Page 21 of Tempted

With a nod, I watch him walk back to his truck. He waits until I pull out before he does, and I can see him following me. His truck doesn’t disappear until I’m on the turnoff from the freeway that leads to my office. And as I keep my eyes on my rearview mirror, like I’m desperately searching for him, but I know that he’s gone, I realize that I already miss him. I can still feel his lips soft on mine. I can still taste his sweetness. It’s unsettling and yet it calms me. And then I think about this Clare freak that he’s going to lunch with, and my lip curls into a snarl. If I didn’t have an important meeting this afternoon, and hours of work to catch up on, I’d do what only an obsessed teen would do...I’d follow him and eavesdrop.

But I’m an adult with responsibilities, so instead, I take two minutes and see if I can dig up anything on this Clare bitch on social media. Malcolm is not connected to her in any way, but I do find a Clare that is connected to Rory Tate, the pilot slashsecurity guard, and I take a look at her profile. Evidently, she’s the co-owner of some high-class investment brokerage firm. Her da is the CEO and based on the photos, they’re super tight. I bet she’ll kiss his ass well enough to get what she wants. Twenty bucks says that she wanted Malcolm way more than he wanted her.

I bet she saw him and asked her da to buy him for her. I'm sure that went over well with Malcolm, even though it appears that Dougall Harris would have sold his nephew’s soul to the devil for a pittance. No wonder Malcolm is so bitter to make acquaintance with her again. Or is he? The worst part is that she’s fucking beautiful. And not like paid for beautiful, like born that way beautiful. It makes me nauseous. And she’s not even a slut, either, from the looks of her. She dresses well. Her tits are where they should be. She’s not painted over with makeup that’s been applied with a butter knife. And I’ll bet that those lashes came with her big green eyes, too.

“Fucking wench!” I growl, tossing my phone on the passenger seat. Feeling beyond frustrated, helpless, jealous, and I hate it that I feel all those things. But most of all, I hate it that once again, I feel vulnerable, and once again, I feel like I’ve crept back into my teenage years, to the years where I was the ugly duckling. The years where boys wouldn’t look twice at me, except if it was to make a snide remark at my braces, my awkwardness, my complete lack of confidence that each of them knew they could prey on.

They’ve all kissed my ass since I grew up and focused on my brains rather than my appearance. My da always told me that the right man will see me for what’s inside. A jealous cunt, who was so insecure of the fact that she wasn’t smart enough to recite the fucking alphabet, once told me that my da’s sentiment was just something that you say to ugly people to make them feel better. But I’ve shown them all. After I got my degrees, I builtmy life up, made myself a landslide success and more. And now I can fuck any man that I want to fuck and not feel a damn thing for him.

And that’s exactly what I do...

...until now.

Is that the reason why I’m so rattled by him? Or is it that I really feel something for him? After I shake off the fucked up vibe that I’m getting from this whole situation, I decide that it’s time to focus again, and get back in touch with the Steph that I know and love. I can’t waste any more energy on this right now, and I have a business to tend to. It’s the perfect cover. It’s the cover that, up until now, has always worked. But try as I might, each time I have a vacant moment, my thoughts go to Malcolm and the whore, and I worry about whether or not he’s feeling nostalgic around her, or wanting to punch her in the face, like I am.

...only time will tell.

Malcolm

My hands go to my lips as I walk away from Steph. Sure, my cock is awake, I’m not going to deny that, but I’m more pleasantly shocked. That kiss was unexpected. From her, I’d expect a slap right afterward, but nothing. And I can’t help but wonder if she’d feel differently had I not told her about my lunch with Clare. Fool. Of course she would feel differently. The stakes are higher now. There’s more risk if she turns her back on me.If she’s really got feelings for me, that is. But something tells me that I’m just another one of her conquests.

That being said, it doesn’t make me feel any better when I pull up to the restaurant where I agreed to meet Clare. I have no idea what to say to her. It’s been over three years since we’ve spoken, and it was a messy breakup. She couldn’t understand why I wanted to part ways, even though I made it clear to her, that we were not meant to be together. Part of me wants to turn around and leave, figuring that there has to be a reason why Clare is reaching out, and I have to be truthful with her and tell her that the only reason why I’m here is to appease my uncle.

When I walk into the restaurant, I don’t see her there, and part of me wants her to stand me up. I actually smile when the maître d says that my guest hasn’t arrived yet. There is no mistaking what that means. And that is that I’d sooner eat lunch alone than have her as my company. I take a seat at the bar, while I wait, with my fingers crossed, hoping that Clare will come to her senses and realize that this meeting is for naught. But part of me is also a little bit curious as to why she wants to meet with me. Although that can be figured out with a simple phone call.

To my chagrin, just as the bartender brings me my beer, Clare walks in the front door. I see her first before she sees me and it takes everything in me not to scooch down off the bar stool and skulk my way to the men’s room and escape out the back exit before I’m seen. When she sees me, I see a fleeting look on her face, like she’s having a change of heart. But then she lifts her hand in a tight wave to me, and the maître d motions her my way. Clare looks exactly the same, except that her hair is a little longer in front. I push my hand out to her and remember that she’s left-handed. Part of me wishes that she’s got a ring on her finger, but then I feel like a fool for even thinking that.

Her brown hair is tied back in what I’m guessing is called a chignon. I’ve seen my auntie wear her hair back in thatfor important business meetings. With that knowledge, I relax slightly, since there is a small chance that she is here on business. “How are you?” She starts with.

“Just fine, lass. And you?” I ask, as one of the waitresses sees us to our table.

“I’m great.” She sighs as we sit down.

“That’s great to hear. I was going to say that you look exactly the same as when I last saw you.”

She smiles. “You, too.”

The waitress asks if we want to order drinks and Clare orders a virgin Shirley Temple, but I decline, since I already have a beer. Then she leaves us with menus and walks away. “So, I heard that you were out of town for a while?”

Clare nods. “Aye. I went back to Scotland. Da wanted me to take care of things back at home for a while.”

“Is everything okay?”

She waves. “Aye. It was just to secure the business. Our flagship location is there.”

“Aye. I know that all too well.” I chuckle.

“I’m sure you do. I bet your uncle is very happy about this meeting.” She guesses good-naturedly.

I go for bold. “Truth is, he told me that if I can secure your da’s company, that he’ll take a nasty client off my roster.”

“That doesn’t seem like the punishment fits the crime if you ask me. If you were to take on our company, I’d say that you should be given the cream of the crop of clients.” Modesty, anyone? And just when I think that her head is too big for her britches, she smiles. “I’m just kidding. You Harris boys have grown a lot since we last spoke.”

I’m curious. “So, tell me, why did you want to meet? If this is about business, why wouldn’t we do this at the office?”

She smiles shyly. “Ah, so I take it that your brother Rush didn’t tell you.”

“No, he didn’t. What is it that I need to know...or is this still top secret?”

---