When it comes to passion, he’s all business…

Working for powerhouse shipping owner Mataeo North is a dream job for Temple Grahame. The jet-setting bachelor depends on her for everything. But there’s just one thing: he has no idea that Temple’s been in love with him since college. Or so she thinks…until the night her studly boss takes her in his arms and uncovers her passionate secret.

Mataeo doesn’t make a move without consulting the savvy South Carolina beauty. Now, on the verge of closing a major deal, he needs Temple more than ever. And not just as his right-hand woman and best friend. What will it take to convince this sensual, independent woman that once they’ve crossed the line from friends to lovers, there’s no turning back?

“Mataeo…you kissed me.”

“And you kissed me back—twice.”

Finally, she met his gaze. “Then you understand why you staying over is… We can’t.”

He was on the bed then. His big frame crowded her, leaving no space for retreat. “We can do anything we damn well please.”

“You can.” She rested back on the headboard and shrugged. “I can’t.”

Mataeo averted his gaze, mulling over her words in silence while smoothing a hand across his soft hair. Finally, he raised one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Well, then.”

He was kissing her—again—and again she kissed him back. It was foolish to even think of resisting. What for? This was all she dreamed of. Still, she made a weak effort at doing so when he released her mouth to trail his lips down her neck and across her chest.

ALTONYA WASHINGTON

has been a published romance novelist for 6 years. Her novel Finding Love Again won an RT Book Reviews Reviewer’s Choice Award for Best Multicultural Romance in 2004. She works as a senior library assistant and resides in North Carolina. In 2009, AlTonya—writing as T. Onyx—released her debut erotica titles Truth In Sensuality and Ruler of Perfection. In August 2009 she released her debut audio title Another Love. In August 2011 she released Private Melody with Kimani Books. Coming late 2011 will be the twelfth release in her popular Ramsey saga, A Lover’s Hate.

Pleasure After Hours
AlTonya Washington

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Dear Reader,

Pleasure After Hours warms my heart for many reasons. Temple Grahame is my first Carolina heroine. It was a refreshing experience to craft a character whose background held aspects that were so similar to my own. Another similarity was Temple’s mother, Aileen Grahame. Aileen was my grandmother’s name, and having the chance to bring part of her into the story made the writing that much sweeter.

Of course I can’t forget Mataeo North. It would be a terrible understatement to describe him as simply sexy. He’s as incredible inside the pages of this novel as he appears on the cover. I was motivated by the idea of a story between two characters who experienced closeness in all areas of their lives yet remained unattached in any romantic capacity. Bringing Mataeo and Temple together was definitely a provocative journey. Tell me what you think of it. Email me, altonya@lovealtonya.com.

Love,

AlTonya

Smart, Savvy, Sweet—Carolina girls rule!

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 1

Wilmington, North Carolina

“Claude, what is this? I thought you were in love with me?”

A purely girlish laugh escaped Claudia Aspen’s lips. Her vivid blue gaze sparkled wickedly as it was directed toward the honey-toned giant who studied her with a consciously seductive gaze.

“I swear this is business and not…personal, Mataeo.”

“Hmph.” Mataeo North’s responding grunt held a playful undercurrent and he shook his head at the stunning sixty-something woman seated on the sofa opposite him.

“I swear it,” Claudia persisted in a tone that was just as breathy as it was sensual. “Many of the clients feel the same as I do.”

“Are we about to have problems, Claudia?”

“Why no, dear.” Claudia half turned toward the tall, lovely, coffee-complexioned woman seated to her left. “I’m only here to open the floor for discussion.”

“You mean to warn us.” Temple Grahame smiled knowingly while Claudia patted her knee.

“Honey, no.” Claudia gave a saucy toss of her frosted wheat-colored bob. “Mataeo runs a first-class operation. You both do incredible work.” She gave Temple’s knee one final pat and then settled back to her side of the sofa. “It’s just good business to let the clients know they’re appreciated.”

“By renegotiating already competitive rates?” Temple queried.

“By…patting our backs a little.” Claudia recrossed her legs and smiled at Mataeo.

He wasn’t humored. “North Shipping’s a private company, Claude, and it stays that way.”

“Calm down, darlin’. Everyone knows you have no intention of going public, but many of the clients would be open to discussing current rates—in this economy that’s fair to at least entertain, isn’t it?”

A muscle flexed along Mataeo’s square jawline. Propping a fist to his cheek, he looked toward Temple.

“Well, Claudia, it appears that we’re on the same wavelength.” Temple waited for the woman to turn to her again. “Mataeo and I have been working to put together a client weekend to begin with a dinner and round out with a series of individualized meetings to review the higher-end shipping agreements.”

Claudia’s mouth was in the shape of a perfectly glossy red O. “Why, Temple, that’s…that’s a marvelous idea.” Her tone sounded more awed than sensual then. “Is this a secret or may I—”

“Oh, no, feel free to discuss it,” Temple said, knowing Claudia would waste no time doing so regardless. “We haven’t gotten all the particulars in place yet so it’ll be several months into the future.”

“Sweetheart, I certainly understand.” Claudia leaned over to pat Temple’s knee again. “This is a huge deal and will take quite a while to prepare. The mere promise of it will be great news for the clients. Oh—” She paused to retrieve her vibrating cell phone from the sofa cushion. “Excuse me, darlins. I need to take this.”

Temple’s hazel gaze locked with Mataeo’s chocolate one and they headed to the other side of the office to give Claudia a measure of privacy.

“Client weekend?” He whispered when they stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows along the wall behind his desk. “Nice,” he added.

“Thanks.” Temple shrugged and glanced toward Claudia.

“So how much planning have you done?” He leaned against a window and settled both hands into his blue-gray trouser pockets.

“None.” She joined in when he chuckled. “Just came up with it to pacify her.” She tapped a rounded nail to her chin and appeared thoughtful. “But it is a good idea. Don’t know when I’d have time to plan something that extravagant, though.”

“Thanks, anyway.” Mataeo took her hand and tugged until she leaned close for the kiss he placed on her jaw.

She patted his cheek. “My job, remember?”

“No, really, Temp. Thanks.” He squeezed her hand as his warm, deep stare shifted in Claudia’s direction. “She’s been a lot harder to take lately.”

“Taeo…” Temple’s entrancing eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You haven’t slept with her, have you?”

Grinning, Mataeo laid Temple’s hand against his chest. “No. I swear it,” he added when her brow arched a notch higher. He winced a little. “I swear I’ve never slept with her. Just don’t ask me to take any more meetings at her lake house.”

Temple laughed.

“Damn.” Mataeo checked the inside jacket of his suit coat. “Now I’m vibrating.”

The timing was perfect. Claudia Aspen had finished her call and was avidly observing the couple near the window.

