Smashwords version Sweet Surrender by Georgette St. Clair Page B

morning!  Have you ever heard of knocking?”
Jeffrey grabbed a file folder to cover his crotch.
    Poppy made a quick mental note: Burn accounts
receivable folder at earliest opportunity.
    She turned her attention to Viola, who was glaring at her and not
bothering to hide her nudity.  “Viola? Your boyfriend?”
    “Oh, fuck him. Let him find another ATM. Now could you please get
the hell out? I was right in the middle of an orgasm!”
    Rafe and Poppy backed out of the office.  Poppy slammed the door
behind her and swung around to stare at Rafe, her jaw hanging open.  He
was laughing so hard tears were streaming down his cheeks.
    “That was classic,” he gasped, between chortles.
    “You do not get to say I told you so,” Poppy hissed. “Good God. My
eyes. I want to bleach my brain. What the hell was Jeffrey doing with that
chocolate pop? That wasn’t hygienic! And what if Viola’s leg got stuck that
way? And damn it, how am I ever going to sit at that desk again, after the way
they…violated it?”
    Rafe laughed even harder, clutching his stomach.
    “And seriously, they’re going to just…keep doing it? Even though
we’re right here in the store? My best friend is a hussy and your brother is a
manslut.”
    “That about sums it up.” Rafe was wheezing with laughter now. “Did
you see the looks on their faces? Did you see they got chocolate all over the
files in your inbox? ”
    “Yes. I hate you,” Poppy said glumly.
    “No, you don’t. You want me to take you upstairs and paint you
with strawberry finger paint and lick it off.”
    “Well, aren’t you self confident. Maybe if-“
    Something came rattling through the open front door, rolling on
the floor and coming to a rest in the middle of the bakery. Something metal and
pineapple shaped.
    “Down!” Rafe bellowed. He threw his body on top of hers, and
knocked her down behind a display case. Seconds passed, and nothing happened.
    “It’s a grenade, but apparently it’s a dud,” Rafe said, still
covering her with his body.
    “A grenade?” Poppy cried out, horrified. “Apparently, but not
definitely, it’s a dud?”
    “I’m pretty sure it’s a dud.” They waited for at least a minute
more. Even with a potentially explosive device a dozen feet from them, Poppy
couldn’t help but be aware of Rafe’s muscular body pressing against hers, his
arms circling her protectively. Finally he stood up and helped her to her feet.
    Then he hustled her down the hallway, pausing to bang on the
office door.
    “No! Go away!” Viola yelled.
    “There’s a grenade in the bakery! Get out here now!” Rafe yelled back.
Poppy could hear muffled swearing behind the door.
    A minute later, a disgruntled looking Jeffrey and Viola stumbled
out of the room, hair and clothing disheveled. disheveled.  Viola’s black lace
dress was on backwards, Jeffrey’s shirt was buttoned up wrong, and he had
chocolate around his mouth.
    “Wipe that chocolate off your face, it’s disgusting. I think the
grenade’s a dud, but we’re still going to have to call in the bomb squad, and
we need to exit out the back door. I’ll go tell the bakers,” Rafe said.
    Minutes later, a fleet of police cars came
barreling towards the store, sirens wailing , and the bomb squad showed up not
long after. Soon a gawking crowd formed outside the store.
    As Poppy stood across the street watching the
bomb squad remove the dud grenade, someone tapped her shoulder from behind.
    She turned to face Henry Chenowith, whose
brow wrinkled with concern as he spoke to her breasts. “I just want you to know
we’re all behind you, Poppy,” he said. “The chamber of commerce has called an emergency
meeting tonight, to address these attacks on your store. It starts at seven
p.m.”
    After the bomb squad left, Viola and Jeffrey
went to the hardware store down the street to buy paint, and painted over the
graffiti. Then they disappeared down the hallway into the massage demonstration
room, and Viola didn’t