Never Say Never, Part Two (Second Chance Romance, Book 2) by Melissa Shaw

wicked-looking teeth. His only real detraction, though it didn’t bother her one bit; why’d he never seen an orthodontist?
    “I grew up in San Francisco,” he told her after the pause. “Second son of a pair of hippies. I love my parents, but they’re out of touch with everything in life. Too much sappy sentimentality for me to put up with. They and my older brother are tree-hugging environmentalists, all peace and good will and la-la land; and I’m the odd duck—a staunch conservative who believes in capitalism.”
    “Someone has to do it.” Chloe’s light tone belied her sympathy with people who wanted to make the world a better place.  
    “You’ve got that right,” Jonathan agreed, just as lightly. “Might as well be me. You’ve read the advertising brochure detailing the history of Pinnacle. But you probably don’t know that I started this company with a giant loan and one small office.” He swirled the ice in his drink, “I’ve been expanding ever since.”
    The color of Chloe’s eyes deepened with admiration. “And that, when you’re ready to acquire or build another, you spend months on site, getting everything up and running to your satisfaction.”
    “Ah,” he said, gratified. “You have checked the facts.” He brushed back a lock of mouse-brown hair into his neat style with the palm of his hand. With enthusiasm came moderation, and an easing of uncompromising standards. Perhaps even a downgrade from costly suit to golf shirt and chinos.
    “The background is important. I feel I can do a better job if I’m familiar with the company I work for, and the people I work with.”  
    “No complaints on that score. Here, the tilapia for 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