“You two look lovely together,” she mentioned when Temple approached.

“Claudia…we work together, that’s all.”

“I’m sure it is, honey.” Claudia kept her eyes on Mataeo while he handled his call. “I don’t think I’d be quite as professional working under—I mean with that.”

Temple rolled her eyes. “Claudia, has anyone ever told you that you’re too much?”

“A time or two.” Claudia shrugged as if it were of little consequence to her. “But even you can’t deny that is too much man to go…untested.”

“Well, you help yourself.” Temple bent to grab Claudia’s portfolio. “I’m afraid you’d be among the masses.” She handed Claudia the leather-bound book. “That is not a one-woman man.”

Claudia shrugged, tucked the portfolio beneath her arm and squeezed Temple’s elbow. “Well, darlin’, that depends on who the woman is, now doesn’t it?”

Temple set both hands on her hips. She watched as Claudia blew a kiss toward Mataeo and then sashayed out of the room.

“Would you please?”

Temple knew her below-the-breath hiss would do nothing to still the man who stood before her. A full-blown bellow would do nothing to encourage cooperation, either, she was sure. As usual, her boss had requested her “assistance” while he did nothing to assist.

“Dammit, Nev.” Mataeo’s sandpaper tone surged and his grip tightened on the phone receiver. “Forget it, I’ll handle it. Forget it, Nevil.”

Temple leaned back where she sat on the edge of the desk when Mataeo moved close to slam the cordless back to the mount.

“So what am I handling?” she asked after his breathing had filled the office with sound for more than five seconds.

“What?” His response held an absent tinge.

Temple’s long, light gaze softened with a mix of humor and mild agitation. “Whenever I hear you tell someone that you’ll handle it that means I’ll handle it.”

“Ah, Temp.” The easy charm Mataeo seemed to possess in droves came through for him then. “You know you’re so much better at most things than I am.”

Unfortunately, the charming effort fell short of his right hand. Right arm seemed a more fitting description.

“Just cut it out and tell me what I’m taking care of this time.” Temple returned her focus to the silver-gray tie she was securing about Mataeo’s neck.

The fact that Mataeo North had no actual assistant was as amusing as it was intriguing. The man was notorious for going to Temple for everything from help with his tie to advice on whether the next deal was worth the pursuit. Any assistant hired for the shipping magnate was of little use. Eventually, the position was phased out entirely.

“Hold still.” Temple slapped his forearm. “Unless you’d like to be choked, and I promise you, I can arrange it.” She tugged the silver tie threateningly. “So what were you talking to Nevil about?” She frowned as she focused on securing the knot.

“Development was supposed to be in charge of planning the lion’s share of the survey expedition for the new building site near the docks.”

“Hmph.” Temple’s hands slowed over the knot she was making in the tie. “I didn’t realize you’d already had a place in mind considering…” She dismissed the thought and continued with her task.

Mataeo’s long brows drew close. “Considering what? That I haven’t closed the deal yet?”

Temple merely shrugged.

“That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

She smiled, feeling the smoky heat of his mocha stare boring into her. She could tell by the strain of the tie around his neck that his temper was on the rise.

“It’s just that you’ve got some serious competition on this one.” Her hands stilled again. “Sanford Norman wants Manson Yates’s client list as badly as you do.”

“Hell, Temp, every exporter along the Eastern Seaboard wants Manson Yates’s client list. Sadly, many aren’t in a position to accept his conditions for sale.”

“And too bad for you Sanford Norman has his headquarters right here in good old Wilmington, N.C.” Once again, Temple resumed her work on the tie.

Mataeo leaned down a bit to look into Temple’s lovely coffee-brown face. “And that’s the only hitch standing in the way of my closing this thing—a pretty pitiful hitch if you ask me.”

Temple tapped his chin, instructing him to straighten. “From the reports I’ve read, that’s enough. Thank you, Jesus,” she whispered upon finishing with the tie. She knocked her fists against his broad chest to urge him out of the way.

Mataeo didn’t move. “Do you think Sanford Norman’s willing to set up new digs right on the dock to accommodate Manson Yates’s clients and treat them in the manner they’re accustomed to?”

Temple braced her hands along the desk, the natural arch of her brows rose as her suspicion set in. “I still don’t know how you managed to convince…anyone to part with property in that area.”

“Impressed?” Mataeo stood back and folded his arms across his chest. The glint in his rich chocolaty gaze dared her to deny that she was.

“Only if you close the deal.” Temple made a pretense at quickly straightening the knot in his tie. “Otherwise you’re just an idiot who paid too much for a piece of property he can’t use.”

“Why the hell do I keep you?” Mataeo went around his desk in search of his cell phone and keys. “You’re no good for my ego.”

“Which is considerable.” Temple toyed with the box pleats at the hem of her tan skirt. “Lucky for you, you’ve got enough volunteers around to…stroke it.”

Mataeo rose to his full six feet eight inches. “Funny.” He tucked the phone into the jacket of his gray three-piece.

“But true.” Temple didn’t look away from her pleats. “You only keep me around to tie your ties.”

“And a damn good job you do of it, too.” He went back to searching his desk. A scowl shadowed his face as he massaged a hand across the back of his neck. “Temp, have you seen—”

The jingle of keys caught his ears and Mataeo looked up to see them dangling from Temple’s fingers.

“I keep you around for everything that matters.” He shook his head and grimaced while voicing the confession. He leaned across the desk. “You know I can’t function without you.”

Temple laughed and brushed a playful slap to his flawless cheek. “You’d be just fine.”

“You’re wrong. I need you for everything that matters.” His stare didn’t waver. “Like this lunch.”

“Taeo…” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t start, not about this. You know how I feel about us taking on more clients right now.” She watched him with accusation lurking in her hazel eyes. “This is all about your greed and that damn win-at-all-costs competitive streak of yours.”

“That’s what business is all about, Temp.” He moved from behind the desk.

“That may be, but it’s getting more dramatic every day, and I’ve had enough.”

Mataeo’s glare harbored more concern than anger.

Temple shifted her gaze back to the hem of her skirt. Silently, she cursed her slipup as she noticed the uncertainty creeping onto Mataeo’s handsome face.

“I just prefer playing this one from the background, you know?”

Soothed by her fast clarification, Mataeo gave a slow nod.

Temple leaned over and tugged his jacket lapel as if to set it straight. “You should get going unless you want Sanford Norman entertaining Mr. Yates over drinks while they wait for you.”

“Right.” Mataeo grimaced and pushed himself from the desk. “I’ll see you later. You’re heading home, right?”

It wasn’t exactly a question. He knew his right arm/ best friend well enough to know her routine rarely changed unless he changed it.

