“I’m always nice.” She meant it jokingly, but when he lifted their linked hands and pressed a kiss to her pale skin, she understood that somehow, someway, they’d just broken through one of the barriers standing between them.
“I mean it.” He eyed her, expression solemn.
“Why the Boys and Girls Club?” She couldn’t hold back the question anymore. “Why that and not, say, diabetes research? Your fraternity’s alumni association?”
“I never belonged to a fraternity.” He pulled his hand from hers, his fingers suddenly working the label on his beer bottle. “I didn’t go to college.”
There was something here, something he was telling her in the subtext beneath his words. She had to tread carefully. “I didn’t, either.”
He was silent for a moment, and then the words rushed out of him, as though he’d been waiting a long time to tell them just to her.
“Every kid deserves a positive role model in their life,” he began, his eyes slowly lifting from the now-shredded label of his beer bottle. “Like you were for your sisters. I know that wasn’t easy for you at times...”
“It could have been far worse.” She shrugged. “When you have family, you get through it.”
He snorted. “Yeah, well, I never had that. My mom, she was an addict. I loved her, but she checked out a lot. It was all I could do to stay out of the system.” Her throat tightened at his words, but she remained silent, giving him the floor to continue. “I spent a lot of time on the streets.”
He shrugged like it was nothing, but she guessed it was everything. “I learned, obviously. I figured out what kind of life I wanted and how to get it. But when you’re a kid, sometimes you just want someone to take the responsibility away for a bit, you know?”
The threat of tears pounded in Meg’s skull, and she wanted to scream. Jesus, she’d thought that she had a sob story? Her life was a freaking dream.
“That must have been hard,” she said, shifting a little closer to offer comfort without words, something he would appreciate. He’d proven he could handle himself with her tears, ones she shed when she was overcome, but she was very certain he wouldn’t appreciate any shed on his behalf.
“It was.” A faint smile touched his mouth. “There was this guy. He was a lot older than me. He was only around me for maybe a month when I was sixteen. But he pushed me. Told me I was better, could do more.”
“That’s nice, John.” Don’t cry, Meg. Don’t you dare cry. “I’m so glad you had him.”
“Everyone needs that in their life, which is why...” His voice fell off, stolen by haunted memories.
“Which is why you donate half your money to the Boys and Girls Club,” Meg finished.
“Yeah.”
“Sometimes...sometimes the struggles we have are the reason we are who we are.” His head shot up, and she finished quickly. “I’m not trying to minimize your experience. You know that. I’m just saying... I like who you are.”
She cupped his cheeks and angled his head her way. Old pain and hurts lingered in the depths of his eyes, and it nearly split her heart in two. She wanted to take his pain away, to absorb it into herself, to carry half his burden, so he didn’t have to shoulder it all alone.
“I don’t want your pity, Meg.” The words were sharp, but the tone was not. And here, while they were both flayed open, was as good a moment as any to ask what was really on her mind.
She was scared of the answer, terrified, really, but she needed to know, so she asked.
“Well, then. What do you want?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
JOHN HAD ALWAYS prided himself that, no matter was going on in his head, he could push it out and have a laser focus on his work. Today, though, he was running around like a headless chicken.
What the hell was happening to him?
Meg Marchande. That was what—or rather who—was happening to him, every day, all night, on all channels.
He stared at his computer, a shit ton of work to do to wrap up the contract with Crossing Lines—with Theo—but all the words blurred together.
Well, then. What do you want?
When she’d asked him that question at the restaurant, he wanted to blurt out you, even though he wasn’t sure what her response would be. But the opportunity was lost when Lhane came back to the table and their meals arrived. The conversation had turned back to volunteering with the organization, with Lhane explaining what Meg’s duties would be. She’d listened, enthralled, eager to jump in headfirst. Jesus, he loved that about her.
He rubbed the back of his neck, cracking the overly tight joints and hoping to ward off an impending headache. His gaze wandered to the window, to take in the setting sun and the streak of purple bruising the horizon. Soon enough, he’d be on to the next job—work wasn’t something he could walk away from. His drive came from the need for security, and he never had enough.
He’d built a business and his reputation as a man who followed things through until a successful completion was everything in the corporate world. Without that status, he’d slide to the bottom rung in record time and lose everything he’d spent years building.
He’d had enough loss in his life, and dammit, he didn’t want to lose his next contract. But he also didn’t want to lose Meg.
Did he have to make a choice?
What the hell am I going to do?
“You look like someone just kicked your puppy.”
John shifted his focus to his doorway, to Theo standing at the threshold, his hands jammed into his pockets. A chill moved through him, even though his office was hot.
“Just doing some thinking,” John said, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to pull himself together.
Theo stared at him for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “Want to talk about it?” he finally asked.
John snapped his laptop shut. Maybe...maybe it was time to spill to his friend. Christ knew his chest was going to explode like a damn grenade if he didn’t pull the pin and release the pressure soon.
