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  She glared up at him. “It was in poor taste. I might be fat but I’m not pregnant.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “Now what makes you think you’re fat? You’re a fine woman. Real men like some curves to fondle and your curves are in all the right places.”

  His hands moved from her waist and slid down over her backside, making heat rush to her cheeks. She grabbed his arms and dragged them back up her body, causing him to grin suggestively at her.

  “But now you mention it, I think I have a clue about what caused you to pass out in my arms. There I was thinking you had finally given in to my charms, but I’m betting you’re starving yourself. When did you last eat?”

  He had a point. Even though Sam said he liked her curves she had cut back a little, well okay, a lot. She had resisted the chocolate croissant calling to her from the fridge and had opted for carrot sticks for lunch. Breakfast had been a large latte, she figured she needed the calcium or she would end up hunched over with osteoporosis like Aunt Maud. Who had time for dinner when they had to get ready to go out? She planned to treat herself to some chocolate ice cream when she got home.

  “Well?”

  She shrugged. “I ate at lunchtime.”

  “And exactly what did you eat?”

  “Carrots.”

  He shook his head. “No wonder you keep falling over. You need real food, like the meat and potatoes my ma used to make.” Letting her go, he gave her a gentle shove toward the sofa. “Sit down. You’re not going anywhere until you’ve had something decent to eat.”

  She stood her ground. He was starting to get to her. Why couldn’t he just be his usual arrogant, bastard self? She needed to forget the caring individual in front of her and remember the one who had dropped his pants and forced himself on her in her own home. No…bad idea…that just brought a vision of his erect penis to mind. With the sex addiction she feared she had caught from Sam, a rampant cock was the last thing she needed to imagine. “If you make my apologies to Laura I can get a cab home.”

  He put his fingers under her chin and tipped her face up. “Do you promise to eat when you get there?”

  “I promise.”

  His gaze moved from her eyes to her lips then back again. She couldn’t be certain in the poorly lit room but his pupils seemed to dilate, making his already hypnotic dark eyes even darker. When he dipped his face toward hers she should have ducked, or bobbed her head. She should have kneed him in the testicles, but instead she stood mute and unable to move.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  When his hands slid from her waist to her backside and pulled her tight against a raging erection, Meg came to her senses. Shoving him off, she stood gasping for air. What the hell just happened? One minute he was Mr. Chivalrous, the next Mr. Randy, and she had done nothing to try and stop him. No matter what he might think, nothing was going to happen. Michael Monaghan was bad news. Besides, she already had Sam. The thought of Sam brought heat racing to her cheeks. He would be horrified to know Michael had manhandled her, again.

  Michael slid his fingers through his dark hair, to push it back from his face, and then grinned at her. “Why did you stop me? You seemed to be having a good time.”

  She shook her head and took a step farther away in case he tried to molest her again. “I wasn’t enjoying anything. I don’t fancy you. In fact, I don’t even like you.”

  The smile widened. “If I’m so horrible why did you put your tongue in my mouth?” He dropped his gaze to her breasts before reaching out and brushing a thumb over the peak evident through the flimsy fabric of her dress. Her nipple hardened at his touch, and goose pimples rippled across her skin in unison with it. “Oh, and you might like to tell your nipples they didn’t have a good time either.”

  She didn’t need to glance down at her chest, her breasts tingled enough to let her know they wanted the party to continue. Hell, what was wrong with her? She’d overdosed on sex and now her body was addicted. It didn’t seem to matter who the man was anymore, just that they were born with a dick. She needed some of that stuff they put in soldier’s tea during the war to cool her raging libido before it got her into a situation she couldn’t or wouldn’t back away from.

  No matter what he said she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of confirming whether his kiss got to her or not. She folded her arms across her treacherous chest before summoning up a fierce glare. How dare he take advantage of the situation? How dare he drag her into his office under the pretense of caring about her health then try to seduce her? “I am not interested in you, no matter what evidence you think you might see. Now let me go.”