He stopped just before the double doors to his office suite and turned to ply her with a crooked smile. “Last chance for lunch? My treat?”

Temple blew him a kiss. “Good luck.”

North Shipping may have been one of the many exporting businesses along the Eastern Seaboard but few compared to the savvy of its owner and the success he’d garnered in the field. Much of that had to do with the crew of employees Mataeo surrounded himself with. Everyone was at the top of their game from the entry-level shipping clerks to the man’s righthand/right arm, Temple Grahame.

The fact that they were friends—the best of friends, for many years—was an added perk in an already powerful relationship. Taeo and Temp, as they were known by most of their business associates, seemed to complement each other in every situation, be it professional or personal.

Of course, everyone speculated that they were more than friends. This was no surprise considering Mataeo North was both idolized and envied by most men he knew. This fact had as much to do with his business prowess as it had to do with his sexual conquests.

With that in mind, a woman like Temple Grahame wouldn’t spend her days in his sights and remain unnoticed for long. Especially when her looks—as well as her personality—were enough to literally stop a man. With her wide, hazel stare and soft hypnotic voice, Temple struck most as delicate, understated and nonconfrontational. She was, without a doubt, the polar opposite of her boss.

Temple Grahame, however, was no floor mat. That truth was simply one of the millions of reasons Mataeo North trusted her with his life and livelihood.

Sequestered in the mellow environment of her office, Temple wouldn’t let herself dwell on how her leaving would affect him. Thankfully, there was a knock on her door that set aside the troubling thoughts that were rising. She left her desk when she saw Megaleen Barnum poke her head inside the room.

“This a good time?” Megaleen called out with a wave and a smile.

“Perfect time,” Temple greeted her attorney with a hug.

“So how goes the head-hunting?” Megaleen set her things on the cream suede sofa near the door.

“I think I’ve pretty much narrowed it down.” Temple sounded upbeat. “Taeo’s gonna need quite a few people in here to handle everything he’s got me covering.”

“Including screening calls from jilted lovers?”

“Shh…” Temple scolded her friend playfully. “There’re some things he’s gonna have to learn to handle on his own.”

“So are you sure he’ll let you go just like that when you tell him what you have in mind?” Meg asked once their laughter had softened.

“I don’t see why not.” Temple propped one hand on her hip and massaged her neck with the other. “People resign positions every day, don’t they?”

“Yeah.” Meg strolled the office with hands propped on her hips, as well. “But there is the potential for drama and speculation when the one resigning is second in command for a multinational shipping corporation.” Meg turned to face her client with a curious light blue stare. “Do you really think it’ll be a stress-free event?”

“Oh, Meg.” Temple massaged her neck with both hands then. “I don’t expect it to be blissful, but it won’t be overwhelming. I’m putting a lot of good people in place here.” Her voice held the slightest twinge of doubt.

Meg heard it clearly. “Mataeo won’t be the only one with questions, you know?” She smoothed her black pin-striped skirt and took one of the chairs in front of Temple’s desk. “The first thing people will think is that there are business woes and that you’re getting out while the gettin’s good.”

Temple smirked and took her place along an overextended windowsill. “No, Meg, the first thing people will think is that we had some kind of lover’s spat and that I’m leaving him over it.”

Megaleen focused on her twiddling thumbs and didn’t reply. It went without saying that her client/friend had taken the unfair brunt of the negative aspects to being the right arm of one of the most powerful men in the shipping world.

Mataeo North had garnered money, success and adoration—sexual and scholarly. Temple, meanwhile, had dealt with the rumors, name-calling and doubts over whether she was truly qualified to hold such a weighty post.

As if she could have done anything about it had she tried. Looking the way she did, the assumption was that she’d reached such lofty heights working from the bedroom or wherever Mataeo North desired to have her. The woman was far too lovely to have made her way in the world by using her brain of all things.

Megaleen had heard it too often in the circles she ran in as a business attorney. Most of the women Mataeo employed hated her friend with a passion. Their reasons had little to do with the intellect and business savvy Temple possessed, but with the coffee-brown complexion that needed no enhancements. Meg doubted the woman owned a lick of foundation. Then there was the healthy bust and bottom size, model-quality legs and the almost nonexistent waistline which set the envy a step further.

“He’ll understand why I need to do this.” Temple’s soft voice sounded even fainter as she studied the view of Wilmington’s city streets below. “As long as we keep our friendship intact—that’s the most important thing.”

Meg smothered a sigh while flipping a lock of auburn hair between her fingers. Temple Grahame’s greatest asset was her kindness and she paid dearly for it. She truly believed that decency and treating others fairly would ensure the same treatment in return. Oh, boy, didn’t she believe that about Mataeo North, Meg mused.

Pushing out of the chair, Megaleen headed for the coffee table while praying Temple never had to find out otherwise. She took the portfolio from the table and gave it a wave.

“Should we go over this before either of us gets called away?”

Roaring laughter from the table of five men drew hardly any attention—most of the tables inside the G-Red Gallery were filled with laughing men. The place was a popular lunch destination specializing in steak, seafood and beer created in-house by the establishment’s own brewery.

Manson Yates’s happy bellow, though, could easily rival any of the other male patrons’ in the place.

“Good thinkin’, San, for suggesting this place!” Manson clapped Sanford Norman’s shoulder. “I don’t travel down to G-Red nearly as much as I used to.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Yates.” Sanford attempted a humble nod while sending a cunning wink in Mataeo’s direction.

Unfazed, Mataeo tilted his beer mug in a mock toast. “Does business keep you away, sir?” he asked Manson Yates.

The older man chuckled. “Hell no, this place is perfect for business! No, son, my reason is far more demanding than business—it’s my wife!”

More wild laughter resumed. Even the waiter, who’d arrived to hear Manson’s explanation, submitted to his own share of grinning.

“A nag of a wife’ll do it every time!” Sanford railed after tossing back what remained of his beer. “I swear some of my best wet dreams have been ruined by the sound of Regina’s voice in my subconscious!”

The laughter following that was noticeably less boisterous, primarily because Manson Yates didn’t appear amused.

“I adore my wife, San,” the man confirmed, a stern expression sharpening his weathered features. “Her nagging me not to come here has more to do with my doctor’s instructions that I stay off red meat, and since G-Red has the best and biggest cuts around…”

“Apologies, sir.” Sanford gave a quick, phony cough while pressing a fist to his mouth. “I meant no disrespect. Your wife’s a beautiful woman.”

“Yes, she is, and you should treasure yours.” Manson tilted his beer bottle in Sanford’s direction. “A wife is a man’s most trusted supporter, but only if she’s treated properly.”

Sanford nodded, but there was no agreement dwelling in his hooded green stare.

