Saffron Nights Read Online Free Page B

each other so well—and yet never a real attraction between them. It must be the stew. Was it really an aphrodisiac? They had both scoffed at the possibility. But he felt a familiar heat rise between his thighs. Usually he was not one to shy away from the potential of getting laid, but this time, his first emotion was fear. What if she turned him down? How humiliating would that be? How could they work together? What if she did not turn him down?
    But oh man. He looked at her and she was so heated, so gorgeous, he couldn’t think. All the blood was gone from his brain. Jackson knew where she wanted him. He could see her craving in the smokiness of her eyes, the opening of her lips, the slight movements in her hips. He taunted her, touching all around her hot spots, now, rubbing the inside of her thick, muscular thighs. He lifted a leg and lightly bit one toe, sending her into writhing frenzy.
    “Jackson, please,” she panted.
    Exactly what he wanted to hear. He groaned in recognition.
    His fingers found their way up her legs and inched up her skirt, hands pulled at her panties.
    He drew in a breath. “So soft . . .”
    He wanted to rip off her skirt, her underwear, and plunge himself into her, lose himself inside her. He kissed her thigh, trailed his way along the inside with his tongue, savoring her taste. But, fuck, he was holding back. He gently nipped at her, breathing in the scent of her.
    She drew in a breath and lifted her hips for him.
    Maeve was coming undone—she looked heavenly, high. Wild. She was everything he imagined, everything he feared, and tonight, tonight, he would finally taste her, the one woman he thought he could never, should never, have. He felt like he’d burst out of his jeans. Had he ever been this hard before?
    Just then the shrill of a telephone ring interrupted. Maeve sat up, as if awakened suddenly out of a bad dream, and pushed him aside.
    “Don’t answer,” he said, breathing in deeply. “C’mon.”
    She looked at the number on the screen.
    “I have to. It’s Alice,” she told him.
    “Yes?” She said, then cleared her throat. “Well, yes. He’s here. Okay. I’ll put you on speaker.”
    Maeve turned and looked at him, not a sheepish look, not an embarrassed look. It was hard to pinpoint exactly. Maybe it was an amused look.
    Alice’s voice was quivering over the speakerphone. “I have bad news. The project is still on hold for now, until we find another chef.”
    “Christ, Alice, Maeve’s almost a chef,” Jackson said.
    “Yes, but she’s known as a writer. We need a food name.”
    “England is also cancelled. We’re booked on an early flight tomorrow to Mexico.”
    Maeve slumped over and pushed him farther from her. Her face became expressionless. There it was: the ice queen.
    What the hell was happening? A moment ago, she was ready. Now this? She was completely shutting herself off from him.
    He stood, wobbly, trying to will away his excitement. What a tease. What a bitch. Her whole attitude, posture, everything had suddenly changed before his eyes. What kind of a person could do that?
    Jackson gathered his equipment and clumsily slung his bag over his shoulder.
    He waited until the phone call was over to make his escape.
    What had he almost done?
    “Thanks,” he said, turning, not really looking at Maeve. “I better get going. Sorry to leave you with a bit of a mess.” He gestured to the yellowed dishes and empty wineglasses.
    “Typical man,” she said, as he opened the door to leave.
    He smiled when he shut the door. There was nothing typical about him. And she knew it.

Chapter 5
    A bit of a mess? Well, you have that right, mister, Maeve thought. What kind of a foot massage was that? The kind that sent shivers right to the center of her. Do they all do that? Or was her reaction just because it was Jackson?
    She began to clean up and called Jennifer as she was rinsing the dishes.
    “Damn,” she said.
    “Maeve? Is that you?”
    “Yes,” she