Taste of Temptation

by Moira McTark

  Unable to help herself, she rushed up to the concierge desk and bounced on her toes. “Hi, Jackie, looking lovely this morning. I'm here for Jason."

  Jackie flashed a winning smile and nodded quickly. “Sure, Ms. Malone, he left instructions that you head straight up to the residence. Elevator one will take you direct, and I'll call to let him know you're on your way."

  "Thank you.” She had to stop smiling like this. Anyone who saw her was bound to read each and every emotion flitting through her head. Her business smile, the bride smile, was warm and reassuring, but only surface deep. It showed what she wanted it to, and nothing more. These days though, she had complete strangers beaming back at her like her grin made their day. It was downright embarrassing. She was out of control ... and it felt incredible.

  Inside the elevator, the doors swished shut and the display flashed to “Private car.” She had the perfect greeting in mind, but she had to move fast.

  The elevator doors opened, and all conscious thought abandoned Jason's head.

  Draped provocatively against the rail of the car, Laine wore nothing but a bra, panties and her matching sapphire blue, strapped heels. With one foot propped against the rail, the other planted firmly on the floor, she was one enticing invitation.

  Her eyes flashed mischief from beneath lowered lids as her fingers played at the waist of her tiny panties. “I've been thinking about you all night long."

  A deep groan rumbled from somewhere near Jason's stopped heart. He wanted nothing more than to step into the car, sink to his knees in front of her, and set his mouth to giving her something she'd never forget. But he knew he couldn't.

  "Laine, you take my breath away.” He stepped into the elevator, stripped off his blazer, and wrapped it around her shoulders. “But I've got to talk to you about something first."

  The wanton look disappeared, and she transformed into the controlled creature he so often saw handling nuptial emergencies. “What?” she asked, braced for anything.

  God, he didn't want to tell her. Pulling the lapels of his jacket closed across her chest with one hand, he rested the other against her arm.

  "It's the groom."

  "What? He's nervous, he's missing, he's got cold feet ... I can handle anything short of him being dead. Oh my God, he isn't dead?"

  "No, nothing like that—"

  "Okay then,” she said with a faltering smile. “He's getting married today, I'll make it work. There isn't another woman, I know—"

  "He's gay."

  Laine's eyes closed for a long moment, and the breath leaked out of her in a slow hiss. “Are you sure?"

  "After you left, I had one of our guys keep an eye on him. I ... I was trying to help. My guy followed him into the ballroom and found him making out with one of the groomsmen. Apparently they were rather passionate. He left discreetly, figuring there was no stopping something that had already started."

  "So no one knows?"

  Jason stared at her. “Not yet. You're the first. It's up to you how we break it to the girl. I'll do it, if you'd rather not have her associate the news with Blissful Brides—"

  "No.” She sighed heavily, her eyes focused on some distant point in space as she stepped into her dress. “I'll be the one to tell her. But I've got to tell Connie first. I'm sure she'll have some kind of damage control in mind."

  "I'm sure.” It was physically painful to watch Laine dress without touching her the way he'd spent the whole of last night thinking about. Especially after the greeting he'd gotten in the elevator.

  Pulling the straps of her dress up, Laine turned around, shot a quick glance over her shoulder. “A little help?"

  "Of course.” Jason placed his hands low on her spine and pulled the zipper up, closing off the smooth skin on her gorgeous back. He twisted her sleek fall of hair aside and clasped the dress closed. The smell of her hit him like an anvil. She was fresh, clean with a hint of something citrus and herbal.

  Not sure he'd be able to control himself this close to her, he stepped back two paces and jammed his hands into the pockets of his suit pants.

  Laine sank into the deep cushions of his couch and stared at her phone. She looked so small, her knees pressed together, ankles apart. Finally she punched in the numbers to contact her boss and, resting her forehead against one hand, effectually shielded her face from his scrutiny.

  "I'll give you a bit of privacy.” He moved off toward the kitchen and fiddled with the coffee maker. He poured the water in, and then dumped several scoops of grounds into the filter. Strong stuff, the way she liked it. Sugar, no cream.