“You don’t look convinced, San.” Mataeo decided to call him on it.

Again, Sanford cleared his throat. “That’s not it.” He waved toward the waiter for a refill.

“What is it then?” Manson inquired.

Sanford ran a finger along the inside of his collar. “Just not all of us have been as lucky as you to find a woman like the one you’ve been blessed to marry.” He tapped his index and middle finger to his forehead and offered Mataeo a mock salute. “You’re smart to hold on to your freedom, man.”

“Nonsense.” Manson was shaking his head. “Don’t listen to it, kid. There’s nothin’ like building a life with a woman you love, trust and desire,” he told Mataeo before turning back toward Sanford. “If you view your marriage as less than a blessing, perhaps you should consider improving your role as a husband.”

Manson didn’t wait for Sanford’s response but turned his focus back to Mataeo. “There anyone special, son?” he asked and shot Sanford a glare when the man chuckled over the question.

Mataeo shrugged, finding no cause to be less than honest. “There’re actually several special someones.”

“Ha!” Manson dragged a hand through a shock of white hair. “Nonsense—no such thing. There can only be one,” he declared with a wink and a smirk.

“Business can be sweet when it’s successful but it can be a cold bitch on most nights.” Manson paused to take a swig from the fresh, chilled bottle the waiter set before him. “Love, marriage and family are what keep a man sane and keep him in the game.” He downed a healthy swig and then waved at someone across the sunlit dining room. “Fellas, I see a friend I should speak to.”

“Don’t let the old man fool you,” Sanford cautioned Mataeo when they were the only two at the table. “When it comes down to passing along that client list of his, it’s gonna be about who has the better cold bitch of business—not the better wife or…special someones.”

Mataeo supplied a cool smile and barely raised a brow. He and Sanford enjoyed their drinks in silence until Manson Yates returned.

Chapter 2

“Are we still headed for Ms. Grahame’s, boss?”

“Yeah,” Mataeo mumbled raggedly as he made his way into the Maybach following his nerve-trying lunch with Manson Yates and Sanford Norman.

Feeling edgy regarding the close of a business deal wasn’t a thing he experienced regularly. In truth, it wasn’t the deal that had him on edge. He’d be damned if he could understand why marriage, or the lack thereof, would get to him when it never had and when he’d doubted it ever would.

Yet there he sat in the back of a ridiculously expensive car, bought and paid for with his own sweat and blood, and pondered his worth as a man.

Special someones were things most often taken lightly. Still, they came in quite handy on the nights when the “cold bitch” of business was kicking his butt.

So why had he done his damnedest to avoid them for the better part of the past five months? Had it been longer? Was he disillusioned? Did he need to freshen up his stock? Were Manson Yates’s words truer than he cared to admit?

“Crap,” he muttered, having whipped open the bar to discover his favorite whiskey was running dangerously low.

“Ro?”

“Yeah, boss?” Roland Sharp called from the front of the car.

“We need to restock the bar back here.”

“I’m on it, boss.”

Mataeo drained the last from the blocky bottle. He settled back against the comfortably cool leather seats while musing that his drink was one “special someone” that never disappointed. He closed his eyes and let his mind go blank for a time.

Perhaps he really did need to just freshen up his stock, he resolved upon opening his eyes. The current lineup, while beautiful and seriously eager to please, had fallen into the same mode of behavior as so many others who had come his way in the past.

Despite knowing they weren’t the only ones who warmed his bed, each fancied herself the one who would give him cause to abandon his freedom. Then what Sanford Norman referred to as “nagging” began. It never failed to intrigue Mataeo how rigorously a woman could “nag” when the possibility of commitment loomed far off into the horizon. This behavior ran the spectrum from the most freaky and promiscuous to the most intelligent and reserved.

Replenishing the stock wouldn’t be a problem at all for Mataeo. Not when his physical gifts were so dangerously appealing. Even women already schooled on his success with the opposite sex were unfailingly lured to the provocative flame he generated. His massive build was just shy of 6 foot 8 inches, which made it easy for him to command attention the second he arrived in a room. The honey-toned skin was as flawless as the taut muscles it covered. A deep-set smoky brown stare was fringed with shamefully long lashes; they even had the nerve to curl at the ends. Such was also the case for the curve of the mouth, equally as seductive and made more sensual by the striking dimple in his chin.

Yes, the assets were many and erotically powerful. Refreshing the stock wouldn’t be a difficult or boring chore. So why did he cringe at the thought of it? Roland’s voice mixed into his thoughts.

“We’ve arrived at Ms. Grahame’s, boss.”

“I got the door, Ro.” Mataeo had answered his own question before he stepped onto the sidewalk outside the condo tower. Replenishing the stock made him cringe because somewhere along the way he’d lost complete and utter interest in it.

“You’re early.” Temple glanced at the wall clock in her living room when she opened her front door.

“Told you I’d see you after lunch.” Mataeo brushed past her on his way inside.

It didn’t take much more to clue Temple in to his sour mood. She tossed her coarse, wavy hair, loosened from its usual confines of a chignon or coiled braid, and took note of the stiffness in Mataeo’s wide back.

“Well, I’m taking a call in the back so…grab a drink or something.”

“What do you think I’m on my way to do, Temp?”

Temple rolled her eyes and waved him off as she headed back to her home office.

“Damn.” Mataeo figured it just wasn’t his night, having opened the cabinet to the bar to find the Jim Beam running dangerously low there, as well. Shaking his head, he poured what remained into a stout glass and dialed the car from his phone.

“Ro? Grab an extra bottle of Beam for Ms. Grahame, will you?” With a quarter-filled glass in hand, Mataeo strolled into the living room.

In spite of his frightful mood, he couldn’t help but smile as he often did whenever he spent time at Temple’s place.

If the term “old school” ever fit anyone, it was Temple Grahame, he thought. The second oldest in a huge Southern family, her old-fashioned nature was a thing one could almost see.

Mataeo passed the sound system that, while state of the art, didn’t garner half as much use as the record player Temple had inherited from an aunt, who also left her prized possession of classic soul vinyls.

Mataeo studied the back of an album cover, nodding to the beat of the Curtis Mayfield piece that filled the room with its slick melody. Laughter in the distance caught his ear below the rhythm. Mataeo set down the cover, emptied his glass and headed toward the sounds.

Temple sat on the edge of her desk with her back to the door. With her bare feet propped on the seat of her chair, she faced a gorgeous view of late-afternoon Wilmington. As the sun set, the skyline gradually illuminated, offering a more brilliant picture of the city.

Mataeo smiled, enjoying the lazy drawl of her voice while she chatted. He wasn’t so much focused on her words as he was on the manner in which they were delivered. How many times had that voice alone soothed raging tempers during heated business conferences? He absently fiddled with his vest pocket as he thought it over.

