Candy Apple

151 Pages·2012·0.61 MB·English

by  Clare Tielle St

Candy Apple
Tielle St. Clare

Book 3 in the Red Panty Diaries series.

Tasha has heard the tale of the cursed wedding dress since she was young.
Now it’s her turn. Unlike her friends, who somehow each ended up with two
men, Tasha knows she’s destined for just one—someone a little bland and
boring, but she’s okay with that. She dons the dress to prove her fiancé is that
man…but the dress doesn’t respond to him.
However, it sure reacts to the sexy stranger in the elevator, leaving her
standing there wearing nothing but candy-apple-red panties. One night of
incredible sex leads Tasha to believe the dress has done its job. Imagine her
surprise when it responds to another man, a bad-boy firefighter and cousin to the
man from the elevator.
Now Tasha’s got two lovers—and they aren’t inclined to share!
C A
ANDY PPLE
Tielle St. Clare
Chapter One

Dear Diary,
I pulled out the dress today. Cait’s found her true love, or loves if you believe
her. So has Heather. Guess that means it’s my turn.

Tasha stared at the two-carat diamond engagement ring weighing down her
finger. The ring was gorgeous—elegant, classic, a little ostentatious, but Jason
liked people to know he could afford the finer things in life.
She took another sip of her wine. Though considering she was on her third
glass, it was more of a gulp. Raising her eyes, she looked at herself in the mirror.
The white wedding gown hung loose on her hips. She had one final step. All she
had to do was zip it up.
This would prove that Jason was the right man for her. Though why she was
having doubts, she didn’t know. He was smart and sometimes funny. And they
had so much in common. They talked about business and books and, uh,
business books.
No, they didn’t have the wild, incredible sex that Cait and Heather reported
having with their men, but Tasha didn’t expect it. For one thing, she wasn’t the
type to have wild sex. She tended toward a more subdued version of the whole
process.
Besides, she wasn’t falling into bed with two guys like her friends had. She
had one man and that was plenty.
But once she zipped the dress, there was no going back. She was stuck in it
until Mr. Right came along and if Jason wasn’t Mr. Right…
She shook her head—and the room began to spin.
Do it, she commanded herself. He’s the one. He asked you to marry him. You
said yes. You have to believe he’s Mr. Right.
I do. I do believe it.
Taking a deep breath, she reached behind her and tugged the zipper up her
back. The strapless bodice curved to her chest. It amazed her how the dress
conformed to different body types—Cait was statuesque with a large chest.
Heather was more willowy. And Tasha was…well, plump.
But what else could she expect? She owned two bakeshops and made the
best chocolate chip cookies in the city. Carrying around an extra fifteen,
sometimes twenty, pounds seemed like a reasonable compromise.
She took a deep breath and a little shiver ran across her skin as her nipples
pressed against the soft material on the inside of the bodice. Heather had warned
her about that. She laughed. Heather had warned her about a lot.
Heather was out tonight with “her men”. They’d come to town for a visit but
based on the amount of luggage they brought, they were planning to stay. Once
Heather had announced that she was taking Cain and Paxson out for dinner,
Tasha knew tonight was her night.
She didn’t know how Heather would react to Tasha’s plan. Probably support
it. Hell, she’d probably offer to drive Tasha over to Jason’s apartment, but Tasha
wanted to do this on her own.
Of course, if Jason isn’t Mr. Right, Heather’s going to find out anyway when
I come home wearing the dress.
No one knew how the dress was cursed, just that it was. Once you put it on,
you were stuck in it until you found your true love. Tasha’s mother had been the
first to experience it shortly after her divorce from Tasha’s father. Her mom had
ended up with a fantastic guy, Nick.
Tasha had kept the dress for all these years. Now it was her turn.
She picked up her glass, toasted herself in the mirror and tossed back the
remaining wine.
A honk outside made her spine straighten. Forcing breath into tight lungs,
she grabbed her purse, pushed her glasses farther up her nose and headed for the
front door. The taxi sat in the driveway. With three glasses of wine in her, no
way was she going to drive.
Besides, she expected to be spending the night at Jason’s and he had no on-
street parking.
The ride to Jason’s apartment building went quickly. So fast her head was
still spinning by the time she got out of the car.
She leaned back and looked up at the high-rise. She’d figured out which unit
was Jason’s one night and wanted to make sure he was home. He’d said he was
