Page 36 of Sweet Temptation

“Were you a part of it when you were younger?”

“No, but I have friends that were.” There. She wasn’t going to ask John, not directly, but she hoped that she’d steered the conversation to what she most wanted to know—what was John’s connection here?

“Meg has her own catering business.” John pushed back in his seat, his arm on the back of her chair. He touched her shoulder lightly with his thumb as he spoke. “Best food in Boston. You should hire her for any events the organization holds here.”

“John,” she admonished him, her cheeks flushing, but Lhane simple raised her glass.

“When our biggest benefactor speaks, we listen.” She rolled her eyes at Meg’s confusion. “Oh, John. Always so private.”

She waved a dismissive hand, then continued, “You must already know the kind of man he is, or you wouldn’t be here,” she added, reaching across the table to pat John’s hand. “So I’ll brag a bit on his behalf. This man here donates fifty cents on every dollar he makes. Every single one. He wants to ensure that every child who passes through our doors has a role model.”

“I...had no idea,” Meg said, her curiosity piqued. Fifty cents of every dollar? That was huge. Why was having a role model so important to him? She wasn’t sure, but what she did know was there was more to this man then he let the world see.

But he’s letting me see.

“You’re ruining my reputation, Lhane,” John said, his voice half teasing...half serious.

Lhane laughed again and reached for her wine. “He’ll have you believe he’s a playboy interested in nothing but the next good time. Don’t let him fool you.”

“He can’t fool me,” Meg said, and as she looked at him from beneath her eyelashes, she felt her heart do a slow somersault. To cover, she spoke again quickly. “This all sounds so amazing. This is such a worthy cause.”

“We’re always looking for volunteers.” Lhane sat up straight, pinning Meg with a stare that revealed a predatory glint in her eyes. “Any interest?”

“Absolutely.” Meg sat up a little straighter. “When can I start?”

“We have a new girl here in Boston, and she’s been, well, a wee handful.” Lhane leaned forward, eager. “She is the reason I’m in Boston today, so understand what you’d be getting into. Do you have any experience with teenage girls?”

Beside her, John snorted. She cast him an arch glance.

“What John is trying to convey oh-so-politely is that I have three younger sisters.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve refereed a catfight or twenty.”

“Really?” John sat forward, suddenly interested. “Who? You and which sister?”

“Perv,” she laughed before remembering there was someone she was trying to impress at the table. She flushed. “I mean—”

“I think you’d be perfect,” Lhane cut in, lifting her wineglass in celebration. “John, forward me Meg’s contact information so I can send her the paperwork and information about training.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” John squeezed her hand, and she turned to meet his inquisitive stare. Her heart broke a little when she realized that he didn’t understand that she wanted to be part of something that was a part of him.

“Um, have you met me?” She smiled, trying to signal to him that all was well. “Have you ever known me to do something I didn’t want to do?”

His warm chuckle curled around her, and the appreciation in his eyes surrounded her heart like a warm blanket. “Well...no.”

“Then drink your beer and don’t worry your pretty little head.”

“Oh!” Both John and Meg turned to Lhane, concerned, when the other woman started to cough, clutching her throat. Waving her hand in front of her face, she laughed breathlessly. “Sorry, the wine went down the wrong tube. But, Meg, I think you are just the mentor for Roberta.”

The waiter came, and they ordered food. Lhane finished the wine in her glass and ordered another, then excused herself to go to the washroom. Once she’d gone, Meg turned to John, who smiled but couldn’t hide that he looked a bit sad and a whole lot reflective. His pale eyes softened when they met hers. “That was nice of you,” he said.

“I’m always nice.” She meant it jokingly, but when he lifted their linked hands and pressed a kiss to her pale skin, she understood that somehow, someway, they’d just broken through one of the barriers standing between them.

“I mean it.” He eyed her, expression solemn.

“Why the Boys and Girls Club?” She couldn’t hold back the question anymore. “Why that and not, say, diabetes research? Your fraternity’s alumni association?”

“I never belonged to a fraternity.” He pulled his hand from hers, his fingers suddenly working the label on his beer bottle. “I didn’t go to college.”

There was something here, something he was telling her in the subtext beneath his words. She had to tread carefully. “I didn’t, either.”

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