Read Online Temptation's Kiss by Sandra Brown - Free Book Online

as I did unless you had felt it too. Deny it all you want to, Megan, but you know you're lying—to me and to yourself.”
    “I felt nothing,” she denied hotly, mortified to realize that scalding tears were flooding her eyes.
    A stricken expression crossed his face. “Don't cry,” he pleaded, crushing her against his chest and stroking her back soothingly. “The last thing I want is to make you cry. I've acted high-handedly. I admit it. But only because I didn't know any other way to get your attention. Please, Megan, don't cry.”
    His hands cupped her face and tilted it up to his. As the moving picture of a little boy and his father riding a bicycle built for two wavered across their bodies, his lips molded onto hers. His tongue invaded the sweet interior of her mouth even as his body moved suggestively against hers.
    Beyond conscious thought, responding purely out of physical and emotional need, she arched against him, fitting her femininity to his complementing masculinity. The contact was exquisite and breathtaking, and their soft gasps of pleasure and pain harmonized. Their hungry mouths refused to be denied as the kiss mellowed to a controlled violence. His arms wrapped around her like bands of steel. Her hands disarranged the soft cloth of his shirt as she scoured the muscles of his back with greedy hands.
    They were so lost within their embrace that, when the voice boomed out at them from the overhead speakers, they separated in startled disbelief. Megan stared at Josh with wide, unblinking eyes as her chest heaved like a bellows.
    “Will that be all, Mr. Bennett?” the projectionist asked again, apparently unaware of what he'd interrupted.
    Megan looked blindly toward the blank screen at the front of the room. The commercials had finished, yet she hadn't viewed one since Terry had left the room. Jolted back into reality, she covered her tingling lips with a shaky hand.
    In extreme exasperation, Josh raked his fingers through his hair. “Yes. Thank you, Tad.”
    The microphone clicked off, and they were left alone in the dark, silent room. “Megan—”
    “No,” she said shortly, backing away from him. “I don't know what … what happens to me when you … Consider the debt paid. I think the insults I've suffered from you are more than enough recompense. From now on we're even, Mr. Bennett.”
    She pivoted on her heels, grabbed up her purse a second time, and groped her way out the aisle to the door. She flung it open, escape uppermost in her mind.
    “Megan,” Josh shouted from behind her. The name reverberated off the walls of the projection room and was still echoing when she all but collided into a startled Terry Bishop, who was reaching for the doorknob from the other side.
    Megan didn't know who was the most dumbfounded. Terry took in her tear-streaked face, her well-kissed swollen lips, the frantic look in her eyes. She followed his gaze to Josh, whose shirttail was half in, half out, his loosened tie lying at a sharp angle on his chest.
    “I'm … uh … excuse me,” Terry stuttered apologetically. “That was—was Gayla, my wife. She, uh, wanted me to get your address so she can send you a formal invitation to the grand opening of Seascape, on June first. You're both coming, aren't you?”

Four
    M egan could feel how imbecilic the expression on her face was. Absently she reached up to smooth her hair. No doubt the professional respect Terry had for her was disappearing rapidly as she stood there, dully trying to comprehend what he had said and provide some reasonably intelligent response. Her dominant thought was that her escape from Josh had been blocked.
    Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Josh nonchalantly tucking in his shirttail and straightening his necktie. He seemed not at all upset by their having been caught like misbehaving children. Had she the ability to control the muscles of her face, her lips would have curled into the frown of contempt she felt inside. Why should his