanted to express how you felt, you had to either be underhanded or outright. He could remember a time sixteen years ago when he’d been underhanded. Making that bet with Harper had opened the door on his coming into contact with the sweetest lips known to man. If he concentrated hard enough, he could still taste her cherry Chapstick.

He wondered what her lips tasted like now—what
all
of her tasted like now. Was she a screamer or a soft moaner? Would she pull his hair, leave scratches on his back, or grip him tight enough to show how much she needed him but not tight enough to leave a mark? How would she like it the first time—on her back or her knees?

“And this is your room,” Harper said, interrupting his train of thought. She’d been giving him a tour, but his focus had been on his nefarious romantic ideas rather than what she was saying. That kind of worked to his advantage because now he’d be able to storm into her room and
accidentally
see her naked...once he figured out where it was, and swear that he’d gotten lost.

The guest room was large and inviting with wall-sized windows, a king sized bed, and various shades of baby blue and chocolate. There were even a few framed baseball jerseys up from various teams. Without a word, Konstantine dropped his bag and ran for the bed, diving onto it and sighing.

“Um, before you start dry-humping my good linen, I think you should know there’s a full bath right across the hall. I’m running out to the farmer’s market because I’m sure if I open my fridge right now, bats will fly out.”

Snorting, he rolled over and dug into his back pocket to get his wallet. “Take my card.”

“Koz, I’m not—”

“Do you want me cranky?” he barked, cutting her off before holding out his debit card. “Take it. Use it. The PIN is my birthday. Don’t argue with me or I
will
get off this bed.”

“Konstantine—”

“When’s the last time someone gave you a wedgie?”

She clamped her lips shut and snatched the card out of his hand. “Asshole.”

He rolled back onto his stomach and buried his face in a pillow. “Love you too, Sweets.”

***

He made her crazy; had been doing that forever. Giant, hairy bastard. The thing of it was, she couldn’t exactly deny the way her chest warmed when he said he loved her. It wasn’t like the words were foreign to her. Any time he’d talked to her, they’d left his mouth with an ease that couldn’t be paralleled. There was something about that subtle New York accent and the huskiness of his voice that made her go still, waiting for the next word.

From the time Konstantine and Owen had helped her reach a cookie tin in her Mama’s kitchen, Harper had been fascinated by the tall, lanky kid with the out-of-control black mane and the startling ice-blue eyes. Konstantine’s manners, humor, and innate sweetness had made him a regular in the Sweet household. She knew he had a close relationship with his father but lacked the traditional family structure that helped all kids learn how to interact with others their own age.

When he first came around, Harper had expected him and Owen to avoid her but they never did. They included her in every little thing. If she were honest, Konstantine was the reason she became a softball little league all star. It had been his idea for her to learn how to play when she got old enough, and Harper discovered she loved the game almost as much as she loved sweets.

Years went by, and she stopped focusing so much on her sport and more on what else she loved to do—bake. It had been Elena’s idea for her to learn to make different desserts since her mother ran a small cake baking business. Her father, David, owned a lucrative marketing company—Owen had taken it over a few years ago—which was how he and Elena met. She did the very same thing Harper did now with distribution, dropping off fresh pastries every day for the lounge at David’s office.

Harper’s childhood had been full of laughter and all the things that an adult could look back on and smile. Her parents weren’t perfect, but they had been loyal to one another and the family they built. Elena had pushed her into attending NYU for her business degree and shortly thereafter her father helped her research culinary art schools until she found the perfect one.

When Sweet Treats began, it was Harper selling snacks off a cart on the blocks of New York City. David had offered to back her into getting a building and investors but she refused, wanting to do it herself. By night, she worked in a coffee shop, living at home; by day, she marketed cookies, cakes, pies, and anything else she could make. Before she knew it, she’d been discovered by none other than a businessman who worked with Ivan Vetrov.

