Page 23 of Sweet Temptation

Scowl in place, and a curse on the tip of her tongue, she spun around and came face-to-face—or rather, face-to-chest—with Aaron. Her retort softened, and she tilted her chin to meet his gaze.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” he said, his gaze leaving hers to glance around the bar. What the hell was he looking for?

“Well, here I am,” Meg said, and his resulting deep laugh reverberated around her. She planted her hand on her hip and glared at him. “Something funny?”

“Not funny at all, and believe me, I know exactly where you are. Every man in the room does, Meg. I was just wondering where your boyfriend was and if he was going to pound on his chest and growl some more to warn me away from you?”

A ribbon of anger prowled a drunken path through her veins. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” she countered quickly, ignoring the hollowed-out sensation the words carved in her chest, right around the vicinity of her stupid heart.

Aaron took a step closer, his body crowding her, the soapy scent of his skin reaching her nostrils. Had it only been a few nights since she’d thought about going home with him?

It would be far better for her sanity if she could relight some kind of spark between her and Aaron, but she hadn’t been kidding when she’d said John was going to ruin her for other men.

Dammit. She couldn’t let that happen. He was going to leave. Life was going to go on without him, and she wasn’t going to be left behind in a crumbling mess of need.

She wasn’t that girl. She wouldn’t be.

“Yeah?” Aaron asked, displaying a cute dimple in his right cheek when he smiled.

“That’s right.”

He gave a humorless laugh. “Then someone ought to tell that to the stuck-up suit.”

She ignored the flicker of warmth that the words conjured—some primal part of her liked the way that John had gone all caveman. The rest of her, however, knew that she shouldn’t like it. Should she?

Meg let loose an exaggerated sigh and folded her arms in front of her chest. “I’m sorry about that. He overstepped and had no right to tell you to stay away from me. I’m my own person. I do what I want.” She tilted her chin up and ignored the part of her that finished that sentence with but what I want to do is John.

“I bet you do.” When Aaron’s gaze meandered the length of her body, it was appreciative. “Since I’m not stepping on anyone’s toes, how about a coffee sometime?”

Speaking of sharing... I don’t. Not with this.

As John’s words flashed a neon warning inside her brain, her heart pounded just a little bit harder. In a few days he’d be gone, their arrangement over. If she accepted a date with Aaron, she wasn’t breaking their agreement, and maybe having something lined up would help soothe the sting that John’s absence would undoubtedly bring.

“Ah, yeah, sure.” She mentally ran through her work schedule. “How about next week sometime? Thursday?”

Aaron’s face lit with a smile, showcasing perfect white teeth. “It’s a date,” he said. He pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to her. “Can you put your number in here? I’m not missing my chance to get it again.”

“Sure.” She ran a finger over the screen. Why did she feel like she was going to vomit all of a sudden? She was making a date, for God’s sake. Something she’d done before John and planned to do after.

Then why did it feel so wrong, and more important, why did she feel so goddamn empty inside?

As she handed the phone back, a quick movement flashed in the corner of her eye. Wait, was that...? She spun around, and her gaze darted to the door, latching onto the collar of a black polo shirt before the door closed with a heavy thud.

CHAPTER TWELVE

HE HAD NO right to be this angry. No right at all. Especially after almost twenty-four hours. And especially when he couldn’t bring up the fact that he’d seen her with Aaron without sounding like a stalker who’d lost touch with reality.

He wasn’t. He hadn’t even known she was going to be there.

That didn’t erase his feelings.

Still, he didn’t own Meg. They had an agreement, a mutually beneficial one. One he had no doubt she’d follow through with until he left, but beyond that...

He was gone in a couple of days. If she wanted to go out with that guy after he’d disappeared from her life, he couldn’t do anything about it. So yeah, he had no right to be angry.

Then why did he want to punch something...or someone? He could throw a mean punch—a survival skill left over from years ago. But he’d trained himself over the years to navigate his feelings with words, not fists. He rarely felt the need for something physical to release his aggression.

Right now, though, he was struggling to contain his upset.

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