going to spend the night just kicking back, relaxing, that it had been a hectic
week and he needed to spend some time alone.
Tasha had willingly agreed. She understood that. Any Friday night she didn’t
spend with Jason, she usually spent in her jammies, eating fried food and
watching re-runs of Two and A Half Men. So she understood the need to
hibernate.
Still, if they were going to be married, they needed to learn to hibernate
together.
Pushing her shoulders back, she raised her chin and approached the front
door. Carlton, the doorman, nodded politely—not even flinching at the sight of
the ugly wedding dress—and said, “Good evening, Miss Bennett. You can go
right up.”
“Thank you.” She clutched the skirts and maneuvered into the open elevator.
Strange, Carlton usually called up to make sure Jason was home and was
expecting her. She’d never been allowed to “go on up”.
She hit the button for the fifteenth floor and leaned against the back wall as
the doors closed. Her heart thumped in her chest and her fingers clutched her
purse until her knuckles turned white. Every breath came out as a gasp as she
fought the restriction of the elastic bodice.
The lights across the top of the elevator lit up one by one as the elevator
inched its way up. She couldn’t decide if she wanted it to take a long time or to
zoom up there so she could get this over with. The decision was made for her.
This elevator didn’t zoom.
Still, once the door opened, she realized she needed more time. She wasn’t
ready. This was probably a bad idea except now she was stuck in the dress and
she hoped to heaven that Jason was Mr. Right. How was she going to explain
this to her employees?
The bodice seemed to tighten around her waist. Panting, she propped her
hand against the wall trying to ward off the minor panic attack. She could do
this. If Jason wasn’t her true love, she was sure they’d have a good laugh then
she could go home and drown in a tub of cookies and cream ice cream.
Closing her eyes and her lips, she forced herself to take a long slow inhale
through her nose, hold it and then slowly exhale. Hearing the voice of her Pilates
instructor chime through her head, she took another few deep breaths and began
to feel calmer.
A stray curl flopped onto her nose and she swatted it out of the way.
When Heather and Cait had met their true loves, they’d been wearing the
dress, red panties and red high, high heels. Tasha had wanted to repeat their
experiences as directly as possible, but there was no way she could wear four-or
five-inch heels. It would totally ruin the effect of the dress falling off if she
broke her ankle and had to be taken to the emergency room wearing nothing but
red panties.
So she’d opted for modest two-inch heels. It made the dress a little long on
her but she wasn’t planning to wear the thing for long.
Hiking the fluffy skirts up in her hands, she stalked down the hall to Jason’s
apartment. Angry butterflies took residence in her stomach but she refused to let
the nerves get the best of her and pressed the doorbell.
She smoothed her hands down the front of the dress. Not that she had to
worry. The thing couldn’t be wrinkled, or burned, or cut. It was indestructible.
Still, it gave her a boost of confidence to feel her waist dip in nicely. Those
Pilates classes and the elastic in the dress seemed to be working.
The door swung open. Tasha looked up and smiled, wanting to see Jason’s
reaction when he saw the dress. He was going to lau—
Only it wasn’t Jason standing at the door. It was Jenny, his secretary.
That bastard. He’s having an affair? With his secretary? How very Mad
Men.
Jenny smiled and looked down at Tasha’s outfit. The look of horror and
confusion that crossed her face might have been funny if Tasha wasn’t so pissed.
Jenny quickly recovered.
“Miss Bennett,” she greeted her. “Won’t you please come in?” She stepped
to the side and waved Tasha into Jason’s apartment.
Okay, she’d never been cheated on before but she was pretty sure the
mistress didn’t invite the fiancée to join them.
It was then she heard noises—sounds of human voices, talking, laughing.
No, it wasn’t an affair. He was having a party.
One that he hadn’t invited her to. Okay, she could handle that. She had girls’
nights that he wasn’t allowed to attend but why had he lied about having it?
Maybe a bachelor party? No, why invite your secretary to that? An orgy?
She glanced past Jenny’s shoulder to the sunken living room just down the
hall. Everybody she could see was dressed in black or gray business suits, only
the shades varied.
Definitely not an orgy.
Jenny once again glanced at Tasha’s dress.
“Would you like me to find Jason for you?”
“Sure. That’d be great,” Tasha answered sweetly.
“Can I get you a drink?”
“What the hell. How about a shot of tequila?”
Jenny’s lips pulled into a tight smile. “Of course. I’ll send it right over.”
