Don't Tempt Me Read Online Free PDF Page B

emphasized the “light,” knowing from experience that this date was not a heavy eater.
    Grinning at his perceptivity, she agreed. “Six thirty. I’ll be ready and waiting. See you then!”
    Dave Brody was a steady friend, a knightly companion. Justine had met him at a party several years before, had been dating him occasionally ever since. A stockbroker by profession, he was an avid culture nut. In his company she had visited many a museum, enjoyed not only the theater but ballet and opera as well. Though her own appreciation was more geared for pure enjoyment Dave’s knowledgeable commentary always highlighted their evenings together. And, she mused, turning to gaze out her twenty-first-floor window at the steep wall of concrete and glass across the avenue, he made no demands on her—either
sexually, or in terms of further commitment. His presence in her life suited her well!
    Involvement with the male of the species in other than the processional or platonic realm simply did not fit into her life plan. There would be no misery for her such as she saw day in and day out through her work. She wanted no part of the hassles of marriage, the bickering about the sharing of responsibilities, the arguments about money matters and career. Above all she wanted none of the heartache she’d known as a child when her parents’ marriage had fallen apart. She had suffered enough then to last her a lifetime. Indeed, the avoidance of sexual entanglement seemed a small price to pay for emotional well-being.
    As she wiggled her toes over the rim of the open drawer, her thoughts wandered recklessly. A man like Sloane Harper, she decided, would demand things. His air of command would inspire total subservience. She, however, was subservient to no man. Hard work and her own innate intelligence had earned her the respect of the majority of her peers. It was what she wanted and she prized it.
    Sloane Harper. The Silver Fox. Was he an opportunist? Silver was the color of that magnificent head of hair—but was he indeed the proverbial fox? Strangely disquieting, the question was with her for the afternoon, set aside only occasionally by the demands of one or another of her more immediate legal concerns. It didn’t help that John stopped by for a final jab late in the day.
    â€œRemember, kid,” he said grinning from the door, “the fox is known for its cunning … .”
    She said nothing, reluctant to legitimize his warning by dint of response. Her narrowed gaze was sufficient to convey her distaste for his humor. But he slipped away undaunted.
    By the time six o’clock rolled around, she felt duly out of sorts. With foresight she had taken a few moments to touch up her makeup and brush through the tangle of her
waves. The end result, she decided with a wry grin at the rosy image that faced her in the ladies’ room mirror, would certainly pass muster.
    But when the tall figure, fresh despite his own long afternoon of meetings and unfairly handsome in his dark gray linen suit, appeared at the entrance to her office, her composure tottered.
    â€œAll set?” His deep voice surged across the room to enliven her every sensitive nerve. She looked evasively down at the spread of materials on her desk.
    â€œJust about,” she answered, shuffling papers in pretense of neatening the desk top as she stood. “Are the others ready to go?”
    His dark eyes held hers with nary a blink. “They’ve gone ahead in a cab. I’ve got my car downstairs. We’ll meet them at the restaurant.”
    This unexpected twist sent jitters through her stomach. The fingers that placed several folders in her briefcase trembled almost imperceptibly. “Fine. There, I think I have everything.”
    â€œDo you always bring work home to do at night?”
    â€œI always bring something home with me,” she said with a smirk, “but it’s not necessarily night work.” On