  Without so much as a word of protest, he stepped out of her way. Head held high she ignored him as she grabbed her bag off his desk, crossed the room, opened the door and slammed it hard behind her.

  Business or no business, she’d had enough for one day, Laura was on her own.

  No one impeded her progress as she stomped out the front entrance of the bar and climbed into the back of a cab that had fortuitously pulled up to drop some revelers off.

  She gave the cabbie her address before collapsing against the seat, eyes closed, brain working overtime. How the hell had she ended up in the arms of Michael Monaghan, again?

  This whole sex thing with Sam must have sent her ovaries into overdrive. Now they were on a seek and seduce mission to search out every available cock in town. Life had been so simple when she had a day job writing crappy slogans and chilling out with romance novels and chocolates. Boring, uneventful, sexually unfulfilling, but simple.

  Now she finally had what she thought she’d been missing, sex. How many times had she screwed around with Sam in the last few days? Did a blowjob count? When she got to double digits she gave up. She’d become a whore, a cock sucking, dick-fucking whore who had sex for entertainment not love. That was why Michael Monaghan was on her. He wanted to put his hand in the cookie jar, her cookie jar. Her head was starting to ache with the stress of it all. Disgusted and depressed, she let out a loud groan.

  A male voice interrupted her moment of deep introspection and self loathing. “If you’re going to puke, you’ll have to get out, love. Last week I spent two hours getting the bloodstains off the upholstery after picking up a fare at that place. I swore I’d never pick up anyone from there again but you dived in the back before I could stop you and you seemed harmless enough.”

  Meg dragged herself upright and stared out the window. “I’m fine. I just need to go to bed.” She darted a glance at the young blond cab driver, who appeared to be giving her the glad eye, and spat out between clenched teeth, “Alone.”

  *

  A car pulled up in the driveway, the headlights flooding the living room. Sam glanced at his watch, a shade after nine. Meg had been gone little more than an hour. Surely she couldn’t be home already? The sound of a key turning in the front door answered his question. Usually when she went out with Laura she came back roaring drunk and woke him up in the early hours to tell him what a great time they had. Something must have brought her home early. Tension and excitement knotted his stomach. Could he be the reason? Did she miss him that much?

  Tossing the empty ice cream tub on the coffee table, he muted the television and turned a smiling face toward the door. When she finally made an appearance the smile faded. She looked tired and beaten down by life, nothing like the beautiful vibrant woman who left his arms a short time earlier.

  He watched as she tossed her bag on the chair and tugged off her shoes.

  “Meg, are you okay?”

  She shrugged and headed toward the kitchen. Sam got to his feet and followed along behind. Back turned to him, she rummaged in the pantry. His mind filled with visions of terrible things that could have happened to her whilst she was out. Had someone hurt her? She didn’t appear injured. Someone or something had squashed her good mood.

  “Did something happen when you were out? Do you want to talk about it?”

  Box of chocolates in hand, she closed
the cupboard and finally looked at him.

  “I don’t want to talk about anything. I just want to go to bed.”

  The tone left him in no doubt she didn’t mean his bed. What happened between her kissing him goodbye and coming home to put him in the dog house? He reached out and tried to pull her into his arms but she shrugged him off.

  “Meg? What did I do? I thought we were good.”

  She let out a loud sigh. “I need some space. Tonight made me realize I have gone from Frigid Fanny to Nanette Nymphomaniac and that’s just not me. It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I should have told you no from the beginning.”

  Sam scratched his head. She wasn’t making sense. He had never forced her to do anything, she sure as hell enjoyed their sexual encounters, so why the sudden change?

  She said she wanted some space but he had a horrible feeling that if he walked away and let her go to bed without sorting things out they would never have sex again. So what? He’d told her he was in on the deal for as long as she wanted him, but now she’d given even a hint of wanting out and his gut twisted. Their relationship might have started out being just about sex but it was the best he had ever had. Now it was about so much more. Maybe her foul mood was about more than their current arrangement.

