Never Say Never, Part Four (Second Chance Contemporary Romance, Book 4) by Melissa Shaw
Authors: Melissa Shaw
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the lady,” Jonathan interrupted to direct the server, “and the steak for me. Yes,” he continued, “the growth of Pinnacle has been within range. Ten offices so far, with more to come. But, at the present, we’re only national; I want to go international. Big plans for the future, if I can pull a few strings.”
There was a gleam of avarice there, and his expression tightened. A predator, ready to hunt. It reminded her of the battles that had raged across medieval Europe. Honor and integrity lost out to power and greed.
They went silent and tucked into their food, which was excellent and shared casual comments. “Would you pass the salt, please?” “Great flavor; love the sauce.” “I’m sorry—now the pepper?” “I think I’ll order another drink. Are you still working on yours?”
Classical music played softly through the elaborate sound system, interspersed with the off-and-on murmur of conversation and the muted clink of utensils.
“Nice, huh?” Jonathan nudged.
Chloe sent her warm smile across the table. “It’s lovely, Jonathan. Thank you for inviting me here.” She flushed under his teasing glances; once or twice he reached for his water glass at the same time she reached for hers. Their hands brushed in a symphony of suggestive touch.
Their dinner finished and the dishes cleared, Jonathan insisted they order dessert. “The Key Lime pie here is heaven. You’ll have to try it.”
Was it possible he didn’t want the evening to end? Or was she reading his intentions wrong? He was her employer. That meant no touchy, but hey, at least she could fantasize. Imagine he did find her attractive; picture them together even.
The first forkful of pie was bliss. Touch and taste were the senses: sensuality, earthiness, surrender to the flesh.
“Mmmm, sinfully delicious. I want the recipe for this.”
He smiled. “You can cook? Do you consider yourself a gourmet?”
“Most of what I do is with a microwave,” she admitted, twinkling a bit. “I share an apartment with a friend. Camille and I are polar, but we get on great.”
“Camille, eh? And how are you opposites?”
Chloe shrugged, the bodice of silk reflecting the glimmers of light. Jonathan’s gaze lingered where it shouldn’t. That stare was a caress, and her cheeks warmed again – no way had she imagined that.
“She’s an extrovert, and I’m more reserved. Camille‘s a journalist and she doesn’t take guff from anyone, anytime. Whereas I…”
“Whereas you,” finished up Jonathan, reaching out to stroke her wrist “do your best to get along with those around you. An admirable trait.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Sometimes, yes. Sometimes not so much.”
“Yes, I can understand how that works. It’s okay to be a people-pleaser, but you don’t want to be a jellyfish, either. You need to stand up for yourself. As for me, I’ve had a couple of roommates—female…but it hasn’t worked out.”
A stab of jealousy assaulted her. Idiot. Of course he’d been with other women over the years. Just as she’d been with other men.
“Camille is my whole support system,” Chloe said staunchly. “She’s there whenever I need backup. She’s my best buddy.”
“So she knows you?”
No one knows me! She murmured into the silence, over the clinking of Jonathan’s fork against his saucer of pie, “When you come right down to it, how much do you know about anyone, really?”
Conversation lagged after that.
Chloe was out of practice with prolonged contact with the male gender. No dates, no hanging out, no social interaction meant a very narrow existence. Up until now, she’d preferred it that way.
Curled up like a snail inside its shell was safer. Much safer.
Jonathan asked for the check and then rose, escorting Chloe with a hand on her waist.
“Do you have a car?” he asked, once they emerged into the fresh spring air.
The air held a slight chill. A clock chimed ten in the distance, peering
There was a gleam of avarice there, and his expression tightened. A predator, ready to hunt. It reminded her of the battles that had raged across medieval Europe. Honor and integrity lost out to power and greed.
They went silent and tucked into their food, which was excellent and shared casual comments. “Would you pass the salt, please?” “Great flavor; love the sauce.” “I’m sorry—now the pepper?” “I think I’ll order another drink. Are you still working on yours?”
Classical music played softly through the elaborate sound system, interspersed with the off-and-on murmur of conversation and the muted clink of utensils.
“Nice, huh?” Jonathan nudged.
Chloe sent her warm smile across the table. “It’s lovely, Jonathan. Thank you for inviting me here.” She flushed under his teasing glances; once or twice he reached for his water glass at the same time she reached for hers. Their hands brushed in a symphony of suggestive touch.
Their dinner finished and the dishes cleared, Jonathan insisted they order dessert. “The Key Lime pie here is heaven. You’ll have to try it.”
Was it possible he didn’t want the evening to end? Or was she reading his intentions wrong? He was her employer. That meant no touchy, but hey, at least she could fantasize. Imagine he did find her attractive; picture them together even.
The first forkful of pie was bliss. Touch and taste were the senses: sensuality, earthiness, surrender to the flesh.
“Mmmm, sinfully delicious. I want the recipe for this.”
He smiled. “You can cook? Do you consider yourself a gourmet?”
“Most of what I do is with a microwave,” she admitted, twinkling a bit. “I share an apartment with a friend. Camille and I are polar, but we get on great.”
“Camille, eh? And how are you opposites?”
Chloe shrugged, the bodice of silk reflecting the glimmers of light. Jonathan’s gaze lingered where it shouldn’t. That stare was a caress, and her cheeks warmed again – no way had she imagined that.
“She’s an extrovert, and I’m more reserved. Camille‘s a journalist and she doesn’t take guff from anyone, anytime. Whereas I…”
“Whereas you,” finished up Jonathan, reaching out to stroke her wrist “do your best to get along with those around you. An admirable trait.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Sometimes, yes. Sometimes not so much.”
“Yes, I can understand how that works. It’s okay to be a people-pleaser, but you don’t want to be a jellyfish, either. You need to stand up for yourself. As for me, I’ve had a couple of roommates—female…but it hasn’t worked out.”
A stab of jealousy assaulted her. Idiot. Of course he’d been with other women over the years. Just as she’d been with other men.
“Camille is my whole support system,” Chloe said staunchly. “She’s there whenever I need backup. She’s my best buddy.”
“So she knows you?”
No one knows me! She murmured into the silence, over the clinking of Jonathan’s fork against his saucer of pie, “When you come right down to it, how much do you know about anyone, really?”
Conversation lagged after that.
Chloe was out of practice with prolonged contact with the male gender. No dates, no hanging out, no social interaction meant a very narrow existence. Up until now, she’d preferred it that way.
Curled up like a snail inside its shell was safer. Much safer.
Jonathan asked for the check and then rose, escorting Chloe with a hand on her waist.
“Do you have a car?” he asked, once they emerged into the fresh spring air.
The air held a slight chill. A clock chimed ten in the distance, peering
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