“Is that right?” I laugh. She’s obviously fucking with me, playing hard to get. Mysterious.
“Yes it is,” she snaps. “And is that supposed to be funny?”
Shaking my head, I lean in and whisper, “Well, if you want my candy cane, princess, all you have to do is ask.”
“Does that line ever actually work?” she asks.
“I dunno.” I shrug. “Never tried to pick up a girl on Christmas before.”
“You don’t have to try, right? They just all flock to you?”
“They do,” I laugh. “But that doesn’t mean I want them.”
“Oh, so Lance Frost lives his life as a monk?”
Her eyes are intent, as if she’s genuinely probing me for information. It seems strange, given the game she’s playing. Or is it a game? Maybe there’s more to her than I thought.
“Not quite a monk
,” I tell her. “Just looking for the right woman. The one.”
She doesn’t respond to that one; she just sort of frowns and twists her lips.
“It takes a lot of money to start up a company, Faith. I could always invest—”
“No,” she says sharply. “I don’t want your money.”
“Is that supposed to impress me?” I ask. “You playing the long game?”
Faith angrily reaches into her purse and pulls out a small candy wrapped in pale yellow paper. She grabs my hand and stuffs it into my palm. “This is a sample of my product. My own lemon drops. I won’t need your money once I show investors.”
I twist the candy in my fingers. Actually, it’s quite impressive. The packaging is homemade and looks old-fashioned but in an attractive kind of way, like something you’d find in the 1950s. “Have Faith” is stamped on the paper in black ink.
“You’re pretty confident,” I tell her as I unwrap it. “Let’s see if you can back it up.”
I pop the bon-bon in my mouth. I don’t know what I was expecting, but not the explosion of sweetness that tingles over my tongue. My eyes must be wide because Faith instantly starts smiling.
“Confidence is earned, right?” she asks with a wink. “How’d I do?”
Christ. There really is more to this girl than I thought. I wonder if she tastes as sweet as her candy does.
FAITH
THIS HAS BEEN the most awkward, confusing dinner of my life.
Lance started out on the attack, looking at me like he either wanted to throw me out of the car or rip my clothes off, and to be honest, I’m not sure which one I would have preferred at that moment.
But now, after I gave him my lemon drop sample, he’s looking at me differently…like he respects me. Like I’m an equal. And for a man like Lance Frost, with the world at his fingertips, that’s an enormous compliment.
Am I—falling for him?
God, what a terrible idea. But I can’t help it.
He actually seemed genuinely interested in my lemon drop, and I am half wondering if his offer of going in as an investor in the company wasn’t just a test to see if I’m a “gold-digging whore” or not.
I feel bad for him. Despite having everything, he has absolutely no trust in people—especially women. I guess I never thought about what it’s like to be a man at the top of a successful company. Women, cars, money. That’s what I figured it would be like. Not always wondering who was going to stab you in the back.
I actually feel bad for him. That’s a surprise. My boss, the world’s biggest jerk, getting sympathy from me? After the butt-reaming he gave me back at the office, he deserved that slap—even if it was completely unprofessional for me to give it to him.