"I find that sugar always makes me feel better," I mused, opening the car door.
She hesitated, her gaze flickering to the tempting treats on display in the window. "Not when you make a living on how you look," she whispered, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.
I made a show of running my gaze from her toes to her angelic face until she was squirming on my seat. "Sugar won't change perfection, Blake. It'll just make it sweeter."