Temptation's Kiss by Sandra Brown Read Free Book Online Page B

between them.
    There had never been, nor would there ever be, a place for him in her life.
    Grimly Megan carried the vase of roses to the credenza under the window. She couldn't ignore them altogether, but she could put them in a less conspicuous place, where she wouldn't have to look at them constantly and thus think about their sender.
    The morning passed quickly. Two of her salespeople came in to briefly discuss the peculiarities of specific accounts. Then an advertiser called, irate because, during the evening newscast, his commercial had run for a good ten seconds without audio.
    Megan called the production chief, who sheepishly confirmed it. “I'll have to arrange for a make-good, Harry. This is the third one in a month. Don't you realize that every time I have to make good a spot, it costs us a few thousand dollars? Especially if the commercial airs during a newscast.”
    “Hell, yes, I realize it,” he grumbled. “I told you I'm training a new director.”
    “That's your problem, but I don't think the eleven o'clock news is a good training ground.” His muttered curse didn't intimidate her in the least “Get your act together, Harry.”
    “It's not fair, you know. You look like an angel, but you've got a heart of stone.”
    “No one said life was fair.” she clicked off the line, only to notice that another call was coming through. Pressing down the blinking lighted button, she said, “What now, Arlene?”
    “This isn't Arlene.”
    For the few hours her mind had been wrapped up in her work, she'd almost forgotten him. Almost. Hearing his voice now, she glanced involuntarily toward the roses. With the sunlight shining on them, the delicate petals were translucent. She couldn't neglect to acknowledge that she'd received them.
    “Hello, Josh.”
    “Hi. How's your day going?”
    “Typically. I've been putting out brush fires.” His deep chuckle stroked her ear and sent a shiver tiptoeing down her spine. “Thank you for the roses.”
    “You're welcome.”
    “I'll return the vase to you as soon—”
    “It's yours,” he said sharply.
    “But—”
    “We're reviewing the Seascape commercials this afternoon,” he interrupted brusquely. “Terry will be here. He asked that you come over. Ms. Hampson is tied up with another client. He wants your advice on when to air them, etc.”
    Megan gnawed her bottom lip. “You can advise him on that as well as I can, Josh.”
    “Yes, but he wants you.”
    “Then what's he paying you for?” she asked nastily. If it was necessary for her to view the commercials, she would do it gladly, but she had a notion that her being there to voice an opinion was Josh's idea, not Terry's. If Jo Hampson weren't available this afternoon, the preview could be set for another time.
    “Do you have an appointment after four o'clock?”
    “Yes,” she said, without consulting her calendar.
    “Four-thirty?” Josh asked tightly. His tone all but said he knew she was lying.
    What was the use? She'd have to go. She didn't want another session with Atherton in which she would feel like she'd been tattled on. “Where?” she asked with a weary sigh.
    “Here. Ask the receptionist to direct you to the viewing room. As I recall, you've never been here before.”
    “I wouldn't be coming today if I could help it.”
    “Four-thirty, Mrs. Lambert,” he said briskly, and hung up, his frustration all too apparent.
    It couldn't have exceeded hers.
    At least she looked coolly professional and not like a flutter-hearted teenager, which was how she felt as she rode up the elevator to the Bennett Agency's suite of offices on the top three floors of the high-rise office building.
    Her dress was a crisp linen navy blue with smart brass military buttons down the front and on the patch pockets over each breast. She wore it with navy-and-white spectator pumps. At the time she'd bought the dress, she lamented that she couldn't wear the red blazer that went with it—it clashed with her hair—so she'd