The Last One Read Online Free PDF Page B

eyes to mine. “You know, with finals and everything coming up.”
    “I hear you. So Meghan ...” He bent his arm, forcing me to look up at him. “I looked for you last night at Oswald’s. Where were you hiding, girl?”
    I clamped down my lips to hold back a wince. Some guys could pull off calling me ‘girl’. Preston couldn’t.
    “We didn’t go. I just got back from Florida last night, and I was tired.” It was the truth. He didn’t need to know about our adventure into the wilds of Georgia.
    “Florida, huh? Rockin’ a little spring break action? Wet T-shirt contests? Niiiice.”
    I ducked from beneath his arm and took a step back. “No, actually, I went home because it would have been my dad’s birthday. I wanted to be with my mom and my brother. The closest I got to a wet shirt was when my nephew spilled his juice down his onesie.”
    Preston had the good grace to look abashed. “Oh ... yeah. Sorry. I forgot that’s where you’re from.” He gave me all of thirty seconds to absorb that apology before he plunged ahead. “So listen, want to go out with me tonight? I thought we could head back to that coffee shop you liked, down on Broughton. Get a cappuccino, and then you know ...” He trailed one finger down my arm, from shoulder to elbow. “See where things go.”
    “Thanks, but no.” I was suddenly nauseated again. “I’m staying in tonight.”
    “Aw, c’mon, sugar.” Preston closed his hand around my upper arm. “We had a good time last fall.”
    “Sure we did.” I pried his fingers off me. “That was then. I’m not interested now. Thanks.” I walked away, looking for an open easel, preferably far away from wherever Preston was working.
    I picked up a blank canvas on my way and set it up in a quiet section near the windows. The light was good, and I could keep my back to the rest of the room, making it easier to ignore assholes like Preston Riker.
    “Meghan.” He was behind me, and I closed my eyes, counting to ten.
    “Preston, I’m sorry, I really am, but I’m here to work, not to socialize. I don’t mean to be rude, but I said no, and I meant no. I’m not interested in going out with you again.”
    “Don’t be a bitch.” His tone lost some of its honey. “I like playing the game as much as anyone, but you don’t want to mess with me too long. I might get ...” He leaned to speak into my ear. “Impatient.”
    “I hope you’re not threatening me.” I unrolled my brush kit. “I’d hate to have to turn you in for sexual harassment, Pres. Though I’m pretty sure I’d find some corroborating witnesses.”
    “It’s not harassment when you want it, too.” He slid an arm around my ribs, snugging me against his body. His thumb brushed against the lower swell of my breast.
    “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight and moving it away from me. I pivoted to face him and, keeping him off-balance, I twisted his arm behind his back. “I don’t want to make a scene here. But if you don’t step away now, you’re going to be curled up on the floor, clutching at your dick and crying like a little baby. Get the message. I’m not going out with you. I don’t want to see you now or ever. Now go away.” I released his hand and pushed him away.
    “Fucking ice bitch.” Rubbing his elbow, Preston snarled the words, but he stepped away from me and stalked across the room and out the door.
    I turned back to my easel and concentrated on taking out my paints and other supplies. My hands didn’t shake, but my jaw was tight and my teeth clenched.
    “You okay?” There was a hint of sympathy in Laura’s voice.
    “Yeah.” I set the paint tray and brushes on a nearby table. “He’s just ...” I shook my head. “You know. Preston. He’s harmless.”
    “Just another of your conquests.” This time there wasn’t as much sympathy as there was resignation.
    I glared at her over my shoulder. “That’s not it. I went out with him a few