Sugar Page 3

  I smiled at the sweet compliment, but no amount of flattery removed the longing for a Philly cheesesteak and a chance to sleep in rather than hit the gym every day at dawn. This body took a ton of work.

  “Thanks. I’ll take it.”

  “And lucky you, with those shoes, you won’t need any alterations.”

  I left the gown with Twyla so it could get steamed and delivered to my apartment in an hour. I took a cab to Jeweler’s Row.

  I only shopped for wear and toss jewelry. If the paste held the stones for one night, I got my money’s worth and walked away with money in the bank.

  Settling on a stunning black choker and sophisticated studs, I’d found the perfect compliments to the red gown. Everything I knew came from watching others, fashion sense like, sometimes less was more.

  As I left the store and hailed a cab, I reevaluated my spending. One-seventy-five on a dress, forty on shoes, eighty-five on jewelry. And hair and makeup shouldn’t be more than one-thirty—including tip.

  I prided myself on being a generous tipper since I, too, benefited from the practice. My total cost came in under five hundred but looked over a thousand, a successful shopping spree if I ever saw one.

  I made excellent time and saved over seven hundred dollars to put toward tuition—plus the money I’d make tonight.

  Leave it to Micah, the man who introduced me to the sugar baby profession, to also remind of the perks. The price of financial independence only cost me a little time each week.

  I never expected to be a sugar baby or, more impressively, a college graduate. When I earned a scholarship and packed up my childhood bedroom back in Blackwater, I had doubts that I’d succeed. I feared I’d eventually return to that shithole called home.

  My brothers left years before, long after my mother drank herself into a depression that deteriorated into abuse. But I couldn’t abandon her completely. Maybe I was fucked up, but she needed help and I was the only person willing to help her.

  But I was never going back. I lived with the mentality of an animal willing to gnaw off its own leg to escape a bad situation. Blackwater was a graveyard of broken dreams and disillusioned folks with more faith in scratch-off tickets than labor laws.

  I’d been a kid when I realized getting out meant depending on myself and clawing my way to the top even when exhaustion and hunger held me down. I’d do whatever it took to break away from that past, even if it meant leaving others behind.

  My life didn’t have time for moral reflection or guilt. I was too busy surviving. Everything in this world came with a price, and the one thing people were always claiming they couldn’t buy was youth.

  I was young enough, pretty enough, and I had enough brains to know sometimes you had to rob Peter to pay Paul. Being a sugar baby meant borrowing against my youth to afford a better future.

  Less than one year of college left, and I’d be a certified teacher, qualified to earn a respectable income and live a normal life anywhere I pleased. Once I landed a real job, I’d never have to return to Blackwater again, and I’d never have to fake attraction again.

  “What do you think?” The stylist turned my chair away from the make-up artist, and I faced a reflection too pretty to be me.

  “Wow.” It never ceased to amaze me how easily they could transform a backwoods trailer park nobody with once mousey brown hair and freckles into a classy, sexy siren. “I don’t even recognize myself.”

  My hair, no longer light brown since having numerous blonde highlights threaded throughout, spun like expensive silk into a wavy bun with impressive height atop my head. And my makeup was drop-dead perfect. Smoked out eyes with gold shimmer accents around the corners, heavy lash extensions, deeply contoured cheekbones, and the perfect nude shade of gloss to give my mouth the sort of pout men went crazy for. Micah would be very pleased.

  Of all the men I kept arrangements with, there would always be something special about Micah. Dark skinned, quiet, sophisticated, with eyes full of secrets. He’d been my first Daddy and would probably be my last. Of all the Daddies I kept, he remained the only one with whom I shared a special bond. He’d be the hardest to leave.

  He never smiled, but he also never failed to express praise. As my leading client, he taught me how to be one of the best sugar babies in the city. I let him get away with more than my other clients ever would.

  The doorman called up at precisely five fifty-nine. “Miss Johansson, you have a guest in the lobby.”

  “Thank you. Please send him up.” Micah would always be welcomed past the front desk. It was his name on the lease, after all.