If he could just get Theo to understand, maybe he wouldn’t be subjected to his friend’s right hook. Rumor had it Theo had a good one.
“I need to get a coffee.” John ignored the look Theo pointedly cast at the incredibly fancy, incredibly expensive espresso machine that stood on a table in John’s office. John had purchased it a few months earlier, reasoning that, while he certainly preferred an Americano to regular drip coffee, there was no need to spend five dollars several times a day to have one.
It was rare to find a skill he couldn’t master, but... Well, he wouldn’t be adding barista to his résumé anytime soon. He really should donate it. Probably would have dropped it off at Goodwill somewhere, except...
Well, he kind of liked the idea of a piece of himself staying behind once he’d gone. Not that he’d ever, ever admit that out loud.
“I’ll come with you.”
John could feel Theo’s eyes on him as they made their way to the elevator, and his mind raced. There was no better time than now, a day before he left, to tell Theo how he felt about Meg.
He opened his mouth, then shut it again, the words stuck in his throat.
He had a lot of acquaintances. Lots of people he could go for a drink with, or for a round of golf, which he played but really didn’t enjoy.
Theo was the first person he’d thought of as a friend in years, except maybe for Lhane.
Theo’s warning had been clear—stay away from Meg. And though John could be a little awkward about relationships, even he knew that sleeping with someone’s sister was probably not kosher.
He didn’t regret the act, necessarily, since Meg had made him feel more than he’d felt in a lifetime.
He did regret the loss of his friendship with Theo, and possibly with Jo, if he didn’t handle this right. He supposed he could just keep quiet, and if it had rem
ained just about sex, he would have.
What he had with Meg wasn’t just about sex, though, not anymore. And he didn’t know what to do about it.
The elevator opened directly into the coffee shop. John felt something tighten around his lungs when he stepped out into the cavernous space and air heavy with the scents of coffee and cinnamon. As though he were a compass and she was north, he saw her immediately, one woman in a crowded café.
What was she doing here? He felt a curious mix of excitement and dread. Buoyed up by seeing her and weighed down by the knowledge that he was deceiving his friend, lying right to his face by pretending that he and Meg were nothing more than acquaintances.
“Ah, hello?” Theo said.
“What?”
Theo stepped to the side as two people passed them, paper coffee cups in hand. “I just asked you three times what you wanted, and you zoned out on me.”
“Sorry about that.” He scrubbed his chin. “Lot on my mind.”
He zoned out again, and Theo sighed. “Your order, dude. What do you want?”
“Sorry.” John blinked up at the menu. “Ah...espresso. Something with a lot of espresso.”
Man, he needed to get his shit together.
Theo snorted. “I guess you don’t plan to sleep tonight.” Before John could answer, Theo ordered a regular coffee for himself and a quadruple-shot Americano for John.
Americanos were John’s coffee of choice. It wasn’t much of a thing, remembering what a friend liked to drink. But he’d never had a friend close enough to care before.
Unable to resist, John glanced back at Meg, and that was when he noticed Jo, seated across the small table from her sister. She was waving them over, and she looked cranky.
Shit.
What were the two of them just talking about? Theo moved to the end of the counter to get their drinks, and he crossed the near-empty coffee shop and stopped at their table.
“Hey,” John said, and Meg gestured for him to take a seat beside her.
“You sure I’m not interrupting?”
“Nope, have a seat,” Jo said. “Although, Theo can head right back on upstairs.”
“Theo, the man you live with?” John lowered himself into the chair, and his thigh brushed Meg’s under the table. His pulse picked up at the intimate contact, and he was pretty goddamn certain Jo could feel the tension arcing between them. Hell, it was powerful enough to light up the high-rise they were in, in a blackout, for a month straight.
Jo’s eyes moved from his to Meg’s, back to his again. She angled her head, her gaze assessing them both.
“How’s the blog coming?” he asked, getting them all back on familiar territory, a subject Jo loved to talk about, before she had time to comment on the energy they were generating.
“Wrong question.” Meg groaned and slumped in her seat.
“The blog is doing phenomenally well.” This, at least, was something he was on solid ground with. Sitting up straight, he eyed Jo from across the table. “We’re making killer revenue on the advertising sold against it.”
“What’s the problem?”
“The problem is Theo censoring my words.” Jo sat up straight, indignant. “Maybe you can talk some sense into him.”
“Talk some sense into whom?” Theo asked as he slid into a chair beside his live-in girlfriend, sliding the Americano across the table to John.
“Quadruple-shot Americano?” Meg translated the Sharpie scribbles on the side of his cup and arched an eyebrow. “Not planning on sleeping tonight?”
“That’s what I asked.” Theo leaned forward, placing his hands on the table. “You don’t have to stress so much about leaving, you know. I don’t plan on burning the place to the ground once you’re gone.”