Temple laughed again, catching Mataeo’s full attention. That time he was quite interested in the words she spoke, especially when he heard the name Kendall.

“Well, we’ll just see if you’re still talking so bold when I see you in a few weeks…ha! Right. Thanks Kendall…mmm-hmm… See you soon.”

Temple smiled, studying the cordless until Mataeo cleared his throat and grabbed her attention. “Damn you, Taeo.” She clutched her chest when she saw him in the doorway.

Mataeo barely managed to smile as she whirled around on the desk and faced him. Though she never raised her voice, her curses held a definite sting when they were directed his way.

“You taking a trip?” He ignored her agitation.

Temple eased off the desk. “That was Kendall Ingram. He’s a Realtor helping Mama settle some business on a property.”

Mataeo straightened from his leaning stance against the doorjamb. Obvious concern sharpened his already striking features. “Does Miss Aileen need help with anything?”

Waving off the gesture, Temple walked around her desk. “Everything’s fine—nothing to worry about. So why don’t you spend your time telling me about that lunch meeting instead?”

Though he grimaced, Mataeo didn’t seem to notice her subject change. “We were done talkin’ business before we ordered the first drink.”

“God, that bad?” Temple gathered the hem of her ankle-length peach housedress.

Focused on business once more, Mataeo moved to let her pass. He followed her from the office and back toward the kitchen.

“Depends on which conversation you’re referring to—business or the other.” He doffed his suit coat and dropped it on the back of an armchair. “The other got pretty weird,” he added.

“Weird?” A smile curved Temple’s generous mouth. “I wouldn’t associate that word with a man like Manson Yates.”

“Hmph. You would if you tossed Sanford Norman into the mix.”

“Ah…” Temple was browsing her cabinet. “What’d he say or do this time?” Gradually, Temple lost interest in her soup hunt as Mataeo explained the lunch topic.

“Weird indeed....” She turned back to the cabinet. “Then again, Manson Yates has been married almost fifty years. He and his wife have been together since they were teenagers.”

“Keeping up with the society pages, huh?” Mataeo’s gravelly voice softened on the question.

She gave a toss of her head and an awkward shrug. “Strong marriages are rare. When you hear about one, you pay attention.”

Mataeo wasn’t sure how to respond, so he went to search the refrigerator. “Well, the man’s dead serious when it comes to holy matrimony.” He studied the selection of juices along the door. “Didn’t mind telling me what he thought of my love life, that’s for damn sure.”

“Really?” Amusement crept into Temple’s light eyes. “And what does he think about it?” She set about heating up a large can of chicken tortilla soup.

Mataeo decided on what to drink while muttering something foul. “It’s just obvious that man’s got a thing for commitment and vows and whatever the hell else goes along with it.”

“Mataeo…” Temple set the pot to simmer and then turned to him. Disbelief had replaced her amusement. “Tell me you’re not thinking that Yates might base his decision on whether you’re married or not.”

It was Mataeo’s turn to shrug awkwardly. “I don’t think I have to be married.” He chugged down a bit of the pineapple juice. “But he made it clear that he didn’t approve of me dancin’ from one pair of arms to the next.” He slanted her a wink.

Temple lowered the heat under the soup. “Well, I hope he doesn’t think Sanford’s any more noble.”

“Is that right?” Mataeo drew closer, intrigued and not at all ashamed by wanting in on a bit of gossip. “You know somethin’?”

“Not much.” Temple reached for a soup mug that was hanging along the wall near the microwave. “One of his assistants goes to the same hair salon as me. Word is, any day they’re expecting the Normans to announce a divorce.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Mataeo pondered the information while taking a swig of the juice. At the same time, he reached behind Temple for the remote to the TV above her wine rack.

Temple rolled her eyes. “What’s the mmm-hmm about?” She stirred the hearty soup.

“Just sounds like we’re on even ground, after all.”

“Ha! I honestly don’t know whether to laugh or cry over how well I can read you.”

Mataeo only chuckled while surfing the channels.

“Please tell me you’re not gonna try fooling Yates into believing that you’ve seen the error of your ways and are now ready for a serious relationship?”

“Jesus, Temp.” He looked away from the TV and fixed her with a look of outraged innocence. “Not that I’d ever do something so low—” he ignored her knowing glare “—but I wouldn’t even have to go that far. Sanford put his foot in his mouth revealing so much about his own marriage I think he lost a few points with Yates.”

“This isn’t a popularity contest, Taeo,” Temple sang while heading to the refrigerator for cheese. “It’s about whose got the better business for Manson Yates’s clientele.”

“You know, it doesn’t help that you sound an awful lot like Norman right about now.” Mataeo leaned against the counter and focused on the television again.

“Well, at least one of you is thinking.” Temple headed over to lace the bubbling soup with shredded Colby cheese.

“I never forget that, Temp. My guess is that Norman knows who has the better business. I could see it in his eyes when he said it.”

Temple shook her head in response to Mataeo’s confidence, but offered no comment. She turned the heat down to low and rubbed her hand across his chest when she passed on her way out of the kitchen.

“Congratulations,” she said.

“Not so fast.” Mataeo shut off the TV and followed her to the living room. “I still want you to go with me to this cocktail party.”

“You say this like I know what you’re talking about.” Frown lines marred Temple’s brow. “What cocktail party?”

“Party and dinner. Yates and his wife are giving it.” Mataeo strolled back to the record player where a vintage Isaac Hayes cut played. “I can’t risk Sanford being there with his wife on his arm while I come alone.”

“I’m sure you won’t be alone.”

“Temple, please, you know I can’t take any of them.”

“Then take somebody new. With you there’s always somebody new.” She sighed while straightening magazines on the pine coffee table in front of the love seat.

“Temple, we both know Yates is no fool. Taking someone new won’t matter. Taking you is the right move.”

“Why?” Her hands stilled over the straightening.

Mataeo went back to the kitchen for his juice. “You’re my right hand. My go-to person. Taking you would keep it about business and not on some love affair, personal slant.”

“Right.” The disappointment flashed so briefly on her dark face that it could have been imagined. She chased the look away with a smug smile. “I must say that I’m impressed by your cunning thoughts,” she teased.

“Well, don’t sound so surprised.” His tone was gruff.

“Hey, forgive me. I’m always surprised when you come up with complex plans without my help.”

“Funny. So can I count on you to be there?”

Temple tapped her nails on her hip and considered the request. “Why not? But Taeo, even my attending a cocktail party won’t mean much if there’s nothing to follow it up with. We need to set meeting times to get all our ducks in a row for this survey expedition. We haven’t even set up a date for that.”

