Page 44 of Sweet Temptation

“Don’t fucking—”

“Back the hell off,” John said, the command in his voice catching both parties in the room by surprise. “Meg is smart, talented and the best woman I know. She makes good choices.”

He poked his finger out, aiming it at his friend. “Don’t you dare ever say she doesn’t.”

“Are you saying you are a good choice, John?” Theo questioned, and it momentarily caught John off guard.

“I—” he started, and Meg’s hand on his back sent warmth through his flesh. “You don’t—”

“Does that mean you’re staying, then?” Theo’s voice was quieter as he asked the question. “No more traveling? No more women?”

“Hey—” John scrubbed his hands over his face. At eighteen, he’d managed to sneak into most of the lectures for the courses he would have needed if he could have afforded to get a degree. He’d done it simply by always having the right answer for whoever was asking.

Now he had so much that he wanted to convey, and he couldn’t spit out even a single word.

“Let’s just go, Theo.” Meg’s voice was resigned, coming out from behind his back. She snatched her purse up from the table and moved in beside Theo, the two a united front that once again made John feel like he was on the outside looking it, wanting something that was always just out of reach.

“Meg?” he said one last time, hoping she’d give him a thread of hope that they could somehow find a way.

“Good night, John,” she said and walked out the door. Theo stood there for a second, glaring at him, and his heart sank into the pit of his stomach.

He’d told her how he felt, and he supposed this was her answer.

Message received. Loud and clear.

CHAPTER TWENTY

THE NEXT DAY, Meg smiled at Gavin Aronson. She’d had the expression frozen on her face all day, but it felt so brittle that she knew it would shatter with one well-placed tap.

She was cold all over, a thin film of ice separating her from reality. And inside, she was empty. Lights were on but no one was home—and it was better this way, because as soon as she let herself feel again, she was in for a world of hurt.

And now was not the time to be thinking about any of this, not when she’d decided that the only possible outcome for this meeting was success—hers.

She’d elected to stay here, with her business and her family. She was damn well going to make it worth it.

Quickly swiping beneath her eyes, she adjusted her apron as Gavin crossed the room, all sleek confidence that made her skin crawl.

That morning, she’d considered wearing something with full coverage, and insisting that Jada did as well, just so that Gavin’s attention remained where it was supposed to be—on the food. Then she’d decided that that was bullshit.

A woman wearing what she wanted wasn’t an invitation to anything, so she’d chosen a dress again this time, one she would have worn to any business meeting. It showed a hint of cleavage, just like the last one, but the mood she was in, she just dared him to look.

“Gavin,” she said, extending an arm as Jada removed trays of food from the fridge. Even though she reserved the right to wear what she wanted, there was safety in numbers, so both women were there, and Meg had told Jada to be wary. She wanted this deal, but if Gavin touched her inappropriately again, or made a move on Jada, Meg was going to stab him in the eye with a fork. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

It wasn’t, but it was a welcome distraction, at least.

“The pleasure is always mine,” he said, bringing her hand to his mouth for a lingering kiss. She pulled away and resisted the urge to wipe his saliva on her apron. She caught Jada’s glance and simply gave her a nod, and Jada went back to arranging an array of sweets onto the trays.

“I’ve been working on your menu. I think you’ll be impressed.” Her gaze narrowed when she saw that he wasn’t paying attention, instead looking around the large kitchen.

“First I have a selection of amuse-bouche options,” she started, presenting the large plate on which she’d artfully arranged several small bites that she’d slaved to create. “We have a seared foie gras with Drambuie and mango, a black caviar tart with cauliflower and avocado, and a lamb bite with gin, sumac and grapefruit.”

“Is John not joining us today?”

She resisted the urge to expel a frustrated growl and pulled a polite response from down deep. “Why would John being joining us?”

“How close are the two of you?” he asked, stepping an inch closer.

“I fail to see what that has to do with this tasting menu,” she said, swallowing down the lump determined to push into her throat.

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