Read Online Surrender to Temptation Part VI: Tempted to Possess by Lauren Jameson - Free Book Online
Authors: Lauren Jameson
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me.
“Sure.” Methodically I turn to the warmer and retrieve the plate. I raise my eyebrows slightly at what the plain white ceramic holds—whole-wheat pancakes with fruit and cottage cheese, no syrup, no whipped cream, no ice cream. Not a common order for Joe’s Diner, a greasy spoon in Paradise, Nevada, aka my place of employment.
I’ve been back at work for a week, and have obsessed over Alex Fraser for every one of those seven days. I should have been congratulating myself on crossing an item off of my bucket list, but the thrill has been lost in my angst-ridden desire.
“Table twelve is smokin’.” Susannah winks at me as she scurries past with two glasses full of fizzing soda. I roll my eyes in return. My shift starts a half hour after hers does, and from the look on Susannah’s face, I’ve very nearly missed the best thing since sliced bread.
“You think everyone is smokin’,” I whisper back before hefting the plate and a coffee pot. I feel a lock of hair fall into my eyes as soon as my hands are full, and flip it back with the ease of long practice.
There’s not much that I can’t handle here, in comfortable surroundings.
“By the way, someone called for you this morning. Ned maybe—or Nick? Anyway, he said he’d call back.” Susannah scurries away with her drinks, leaving me glued to the floor, feelings rioting around inside of me.
Nick called? How did he even find me? My stomach falls as I realize that if he’s found where I am, he can call—or heaven forbid, stop by—at any time.
I don’t know how long I stand there, muscles stiff with tension, fighting my own inner demons. Gradually my surroundings filter back in, and as they do my muscles begin to warm, a hot bath of familiarity.
I am okay.
Inhaling deeply, I swallow my feelings down deep. I am at work. I need to do my job, and to do that, I can’t stand here and ruminate on my past—I need to move on, just as I have struggled to do for the last two years.
I almost convince myself that I have.
Eyes carefully trained on the plate and pot in my hands, I arrive at table twelve. It’s a man, that much I can tell without a good look and with hair in my eyes.
“Here you go. Careful—the plate is hot.” I lean over the table to place the plate in front of the customer. The familiar scent of expensive cologne, musky soap, and man hits me before I raise my eyes to meet that gorgeous face.
I straighten back up and brush my hair out of my eyes. Smoky blue eyes regard me with amusement from a face that is too beautiful to be real.
“Miss Stone.” I can’t force any words out of my mouth, I’m so stunned. What on earth is Alex Fraser, casino owner, doing in Paradise, Nevada, let alone in Joe’s Diner?
“Mr. Fraser. I—uh—enjoy your breakfast.” Like an idiot—a shell-shocked idiot—I spin on my heel and all but run back to the kitchen, where I can at least put a counter between Alex Fraser and me.
Behind the counter I lean over the ice bin, trying to cool my flushed cheeks. What is he
doing
here? Part of me screams that he can’t possibly be here to see me, and the other part is equally as certain that it’s not a coincidence that he’s in my place of work, in my little city, which is close enough to Vegas but still a bit of a drive.
“Are you okay?” Joe is the owner of the diner. He’s tall and lanky, with scraggly, reddish-gold hair and the hint of a matching beard. His eyes are startlingly green and full of concern, as is his voice.
“I’m . . . I’m fine.” I struggle for the words, though I’m unable to muster up an accompanying smile. How does Alex Fraser have such an effect on me? For the entire two years that I’ve lived in Paradise, I’ve been indifferent to the opposite sex. Changing that might be something on my bucket list, but not yet. I’m not ready.
I’ve had other things on my mind, other demons whispering in the dark.
“You don’t look fine.” I like Joe, I do, but right now I
“Sure.” Methodically I turn to the warmer and retrieve the plate. I raise my eyebrows slightly at what the plain white ceramic holds—whole-wheat pancakes with fruit and cottage cheese, no syrup, no whipped cream, no ice cream. Not a common order for Joe’s Diner, a greasy spoon in Paradise, Nevada, aka my place of employment.
I’ve been back at work for a week, and have obsessed over Alex Fraser for every one of those seven days. I should have been congratulating myself on crossing an item off of my bucket list, but the thrill has been lost in my angst-ridden desire.
“Table twelve is smokin’.” Susannah winks at me as she scurries past with two glasses full of fizzing soda. I roll my eyes in return. My shift starts a half hour after hers does, and from the look on Susannah’s face, I’ve very nearly missed the best thing since sliced bread.
“You think everyone is smokin’,” I whisper back before hefting the plate and a coffee pot. I feel a lock of hair fall into my eyes as soon as my hands are full, and flip it back with the ease of long practice.
There’s not much that I can’t handle here, in comfortable surroundings.
“By the way, someone called for you this morning. Ned maybe—or Nick? Anyway, he said he’d call back.” Susannah scurries away with her drinks, leaving me glued to the floor, feelings rioting around inside of me.
Nick called? How did he even find me? My stomach falls as I realize that if he’s found where I am, he can call—or heaven forbid, stop by—at any time.
I don’t know how long I stand there, muscles stiff with tension, fighting my own inner demons. Gradually my surroundings filter back in, and as they do my muscles begin to warm, a hot bath of familiarity.
I am okay.
Inhaling deeply, I swallow my feelings down deep. I am at work. I need to do my job, and to do that, I can’t stand here and ruminate on my past—I need to move on, just as I have struggled to do for the last two years.
I almost convince myself that I have.
Eyes carefully trained on the plate and pot in my hands, I arrive at table twelve. It’s a man, that much I can tell without a good look and with hair in my eyes.
“Here you go. Careful—the plate is hot.” I lean over the table to place the plate in front of the customer. The familiar scent of expensive cologne, musky soap, and man hits me before I raise my eyes to meet that gorgeous face.
I straighten back up and brush my hair out of my eyes. Smoky blue eyes regard me with amusement from a face that is too beautiful to be real.
“Miss Stone.” I can’t force any words out of my mouth, I’m so stunned. What on earth is Alex Fraser, casino owner, doing in Paradise, Nevada, let alone in Joe’s Diner?
“Mr. Fraser. I—uh—enjoy your breakfast.” Like an idiot—a shell-shocked idiot—I spin on my heel and all but run back to the kitchen, where I can at least put a counter between Alex Fraser and me.
Behind the counter I lean over the ice bin, trying to cool my flushed cheeks. What is he
doing
here? Part of me screams that he can’t possibly be here to see me, and the other part is equally as certain that it’s not a coincidence that he’s in my place of work, in my little city, which is close enough to Vegas but still a bit of a drive.
“Are you okay?” Joe is the owner of the diner. He’s tall and lanky, with scraggly, reddish-gold hair and the hint of a matching beard. His eyes are startlingly green and full of concern, as is his voice.
“I’m . . . I’m fine.” I struggle for the words, though I’m unable to muster up an accompanying smile. How does Alex Fraser have such an effect on me? For the entire two years that I’ve lived in Paradise, I’ve been indifferent to the opposite sex. Changing that might be something on my bucket list, but not yet. I’m not ready.
I’ve had other things on my mind, other demons whispering in the dark.
“You don’t look fine.” I like Joe, I do, but right now I
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