“Right.” Mataeo grazed the back of his hand along the angle of his jaw. His mind had returned to the true business at hand. “Have you done anything with that yet?”

Temple smirked. “Since you gave it to me this morning? No.”

“Watch it.” He took his spot on the sofa and Temple followed suit. His thumb stroked the cleft in his chin as he watched her settle down next to him. The fabric of her housedress carried a light fragrance.

“First thing we need is a meeting of the crew. The crew chief especially.” She tucked a few thick strands behind her ear. “Will you hire new people to handle this?”

Mataeo reclined on the sofa and brought his feet to the coffee table. “I don’t see the need. We’ve got a top-notch crew—they can handle whatever I dish out.”

“All right…” Temple reached for the notebook she kept on the high table behind the sofa and began to jot reminders. “Since we have no idea what the man needs to see, a brainstorming meeting with the crew is crucial.” She chewed on the cap of the pen. “What’s our time frame for this?”

“I think it plays in our favor to have Yates see things at the beginning stages and what lengths I’ll go to ensure his clients are pleased.”

“Hmm…” Temple’s brows rose as she made the notation. “More great thinking— You really are impressing me.”

“That’s it.” Mataeo grabbed a fistful of her housedress and made a play at attacking.

Temple moved quick and laughed all the way back to the kitchen.

“Yates needs to be there but I think it’d be good for Sanford to see the place, too.”

Temple whirled around just after she cleared the doorway and brought both hands to her hips. “Are you insane?”

Mataeo placed his hands behind his head. “You know I am, but this isn’t about that. I’m hoping to send a message.”

“Which is?”

“Sanford’s already intimidated by me—that’s not overconfidence, that’s fact,” he said when she opened her mouth to argue. “When he sees what lengths North Shipping is willing to go to, he’ll start making an even bigger fool of himself.”

“Well then, the two of you will be a matched set because this is definitely your most foolish idea.”

Temple continued to grumble in the kitchen while Mataeo hummed contentedly on the sofa.

Chapter 3

“These are standing meetings. Mr. North enjoys holding them over the course of each week with every department.” Temple eased a sheet toward the young man seated next to her on the sofa in her office. “Your job will be to contact everyone and let them know what’s on the agenda.” She leaned back to judge his reaction. “I know this isn’t quite as meaty as you were hoping for but it’s a terrific way to familiarize yourself with such a large staff, which will definitely be important as you move up in this place.”

“Ms. Grahame, this is fantastic.” Edmund Jansen held the departmental list as if it were a priceless document. “I can’t wait to get started.”

Temple grinned and scooted closer to the coffee table for another portfolio. “Then let’s move onto the layout of the meetings.”

Temple and Edmund were wrapping up their conversation when Mataeo walked into the office.

Introductions weren’t necessary; Edmund took care of greeting the boss and thanking Mataeo for giving him the chance to prove himself. Temple came to her feet slowly and watched Mataeo accept Edmund’s adoration with a genuine smile. All the while she prayed the younger man’s enthusiasm wouldn’t have him blurting out the extent of his new chores for the boss.

“So what’s up?” Mataeo closed the door behind Edmund when he left.

“Just wrapping up a meeting.” Temple took folders from the coffee table and went about filing them in her desk.

“Kid seemed pretty excited about planning my events.”

“He um…” Temple cleared her throat and wondered just how much Mataeo had overheard. “He’ll just be handling a few things for me when I head down to Charleston. Remember I told you Mama’s working with that Realtor?” She looked up at him from where she knelt near a desk drawer. “I want to be there.”

“You sure there isn’t any more to this, Temp?” He eased a hand into his pocket and moved closer to the desk. “If Miss Aileen needs my help—”

“She doesn’t. I promise. Thank you, but it’s nothing like that.” She shut the drawer and stood. “Honest, Taeo, I’d tell you if it was.”

“I don’t get why you have to head down when there’s plenty of family around.”

“Because she’s my mother,” Temple snapped and then closed her eyes and produced a brief smile. “Nothing’s gonna go lacking around here. I’ve got tons of people around to handle whatever you’ll need.” She appraised the walnut trousers and unbuttoned vest he wore over a cream shirt. “Sorry I haven’t been able to find anyone to tie your ties but you’ll survive.”

Mataeo blocked her path when she moved from the desk. “I’m sorry.” His sharp features had softened by concern. Lightly, he brushed his hand against her jaw. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t.”

“Temple—”

“You didn’t and I’m sorry I went off that way.” She tapped her fingers along the side splits of the misty-blue skirt she wore.

“You deserved to go off.” He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger while closing a bit more of the distance separating them. “You work your butt off around here. If anyone deserves to go home and see their mom, it’s you.”

“I’m still very sorry for snapping at you like that.” Her entrancing eyes mirrored the concern in his.

It went without saying that Temple’s apology was less about snapping and more about the fact that she had a mother to see. Mataeo had been alone since she’d known him. Shortly after their friendship began, it became clear that the subject of his family was off-limits. It was obvious, however, that he enjoyed the family element. He spent time with her huge tribe whenever he could. The Grahames and Hammonds of Charleston, South Carolina, loved him like he was one of their own.

Mataeo kept his hold on her chin but caught her hand in his when she patted his chest. “Are you really okay?”

The gravel-toned voice tempered by softness stirred a reaction in places Temple decided it was best not to think of.

“I am.” She nodded encouragingly. “I honestly am.”

Mataeo was not buying it, if the narrowing of his bedroom browns was any clue. He’d known her too long not to pick up on the weariness in her voice and bright eyes.

“Would you like me to put somebody else on this survey thing?”

Temple threw her head back and laughed. “I’m not about to put another poor soul in your line of fire. I promise it’ll all be in place before my trip.”

His smoky gaze grew dangerously narrow then. “I don’t doubt you can handle it. I just don’t want you overdoing it, all right?” He tilted his head but his eyes never left her face.

Temple, though, had lost her focus. No. No, she knew exactly where her focus was. It was on his hand smothering hers, his thumb soothingly albeit innocently brushing her palm.

“Temp?”

She prayed her lashes weren’t doing their god-awful fluttering. “I’m good, please.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound like a moan.

“You’re trembling.” He released her hand to run his along the silver sleeve of her blouse. He frowned and tugged her closer.

That stirring reaction had become a dull throb in a place best not mentioned. Temple swallowed and tried to gently extract herself from his hold. “It’s good you’re here, though. We should talk a little more about these meetings.”

“Hold it.” His hand tightened on her arm and he drew her near until she was flush against his chest.

“Mataeo, I—”

“Shut up. I want you to come to me if you need to talk.” His thumb began a maddening stroke of her elbow. “Don’t ever think with all I’ve got going on that I don’t have time for you.”

