Just Toying Around.... Rhonda Nelson

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СКАЧАТЬ and she didn’t intend to waste it.

      Besides, now that she’d decided to momentarily ditch her ho-hum life and trade it in for the week for an exciting one, she couldn’t wait to get started. Meg shuddered to think about what that said about the life she’d led to date, that she’d be so willing to abandon it. True, since the scholarship fiasco she’d forsaken all men and pursued her career with single-minded determination. But had it really been that bad? That boring? That empty?

      Yes.

      With that disturbing realization in mind, Meg hurried to her room. Rather than sit on the end of the bed and twiddle her thumbs while she waited for him, she took the opportunity to straighten up. Meg couldn’t stand clutter, liked her surroundings balanced, harmonized and color-coordinated. In her line of work, presentation was almost as important as the quality of the dish she prepared and that mentality had spilled over into other areas of her life. She’d been told she was maddeningly meticulous. Meg grinned. She just considered herself thorough.

      Less than five minutes passed when a soft knock sounded at the connecting door. So he’d been just as anxious. Meg felt a grin tug at her lips. Taking a fortifying breath, she smoothed her jacket and opened the door.

      “Hi,” she managed. He looked devastating. He wore khaki trousers, a white oxford shirt and a come-hither smile that melted Meg’s insides.

      “Ready?”

      “Sure.”

      Meg slipped her key card back into her purse and allowed him to escort her from the room. The sheer size of him struck her again. Her head lay a good two inches below his shoulder. Though totally against her feminist nature, the thought made her feel safe. Protected. This was the sort of man that a cave woman would want to take as a husband. A big, tough, muscled warrior who would defend and protect.

      A ribbon of heat curled through her. Need consumed her, made her knees momentarily go weak. Hell, they hadn’t even made it to the elevator and yet she found herself hit with the insane notion to skip the drinks altogether and drag him back to her room.

      Which was ridiculous, of course, because Meg had never dragged any man to her bed, much less a complete stranger. And while this man happened to be the answer to her every carnal fantasy, he was still a stranger.

      He was just a stranger she was impossibly attracted to.

      But she didn’t have to consider what Meg would do, she reminded herself, only what Desiree would do, and this week she was Desiree. A sly smile curled her lips as she cast a sidelong glance at her companion. The possibilities were endless.

      Nick guided her into the elevator with a hand at her elbow. The minimal contact nonetheless ignited a sparkler of pleasure low in her belly. “Did you enjoy your dinner?” he asked, pulling Meg from her mental musings.

      “I did,” she replied. “What about you? Have you eaten?”

      “I ordered room service.”

      Well, that took care of that line of conversation.

      Now what were they going to talk about? Meg wondered as the silence yawned between them.

      “Fifty percent chance of rain tonight,” he remarked casually.

      “Is that right?”

      He rocked back on his heels. “So I heard.”

      “I like rain,” Meg replied, her lips curling into a small grin.

      “I do, too.”

      “Makes me sleepy.”

      The elevator glided to a smooth halt. He twined his fingers with hers and waited for the doors to open. “That covers the traditional pleasantries,” he murmured, his voice a smooth decadent rumble. “How about we move on to a more interesting topic of conversation.”

      “Like what?” Meg chuckled.

      His lazy, half-lidded gaze captured hers. “You.”

      Oh, he was smooth. Definitely out of her league and she out of her element. What on earth was she doing? “You’d be sadly disappointed if you thought I’d be a more interesting topic of conversation.”

      He gave her a sideways glance. “I doubt it.”

      They strolled into the lounge and found a secluded table tucked past the bar. In a gentlemanly fashion Meg hadn’t witnessed in ages, Nick obligingly pulled out her chair.

      “What would you like to drink?” he asked.

      “Chardonnay.”

      “It’ll be quicker if I go to the bar.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t go away.”

      Like hell, Meg thought as she watched him cross the room. Once again she found herself thrown into the grip of another bout of yearning. The man walked with an economy of movement, languid yet purposeful. Nick Devereau was obviously a man who felt comfortable in his own skin.

      Meg had always prided herself on her ability to size a person up. She read confidence in the breadth of his shoulders, a smidge of arrogance in the tilt of his jaw and—the most distracting of all—the invitation to sin in those warm, heavy-lidded butterscotch eyes.

      While Desiree Moon might long to throw caution to the wind, Meg Sugarbaker was still more than a little gun-shy. She’d been burned before and repercussions for that one stupid mistake had blistered her enough to make her very cautious. The last time she’d dropped her guard she’d lost a scholarship that would have saved her thousands of dollars and garnered respect in the snobbish circles of haute cuisine. She’d also been made a laughingstock. Though she was more mature now and circumstances were different, old habits died hard. Meg chose her company carefully, kept her circle tight.

      But hadn’t she decided not to worry about Meg’s concerns this week? Hadn’t she decided to be Desiree Moon? If that were the case, then she shouldn’t be bound by all the old doubts, reservations and insecurities. She should simply live in the moment and see where this week took her. And she’d only have this week. Once it was over, it would be back to good old Meg. The thought struck a curious pang of regret, but Meg forced it away and concentrated on the present.

      After all, this was the first time she’d been out on anything that remotely resembled a date in ages, and Nick Devereau was by far the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on. She would simply enjoy herself and the rest would take care of itself.

      Resigned to that end, Meg took a moment to survey the bar. Though relatively early, a sizable crowd had gathered. A soulful jazz tune emanated from hidden speakers, creating an intimate bare-your-soul atmosphere. A smoky haze swirled near the ceiling, casting an eerie glow in the dimly lit lounge.

      Nick returned with their drinks. “Now where were we? Oh, yes. You were going to tell me about yourself.”

      Her gaze tangled with his. “I was?”

      “Certainly. We decided you were a more interesting topic of conversation than the weather.”

      Meg grinned wryly. Aside from the fact that she was a sex-toy critic, there was absolutely nothing interesting about her life. She was a single, twenty-seven-year-old pastry chef, СКАЧАТЬ