Sugar & Salt Read Online Free PDF Page A

spend some time with you. You’re so unlike the women I usually run into. This city is full of people with nothing to say. You’re... I don’t know the word for it, but I want to know more. Come on. For all I care, we can drive upstate and watch the sunrise, maybe do some antiquing. I can take the day off.”
    “Shit!”
    “What?”
    “Work! I didn’t tell Portia—” Janice digs her phone out of the small purse on her lap and checks the time. “Shit.”
    She stands up and swoops out of the overcrowded bar with her phone in one hand and her purse in the other, leaving Greenpeace to stare after her. She’s never late and always calls if she won’t be in before clients begin to arrive. On the rare occasion she takes a day off, she always arranges the schedule in advance, usually closing the house completely and only allowing outside engagements. Five days a week, Wednesday through Sunday, she presides over her business and the people in her employment. On the two days the others take off, she’s making plans, keeping secrets, and shaking hands—Portia usually at her side.
    Outside, she dials the private line, which rings on a special tone at Portia’s desk.
    “Sweet dreams.” Portia’s voice coos over the line.
    “Portia, it’s me. How is everything?”
    “Fine, of course.” The hurt tone in her voice is enough of a reprimand to make Janice switch gears after the flush of emotion passes.
    “Yes, of course you have everything under control. I’m usually there by now or I’ve called, and didn’t want you to worry.”
    “Everything is fine, Miss Necia. When will you be joining us tonight?”
    Greenpeace steps out of the bar and stands next to her, closing his phone after a call of his own.
    “Umm, I’m not sure when.”
    Greenpeace raises an eyebrow.
Work?
he mouths.
    She nods and turns her back to him. That intoxicating giddiness he inspires sets the world off kilter again. He does something to her equilibrium.
    “Are you not coming in?” Portia’s voice pitches up, shrill with surprise.
    “I’m not sure yet, but I have every confidence you can handle things there without me.” Janice feels the intensity of Portia’s smile. It radiates through the cell towers, spreading with electric joy.
    “Of course, Miss Necia. Thank you.”
    “I may be in yet, and my phone is on if you need to get a hold of me.”
    “Have fun.” A giggle breaks through Portia’s professional tone.
    “Good night, Portia.” Janice hangs up the phone, not waiting for her response. She glances over to where Greenpeace stands, holding open a car door, beckoning her to join him.

Managing Desire
    Portia’s exuberant giggle pulls Jackson’s attention away from his post. Her emotions call to him like a siren song. He’s completely at her mercy.
    She beams over at him, always aware of his proximity.
    He stands sentry behind the staircase, out of sight but on hand. He holds a book and flashlight, and wears an earpiece that connects him to the rest of the security staff. Despite the ever-present novel in his hand, he rarely reads—content instead to gaze across the grand foyer at Portia for hours. He watches her every night¸ and never gets tired of it. And the best part is, neither does she.
    He steps into the light, teasing her with his muscular upper body rippling under a tight, black tee-shirt that melts into his ebony skin. Tonight, he wears leather pants. Portia mentioned liking them once; he now owns four pairs.
    She rushes from her desk to meet him in the grand foyer, motioning for him to return to his post. “That was Miss Necia!”
    “Is she in trouble?” Jackson’s military history and desperate need to repent always leads him to assume someone needs rescuing.
    “No, I think she’s on a date.”
    “Necia?”
    “Miss Necia,” she corrects.
    “Are you sure?”
    “She didn’t say, but called to check in and said she might not be in tonight.”
    “I don’t think that’s ever happened before.”
    “She