  “Doing something you enjoy isn’t wrong. Who says you’re a nymphomaniac? Did Laura say something?”

  “Laura didn’t say anything. My change of mind has got nothing to do with her.”

  “So what has it got to do with? Why don’t we sit down and talk about what upset you?”

  “If you really want to know, we went to The Jolly Roger.”

  A thought slid into his brain and he fought valiantly to shove the vile thing out but it took root. He’d heard all about what went on at The Jolly Roger. Rumor had it the strippers not only went the full Monty but happily let the crowd of frantic, sexually excited women manhandle the goods. Surely she hadn’t got it on with some big-dicked stranger on a stage. A pang of jealousy shot through him. She was his fuck buddy and he didn’t want to share.

  “I’ve heard about that place. Did you do something you regret?”

  She stared at him. “I passed out and woke up on a sofa in the manager’s office.”

  “You passed out? Are you okay?” He took a step toward her but she put her hand up and held him at bay. “I’m fine. I was tired and got off the barstool too fast.”

  He was glad she hadn’t hurt herself but he was still clueless about what passing out at the bar had to do with her being a nymphomaniac. Meg said she had woken up in the manager’s office. Had he done something to her?

  “How did you end up in the manager’s office?”

  “He carried me there so as not to make a scene.”

  Sam swallowed slowly. He had a bad feeling about what might have happened next. He should have insisted he go with them. He should have protected her.

  “Why would a perfect stranger take you to his office? He didn’t hurt you did he?”

  Meg met his gaze. “He isn’t a stranger. The manager is Michael Monaghan.”

  Sam’s blood ran cold. He’d imagined a total stranger forcing himself on her, instead she had been with the one man he told her to stay away from. What had she done to make herself believe she was a nymphomaniac, and with that dipshit Michael Monaghan of all people?

  He wanted to yell. He wanted to grab his jacket, drive to The Jolly Roger and punch Michael Monaghan in the face. Instead he took a deep breath in an effort to cool his boiling anger. It took all his concentration to keep his voice level. “Are you telling me you screwed around with him?”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Meg felt as if Sam had slugged her one in the guts. She was a slut. He’d just confirmed it with his question. If the man who slept with her thought she was a whore, then no decent man would ever look at her.

  Fighting back tears of anger, she glared at Sam. “I never did anything with him. If you must know, he kissed me and I left, but it’s nice to know what you think of me.” She gave him a shove and fled, finding refuge in her bedroom.

  She threw herself down on the bed and buried her face in her pillow, ignoring the gentle tapping on the door. The whole sex thing with Sam had turned out to be a horrible mistake. She should have stuck to her guns and said no, now they’d messed up their friendship for good.

  *

  Sam tapped again. He had fucked up big time. She told him she thought she’d become a sex addict and he all but accused her of screwing around with Michael. He may as well have painted the word slut across her chest. With a mother like hers, she was bound to have hang ups about sex and morals. He had a horrible feeling if her mother ever found out what they had been up to, she’d evict him minus his wild stallion.

  His heart pounded, he needed to win back her trust. Life without Meg in his bed would be unbearable. Perhaps the pain in his gut had to do with more than not having her in his bed. He didn’t want to lose her friendship, never see her laugh until she cried, never watch her savor the taste of chocolate ripple ice cream and scrunch up her nose when she realized she’d eaten every spoonful.

  “Meg, I’m sorry. Please let me in so I can apologize properly.”

  “Go away. You have nothing to apologize for. You just said it like it is.”

  He laid his forehead against the door. “Meg, please. I didn’t think. I’m not upset at you, but I hate that man. I know I said I was happy for you to find someone else but, I guess I’m not.”

  “Not happy to share me, or not happy to share me with him? Don’t answer, I don’t care either way. I’m giving up sex. I plan to enter a convent.”

