Page 26 of Sweet Temptation

“We’re friends,” Meg blurted out before John could answer.

“She’s killing me.” John smirked at Gavin, and it wasn’t a lie—a primal part of him wanted Meg to shout to the world that she was his. “I’m not good enough for her.”

That was true, too.

Gavin studied them for another moment before reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a business card in the same shade of red as his car outside and slid it across the island. “With that kind of recommendation, I’d be an idiot to keep looking. Work up a menu for the mayor’s awards galas and email it to me.”

Meg smiled brightly, but John could see clearly that it was false. She’d wanted this, but not like this.

“Thank you for the opportunity,” she replied tightly, stiff under John’s touch.

“Let me know if you want to switch out this deadbeat for a real man.” Gavin tossed a lascivious wink at Meg before strolling away, humming. Both Meg and John stood frozen until they heard the heavy front door of the building close.

“I want to punch him.” Turning to Meg, he pressed his forehead against hers. “Why on earth were you meeting with Gavin Aronson? He’s an absolute prick.”

“You didn’t have to get in the middle of that.” Meg lifted her chin with pride, though John noticed it was quivering. “I was handling it just fine.”

“Handling it by letting him drool over your boobs?” He held up a hand when Meg’s eyes flashed blue fire. “I’m not saying you should have dressed differently. You can wear whatever the hell you want. But why didn’t you tell him to get his eyes back in his head?”

“Uh, because then I wouldn’t have gotten a chance at the contract?” The look she cast him was incredulous. “It’s not like he touched me.”

“He did! He brushed your breast!” John scrubbed a hand over his face, frustrated. “He was testing the waters this time. Next time, maybe he’ll grab your ass. You don’t know!”

“I know. Every woman knows far better than you do.” Meg slapped a hand on his chest, warning him to shut up. “Look, I want my business to survive. To thrive. I have goals. Dreams. A contract with Hyde Park Entertainment would be huge. Huge. So, if I have to let an old white man ogle my tits, I’m going to do it. It’s not fair, not at all, but my hands are tied.”

John felt his mouth fall open. She believed it—she believed that to get this deal, she had to let Aronson get handsy.

“Look, it’s embarrassing enough that he wasn’t listening to me until you showed up.” He opened his mouth to reply, but she just shook her head wearily. “I don’t know why he wanted a meeting in the first place. He must have seen me at an event and thought he’d get more bang for his buck with a female caterer that he could strip naked in his head. Or maybe he just saw an opportunity to be the big man. Whatever. I want that contract, okay? And I don’t need your judgment about it.”

“That...sucks.” John finally found his voice. “You’re good at what you do.”

“How do you know that?” Shaking her head as though shaking off the encounter with Aronson, she arched an eyebrow at him. He was instantly locked into her gaze. In the background, he heard the front door slam open again, the cacophony of multiple voices, but his focus was on Meg.

“Because you’re good at everything you put your mind to.” Placing a single finger against her lips, he trailed it down, through the hollow of her collarbone and into the valley between her breasts. She sucked in a sharp little breath, and his cock swelled to half-mast. “I liked that little noise. Will you make it again when I’m inside you?”

“Only one way to find out.” Her smile was a challenge, cast over her shoulder as she placed space between them, just before Beth, Ford, Amy and Mamesie entered the kitchen.

She lowered her voice to a pitch only he could hear. “I’m going to our storage room. Watch where I go, wait two minutes and follow me.”

“You’re topping from the bottom,” he informed her, unable to hold back a grin when she simply flipped her long waves over her shoulder.

“You love it.” And then she was on the move. He watched her hips sway, that scarlet skirt swishing around her creamy thighs as she walked away. He tracked her progress to a door on the far side of the kitchen and started counting.

He only made it to sixty.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

WHEN GAVIN ARONSON exited her kitchen in his stupid, too-tight T-shirt, it took all of Meg’s self-control not to throw tomatoes at his back. She hadn’t expected anything different from him, not really, but there was always that spark of hope that a man might treat a woman as his equal, just for the hell of it.

She hadn’t wanted John to intervene, and yet watching him prove his point with Gavin with a few well-placed words was... Well, it was hot. Here, here was a man she didn’t have to prove a damn thing to. Hell, she’d already admitted her kinkiest yearnings to him, and there was no judgment. There was encouragement.

With John, she could be who she was and want what she wanted. The freedom of that was the most arousing thing she’d ever experienced.

The storage room was also the rear entrance to the building, an unfinished, cavernous concrete space. She was ready, the empty space between her thighs aching as she perched on the edge of a shipping crate.

She’d told John to follow in two minutes, and it already felt like twenty. They wouldn’t have much time.

She was going to get a head start.

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