Page 32 of Sweet Temptation

He had to show Meg that he could be more. That he wanted to be more, for her. Actions, things that she could see, not words that could be interpreted as empty promises.

He’d play by her rules tonight. But starting tomorrow, he was going to remind her that she liked it when he took charge.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

MEG PERCHED ON a stool at her stainless steel island. She was supposed to be working on the menu for Gavin Aronson’s mayoral ceremony, and instead she was using her four-color click pen to doodle hearts in her notebook.

Frustrated, she slammed the cover shut and let loose an exaggerated sigh. The movement jostled her notebook, and the worn computer printout that she’d folded up and tucked inside peeked out.

She’d looked at it a thousand times, but she pulled it out to look again.

44 Faraday Court. Deal of a lifetime! This spacious two-level foreclosure has two bedrooms, one-and-a-half baths and a bonus room. Tons of custom cabinetry, stainless steel appliances and a newly renovated gourmet kitchen are just some of the updates made to this home in the last two years. Top it off with a large backyard with mature trees, this bargain might just be what you’re looking for.

Before this last year, she’d never allowed herself to dream of owning a home, because she and Mamesie and her sisters had all needed to contribute to one pot just to survive. But now Jo had moved out, and Beth and Ford wouldn’t stay there once they were married...

And she wanted something all her own, which was why she was willing to put up with Gavin Aronson’s crap if it meant she got an in with his company. She needed to stop mooning around about John and focus.

Even as she told herself that, her gaze wandered to the clock, and she noted that it was nearing noon.

She hadn’t heard from John yet today, and she wondered if he’d forgotten about his offer to take her for lunch. If he’d meant lunch at all. They hadn’t spent any time together that didn’t involve a lot of skin-to-skin contact, so maybe lunch had been, as she’d initially assumed, a euphemism.

But...was this still just sex?

She’d initially proposed this affair not just because she and John burst into flames every time they were around one another, but also because she’d appreciated the fact that their liaison had an end date. She hadn’t been the owner of A Moveable Feast for very long, and she’d been looking forward to a new era of her life, where she was able to focus on her business—something just for her.

But...was she being ridiculous? Because being around John didn’t seem to take away from her life at all. Instead it added something she hadn’t been aware she was missing.

And what was the point of thinking like this at all, when he was leaving in... Was it only two more days? The realization made something heavy settle in her core. He was leaving, and she had to face that fact.

And yet...the way he’d looked at her last night. The way he’d challenged her need to keep her family in the dark about whatever the hell this was between them.

Was he having second thoughts about ending things, too?

Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she checked for new messages for the forty-first time in the last hour—still nothing.

She was going insane.

“Ugh!” Growling with frustration, she pushed back from her work. Her stomach growled, too, echoing the sound. Eager for the distraction, she slid off the stool and padded over to the industrial-size fridge.

She’d had deliveries from several suppliers that morning, and it was full—cuts of meat wrapped in butcher’s paper, sticks of grass-fed butter, hunks of swiss and cheddar from the cheesemonger, and a bright rainbow of vegetables and herbs.

Nothing appealed, even though she was hungry. Heaving a sigh that even she knew was overly dramatic, she closed the fridge again.

The front door of the building opened. Meg felt her pulse kick into overtime, as though she’d downed a triple shot of espresso, and the jolt of adrenaline left her shaky when she recognized the footsteps as belonging to Jada and her high heels, rather than the heavier footfalls she’d been waiting for.

“Morning deliveries are done.” Jada breezed into the kitchen, bright and summery in a little romper number that Meg knew would make her look like a garden gnome. How the girl managed to look so flawless while lugging around heavy totes of food—in heels, nonetheless—Meg had no idea.

Normally Jada’s Instagram-ready appearance had no effect whatsoever on Meg—she’d hired her because she did her deliveries promptly and because she was eager to learn about food, as Meg had learned from the owner before her. But today, the image of Jada batting those eyelash extensions at John fresh in her mind, Meg found herself feeling more than a little bitchy.

“You need to wear closed-toed shoes when you work.” She gestured to Jada’s strappy sandals. “What if you dropped one of those totes on your bare toes? Or a knife? You could wind up in the hospital.”

Jada blinked, clearly taken aback by Meg’s tone. “I—I’m sorry. I’ll wear different shoes tomorrow.”

Meg winced inwardly. “That came out harsh. I’m sorry. I’m a little on edge today.”

“Sexual frustration?” When Meg looked sharply at her employee, Jada shrugged, tracing a finger over a dent in the island. “John didn’t call. That doesn’t happen very often, so I thought about it. And then I realized I’d been blinded by that face of his...which was only looking at you.”

“It is one hell of a face.” Meg groaned, rubbing a hand over her forehead. “Dammit.”

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