  Collecting my wrap and slipping on my heels, I met him at my door. “Always on time.”

  “Avery.” He took my fingers in his hand and pulled me into a slow twirl. “You never fail to impress me. Gorgeous.”

  “Thank you.” I allowed him to adjust my wrap and press a kiss to my cheek.

  I couldn’t help permitting the kiss. Micah could easily make me beam with pride. Mature and debonair, he defined a class act.

  “Shall we?”

  Not once did he try for more than my company. He wasn’t in a relationship. And, aside from being married to his job, he led a fairly uncomplicated life. I believed our simplistic arrangement survived three years because of its uncomplicated nature.

  I trusted him, something I didn’t do easily. He encouraged and guided me in the gentlest manner possible. And, in a way, I believed he depended on me, too. Men like Micah didn’t rely on many people, something we had in common.

  He took my keys as we exited the apartment, and I waited as he fastened the locks. My gaze snagged on the moving dial above the elevator, and my heart stuttered.

  Someone was coming.

  There were only two of us on this floor, so chances of it being Noah were pretty high. His imminent approach filled me with an uncomfortable emotion, one I struggled to identify and had a hard time hiding from my date.

  Micah passed me my keys, and I tucked them into my clutch just as the doors to the elevator parted. My breath escaped in a relieved sigh as a man I didn’t recognize entered the hall. The scent of Chinese food wafted from the brown bag he carried, and I knew we only had a few seconds before my neighbor opened his door.

  Set on avoiding Noah, very aware of the things he made me feel, the way he looked at me like he wanted to taste me, the way something dark awakened inside of me when I felt his stare on my body—and all the ways we were incompatible, I kept my gaze down. I didn’t need complications and Noah couldn’t be anything else.

  I had my own game I wanted to play—be the untouchable goddess across the hall. When the game changed, I didn’t want to play anymore.

  Noah was the sort of man who looked comfortable in designer clothes, drove a beautiful garage-kept car, and seemed used to getting his way. The opposite of my type. So why was I obsessed with him?

  He was the sort of man I accepted as a client, not the sort I invited into my bed. But, oh, to tie him to my bed…

  Never. Going. To. Happen.

  Noah was dangerous. If I kept reminding myself of that, the warning might sink in.

  Micah rested a familiar hand on the base of my spine as we entered the elevator and turned.

  The deliveryman knocked, and Noah’s door opened. My breath drew deep and held as my neighbor stepped into the hall.

  Noah’s potent blue gaze clashed with mine, and the world went utterly still.

  “Is everything okay?” Micah’s stare needled at my side, but my gaze remained locked with Noah’s, trapped in that sticky stillness.

  No babies were born, no tears were shed, no birds flapped their wings, and no wind blew. Eerily motionless, time stuttered for that shared second between us, and the moment belonged to only us, no one else could touch it.

  And then the spell broke, snapping like a stretch of elastic pulled too far. All of the energy in between lagged and drooped as his gaze drifted over my gown and lifted to Micah.

  Noah’s lips firme
d, and I could taste his displeasure. Not my problem, I reminded myself. I had a job to do, and doing my neighbor wasn’t part of it. And I didn’t do guilt.

  Micah leaned forward to press the button.

  We shared an address, nothing more. I had no business behaving like some starry-eyed tween and knew better. If he knew who I really was, he’d know better, too.

  The doors closed, and I forced myself to forget about Noah and focus on my date.

  “Are you friendly with your neighbor?”

  My gaze lifted to Micah’s face. “Why do you ask?”

  “You didn’t say hello. Do you not get along?”

  “We only met once. I hardly see him.” Because I’m excellent at avoidance.

  “No need to get defensive, Avery. I was only asking a question. If there’s a problem with your neighbor, we could see about having you moved to a different floor.”

  I swallowed a laugh. The high demand building didn’t have vacancies unless someone passed away or got evicted. No one voluntarily left such luxury. Even the apartments on the surrounding blocks had waiting lists. Yet, I somehow knew Micah could have me moved within one business day.