  Stepping over to the breakfast bar for a couple of thick mugs, he stole a peek into the other room. Laine's face looked strained, her hand open wide as if frozen mid-gesture.

  "Connie, I get that ... no, she doesn't know...” Her eyes flashed up at Jason, then quickly away. Rising off the couch, she hunched forward and walked back toward the elevator.

  Jason's hands gripped the counter. He should have given her more privacy, but ... The look of guilt he'd seen on Laine's face was twisting his stomach in knots. He should have known Connie wouldn't want to tell the bride about the groom's secret. She'd be more worried about another last minute failure than the actual happiness and success of two real people.

  A woman was about to walk down the aisle and vow to love and cherish this one man for the rest of her life—a man who spent the night before in the arms of another man. It wasn't fair.

  Connie didn't have much of a heart in that bony little chest of hers, but he knew Laine would do the right thing.

  He knew her. She would have to.

  He couldn't be wrong again.

  Laine stood at the door to the elevator, her body language suggesting defeat. She pulled the phone away from her ear, covering the receiver with her hand, and looked at Jason. “I've got to take care of this. I'll talk to you later."

  The hollow expression on her face made him want to pull her back into the apartment and demand she tell him what she was going to do. Assure him that she'd never consider putting business before someone else's life.

  No. That was crazy. He didn't need her to tell him, he knew it already. So he smiled his reassuring smile and nodded. “I've got a meeting in about forty-five minutes, but I'll be back in a few hours. Call me if you need anything."

  She nodded and stepped into the elevator she'd barely stepped out of. As the doors closed, all he heard was Laine's resigned voice. “Fine, fine. I understand, Connie ... I said I understand ... no one—"

  Laine paced the halls of the eighth floor. Connie's last words ate at her gut. Some girls don't want to know...

  The dark halls of memories lit, one after another, to the worst day of her life. Swallowing hard at the memory, she felt bile rising in her throat. Her brother-in-law, only hours before his wedding, pulling her into the stairwell and kissing her. Her sister, Gail, screaming that Laine had ruined her special day. Demanding to know why she couldn't have just kept her mouth shut.

  Laine shook away the tear-streaked phantom, damning the choice that she'd been faced with. It never occurred to her that her sister wouldn't have wanted to know, that Gail would go through with the ceremony regardless. Like it never occurred to her that she would be written out of her sister's life forever. Or that she would end up so driven to fix her mistake she would make a career out of it.

  Laine stared at the phone in her trembling hand. She had to do it. Dialing the number, she hit send and waited through four rings before the line picked up.

  "Gail? It's me, Laine. Please don't hang up. I really need to talk to you."

  A long silence followed. Laine stopped pacing, stopped breathing. She waited.

  "Laine, are you okay?"

  She closed her eyes and nodded, trying to push the sound out through a throat seized with emotion. How many years had it been since she heard her sister say her name? “Yes, sort of. I'm sorry, but I need to talk to you."

  "Okay ... What is it?"

  "After a
ll these years, do you still believe you would have been happier if I hadn't told you about Danny?"

  A cool hiss of breath came through the line, and Laine thought she was about to be hung up on. But then Gail answered, her voice slow, reflective.

  "Maybe. For a while. I was twenty. So young. Danny? It's possible things would have been different between us if I hadn't known. Or maybe if I'd found out for myself what he was like, instead of being so wrapped up in blaming someone else—you—and trying so hard to prove everyone wrong, I might have left him before getting pregnant. But then I wouldn't have my daughters. And Danny is, for the most part, a decent man. I guess I could have done worse. I don't know."

  Laine bowed her head, her heart aching for them both. “How are the girls? The pictures at Mom's are beautiful."

  Gail's voice brightened, bringing Laine up with her. “The girls are wonderful. So smart and funny.” She laughed. “Trina is five, and she reminds me of you the most. Makes me laugh all the time."

