Read Online Temptation's Kiss by Sandra Brown - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sandra Brown
Tags: FIC027020
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kind of schedule did you work out for those convenience-store spots?”
With Seascape momentarily off her hands, she concentrated on wading through the mountain of work that had accumulated on her desk for the past several days. She made overdue telephone calls, answered correspondence, and held a sales meeting for her staff. By the third day, her self-confidence restored, she was feeling a sense of accomplishment. Coming back from a quick yogurt lunch in the basement commissary, her walk was almost jaunty.
Her buoyancy deflated like a punctured balloon when she opened the door to her office and saw Josh sitting on the couch. Her eyes collided with his, and for an intense moment neither of them moved. Then slowly he unfolded his length from the deep cushions and stood up.
Not only his appearance but also his clothing left her speechless. He was dressed in a black-and-gold sweat suit and running shoes. His hair was wind-blown, his color high. Had he jogged over?
“Forgive the way I'm dressed.”
“What are you doing here?” She closed the door behind her and immediately regretted having done so. To open it now would be an admission that she felt completely undone at having found him here. Stiffly she stood just inside the door, trying vainly not to look at the deep wedge of dark curling hair in the V of the sweat shirt, zipped only halfway up. If that weren't enough, the way the matching pants fit his slim hips was most disconcerting.
“Your secretary was still at lunch,” he said, not answering her question. “I decided to wait for you to get back. Do you mind my being here?”
“Does it matter?” she asked acidly.
“Yes.” That simple unequivocal statement was more injurious than derision would have been, and she averted her eyes from his as she crossed the room briskly and stowed her purse in a bottom drawer of her desk.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Bennett?” she asked curtly as she assumed her seat.
“You can forgive my behavior the other day.” Her eyes flew back to his as her lips rounded into a small O of surprise. “You were right. I took advantage of a business meeting. When I kiss you again, and I will”—his voice lowered significantly—“I promise that the circumstances will be more conducive to romance.”
“There won't—”
“Yes, there will be. I'll see to it that there are many such occasions.” He looked toward the credenza, where the roses were now opened to their full glory.
Why hadn't she thrown them out? The morning after her encounter with him in the projection room she had closed her hands around the heavy vase with every intention of emptying the blossoms into the large trash receptacle at the end of the hall. But she hadn't been able to bring herself to do so. Why?
Josh walked over and pinched off one of the blossoms, then stepped behind her desk, stopping just inches from her chair. “An olive branch?”
Her heart skidded to a halt, and air felt trapped in her lungs as he extended his hand to her breast. Taking infinite care not to touch her, he slipped the rosebud into the first buttonhole of her blouse. His fingers were slow to withdraw. As they dangled there, a mere inch away, they radiated a longing to caress her so strong that her body responded as if they had indeed touched her. Her breasts swelled with desire, and the nipples tightened and peaked, beckoning to him.
She felt his eyes on the crown of her head. His breathing was rough and labored. Directly in front of her his thighs flexed spasmodically and his stiff fingers closed into fists. She curbed a mad impulse to lift one of those fists, open it, kiss it, and lay it against an aching breast.
“In answer to your question,” he said softly, “I've never lured a woman into my place of business for the purpose of seduction. I never mix business with pleasure. You, Megan, are the only woman who ever tempted me to break my own rule. Since I met you, you've been the exception to every rule.”
Still
With Seascape momentarily off her hands, she concentrated on wading through the mountain of work that had accumulated on her desk for the past several days. She made overdue telephone calls, answered correspondence, and held a sales meeting for her staff. By the third day, her self-confidence restored, she was feeling a sense of accomplishment. Coming back from a quick yogurt lunch in the basement commissary, her walk was almost jaunty.
Her buoyancy deflated like a punctured balloon when she opened the door to her office and saw Josh sitting on the couch. Her eyes collided with his, and for an intense moment neither of them moved. Then slowly he unfolded his length from the deep cushions and stood up.
Not only his appearance but also his clothing left her speechless. He was dressed in a black-and-gold sweat suit and running shoes. His hair was wind-blown, his color high. Had he jogged over?
“Forgive the way I'm dressed.”
“What are you doing here?” She closed the door behind her and immediately regretted having done so. To open it now would be an admission that she felt completely undone at having found him here. Stiffly she stood just inside the door, trying vainly not to look at the deep wedge of dark curling hair in the V of the sweat shirt, zipped only halfway up. If that weren't enough, the way the matching pants fit his slim hips was most disconcerting.
“Your secretary was still at lunch,” he said, not answering her question. “I decided to wait for you to get back. Do you mind my being here?”
“Does it matter?” she asked acidly.
“Yes.” That simple unequivocal statement was more injurious than derision would have been, and she averted her eyes from his as she crossed the room briskly and stowed her purse in a bottom drawer of her desk.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Bennett?” she asked curtly as she assumed her seat.
“You can forgive my behavior the other day.” Her eyes flew back to his as her lips rounded into a small O of surprise. “You were right. I took advantage of a business meeting. When I kiss you again, and I will”—his voice lowered significantly—“I promise that the circumstances will be more conducive to romance.”
“There won't—”
“Yes, there will be. I'll see to it that there are many such occasions.” He looked toward the credenza, where the roses were now opened to their full glory.
Why hadn't she thrown them out? The morning after her encounter with him in the projection room she had closed her hands around the heavy vase with every intention of emptying the blossoms into the large trash receptacle at the end of the hall. But she hadn't been able to bring herself to do so. Why?
Josh walked over and pinched off one of the blossoms, then stepped behind her desk, stopping just inches from her chair. “An olive branch?”
Her heart skidded to a halt, and air felt trapped in her lungs as he extended his hand to her breast. Taking infinite care not to touch her, he slipped the rosebud into the first buttonhole of her blouse. His fingers were slow to withdraw. As they dangled there, a mere inch away, they radiated a longing to caress her so strong that her body responded as if they had indeed touched her. Her breasts swelled with desire, and the nipples tightened and peaked, beckoning to him.
She felt his eyes on the crown of her head. His breathing was rough and labored. Directly in front of her his thighs flexed spasmodically and his stiff fingers closed into fists. She curbed a mad impulse to lift one of those fists, open it, kiss it, and lay it against an aching breast.
“In answer to your question,” he said softly, “I've never lured a woman into my place of business for the purpose of seduction. I never mix business with pleasure. You, Megan, are the only woman who ever tempted me to break my own rule. Since I met you, you've been the exception to every rule.”
Still
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