Temple tried to laugh, but it came off as a nervous grunt at best. “I don’t need to be handled, Taeo.”

“But there are times when we could all use someone to listen.” He squeezed both of her elbows then. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Temple knew she was forcing herself to nod. “Thank you.” She went a step further and forced her mouth to curve into a smile. “I guess it’s just getting everything arranged before the trip.” She shrugged. “It’s got me in a funk, but I’ll be fine once it’s all in place.”

Accepting the excuse, Mataeo nodded slowly. “Well, I might be able to help you with that. We’ve got a meeting in ninety minutes with Ike Melvin, the crew chief.”

“Oh, that’s great!” Temple turned back toward her desk.

“Hey, hey.” Mataeo caught her wrist. “Are we good here?” He smiled when she nodded, patted her hip and then he was gone.

Temple held her face in her hands.

Mataeo and Ike Melvin were already seated in the living area of Mataeo’s office when Temple arrived for their meeting later that afternoon. Unhurried, Mataeo rose from his chair. He noticed how quickly Ike bolted to his feet to greet Temple. Mataeo strolled around to lean against the back of the sofa while Ike waved her farther into the office.

“Have you guys met?” Mataeo stroked the cleft in his chin as he inquired.

“Ike Melvin, Ms. Grahame.”

“It’s nice to meet you and please call me Temple.” She accepted the hand he offered to shake. “I’ve heard good things about your work.”

“Same here.”

Mataeo rolled his eyes in response to the syrup dripping from Ike’s voice. “We were just discussing the survey expedition,” he explained when Temple glanced his way. “Shall we?” He headed back for his chair.

Temple took her place on the sofa, smiling when Ike joined her there. “So what have I missed?”

“Just prelims—who else from Ike’s team you’d benefit from meeting with while trying to organize this thing.” Mataeo angled his large frame to a comfortable position in the deep chair he occupied.

Temple nodded even as a frown came to her face. “Excuse my ignorance here.” She shifted toward Ike. “As crew chief isn’t meeting with you enough? You certainly know more about every aspect of the facility. I think you can give me all the information I need to prepare an effective survey agenda.” She stopped short and studied both men. “Or am I wrong?”

Ike’s hearty laughter livened the room. “I’m honored, Ms. Grahame—uh, Temple—that you consider me so knowledgeable.” He waved toward Mataeo. “Have you ever told this lady how good she is for a person’s ego?”

“I may’ve told her so on occasion,” Mataeo coolly conceded.

“Well, I’ve done a little brainstorming.” Temple opened the bound portfolio she’d brought along. “I realize this is basically a tour of the facility, but given that it’s such an expansive site—maybe we should hone in on the most important areas.”

“I agree.” Ike leaned forward, bracing his elbows to his knees while resting a hand along the side of his attractive brown face. “This is actually where I feel my team could be most useful since they’ll each be leading a specific area of the site. Maybe they could act as tour guides during the expedition—taking over the areas they’ll eventually come to supervise.”

“This is great.” Temple nodded while jotting her notes. “Mataeo? You want to add anything here?”

“Sorry, man, didn’t mean to run away with the conversation,” Ike apologized, his gaze never leaving Temple’s face.

“This makes organizing the tour so much easier,” Temple continued to rave softly while writing in her pad. “It’s a great touch and mixes things up, supplying information while giving Yates the chance to meet the people who’ll hopefully be handling his clients. Mataeo? You can chime in anytime....”

Mataeo was more interested in the very obvious appraisal in Ike Melvin’s gaze as the man watched Temple. Mataeo studied his crew chief with a combination of amusement and subtle surprise as if he couldn’t quite believe how little Ike was doing to mask his attraction.

“Mataeo?”

He tuned into Temple’s voice then, doing a double take when he looked at her. Something flickered in the deep warm pools of his stare.

Meanwhile, concern flooded Temple’s expression. “Mataeo?” She leaned forward, frowning as he watched her like he’d never seen her before. “Are you okay over there?”

He smiled. “Yeah. Just thinkin’.” He rested an index finger alongside his face. “Sounds like y’all got it covered.”

Temple waited a beat, then fixed him with a curious smile before resuming her discussion with Ike.

Temple was still scribbling away at her pad some thirty-five minutes later. The meeting with Ike Melvin had provided her with a wealth of information to assist in creating an incredible agenda.

“We should meet again once I’ve put all this in place.” She smiled at Ike. “You can let me know whether we need any changes or additions then. Does that sound good to you, Mataeo?” She frowned when he fixed her with a strange look. “Do you think Ike’s crew should be here when we meet again?” Silence met her question. “Taeo?” She had her fingers poised to snap in front of his face.

At last he shook his head. “I honestly can’t think of a thing to add here. It all sounds very good.”

“Well.” Temple scooted to the edge of the black leather sofa and stood. “Ike, it was nice meeting you.” She smiled when he stood to shake her hand. “I look forward to us getting together again.”

Ike was already nodding. “So do I.”

Mataeo massaged his neck, bowing his head to hide his smile. He figured Temple had no idea Ike wasn’t referring to them getting together for business.

She walked by Taeo and squeezed his shoulder on her way past. “I’ll see you later. Bye, Ike.”

“Jesus.” Ike lost some of his composure once he and Mataeo were alone in the office. He doubled over, bracing his hands on his thighs for a few moments. “How the hell do you keep it to just business with her bouncing around you all day?”

Mataeo headed for his desk. “She doesn’t bounce.” His rough voice sounded grim, monotone.

“You’re right.” Ike sighed, pushing both hands into his pockets while crossing the office. “She glides.” He sat on the edge of the desk. “Hell, Taeo, she’s amazing. I see why you never officially introduced me to her before now.”

Practically speechless, Mataeo simply watched the man. He considered himself one rarely surprised by anything or anyone. But his crew chief had managed to accomplish that at least twice in one hour.

“It’s okay.” Ike waved his hands playfully. “I understand. I wouldn’t want my friends knowing her, either.”

“It’s not like that.” Mataeo sat behind his desk. “She sees who she wants, when she wants....”

Ike braced his hands on the desk. “And how often is that when she spends most of her time working for you?”

Mataeo couldn’t prevent a smile from curving his mouth.

“Would you be upset if I asked her out?”

“Why should I be upset?” Mataeo was unconscious of the clipped tone to his words.

Ike nodded, satisfied by the response at any rate. “Well, I gotta get goin’.” He patted his khaki pockets for keys. “See you at the next meeting,” he called on his way out the door.

Alone, Mataeo dropped the cool facade. He sat on the desk, facing the view beyond the windows, and massaged a palm across his fist.

Later that afternoon, Temple was curled up on her office sofa reviewing notes from the meeting with Ike Melvin. Mataeo found her when she was about halfway through.

