Pulling back, eyes glazed and lips ruby-reddened from the kiss, Lydia grinned seductively. "See." One more quick kiss. "Firecracker."
"Good thing I used to be a Boy Scout," he teased. "I know how to start all kinds of fires."
Hands braced against the wall on either side of her head, Elliot watched her heavy breathing. He thought he could even see her pulse throbbing at the base of her neck, just above the collar of the trench coat. Their eyes met, and for several long seconds he searched her soul and she searched his.
In a low, serious voice, she confessed, "I love you, Elliot Phelps."
"Yeah?" Now that he knew his days of longing were over, he let his playful side take over. "Why?"
He never expected her to take him seriously.
"Because you inspire me. You make me feel like I can be so much more than I am. You make me believe I can strike out on my own and make a go at having my own jewelry and accessories line."
"Really?" he demanded, thrill racing down his spine in goosebumps. "You're not taking the job."
"Nope," she answered moderately, though he could see the excitement beneath the surface. "I am currently unemployed."
"Not unemployed," he insisted, picking her up by the waist and spinning her around. "You're an entrepreneur."
She giggled as he set her back down against the wall. "I guess I am."
"I'm very proud of you."
"Thank you." She pressed a soft kiss on his mouth. "I wouldn't have the courage to do this without you."
"I like that kind of thank you," he teased, kissing her back. "In fact, I could think of a few other ways you could thank me if you were so inspired. At least a dozen involving this trench coat."
Placing her hands on his chest, she held him back when he tried to steal another kiss.
"Actually, I came up with one on my own."
"Really?" he growled.
"Hidden somewhere on my person is a symbol of how I feel for you." She pushed him back a step, looked both ways down the alleyway, and tightened the belt on the coat. "Find it."
With a primal growl, Elliot lunged for her, his hands roaming every inch of her body. He had no idea what he was looking for, but he would find it or die trying.
"Sir," a booming voice ordered, accompanied by the bright glare of a flashlight, "please step away from the lady."
Elliot looked up to find a patrolman watching them from the mouth of the alley, a stern look of disapproval on his face. Deciding not to tempt fate or the NYPD, Elliot took a step back from Lydia, careful to first make sure she was fully covered.
"Is he bothering you, Miss?"
"N-no, officer," she stammered as she clutched the trench coat over her chest. "He, um, is... his advances are welcome, if you know what I mean."
"Yes, Miss." The fatherly officer actually blushed. "Then you should take this somewhere private before you get an indecent exposure rap."
"Right away, sir."
When the officer didn't move, Elliot took Lydia by the hand and walked out of the alley. Within seconds he had hailed a cab and given the driver directions.
"You cad!" Lydia jerked the wig off her head and used it to whack him in the back of the head.
Elliot rubbed his scalp, wondering what in a cloth and nylon wig could have stung his flesh. "What was that for."
"You never said cops patrolled the alley itself."
"I didn't know. How could I—"
He stopped himself when Lydia burst out laughing.
"That was the most excitement I've had since..." She pondered, still grinning. "Well, since that boat ride in Italy."
"I'm happy to be of service." Elliot tried to sound petulant, even as he knew he loved her even more for her absurd sense of humor. "Hey, where's that thing hidden, anyway?"
She mouthed an exaggerated
oh
before checking the driver's attention. Finding it on the road, she reached inside the coat, in the general vicinity of her cleavage, and pulled out a small, round, shiny green ball. He had no idea what it was, but when she reached forward and placed it against his lips he obligingly opened and let her drop it on his tongue.
"Mmm," he hummed as he sucked on the ball. "Sweet. Whad ith it?"
"An Everlasting Gobstopper."
Her eyes looked at him, expectant. This was a symbol of her feelings for him, that they were everlasting.
He grinned and spit the candy into his palm, depositing it in his jacket pocket before leaning in to kiss her confused mouth. "Then I'll just make sure it lasts longer than Ever."
Lydia sighed and sank into his side. "I'll hold you to that. Verbal contract."
The cab pulled to a stop in front of his building. They climbed out and Elliot paid the cabbie. He turned back to Lydia just as she was retying the belt on the trench coat.
"Did I tell you my first name isn't Elliot anymore?" he teased, taking her by the arm and leading her into the building. "I've changed it to Gobstopper."
"What? Why?"
"Because I'm Everlasting."
She laughed at his stupid joke; this was why he loved her.
"I hope so, I expect to love you for a very long time."
"Oh yeah," he replied. "In love, too."
He waggled his eyebrows and she smacked him with the wig. "Ha, ha, very funny."
"That's why you love me."
"Yes," she sighed in mock resignation, "I suppose it is."
"Now we need to come up with a new name for you. What goes with Gobstopper?"
"How about..." she whispered her suggestion in his ear.
"Naughty, naughty girl." Elliot swung her into his arms and bounded up the stairs to his apartment. Licorice Laces had never sounded so good. "I love candy."
About the Author
TERA LYNN CHILDS
is the award-winning author of the mythology-based OH. MY. GODS. and GODDESS BOOT CAMP, the mermaid tales FORGIVE MY FINS and FINS ARE FOREVER, and a new trilogy about monster-hunting descendants of Medusa, starting with SWEET VENOM. Tera lives nowhere in particular and spends her time writing wherever she can find a comfy chair and a steady stream of caffeinated beverages.
Visit
teralynnchilds.com
for news, excerpts, and fun extras.
Books by Tera Lynn Childs
Oh. My. Gods.
Goddess Boot Camp
Forgive My Fins
Fins Are Forever
Sweet Venom
Copyright
EYE CANDY. Copyright © 2011 by Tera Lynn Childs. All rights reserved. This ebook is licensed for the purchaser only. No part of the text may not be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, resold or given away without the express written permission of the author.
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