  Sam couldn’t stop a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. The thought of her taking the veil was ridiculous. She never went to church and she’d be stuck doing penance all day for swearing at the mother superior when she told her to get up before dawn for prayers.

  “Meg, you don’t even believe in God.”

  “Fuck off, Sam, you know nothing about me.”

  “We’ll talk about this in the morning when you’re sober and more rational.”

  She yelled back. “So now I’m a drunken, irrational whore. I wonder why you ever wanted to fuck me in the first place. I’m saving you from a horrible task. Now you won’t have to dirty yourself anymore.”

  Sam balled his hands into fists, resisting the urge to barge into her room and show her it was no horrible task but one he would gladly take on every day of the week. Forcing himself on her would prove nothing. She needed to cool off; besides, they could both use a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow he would apologize again. Hopefully, she’d be ready to listen.

  The loud beep, beep, beep of the alarm clock dragged Meg back to consciousness. She might have had the foresight to set the damn thing but she hadn’t had the same smarts when it came to getting ready for bed. Without bothering to undress she lay down in the dark and devoured half the box of soft centers. Nun’s habits hid even the biggest spare tires. As a nun she could eat herself sick, another good reason to take up the religious life. She had missed chocolate, ice cream, and all the other things that made eating fun.

  Rolling over, she smacked the clock so hard it not only stopped beeping but toppled behind the bedside table. The room was still dark and she took a minute to remember why she planned to get up so early. Oh yeah, she needed to escape before she bumped into Sam and did something she’d regret, like kiss him, or worse.

  She slowly dragged herself into a sitting position. Her left cheek felt odd and deformed. God had visited some horrible disease like leprosy upon her. Reluctantly, she touched her face. Eww, soft and squishy. Pus, her face had turned to pus! She sniffed her finger before popping it in her mouth. Strawberry cream.

  She flicked on the light and groaned. Somehow during the night she had upended the box of chocolates and one melted and stuck to her face. Even more disconcerting was the milk caramel and dark orange soft center entangled in her hair. Despite the mess, washing her hair would have to wait. She n
eeded to make her escape. She clambered off the bed still dressed, which meant that was one less thing to deal with. In as short a space of time as possible, she tossed clothes, toiletries and other essentials into a hold-all. Feet shoved into a conveniently placed pair of sunshine yellow running shoes, she was ready.

  Satisfied she had all she needed for now, she crept out of the room, only stopping long enough to use the toilet and wipe the sticky mess from her face. Keys in hand, she snuck down the hall and out the door just as the first rays of sunlight hit the front windows of the flat.

  Meg checked the dashboard clock again. Hmm, eight, surely now it was late enough? Perhaps she should call first? Then again, maybe not. Happy with her decision to show up unannounced, she climbed out of the car and dropped the empty fast food wrappers and coffee cup in the bin. As she walked back to her car a kid stared at her and grinned, no doubt amused at her hair decorations. She stuck her tongue out at him but instead of pissing him off, it seemed to amuse him even more. He tugged madly at his caregiver’s pants and the whole group turned to take in the chocolate covered vision of Maggie Riley.

  The middle finger of her left hand slid back into line as she felt blood rush to her cheeks. No way, absolutely no freakin’ way!

  Turning tail she made a run for it, ignoring the calls of, Maggie Riley, is that you, which followed her. Of all the people to flip off, she had to choose Mr. and Mrs. Ronson’s grandson. That must have been little Terry with them. He’d only been a snot nosed toddler when she moved out of home. Whenever she went outside, he would peek through the fence and poke his tongue out at her. She figured she had at best a couple of hours before she was dobbed in to her mother.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Meg pulled into the drive behind Laura’s car and took a deep breath. So far, so good. No strange cars in the street or on the asphalt. She must be alone, undoubtedly asleep, unhappy to have a visitor at such an ungodly hour, but alone.