Melt for You (Slow Burn #2)(62)

I hate rare meat. I’m allergic to anchovies. When a man orders food for me without asking what I want, I don’t feel taken care of, I feel disrespected and honestly a bit murderous. And I can’t stop thinking about Cam, which is making me confused, uncomfortable, and irritated with myself, a trifecta of negative emotions that add up to an overwhelming urge to flee.

Oh, no. I’m about to do something stupid.

I turn to Michael with a brittle smile. “I’m gonna go. Thanks for the wine.”

“What? You’re going? You just got here!”

I scoot out of the booth before I can change my mind. “Sorry,” I mumble. “I’m sorry. See you at work.”

“Joellen, wait! Don’t go! Please, just sit down and talk to me!”

I hesitate because it’s the first time he’s used the word please. Everything else has been an order. I glance back at him. He’s standing at the side of the table, looking contrite, confused, and devastatingly gorgeous.

But something about this still feels wrong.

“Thank you so much for inviting me here, and thank you again for the wine, but I can’t stay for dinner. I . . . I already have dinner plans.”

He looks so crestfallen I feel guilty. So I hurry over to him and kiss him on the cheek before I can change my mind. When I pull away, he grabs my wrist and pulls me against his chest. Into my ear he says, “I want to talk more. Can I call you later?”

His warm breath fanning down my neck makes my eyes cross. I mumble a yes and ask if he has a pen so I can write down my number.

“That’s not necessary. I already have it.”

I frown, looking up at him. “You do?”

He smiles gently at me, still holding on to my wrist like it’s a leash. “Well, technically I have all my employees’ phone numbers.”

“Oh. Right.” I produce a nervous little laugh. “Of course you do.”

His gaze drops to my mouth, and his smile fades. He leans forward to kiss me, but I turn my face so his lips graze my cheek. His husky chuckle sends a tingle up my spine.

“Okay. I get it. We’re giving me time to adjust.” He grips my other wrist, pulls me even closer, and bends his head to my neck. He inhales against my skin, his lips skimming the sensitive spot just under my ear.

He whispers, “I hope it won’t take too long.” He presses the softest of kisses to the pulse pounding in my throat, then releases me so abruptly I stumble back.

His eyes are electric. They sear the space between us so it seems like the air itself will ignite.

Without a word, I turn around and run.




I’m pacing my living room rug when the knock comes on my door. “It’s open,” I call, already knowing who it is.

I could pick Cameron McGregor’s knock out of a police lineup of knocks. Like the man himself, it’s very distinctive.

He comes inside with his usual swagger, asking where his dinner is, but stops dead when he sees my face. His brows draw together. “Were you on the phone with your mum again?”

“I went for drinks with Michael. He tried to kiss me. Twice.”

Cam stands there for a moment, watching me pace. “Tried?”

I nod, chewing on my thumbnail, and turn around and pace the other direction.

Cam slowly closes the door, moves around me, and sits on the sofa. But he doesn’t prop his feet up on the coffee table like usual. He leans forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped, watching me walk. There’s a tenseness in the way he holds himself, a coiled readiness, as if at any moment he might spring to his feet. His eyes are like a hawk’s.

“You wanna tell me what happened?”

I tell him everything, from our sprint around the office hallways in the morning through the shortest, strangest date in the history of dating. When I’m finished, Cam is silent.

“What do you think?”

He slowly leans back, spreads his hands over his thighs, and exhales a breath through his nose. “I think it was smart.”

I stop pacing and look at him. “Smart? Which part?”

“The whole thing. It was well played. Delay will only make him want you more.”

“Cam, I wasn’t playing him!”

He cocks his head, inspecting my face. “So you didn’t want to kiss him?”

He sounds disbelieving, which pisses me off. “In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t a game to me!”

“Don’t dodge the question.”

I growl in annoyance, tear the elastic out of the bun in my hair, and pace back the way I came. “It just didn’t feel right. The whole thing was weird. Like, sudden.”

Cam’s voice is dry. “You’ve been lustin’ after the man for a decade, lass. That’s hardly sudden.”

“Sudden from his side! He never noticed me before a few weeks ago, and now we’re drinking wine at his private club the second his wife files for divorce?”

“How d’you know he never noticed you before? Did he tell you that?”

I stop and consider it. “Well . . . no.”

“He’s been married the entire time you’ve known each other, right?”

“Yes.”

“So he wasn’t in a position to tell you if he fancied you. This was his chance.”