“Don’t get up.” He raised a hand when she spotted him at the door and made a move to leave the sofa.

“I didn’t mean to barge in.” He motioned toward the door as he crossed the threshold. “Lilly wasn’t at her desk,” he said, referencing her assistant.

“Is everything all right?” Temple drew her knees up to her chest and watched him stroll in slowly.

“Yeah, fine.” The quiet sandpaper tone of his voice held an absent quality. Hands hidden in the deep pockets of his walnut trousers, he perused the various knickknacks and artwork lining the walls.

“Are you all right?” she rephrased, tilting her head just slightly when he picked up a photo of her with her sisters and studied it for the longest time. “Taeo?”

“Hmm? Yeah, yeah, Temp, I’m good.” He set down the photo and fixed her with a bemused look. “I think Ike’s in love with you,” he teased.

Temple chuckled, stretching her legs out across the sofa cushions and wriggling her toes. “He seems very knowledgeable and sweet. Glad I had the chance to meet him.”

Mataeo felt his jaw clench over the “sweet” comment and wasn’t sure he quite understood the reason why.

“Just remember you said that,” he warned playfully, still trying to make light of the moment. “I got a feelin’ the guy’s leanin’ toward asking you out.”

“Hmph.” Temple’s focus had returned to her meeting notes. She looked up when Mataeo came to take a seat on the sofa.

Once settled, he pulled her feet across his lap before she could curl them beneath her bottom.

She gave him a nudge with one stockinged foot. “You’re acting weirder than usual. What’s up?” She nudged him again. “Taeo?”

A massive shoulder raised up beneath the crisp fabric of his shirt. His gaze remained downcast. “Just realized that I never ask you anything about that.”

“About what?” Temple settled back against the arm of the sofa. “Ike?”

“About your personal life, Temp. About anything that doesn’t have anything to do with this place.” He grimaced and partly curved a fist. “Or about my personal life.” In spite of his mood, Mataeo couldn’t help but smile when he heard her laughter.

“And what a helluva personal life it is.” She reached over to stroke the back of her hand across his cheek.

The smile curving his mouth didn’t quite reach the warm depths of his brown eyes. “I never meant to seem unsympathetic about it, you know?”

“About my…personal life?” She bit the corner of her upper lip when he nodded at her confirmation. “Well…” She smoothed both hands down the satiny length of her skirt. “I know it’s practically nonexistent but I promise you it’s not all that pathetic. There’s no need for sympathy.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.” His voice went softer. “I’m sure it’s, um… I’m sure it’s great. It’d have to be…” His fingers strummed across the top of her feet before traveling a bit higher.

Temple pressed her lips together and blinked several times in rapid succession. She tried to move her feet, but Mataeo prevented that.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She squeezed his wrists.

“I keep you so damn busy around here. Way too busy—not very fair of me.” His eyes were narrowed as he sent her a sideways look.

“Taeo, no…I love it. I love my job.” She ignored the little voice that reminded her that she was quitting.

“A girl can’t spend her life working all the time, though.”

“But I don’t.” She rubbed his wrist again, then drew back when she felt his hand constrict about her foot. “Do you think you’re keeping me from having fun or something?” She moved her feet beneath her then. She scooted closer when she heard the gruff sound rumble in his chest.

“Taeo?” She dipped her head for a better look at his face. “Is this about my sex life or Manson Yates?”

“Jesus, Temple. Sex life?” His handsome features contorted fiercely, as though that image was one he didn’t want in his head.

His reaction gave Temple pause and she sat up a bit straighter. “Mataeo, why are you really here?” She ignored the voice that told her not to ask.

He captured her hand and dropped a hard kiss to the back of it. No words followed the gesture. Mataeo simply toyed with her fingers for a while. He repeated the hard kiss, only this time he planted it upon her mouth.

“I’ll let you get back to work.” He smoothed the side of his index finger across her parted lips. He kissed her again quickly and then left the office.

“Hey, did you already order?” Temple asked Megaleen as they hugged near the table Meg had secured in her uncle’s seafood restaurant, Barnum’s.

“You know I haven’t.” Meg rolled her eyes toward the front of the dining room. “Shane wanted to come take the orders personally when he found out I was having lunch with you. Told me I could just wait ’til you got here.”

Temple laughed. Shane Barnum, the owner’s son, had women all over Wilmington and beyond. Temple never took his advances seriously. The fact that Shane realized this made his attempts even more humorously outrageous.

“So what’s going on?” Meg brought her elbows to the glossy oak table. “You sounded excited when you called about getting together for lunch.”

“I talked to Kendall last night.” Temple dropped her keys into her tote and set it on an empty chair at the table. “He found a place and claims I won’t need to see another one once he shows it to me.”

“That man.” Meg flipped a lock of her auburn hair around her finger. “Always trying to outdo himself. I don’t see how anything else could top the two places you already have.”

“Well, Kendall told me he could handle those sales, as well.” Temple reached for her water glass and took a hasty swallow.

“You’re going to sell them?” Meg’s brows drew close over her blue eyes. “Have you thought about what Mataeo will say?”

“No, I haven’t, Meg. I never spend any time there. I feel like I’ve wasted his money....” She grimaced and pushed at the glass as if the water had left a sour taste. “I haven’t spent a night in either place since he closed on them.”

“I never knew that.” Meg’s fingers slowed in her hair. “Why not?” Her expression turned more probing when Temple only shrugged.

“There she is!”

Temple and Meg couldn’t help but smile. Shane’s charm was irresistible and he had them giggling like schoolgirls within a matter of seconds.

“Anything you want, lovely. Just ask.”

“Cracked crab and lobster pulled fresh from the Atlantic no more than an hour ago,” Meg requested in her most haughty tone.

Shane’s stare matched the vivid blue of his cousin’s eyes. “I said ‘anything you want, lovely.’” He motioned toward Temple. “That would be her.”

Generous laughter fell into place once more. It had been weeks since Temple felt amusement at such a high level. That high lasted until she saw Mataeo walking past the columns guarding the entrance of the dining room. He wasn’t alone.

“What is it?” Meg waited until Shane left with the orders. She’d noticed the shadow that had crossed her friend’s face.

“Just hungry, that’s all.” Temple made pretense at studying the cuff of her blouse.

Meg turned in her chair to check the direction Temple had been looking. A thoughtful smile tugged at her mouth when she saw Mataeo North and his female lunch companion. Bowing her head, Meg traced the swirls in the oak table. Silence hung for a few minutes and then Meg leaned over to tap her fingers across the back of Temple’s hand.

Meg squeezed until Temple met her gaze. Then she asked the question she already knew the answer to.

“You love him, don’t you?”

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