  Somehow it made a difference to know that even though her sister hadn't spoken to her, she'd at least thought of her. That was something.

  "Laine, I still wish you'd never told me what Danny pulled before the wedding, but not because you were wrong to do it. Because I've missed you so much. I'm sorry. I was wrong and pig-headed. And then I was so embarrassed. It wasn't your fault, and I've know it for a long time. I just had too many problems to face up to fixing this one. Honey, I love you."

  Laine choked back a sob, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I love you too."

  * * * *Briefcase in hand, Jason walked up to Dolce's darkened storefront. It was familiar, unpleasant, being there again. But it would be worth it in the end. He depressed the bell and rocked back on his heels, checking out the neighborhood. Not much had changed in the years since he'd been here last.

  The door to the bakery opened, and Jason waited for Sophia to invite him in.

  "Fine. Let's get this over with,” she said in her lilting English. She stood back from the door, one eye squinting slightly at him as she pulled on her imported cigarette.

  Jason adjusted the briefcase in his grip and followed her over to a small table by the counter. He swung the case up onto the tabletop, popped it open and spun it around to face her.

  Sophia leaned forward, greed in her eyes. It was what he had banked on.

  Jason glared at her over the payoff. “Give me the ring, and the money is yours."

  Sorting through the bills, she piled them up, fanning one bundle with her thumb. “You're a fool, Jason. You always have been. You were a lovesick puppy ten years ago and looking at you now, I'm guessing you're lovesick for someone new. This ring isn't worth half of what you are paying me, but you want to see it on her finger. Are you so sure she won't make a fool out of you too?"

  He didn't doubt Laine. He knew her. Loved her. He wouldn't let old hurts from someone else undermine the faith he had in her. “Just take your money."

  "Gladly."

  And that was it. After all these years, his grandmother's engagement ring rattled across the table, and back into the Henley line.

  It would be perfect on Laine's hand.

  * * * *Jason sat in his Mercedes and stared in disbelief at the jubilant wedding party emerging from the hotel's front lobby. The bride and groom looked ecstatic, grins plastered from ear to ear as they ran through a spray of birdseed to the cover of the waiting white limo. It looked as though everything had been perfect ... for someone.

  His heart sinking, he removed the small velvet box from his coat pocket and opened it up. The two karat solitaire caught the sun streaming through the dash, reflecting a rainbow of lights around the interior of the car.

  How could she have kept the truth from the bride? He'd been so sure. But then he'd been sure about Sophia—a woman who never loved him, but wanted his name and every man she could find between her legs. No one had wanted to tell him, but everyone had known. If he hadn't found her himself that last night before the wedding...

  "Damn it,” he growled, snapping the lid closed and stuffing the box back into his pocket, before heading into the hotel.

  The doors swished open for him, and he caught sight of Laine tucked into an overstuffed sofa in the lounge. She turned to face him, a sad smile breaking across her face.

  Anger hardened inside of him. It was too late now for regrets. The wedding was over. She'd played her part, and he couldn't console her.

  Jason turned away and headed to his elevator, where the car was waiting. Stepping inside, he plugged in his key and turned the car to private service. As the doors closed, he looked up and saw Laine, now standing by the exit looking back at him.

  In his mind's eye he saw her staring up at him with cake smeared in her hair, looking more beautiful than he'd ever seen her. He saw her waiting half-naked to lure him into the elevator earlier that morning. He saw her the way he had that first night two years ago, giving a toast about romance, love and marriage. About what weddings really meant.

  His heart plummeted in his chest. He was making a monumental mistake. There had to be an explanation. All she had to do was give it to him.

  He slammed his hand against the door open button, but the car had already started up. Shit, he flicked at the stop switch twice, reversed the car and felt a sheen of sweat break out across his brow as he waited the eternity for the doors to open. The round trip hadn't taken more than thirty seconds, but Laine was already gone. He ran through the front doors just as a cab pulled around the far lane of the lot. “Laine!"