“I know,” John replied mildly. He noticed Meg’s wince at the reminder that he was leaving tomorrow, even though she barely moved, and he hated it. “But I take pride in my work.”
* * *
Okay, then...
“Why am I supposed to talk some sense into Theo again?” John asked, redirecting the conversation.
Jo threw exasperated hands into the air. “The whole reason you hired me was that I write kinky stuff on my blog. Now he wants to take the blog ‘in a different direction.’”
She finished the sentence off with air quotes and another glare at Theo, who sighed.
“Don’t use air quotes if you’re not actually quoting me!” Theo set his coffee cup down on the table with enough force to send hot liquid squirting out of the slit in the lid. “I suggested adding in a few posts that were less steamy, among the hot ones that you already write. To widen the appeal of our readership.”
“So...you want to sell out is what you’re saying.” Jo’s eyes widened, a warning of the storm she was about to unleash. John had seen it before—he’d never seen two people fight more than Jo and Theo.
He’d also never seen two people make up as much. He took a sip of his drink, pondering that, when he belatedly realized that the table had grown silent, and everyone was staring at him.
“Uh...”
“I said, ‘What should we do?’” Jo folded her arms across her chest. “The blog was your idea. You choose.”
“Actually...” John checked the clock on his phone. “I’m off the clock. Dibs out.”
“You’re done?” Meg looked at him with alarm, her sister pausing in her boyfriend-glaring long enough to glance at her curiously. “I thought you were here until tonight.”
“I am.” He wanted to smooth away that wrinkle of concern in her brow. “I’ll be here at the office for a few more hours, and I’m staying the night at the hotel before checking out in the morning. But technically my contract ended at noon.”
“Chicken,” Jo said wryly as he pushed away from the table and stood.
“A smart chicken.” He grinned at her. “I’m heading back up.”
“I think I’ll ride with you,” Meg said. “Listening to these two has given me a headache. I’m going to grab some Advil from Jo’s desk.”
They made a beeline out the doors and to the elevator.
“Have they always been like that?” John rubbed his temples. “Don’t they get tired?”
“I think the longest they’ve gone without a spat of some kind is the first week after Theo moved in next door.” Meg’s voice was heavy with amusement. “Unless you count the years Theo was gone. They’re about fifty-fifty as far as victories go, but I think I’ve got my money on Jo this time.”
As her warm laugh curled around him, soothed the demons in his soul, he said, “Something tells me you Marchande girls always get what you want in the end.”
“That would be nice.” She snorted.
“If you don’t get what you want, you should.”
Her brow furrowed, and she wrapped her arms around herself.
He was about to ask her what she wanted when the elevator arrived, and the doors yawned open, then closed behind them with a hushed sound.
They were alone, just the way he liked it.
He stepped closer, his knuckles brushing hers. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.”
“I’ve missed you,” he said softly.
“I’ve missed you, too.” Her voice was a breathy whisper, and he noted the way her chest rose and fell a little quicker with their close proximity. He liked that. A lot.
“It’s was nice having you beside me at lunch yesterday. I’m glad you got to meet Lhane. She means a lot to me.”
“She thinks a lot of you, John. She’s a good judge of character.”
Those words meant more to him than she would ever guess. Did that mean Meg finally thought of him as more than a player?
His mind shifted when Meg placed her palms on his chest, her fingers splayed. He inhaled, his body absorbing the warmth of her touch. He closed one ha
nd over hers, brought her fingers to his mouth and began kissing them one at a time.
A warm flush colored her cheeks. His heart raced, and it had nothing to do with the espresso. His hands slid around her back, and he pulled her against him, reveling in the softness of her body, the way they fit together. If he could, he’d stay like this forever, just holding on to one another. They stood there, locked in an embrace, not even realizing the doors had opened until someone cleared their throat.
They broke apart quickly, and that same person snorted. John turned to see Ava at the front desk, pinning them with a glare. He’d... Well, he’d completely forgotten that she would be here, at her desk, where she was supposed to be.
Meg made him stupid, in the best possible way, but right now, he racked his brain for an explanation that would keep her from telling Theo what she’d just witnessed.
“Ah, Ava...” he began, rocking back and forth on his feet.
She held her hands up, palms out. “My desk is across from the elevator. I’ve seen it all. But maybe you two should probably take it somewhere private. Not everyone has gone home for the night,” she said, and John guessed she was talking about Theo and Jo.
Christ, what kind of secret affair was this if everyone knew?
“Thanks.” He caught the woman’s gaze and nodded, making a mental note to send her something in thanks... Wine, maybe. Flowers. A gift certificate for Meg’s sister’s tattoo shop.
Then he looked at Meg again, and the idea flew right out of his head. Stepping off the elevator while Meg remained on, he turned so that Ava could only see his back.
Leaning back into the elevator, he pressed his lips to Meg’s ear and breathed in her sweet scent as he gave her a command...one of their final ones.
“My room, at nine. Leave your panties at home.”
Sweet Temptation Page 12
