A Taste of Honey Read Online Free PDF

that unintentional pun.
    Slightly out of breath still, she placed her hands on her hips and glared defiantly at him. And he smiled. The creep had the audacity to grin as if he knew something that she did not. Arrogant, smug, half-witted baboon. She fought the impulse to smack him fair in the chin.
    He lowered his eyes and attached them to her T-shirt. Printed in large black letters was BAD GIRL, T-SHIRT.
    “Like your shirt.”
    Charli sniffed. Who gives a rat’s whisker what you like. “A Christmas gift from Judy, she has a weird sense of humor,” she explained.
    “Judy?”
    “She’s your receptionist.”
    “Oh, yes, the flower lady. Has she been working for us long?”
    “Ten years or so.”
    “Didn’t know you were into jogging.”
    “Why, is it a male orientated past-time?”
    He grinned. “No, of course not, but you didn’t seem the type to go in for jogging.”
    “What type am I, Mr. Knight?” This man irritated her like a bee buzzing around your head or a mosquito biting your ankle. You swatted both.
    “I thought you’d be more into arty things.”
    “Yeah? Like what?”
    “Painting. Ballet. Opera. You know.”
    “And you say that on a one-meeting basis? You amaze me. I had no idea that you’re an expert on human nature. You must tell me more.” She nodded, considering. “Do you tell fortunes, Mr. Knight?”
    How dare he chat away with her like she was his long lost cousin? Did he expect her to be civil when he’d so cruelly tossed her aside?
    She wished with all her might that she could get a terrific job with his competition and make their sales go through the roof. Securing wonderfully clever writers the world over screaming to be read. She’d meet him at book functions and she’d smile sweetly at him, and say, hear you’re going downhill fast. Too bad, Mr. Knight, them’s the breaks.
    He moved in closer and heat, which now had nothing to do with jogging, rose in her body. Her voice quaked. “Would you kindly remove your bulk so I can continue on around the park?” With a slight flip to her head, she sidestepped him.
    His big hand snaked across and took her hand. The moment his hand touched hers a jolt of fire shot through her. Her heart hammered. Electricity sparked between them. Her eyes flew wide open. The blood rushed up her neck and burst into her face.
    He stared at her in astonishment, his mouth agape as if he’d seen the eighth wonder of the world. Had he received the same electrifying shock when his fingers had touched hers? Then, when she was thinking that maybe he was human after all, his eyes shaded and the same let-nobody-know-what-I’m-thinking bloke stood in front of her.
    With supreme effort, Charli convinced herself it was her natural dislike for this man causing such discomfort. She glared. “Kindly release my hand,” she said. “I don’t like being mauled.”
    She didn’t have to be polite or even nice. She’d made up her mind what she was about to do. Run — leaving the big-headed William Knight to stew in his own juice. Charli had reasoned that he needed her, at least for a while. Show him where they were at. Tell him about their established authors and the ones still in the pipeline. New releases, oh so much that her head swirled thinking of it.
    Let him learn the hard way. She ignored the feeling of meanness that almost overcame her, consoling herself that he’d thrown her to the wolves without pity.
    He released her hand, his eyes flicked again across the writing on her T-shirt. He lowered his head and she had the amazing sensation he was going to kiss her. She tensed, her hand curling into a small fist.
    “Who are you?” he whispered.
    “What?”
    “Where did you come from?”
    She didn’t understand his questions. Didn’t know what was going on between them except for this raw primitive hunger that seemed to stem from him and enter her. She was scared. She couldn’t handle the situation. She wanted to put as much distance as humanly possible