  Cutting through the rows of parked cars, he headed off the cab, slapping his palm down on the hood. The rear window was half-open and Laine was huddled against the padded bench seat.

  "Can you just tell me what happened? Make me understand how you could care more about a job than someone's life? Damn it, I saw you hesitate this morning, but I wanted to believe so much that you were different. How could you do it?"

  Her eyes, glistening with unspent tears, wouldn't meet his. “Yes, Jason. I hesitated. There is no single answer that is right for every question. Sometimes things happen that make you question your instincts ... I—Never mind. It doesn't matter what happened. Just let me go, I don't want to talk anymore."

  Jason backed away from the cab, raking his fingers through his hair. She couldn't face him. Maybe it was for the best. The small box in his pants pocket pressed against his thigh. How could he have been so wrong again?

  Walking back to the hotel, one thought rose above the rest. Sophia had been right. He was a fool, again.

  He shook his head, trying to clear the muddled emotions. No, trying to stop them all together. He didn't want to feel anything.

  By the time the lobby doors swished shut, an icy calm had embraced him. He wasn't staying down this time.

  Scanning the lobby, he caught sight of Dil leaning casually against the check-in desk, giving the new girl a reason to smile. Just the man he wanted.

  Flagging him over, Jason laid out what he was looking for.

  Dil pursed his lips. “So when you say as different from Ms. Malone as I can find, you mean you want an ugly, dim-wit who's going to agree with everything you say?"

  "I don't need it from you too.” He couldn't get a break. Even Dil was giving him a hard time. “Just find me some company. Someone ... distracting.” He looked back at Dil and narrowed his eyes. “Not a hooker."

  He wasn't going to be some chump drowning his sorrows over a pint down at the bar. And he wasn't going to take a year to get back in the saddle again. It wouldn't be another repeat of his Sophia breakup. Not that Laine was anything like Sophia, but—God damn it, he didn't know what the hell he was thinking. She was enough like Sophia to leave him feeling like a complete schmuck being led around by his dick.

  No more.

  Jamming his hands into his pockets, Dil shifted his gaze around the office. “Okay, sir. I think I have a girl for you."

  "Not for me, for tonight.” No one was going to be right for him.
<
br />   * * * *Patsy Cline's “Crazy” poured out of the jukebox in a slow painful assault on Laine's heart. Wanting to grab her glass of Chablis and rocket it at the person responsible for the song selection, she instead smoothed her hand over the polished oak bar and reined in her emotions. It wasn't the time to get all weepy over Jason and his holier than thou attitude.

  Asshole.

  No, now, this very minute, was the start of her future.

  One door closed and another door opened. It always proved true, but the timing in this instance was rather shocking, even to a professional in an industry known for serendipity. Laine adjusted herself on the bar stool and, crossing her legs, angled herself toward the man seated beside her, Max Johnson. He was watching her intently, waiting for her response.

  One last time she let her gaze run the length of his body, taking in the details. This guy was a catch, if ever she saw one. Clean cut good looks, nice dresser, a smooth smile, and trusting eyes that stayed focused on her, proving she was the center of his attention—an essential skill. The body was a plus, no doubt about it, talk about a strong back. He was old enough to have some experience, young enough where he was still eager to learn.

  He'd been pursuing her for months and looking at him now, she knew he was exactly what she needed.

  Taking a deep breath, the deliberation was over. She smiled and offered him her hand. “Okay."

  * * * *"Oops,” Pammy tittered, pulling the scrap of her dress back over her nipple. Peering up from beneath a thick mane of bleached blonde hair, she bit into her bottom lip and shrugged.

  Jason smiled and raised his glass, draining the last drop of Belvedere before returning it to the table with a thunk. Glancing around the restaurant, he saw an unusual number of his staff lingering at the perimeter of the room, each looking away with obvious embarrassment as his gaze landed on them. The hotel restaurant had been a poor choice for dinner. Well, at least with this many prying eyes, he wouldn't have to wait on the refill. Holding the glass up, he clinked the ice around and raised an eyebrow for a taker.