Kandy Shoppe

Romance/Erotic Novella

Publisher: Breathless Press

Copyright 2008/2011 Debora Dennis.
All rights reserved.


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Beads of perspiration slid between Kandace Parker’s breasts as the temperature—both inside her ice cream parlor and out—climbed to over a hundred degrees. The bangs that normally bounced in curly masses above her eyebrows now stuck to her forehead as if super-glued in place. It was bad enough she might have to give away the melted ice cream in her shop for free, but finding herself once again at the mercy of her sexy repairman, Jason Chapman, was disastrous.

Jason swiped his sweaty brow with the back of one hand and leaned against her industrial freezer. “As much as I enjoy these visits, I think it’s time to start considering a newer model.”

He folded his arms across his chest and winked at her. Her insides churned, her skin tingled and she used every ounce of self-control she possessed to keep from looking into his warm brown eyes. No matter how hard her heart thumped at the sight of him, past mistakes were still that—mistakes.

 “Maybe next summer. But for right now, just get the thing running,” she said, sweeping a finger across her forehead in an attempt to unstick her bangs and clear her vision. She needed to see him coming, be prepared. He never left the ice cream parlor without asking her out. He was persistent; she’d give him that. Sooner or later he was going to catch her off-guard, make her forget her pride, and give in to the desire she’d kept firmly under wraps for years.

Then again, maybe today would be different and he’d actually fix her freezer for good. Kandy sucked in a laugh at the thought and continued to watch his every move, determined to keep her agitation with his presence in check. “You seem to be on call a lot lately. Your father on vacation again?”

“Semi-retired. Tom and I run the business now.”

How unlucky for her, the playboy half of the Charming Chapman Boys always seemed to be on duty when her freezer went on the fritz. Mother Nature had some warped sense of humor. The man had coiled her insides into knots since high school. Knots that continued through college and every damn time he walked through her door. His over-inflated ego and her staunch determination to never let him get close again was the only thing that gave her the strength to resist his advances.

The clock ticked on the wall, a reminder with every exaggerated click that—for the second time this month—The Kandy Shoppe would either open late or be serving chocolate chip soup instead of ice cream. She couldn’t afford to keep giving away her frozen assets as melted slush. While this was no way to build a clientele blocks off the beach strip, she couldn’t afford a new freezer either. She’d have to hope she could keep it in running order at least through the end of the summer.

Jason grabbed a wrench from the tool belt strapped around his waist before he leaned over the side of the freezer case. A faded green t-shirt, reminiscent of her favorite pistachio ice cream, stretched across his taut back muscles. The ragged hem dangled an inch above the waistband of his acid-washed jeans. If he bent over a little more she’d have a better view of his firm ass lovingly encased in denim. Looking and reminiscing about what lay beneath his clothes wasn’t wrong, she convinced herself for the hundredth time this month. In fact, it was harmless.

From behind him she couldn’t help but take her fill of his muscular body. From the wavy black hair hanging just below his ears, her eyes traveled downward not lingering in any one place too long. Strong, sinewy shoulders rippled as he twisted the wrench. Her gaze followed the lean lines of his lats down to a tapered waist that ended at a backside she had the sudden urge to reach out and touch. Her fingers flexed in anticipation of his firm skin and she quickly pushed her sweaty hands into the back pockets of her khaki shorts.

No touching Jason Chapman. Ever. Again.


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