Don't Tempt Me Read Free Page A

to be recalled by each. Sloane took it at face value, his inner thoughts well hidden behind a benevolent smile.
    â€œI suddenly realized,” he began confidently, “that I still had Ms. O’Neill’s notebook.” To her chagrin she saw that it was true. “I was worried that perhaps she might be needing it this afternoon.”
    As Sloane advanced into the room, Justine was intensely aware of the smug grin on John’s face. Determined to simply retrieve the notebook and amend her lapse, she stood quickly to circle the desk, totally forgetful of the fact that she’d slipped off her leather pumps. The fact was brought painfully home as she stubbed her toe on the steel leg of the desk.
    â€œAahhh! My God!” She doubled over and grabbed the corner of the desk. Her jaw clenched, she pushed herself back into her chair.
    â€œI’ll leave you two now” came John’s merry call from the door. He had seen any number of Justine’s minor calamities, and the knowing smile on his face as he saw Sloane circle the desk spoke for itself. Mercifully, he disappeared.
    â€œAre you all right?” Kneeling down beside her chair, Sloane quickly lifted the stockinged foot which her own fingers tried desperately to massage.
    â€œYes, I’m fine,” she murmured in disgust, too intent on relieving the pain to succumb to the mortification she
might otherwise have felt. “That was a stupid thing for me to do. I’d forgotten about my shoes.”
    Her hand was cast aside as long brown fingers probed her silk-sheathed toes gently. “I don’t think you broke anything,” he decided as he lightly rubbed the offended area. “Do you do this type of thing often?”
    Only then did his eyes lift. They were dark and contained a blend of concern and query. Justine felt a melting sensation spiraling through her and swallowed sharply. So John’s nonchalance had tipped him off, she rued, then laughed at her characteristic clumsiness.
    â€œI’m the firm’s own calamity department—but then, they didn’t tell you that, did they?” An eyebrow arched before her, its color a more equivocal mix of gray and black. “No, I didn’t think so. Well, you may as well know, since you’ve just found out anyway.” She grinned, poking fun at herself easily. “They call me ‘Calamity J’ for short. I may know my law, but when it comes to things mechanical—even stationary”—she sent an accusatory glance at the desk leg, now barely visible beyond Sloane’s large and hunkered frame—“I’m a complete disaster!”
    â€œAh, so the lady does have a fault?”
    â€œJust that one.”
    His presence filled the room, warming her. “Well, that’s a relief! We wouldn’t want the image to totally crumble!” His teasing was so gentle that she could not imagine offense. “And it is good to know that you have at least one weakness, like the rest of us!”
    â€œAnd yours, Sloane? What might that be?” It was her hope that some knowledge of this man’s imperfections might ease the flagrant attraction she felt toward him.
    His dark eyes studied her, serving, on the contrary, to enhance the lure. He seemed to be debating, in good humor, the wisdom of any such revelation. Shaking his silver head slowly, he stalled. “No, I don’t think I should tell you … .”

    â€œCome on! I told you mine … .”
    â€œCorrection … you showed me yours. And, if my suspicion is right, you’d rather not have done so.”
    â€œNo one likes to look like a complete ass!” she jibed in self-reproach.
    â€œYou don’t look foolish, and you know it. You’re human.”
    â€œAnd you? What is it, Sloane—this weakness of yours?”
    Again he deliberated, drawing out the wait for what she was sure had to be intended effect. Finally he spoke in a velvet hum.