Just Toying Around.... Rhonda Nelson

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ together the tuition and travel fees for the school in Paris. Her dream was almost in reach. Just a few more months and she’d be a true cosmopolitan woman.

      But she wasn’t yet.

      “No,” she clarified, drawing in a cautious breath. “You decided I would be a more interesting topic of conversation.”

      He shrugged noncommittally. “Semantics. Tell me about yourself.”

      Another interesting discovery, Meg thought, unreasonably impressed. Nick Devereau didn’t seem to have any intention of dominating their conversation with the usual bullshit bravado men normally felt compelled to impart. He seemed genuinely interested in her. Meg couldn’t help but be impressed. “What do you want to know?” she asked.

      “Everything.”

      Meg chuckled. “Not much, eh?”

      “Why don’t we do a little Q&A? Tit for tat, so to speak.” He stilled, studying her intently. “If I ask something that’s too personal or something you don’t want to answer, then just say ‘pass.’ I’ll do the same to any question you ask me.”

      Meg mulled it over. “Okay,” she conceded grudgingly. “Sounds fair.”

      “What do you do for a living?”

      Hell. Meg mentally rolled her eyes. He would ask that first. While the sex-toy critic job was more interesting, it wasn’t her primary source of income. Besides, she didn’t know how to do the Heimlich and he’d probably choke if she imparted that little factoid. “I’m a pastry chef,” Meg answered. “What do you do?”

      He sipped his whiskey. “I’m an attorney. A pastry chef,” he repeated, seemingly intrigued. “That’s a great deal more interesting than the weather. What restaurant?”

      Hmmm. Too personal, Meg decided. Too risky as well. Though unlikely, she still might discover some hideous character flaw. She might not want him knowing where she worked. “Sorry, I’ll pass on that one,” she told him. An earlier suspicion surfaced and she regarded him shrewdly. “Are you gay?”

      He strangled on his whiskey. “Wh-what? No! Why?” His brows winged up his forehead. “Do I— Do I act gay?”

      “That’s two questions,” Meg pointed out as she resisted the urge to laugh. His abrupt, outraged, vehement “no” certainly left no doubt that he was straight. “I’ll answer the last question. No, you don’t act gay…but you seem too good to be true.” Meg narrowed her gaze, studied him thoughtfully. “Are you married?”

      “No.” A hint of humor danced in his eyes and a bit of self-satisfaction clung to the edges of his halfhearted smile. “Why do you think I’m too good to be true?”

      That had been too telling a remark, Meg thought ruefully. She’d have to watch herself. Pass or be forthright? She chose forthright. It seemed the Desiree thing to do. “Because you’re a seemingly sane, heterosexual, unmarried, attractive professional over thirty.” Meg leaned forward. “Do you live with your mother?”

      A burst of laughter erupted from his chest. “No. Are you married?”

      Meg shook her head. “Does mental illness run in your family?”

      “No.” His gaze captured hers and he lowered his voice. “Do you realize you are the most entertaining woman I’ve met in a long time?”

      Meg blushed, pleased at the unexpected compliment. “No, I didn’t. Are you currently taking any prescription medications, mood elevators, anti-depressants?”

      The perpetual grin kicked up around the edges. “No. Would you like to dance?”

      Meg’s drink stalled halfway to her mouth. “Er…” Meg glanced around the increasingly crowded room. Some industrious patrons had shoved several tables out of the way and had created a makeshift dance floor.

      “Didn’t catch a ‘pass’ or a ‘no’, so I’ll take that as a yes.” Nick stood and drew her to her feet, then gently tugged her toward the dance floor. Within seconds, she found herself curled into his masculine embrace. His warm palms lay anchored at her hips and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to twine her arms around his neck. Her head fit perfectly in the hollow under his chin. His scent, a clean woodsy fragrance, swirled around her senses, enveloping her in a sensual haze. The music throbbed around them and for Meg, the rest of the room simply faded away.

      For all intents and purposes, they were glued from the knee up, and the contact had all but set Meg aflame. Her blood pulsed warmly in her veins, pooled at her womanly center. The desire for release, the unequivocal need, spiraled inside her, an ever-tightening coil.

      She felt his breath stir near her ear. “You’re a good dancer. And you smell wonderful.”

      “Thank you,” she murmured, impossibly warming more with the compliment. “You dance well yourself.” She paused. “Did you learn how at your anger management classes?”

      His chuckle vibrated through her, and she could feel his smile against her hair. “Still looking for faults, I see. Can’t you just accept the fact that I’m perfect?”

      Meg giggled. “Aha!”

      He drew back to look at her. “Aha, what?”

      “You’re not perfect.” She sniffed. “A perfect man would never be so conceited.”

      “Touché,” he said, laughing.

      As much as she dreaded it, Meg knew the time had come to bid him good-night.

      While she still would.

      While she still could.

      Her shoulders rounded with a sigh as the song drew to a close. “It’s getting late,” she confided regretfully. “I’ve got an early morning.”

      “I do, too. We should probably head back upstairs.”

      Meg nodded, pleased to note that he didn’t seem any more eager to end their date than she did. The trip to the room went entirely too fast for Meg’s liking, but she knew she shouldn’t linger. It had been a pleasant evening and, other than that last dance, she’d managed to keep from launching herself into his arms. Or into his lap. Or at his mouth.

      Which would have been entirely too easy.

      Meg paused outside her door and turned to face him. Lashes at half-mast, those butterscotch orbs had darkened into a warm caramel. Meg suppressed a shiver. Her mouth dried…watered. Her gaze strayed to his full, firm lips and, with effort, she swallowed. “I’ve had a really good time tonight. Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. Lingered. He cleared his throat. “Are you leaving tomorrow?”

      Meg shook her head. “I’ll be here all week.”

      He released a small breath. “Me, too. Can I see you again?”

      A bud of pleasure unfurled in her chest. “Sure.”

      The space between them had mysteriously lessened, Meg noted as her gaze once again СКАЧАТЬ