  “I love my apartment, Micah. I’m sure my neighbor and I won’t have any issues.”

  “Good.”

  He escorted me through the lobby, and my gaze snagged on the copy of Cosmo resting by the row of brass mailboxes. My guilty pleasure. I intended to devour the magazine in bed tonight after Micah dropped me off.

  5

  Avery

  After another pleasant evening out, Micah escorted me to the elevator, and my gaze lingered on the row of mailboxes, not a single piece of mail littering the mantle. Someone better have stuck my magazine in my box, or there was going to be a problem.

  After a polite goodbye and a soft kiss on my brow, I said goodnight and stripped out of my gown. Plucking the pins from my hair, I searched for my slippers. There was really nothing quite as lovely as pajamas and slippers.

  Heading back down to the lobby, not caring about my appearance at one a.m., I unlocked my mailbox and—

  Empty.

  Frowning, I scanned the antique tables decorating the pristine sitting room of our lobby. Nothing.

  Beyond the lobby sat the main vestibule. The doorman sat behind an ornate desk with his back to the security monitors, his focus on his phone and an amused grin pulling at his caramel lips.

  “Winston, did someone throw away the mail that was on the mantle?”

  He looked more alertly in my direction, straightening his posture and adjusting the visor of his black Pershing hat. “No, ma’am. That would be a federal offense. Are you missing something?”

  “Someone stole my magazine.”

  He raised his brow, and I heard how stupid the accusation sounded. People in this building didn’t steal magazines. If they were set on stealing anything, embezzling millions seemed a more appropriate crime for their tax bracket. But someone had taken my magazine.

  “Perhaps it didn’t get delivered yet.”

  But I saw it there earlier. “You’re sure no one messed with the mail?”

  He straightened the notched lapel of his jacket, the gold trim matching the cuffs and creases of his pants. “You’re the only one who had an outside guest in the building this evening. Well, you and Mr. Wolfe.”

  “Mr. Wolfe?”

  Winston grinned. “Your neighbor.”

  Wolf, lion, thief… Regardless, he was dangerous.

  “Oh.”

  Wait…

  Trying not to appear overly curious in my neighbor’s life, I casually asked, “He had company tonight?” Was his guest male or female?

  “Just a supper delivery, but I watched the cameras the entire time the man was in the building, and he didn’t go near the mailboxes, Ms. Johansson.”

  My gaze darted to the surveillance screen. Five views captured the front entrance, each floor, and the lobby. “Can you see who did?”

  “Uh, I could, but that involves rolling back the tapes and interrupting the feed. I’m not the person to do that. I’m sure it’s just a simple misunderstanding, another neighbor mistaking the magazine for their own. How about I give you the four dollars to purchase a new one and from now on I’ll ask the mailman to leave any extra items for you at my desk?”

  I sounded like an idiot, making a big deal out of a four-dollar magazine. Swallowing my disappointment, I shook my head.

  “No, that won’t be necessary. It’s just a magazine. Thanks anyway.”

  But it was my magazine, and someone took it. Who the fuck steals a Cosmo?

  Jamming my finger against the elevator button, I stepped inside. There went my big plans for the remainder of the night. I should probably get some sleep anyway.

  Tomorrow I had school and tomorrow night I had a date with Josh. Josh was a regular, in his forties, what most women would consider dull, but he had a sweet personality, and I’d come to enjoy his anecdotes.

  6

  Avery

  After class, I rushed through my routine and had my hair blown out into sexy waves and my makeup done in a matter of thirty minutes. Josh didn’t do fancy. He enjoyed ordinary things, but with some guaranteed company.

  I never had to load on the makeup or wear more than a pair of trendy jeans and a cute shirt with him. He said he liked my hair down and thought women were prettiest when they looked like they weren’t wearing any makeup at all. I couldn’t do zero makeup, but I made it look like I could.

  We had dinner at a trendy sports bar and played some games in the game room afterward. Josh kept quiet around outsiders, but once in a while, he’d find the courage to cradle my hips at a pinball machine. He seemed harmless, so I let him. I liked Josh, and one day I hoped he found his Mrs. Right and fell in love.