He’d given her the money to find a location, set up, and get started. When Sweet Treats took off, Harper was able to pay him back with interest. Years later, here she was, more than a little proud of her success. Wandering around the farmer’s market never failed to get her juices flowing. So many fresh ingredients gave her multiple ideas on what her next big dessert test could be. During Thanksgiving, her sweet potato cheesecake had been a huge hit, and when Christmas rolled around, her gingerbread-crusted pies had been another big seller.

Chocolate strawberries were known to be in high demand around this time with Valentine’s Day coming up, so she could perfect some new recipes. Of course Janet, her sister-in law, would make fun of her because the highlight of a lover’s holiday would be
making
chocolate instead of dipping someone
in
that chocolate, but it really couldn’t be helped. Harper wasn’t good at dating; as a matter of fact, she fucking
sucked
at it.

She got really twitchy and uncomfortable around unrelated males. Having known two particular men all her life, she had the gist of what men saw when they looked at a woman, and she had no desire to become another notch on someone’s bedpost. The one time she had sex it was to finally get it out of the way, and the experience had been enough to make her feel as though she understood why nuns took vows of celibacy.

Surprisingly, that one touch from Konstantine earlier in the airport had brought life to something she’d thought long dead—her libido. If Harper ever decided to look deeper, which she wouldn’t, she’d admit he’d been able to do that just from the sound of his voice over the phone or the picture of his face on Skype.

When Harper looked down at her basket and realized she’d unconsciously gathered all the makings for Konstantine’s favorite dinner, she knew she was in deep.

“Why, in the good lord’s name, do you currently have your hand buried elbow-deep in my underwear drawer?”

The question was asked softly, calmly. But Konstantine had known Harper long enough to know the quiet should worry him the most, generally because it came
before
the storm. So, there he stood, with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar. At this point, he could be completely honest and say that after his shower and two-hour-long nap, he’d gotten up and out of curiosity found himself wandering around her bedroom. It was so...
Harper.

Her furniture was a light wood that went well with the summer colors adorning her walls, bedspread, ottoman, and small sitting area. Her bathroom had a tropical theme with sand-colored rugs, Mediterranean tile, and portraits of various beaches. Hanging above her bed was her framed high school softball jersey.

Yet with all the photos and cool knick-knacks, one thing called to him like a beacon, just begging for his attention. Konstantine being Konstantine, he it said attention. Which was how she inevitably found him playing around with her underwear. Now, he could admit all that, or...

“Uh, I was looking for the kitchen.” Blinking, he pulled his hand out of the drawer, one of her soft, pink, lace bras dangling from his fingers. He tucked his lips in and rocked back on the heels of his sock-clad feet. With that bra-filled hand, he waved around the general direction of the four walls. “Big house. I got lost.”

“So...you thought you’d find the kitchen in the same place you found my thongs?”

Mouth twisting, Konstantine looked down at the bra then back up at her. “Uh...yeah?”

“I’m going to kill you,” Harper said softly. “I’m going to kill you, and then I’m going to bury you where no one can find you.”

“Och! That’s fucking rude!”

“
Rude?”
she bellowed back. “
I’m
rude? You’re the one who’s being a fucking skeeve!”

“Because I wanted to know if you still wore training bras!” He wasn’t helping himself here, but dammit, right now he didn’t care. Konstantine waved that bra around. “Obviously that’s not true.” Glancing at the tag, he looked back up. “Double Ds? What the hell, Sweets?”

“Why are you yelling at me about my bra size?”

“Because you’ve never been kind enough to offer to show me what has quite obviously become a perfect pair of tits! So, to answer your question, you inconsiderate female,
yes—
you’re fucking
rude!”

She stopped, her shoulders jerking as she stared at him with wide eyes. “You’re insane.”

Konstantine shrugged. “Some might say.”

“You’re insane, and you’re staying in my home.”

“What I am is outraged.” He shook his hand. “
How?
How could you hide something as amazing as this? I told you you’d be a late bloomer, and what’s the thanks I get for my benevolent and gracious foresight that you’d have awesome sweater puppies? You don’t let me see them!” Konstantine bit down on his lip. “You’ve offended me on so many levels.”

“Koz—”

“I don’t know how I can ever forgive you.”

“Koz—”