The Temporary Wife - By Jeannie Moon Page 0,36

“I couldn’t help it. I get close and I want to touch you.”

“You want? Any thought about what I might want?”

“We need to be reasonable.”

There it was again. Fucking reasonable. He wanted reasonable? “Fine, but if you don’t want me to believe that you see me as a cheap slut, don’t treat me like one.”

He stood there, mouth open like a fish, shocked that there had been no scene, no blowup, just him getting called out.

“Good night, Jason.”

He left, and Meg peeled out of her dress before dropping onto the bed. There was a rumble and some movement, and she realized the boat was pulling away from the dock. The steward had told her they were heading north, stopping in Martha’s Vineyard, the Cape, Nantucket, and coastal Maine before turning around to head home.

This month had been full of stops and starts, and Meg realized that if she was going to come out of this with her heart intact, she had to stop falling prey to Jason’s games and take control of the situation. He liked to flirt and tease, but he never gave too much. He feigned nobility, concern, but Meg figured it was more about power.

She couldn’t allow it any longer. This was her life, and she’d let her out-of-control emotions get the best of her more than once. Maybe it was time to give Jason a run for his money. He wasn’t the only one who could play games.

Chapter 9

Meg awoke to a knock on her door and the sun streaming in the cabin window. “Come in?”

Who was knocking, and what the hell time was it?

“Good morning, Mrs. Campbell. I have some breakfast for you.”

The steward wheeled in a cart covered with goodies. “Mr. Campbell said you have a bit of a sweet tooth, so I brought muffins and pastries, but if you’d like, I can order something else from the galley.”

Yanking the covers up, she smiled at the choices in front of her. “Is there coffee with all those yummy things?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled. “Would you like to fix it yourself?”

“Yes, that’s fine. This is lovely. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He poured some coffee into a large mug.

“What’s your name?” The gentleman was in his midforties, maybe, and his accent was all New York.

“Robert, Mrs. Campbell. Would you like anything else?”

“No, thank you, Robert.”

“There’s a button on the phone that you can press should you need anything. Don’t hesitate to ask. We’ll be docking in Martha’s Vineyard in about an hour. Mr. Campbell said it’s a nice day for a bike ride, if you’d like to join him.”

“Sounds like fun. I’ll be ready.” She sank back into her pillows when he left and wondered whose life she’d hijacked. Breakfast in bed, a steward at her beck and call, a new place every day? Good God, this was not normal. Normal people didn’t live like this.

Meg picked a chocolate croissant from the basket and took a small bite. It was warm, and the chocolate oozed over her tongue and lip in a sensuous dance of flavors and textures. She finished it and went for something else. She hadn’t realized she was so hungry, but since it had been twelve hours since she’d last eaten, she shouldn’t be surprised.

Her sleep had been interrupted by some very erotic dreams. Dreams where Jason didn’t stop and walk away, but stayed with her and made love to her until dawn. It was an exquisite dream . . . unrealistic, based on how their wedding night had gone, but totally worth every fitful bit of sleep.

He knew exactly how to push her buttons, and all she wanted was to be able to return the favor. The bastard always seemed to have the upper hand, and Meg was getting sick of it.

Be reasonable, he’d say. What did that mean? Hide from your feelings? Pretend things didn’t exist? Think like a machine? No, after last night, Meg had decided that today was the day the teacher was going to give the CEO a little lesson.

***

Jason waited on the dock for Meg, knowing everything he did was going to piss her off. He’d really screwed up the night before, and the least he could do was give her a nice few days. A quiet few days. A few days where he kept his hands to himself.

Meg was like a magnet. The pull toward her was harsh and physical, and what they both needed was a distraction. A bike ride, a nice lunch, some sightseeing, some shopping—that