Tasha winked. “You do that.”
She watched Jason’s secretary walk away. The woman moved with the kind
of grace that had to be inborn. She wasn’t dressed for a party—Tasha had
attended Jason’s office Christmas party and knew that when Jenny dressed for an
event, she went full-out designer elegance. Tonight, she wore her office clothes.
Simple, sleek and posh enough to make Tasha feel frumpy in her finest outfit.
The jealousy over Jenny’s fashion sense just added to her ire and by the time
Jason walked up the living room stairs, a questioning smile on his face, she was
ready to snap someone’s neck. Preferably Jason’s.
“Honey, how lovely to see you.” The tone of his voice was welcoming,
almost cheerful. He reached out his hands. Habit had her placing her fingers into
his palms as he pulled her close for a kiss on her cheek. “What are you
wearing?” His voice dropped and grew a little cooler. He glanced behind him as
if checking to see if anyone was watching.
“Just a little something I picked up at the secondhand store. What?” She
shook her head innocently. “It’s not a costume party?” She tapped her finger
against her lower lip. “That’s what my invitation said—oh wait.” She snapped
her fingers. “I wasn’t invited.”
“I can explain that,” Jason murmured, keeping his voice low and calm.
“Maybe we could talk about this later.”
“I’m busy later. Let’s talk now.”
Jason, like Tasha, didn’t like confrontation, but she’d had three glasses of
wine so she didn’t feel like backing down. He sighed.
“It’s just a cocktail party for some of the people at the office and a few
clients.”
“Why did you feel the need to lie to me about it? If you didn’t want me at the
party, I can handle that.” She wasn’t really sure that was true, but it sounded
mature and sophisticated.
“It’s not that I don’t want you here.” His voice had shifted into soothing
mode. He used it when he thought she would get upset or when she just wouldn’t
understand. “I thought you would feel uncomfortable. These aren’t my friends.
They are my business associates. All we do here is discuss business. You’d be
bored and wouldn’t really understand most of the conversation.”
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she crossed her arms over her
chest.
“Why wouldn’t I understand? I’m a businesswoman. I own two businesses.
I’ve probably got more practical experience in a business than any person in that
living room.”
Sympathy clouded Jason’s eyes. “Honey, owning two little cookie stores just
doesn’t compare to the kinds of money and finance that we’re talking about
here.”
“Two little cookie stores? That’s what you think of my business?”
He winced. “That wasn’t what I meant. I’m very proud of you. You’ve
succeeded where most mom-and-pop businesses fail. But this is a different
world.”
The engagement ring hung heavy on her finger. “What were you going to do
when we got married? Ask me to hide in the closet when you wanted to have
your business associates over?” Her voice came up just a touch and she knew
they had to be attracting some attention from the people in the living room.
Didn’t care.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Jason’s upper lip flattened out into a line so thin she
could barely see it. “As my wife, you’d be my hostess and expectations would be
different.”
“So, I wouldn’t be expected to understand.”
“That’s not what I meant.” The soothing tone turned patronizing.
Breath locked in her throat as if someone had punched her in the stomach.
She blinked and stared at the lapel of Jason’s suit jacket. This was how he
thought of her? No respect for her business. No respect for her intellect.
And all the times he’d talked down to her, explaining things in simple terms,
she’d tried to take it that he wanted to be a good teacher. But now she realized,
he thought she was too stupid to understand.
“Why do you even want to marry me? It’s certainly not to be a trophy wife.
I’m more Buddha than willowy blonde.”
“Darling.” Once again he took her hands and looked into her eyes. He
seemed to be trying to convey some emotion through his stare but all she saw
was patronizing crap. “We want the same things. A home, children and neither
of us is getting any younger.”
“Well, that’s certainly a reason to marry a woman you think is stupid.”
“I don’t—”
She grabbed the ostentatious ring on her left hand. Unfortunately, her fingers
had swollen a bit and she had to struggle to get it off. Finally, it slid free and she
slapped it into his hand.
“But, darling—”
“Excuse me.”
The new voice intruded and both Tasha and Jason snapped to attention. They
hadn’t exactly drawn a crowd, but there was a man Tasha remembered from
Jason’s office holding his coat, as if he was trying to leave but they were
blocking the exit. On the other side stood a waiter, Tasha’s glass of tequila