“That's what makes you a good sales manager.”
“But at the same time I hated to come down on him so hard.”
“That's what makes you a woman.”
She had almost convinced herself that she wore an armor of anger to protect herself from him, but his softly spoken words pierced right through it like the cleanest stroke of a rapier and plunged straight into her heart. Headlong she dived into the depths of the eyes that looked down at her, and she begged to be drowned in them. His hands slid down her arms to clasp her hands. With no other part of their bodies touching, he leaned forward and sealed her mouth with his.
The sweet taste of his lips and the slow, evocative marauding of his tongue inside her mouth held her captive as strong arms couldn't have. At some silently given command, their heads rotated and switched sides to enjoy each other further. He sipped at her lips deliciously before pulling slightly away.
“Have dinner with me.”
“I—”
He kissed her again, drawing her breath into his own body.
“Please. Dinner only, Megan. I swear it. Just let me be with you.”
“Josh,” she whispered. This was insanity, and she well knew it, but she couldn't resist his seductive kisses. Her will, her reason, her grim resolutions scattered like petals in the wind whenever he touched her. She recognized now, if never before, that she feared what became of her when she was with Joshua Bennett. Could she be held accountable for mistakes made when he robbed her of the ability to think?
“Dinner and dancing. Nothing else, if you say so.”
Would one night hurt? One harmless dinner? A little dancing? He tasted so good. Salty. He'd had time for some form of exercise before receiving the call at the gym and coming to her. The musky smell of him made her light-headed. She longed to touch the coarse mat of hair on his chest, to trace its origins just below his collarbone, to chart the pattern of its growth down his torso, coming eventually to the root of his masculinity. She swallowed with difficulty.
“Please, Megan, end this punishment. Say yes.” He pressed his lips sweetly against hers and caressed them lovingly.
“Oh, Josh, ye—”
They heard the shuffling footsteps a split second before there was a sharp tap on the door and it was pushed open. “Megan?”
They sprang apart as Doug Atherton and Terry Bishop entered.
“There are you,” Doug said heartily. “Your secretary's not back from lunch yet, and I couldn't find you anywhere else in the building.” He seemed not to notice Megan's stricken expression. “I called your office, Josh. They said you were coming here. Did you jog over?” He laughed.
“No,” Josh said. “Something urgent came up that I thought Megan should know about. I rushed over before my workout was finished.”
“Nothing critical, I hope.” Atherton's brow wrinkled with instant alertness.
“No, I don't think so,” Josh said easily. “Megan managed to iron it out.”
“Ah, good, good. Nice flowers,” he added offhandedly, indicating the vase of roses. “Megan, Terry told me you'd seen the commercials, but he wanted to talk to you about them.”
The man had barely looked at her. He was too smart not to put two and two together, after having caught her and Josh alone twice in recent days. Both times they'd looked startled and guilty. “Hi, Terry,” she said cordially for Doug's benefit. “Let's all sit down, shall we?”
She returned to her desk, grateful that she could place it between her and the three men. Suddenly she felt vulnerable and defenseless. “What can I do for you, Terry?”
“Well,” he said, wetting his lips nervously, “I was worried about the placement of the commercials. You know, about which one should air when. Do you have any ideas along that line?”
She felt a moment of panic. How many of them had she seen? Two? three? She didn't remember any that had run after Terry left the room. The only one that had left a lasting impression was the one with the couple in silhouette. Remembering it now, she grew excessively warm and glanced at Josh. The agate eyes watching her closely told her he knew all too well what she was thinking. She'd have to fake her way through this.
“Well, I think the one with the couple on the beach should air late at night,” she quipped. Her ploy worked. Terry and Josh laughed. After a hasty explanation from Josh, Doug joined them.
“As for the others, let's see.” She pursed her lips as though trying to remember, praying that something would come to her blank mind.
“Megan and I talked this over while you were on the telephone, Terry,” Josh said. Her eyes widened in surprise at his lie, but fortunately he held the attention of the other two men and they didn't notice her dismay. “She and I both feel that the commercials relating to the shopping areas and the other amenities appealing to women should run during the daytime, when the lady of the house is watching soap operas or quiz shows.”
“Exactly,” Megan said quickly, wanting to contribute something and not appear the idiot she felt herself to be.
“The commercials showing the golf courses, tennis courts, and fishing charters, should run in the evening, when the man of the house is at home, and during televised sports events. As for the ones showing the children on bicycles and romping on the beach, the choice is clear—afternoons and Saturday mornings. Isn't that what we decided, Megan?”