  Josh needed confidence, and I wanted to give it to him. So when he cupped my hips, I leaned in just enough to let him know harmless flirting worked when on a date. His tameness kept our dates worry free. I selfishly used his need to practice physical displays of affection to feed my need for mild contact.

  After our date, he drove me home and watched me walk to the door. It had been one of my easier nights. Our ease together kept him penciled in, even when I could be making a bigger profit with a more affluent client.

  I let myself into my apartment and kicked off my shoes. Not two seconds after I walked through the door did someone knock. A partial chill chased over my arms as I worried Josh might have gotten the wrong impression and found the nerve to finally ask for more. Sighing, I walked to the door and opened it. Not Josh, but Noah, holding my Cosmo magazine in his hand.

  “The mailman accidentally put this in my mailbox.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire…

  My brows slowly lifted. “Is that so?”

  He smiled, and I bet that smile got him everything his little heart desired, which was probably why he thought it was okay to run around stealing people’s mail.

  “The post office is always screwing up.”

  Now, he was blaming the post office? Outraged on behalf of mail carriers everywhere, I arched a brow.

  “Well, thanks.” I took my magazine, and his gaze lifted over my shoulder.

  I turned, wondering what he saw, trying to see my home for the first time with fresh eyes. Sometimes it still got me in the chest when I stepped back and appraised how far I’d come. But now was not the time to get nostalgic and emotional.

  When he made no move to go back to his door, I gave a tight-lipped smile. “Thanks for returning it.”

  I’ll be sure to collect my mail more promptly in the future.

  “Do you have plans Friday night?”

  I frowned, wondering why he wanted to know. “Um…” Did I have plans? No, not yet. “I’d have to check my schedule.”

  “I’m having a party. Just a small get together with a few work friends.”

  His gaze drifted over my shoulder again, and I did a double take. He seemed to be searching for something in my apartme
nt.

  His attention snapped back to me. “Sorry, am I interrupting? Do you have company?”

  Well, wasn’t he nosy? I angled the door for privacy, bracing my body between him and the opening.

  My upbringing embedded the need for maintaining the upper hand in all things and left little room to trust outsiders. He obviously thought I had someone there, and I strangely enjoyed his unanswered suspicions. Mystique could serve as a powerful aphrodisiac, and I’d accidentally stumbled into teasing him again.

  I lowered my lashes and smiled. “I don’t think I have plans.”

  His eyes flashed to mine, and this time, I didn’t buckle under the intensity of his stare. “Everyone’s coming over around eight. Just some drinks and hors d’oeuvres. Nothing fancy.”

  Where I came from, anything with a dollar store tablecloth and chips was fancy, but he wouldn’t know that. “If I’m free I’ll stop by.”

  I was going to stop by because we were playing a metaphorical game of doctor—show me yours and I’ll show you mine. He saw my apartment now I needed to see his. Tit for tat. I might even steal something while there to even the score for my Cosmo.

  “Great. I’ll see you then.”

  “See you then.”

  As I closed the door, I smiled, but quickly rolled my eyes. “You know better, Avery. Don’t waste your time.”

  The rest of the week passed in a blur of dates and studying. Friday morning I received a text from a sporadic client who paid well but got under my skin. He wanted to meet downtown for a few drinks after work. I hesitated, curious to see Noah’s apartment and meet his friends, but then common sense kicked in, and I accepted the date.

  It was good money, and next semester’s tuition would be due soon. I needed to cover all my bases so I could get my books and replace the money I’d sent my mother.

  The polite thing would have been to tell Noah I wasn’t going to make it to his party, but he’d gone and stolen my mail, so I didn’t think normal rules of social etiquette applied.

  Although I didn’t particularly care for Friday night’s client, my appearance served as my moneymaker, so I put the same care into my outfit that I would with any date. My navy blue dress fit like a glove, accentuating all the right curves. And my hair celebrated one of those amazing days where it settled into perfect flowing waves.