Wedding Vow of Revenge. Lucy Monroe

word was like foreplay to her sexually deprived body.

      Bad. This was very bad.

      She grabbed her spoon, conversation ceasing while she obeyed his order to taste. She gave a helpless moan of pleasure as the first bite of the perfectly prepared sweet filled her senses. Her eyes closed and she savored the taste she indulged in so rarely.

      She’d once had another model describe a chocolate torte as orgasmic, but until this moment she’d never had an erotic reaction to food before. The sensual slide of the vanilla custard across her tongue was just that though and goose bumps formed on her inner thighs as her womb clenched in an astonishing reaction to the delicacy.

      Belatedly coming to terms with how her not-so-innocent enjoyment could be misinterpreted, she quickly opened her eyes. Straightening in her chair, she tried to wipe the pleasure from her expression and willed her unruly body to calm down.

      Her spoon clattered to the table in her haste to let it go. “Um, it’s very good. You were right.” She forced her gaze to meet his, afraid of what she would see, but unwilling to play the coward. “I guess I got a little carried away there.”

      Blue eyes looked back at her with hunger, but he shook his head. “Relax. You look like you think I’m going to pounce.”

      “Aren’t you?” She wasn’t an idiot and she wasn’t a tease. She knew what her reaction had to have looked like to him.

      A total come-on, despite all she’d said about not wanting to get involved.

      “You’ve made your view of a relationship between the two of us very clear, Tara.” He spoke as if instructing a small child and perversely she wanted to tell him she was anything but. “I’m not going to read an invitation in a former model’s obvious love of feeding her starved sweet tooth.”

      “Thank you.” And she should feel grateful. Extremely grateful.

      Not disappointed.

      “No problem. Now, enjoy your dessert.”

      He’d let her off the hook with his assurance, so why did she feel even further enmeshed in his web than before?

      “So, how was dinner?” Danette asked in a low undertone as she and Tara worked on slides for a presentation their manager was supposed to give to Angelo and the top management string the following morning.

      Tara looked around, thankful no one was nearby enough to overhear her friend’s question. The dinner last night had been strictly business, but that wasn’t necessarily how others would interpret it.

      After her affair with Baron, she’d been the butt of enough gossip to last her a lifetime. “Shh. I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

      Danette’s hazel eyes widened, darkening to green with a knowing gleam. “So it wasn’t just business.”

      “No,” Tara snapped, then realized her answer had come out wrong. “I mean yes…I mean it was business and only business.” If she didn’t count the orgasmic dessert. “Okay?”

      “I don’t know. Angelo Gordon is a real hottie and you seem pretty frazzled for a woman who had a strictly business date last night.”

      “It wasn’t a date at all.”

      “Are you saying he didn’t make a move on you?”

      How did she answer that? Had their conversation at the beginning of dinner been a move? She thought maybe it had, but then he’d backed off pretty easily.

      She took too long to answer and Danette’s expression turned gleefully calculating. “So, he is attracted to you.”

      That was something she couldn’t deny without lying. “Could we drop this discussion? We’ve got work to do.”

      “Sure, but, hon, just answer one question…if last night was all business and no play, why are you blushing to the roots of your gorgeous hair?”

      Tara still hadn’t come up with an adequate reply to her friend’s teasing comment by the time the other woman left work to get ready for her very real date with a budding journalist.

      It had bugged her all day. For something like the hundredth time since waking that morning, she shoved thoughts of Angelo to the back of her mind. She forced herself to concentrate on the papers in front of her.

      With no distractions around her and fierce effort, it worked. She was so engrossed that security came to tell her all external entrances but the main one had been secured for the evening before she realized what time it was. She looked at her watch and was shocked to see it was well after seven.

      She should have left over two hours ago.

      Muscles cramped from long hours of sitting in the same position protested and she stood to stretch. Her tummy growled, but her eyes were drawn back to the almost completed report on her desk. Just another hour or so and she would be done.

      “Why are you still here?”

      She jumped at the sound of Angelo’s voice, her entire body flushing with warmth and she hadn’t even turned to look at him.

      When she did, she felt like she’d been hit by a truck. Why did the man have to be so darn sexy? Most of his management team was at least a decade older, balding and showing the effects of middle age in their belt size, but not Angelo. He was tall and lean with muscles to die for and if he was much over thirty, she’d eat the report she’d been editing.

      “I was working on a project and got lost to the time.”

      “What about this workplace effectiveness model you’ve been trying to sell to management? Doesn’t that include going home on time?”

      She shrugged guiltily. “Theory doesn’t always work in reality.”

      He smiled, white teeth flashing in his gorgeous face. “No, it doesn’t, but if you’re going to convince my management team of your theories, you’re going to have to live and work by them.”

      “You’re right, of course.” She sighed, wishing life was as easy as putting ideas down on paper. “I guess you got caught up in something, too?”

      His expression cooled for no reason she could discern. “I was putting together the plans for a new acquisition.”

      “You’re buying another company?”

      Satisfaction flashed in his eyes, but they remained strangely chilled. “Yes.”

      “Um…congratulations.”

      “Thank you.” He ran his fingers through the short, dark curls on his head, leaving them mussed and looking way too enticing for her own good. “Have you had dinner?”

      “No. I’ll stop and get something on the way home.” She turned and grabbed her suit jacket off the hook on the cubicle wall behind her desk.

      As she did so, she realized the sheer white camisole that looked perfectly acceptable under the jacket was much too thin for a business environment without it. It had gotten warm and she hadn’t even been aware of taking the jacket off, but now she wished she hadn’t gotten quite so engrossed in her work.

      Looking down, she could see the shadow of nipples that had hardened upon her boss’s arrival and was darn sure he could, too.

      “Have dinner with me.” His voice betrayed nothing, but he made no pretense of ignoring the display. Dark indigo eyes flicked from her breasts to her face. “Well?”

      Sensation zinged through her, making her tight peaks sting and she shoved her arms into the sleeves of her suit jacket.

      Panicked at how tempting the invitation was and the desperate reaction of her body, she blurted the first excuse that came to her mind. “I’m really not all that hungry.”

      Her stomach gave immediate lie to her words with an audible growl and she had to bite back a groan of embarrassment.

      “Are