Sweet and Sinful. Jodi Lynn Copeland

      Courtney had never been embarrassed to admit where she came from before tonight.

      She was proud of her parents’ success in the blueberry industry. Their Newaygo-based farm turned over a healthy enough profit to see her four years of college tuition was paid up front and a steady supply of money was in her bank account, so that she’d been able to focus on her courses instead of working a part-time job to afford groceries and rent. It was their old-fashioned ethics that bothered her. More so, the fact that she’d lived by those same ethics for far too long. Denied herself pleasure because of them.

      Tonight, she wasn’t about to deny herself a thing. Tonight, she was going to screw the guy standing across the kitchen counter from her, mixing ice cubes into a bowl of boiling water and strawberry gelatin powder, while she kicked back on a barstool and enjoyed a cold beer.

      That was, if Blaine wanted to sleep with her.

      To think otherwise seemed ridiculous, given what she knew of him. But then, at dinner he’d made it sound like he really did want her at his house solely for the purpose of sharing dessert. The edible kind. The kind that had nothing to do with getting naked, even if the quickly melting ice cubes reminded her of the last time they’d been in his kitchen alone together, and had her sex moist and her nipples erect as a side effect.

      “Who would have guessed staring at ice could make a person horny?” Blaine asked.

      Courtney looked up from the mixing dish to find him smiling at her knowingly. “What makes you think I’m horny?”

      “A vast knowledge of the female mind and body. Your cheeks and lips are rosy, and your breathing’s coming faster than usual.”

      How did he know how fast she normally breathed? Unless he made it a point to pay attention, which would suggest he had wanted her for some time.

      She took a pull from her beer before asking casually, “Does that knowledge tell you we like to get gifts at work?”

      “Like the box of candy you got today?” At her nod, he continued, “My knowledge tells me most women know that kind of gift is just as overrated as dating. Either you eat it and it’s gone, which basically makes it a waste of money, or you don’t eat it and it goes bad, which definitely makes it a waste of money. If I’m going to give a woman a gift, it’s going to be delivered in person and be way better and much longer lasting than chocolate.”

      “Guess that rules you out as my admirer.” Courtney should be glad, considering the guy who gave her the box of candy claimed via lyrics that she was always on his mind. Since she wasn’t looking for a serious relationship for the next while, it wouldn’t do to sleep with a guy who felt that way about her. Still, part of her had held out hope the candy was from Blaine, if only because it would make certain that he still wanted her.

      Now she was at the mercy of his response to give some indication of his feelings. Only, he didn’t respond, just focused back on making the pie.

      Opening a container of whipped cream, he spooned it into the bowl and whisked the filling mixture for a good minute before adding strawberry slices and starting back in on the whisking. She was ready to say to hell with looking stupid should he answer in the negative, and ask him outright if he planned to sleep with her, when he finally quit stirring.

      Blaine looked up at her, his smile as knowing as it had been before. The look in his eyes was different, though. Before, they gleamed with amusement. Now, the irises were dark, almost black with unconcealed want. “I didn’t send the candy, but that doesn’t mean I don’t admire you.” His hot gaze moved down her body, stilling on her breasts. “There’s a whole lot to be admired about the way I could see down the front of your shirt when you were standing in front of me in the lunchroom today.”

      Courtney’s belly surged with warmth. Her nipples ached beneath his attention. Her pussy joined in, throbbing for his touch. “I thought you just wanted to have dessert?”

      “I do.”

      She groaned with the noncommittal response. “God, call me dense, but I can’t read you. Which kind of dessert are we talking about?”

      “Both.” The single word was edged with rough desire that had her heart slamming.

      Blaine grabbed the graham cracker pie crust he’d earlier pulled from the refrigerator, and poured the filling mix into the shell. “There’s a reason I waited until we got here to make this. It takes several hours to set. While it’s chilling, you’re going to heat me up.”