Free Can't Buy Me Love by Maggie Marr

beat deep within that gorgeously sweaty and well-muscled chest.
    “He’s my boss .”
    “Right, and I’m your best friend. I’m just saying you better have you’re a-game. Because if Cole puts on a full-court press, I don’t know a woman alive who could withstand that kind of pursuit.”
    “I can.” She had to. Just because Cole believed in a happily-ever-after didn’t mean he wanted one.
    “Heaven help you, lady,” Prim said. “I guess if it gets too tough you could always come and work at Metro Media with me. Ryan asked me again what you thought of his offer.”
    “I think it’s incredibly generous,” Meg said. Cole cut across the beach toward the house. “But I’m not ready to leave Comnet. At least not yet.”
    “It’s always a good thing for a girl to have choices. And girl, do you have a choice or what?”
    Cole looked toward the beach house and Meg ducked into her room. To be caught staring at a nearly naked Cole glistening with sweat would only add more confusion to an already uncomfortable situation.
    He kissed her.
    And then she kissed him back. Not only kissed him, but writhed against him like a cat in heat. She’d pressed against him, grabbed his hair, even moaned.
    Embarrassment coursed through Meg with the memory.
    “What did I do?” she wailed.
    “Shake it off, babe. You’ve got a big deal to close. Pretend it never happened.”
    “Easy for you to say, you didn’t kiss your boss.”
    “And I never will,” Prim said. “But I definitely would kiss yours.”
     
    *
     
    It was just a kiss.
    Cole’s heart pounded in his chest as he pushed himself to run harder, faster, stronger. Anything to get the thought of Meg’s lips pressed against his out of his head. The surf pounded and Cole’s feet hit the sand, beat after beat after beat. That kiss…that kiss….that damn kiss.
    Damnit. It wasn’t just a kiss.
    He’d experienced “just”-type kisses from the finest-looking women in the world. Disposable kisses that meant nothing. They served a means to an end. Like a soda on a hot day, those kisses didn’t quench your thirst—they simply slaked your parched throat for a bit.
    But Meg’s kiss? Cole raced faster across the sand. Her kiss was like clean cool water after walking through the Sahara.
    That kiss had cracked a bit of him—as if a tendril of Meg actually reached through the giant stone wall he built to surround his heart, pushed through the tiniest crack, and lodged itself there. But a tendril could be ripped from the ground. A tendril could be cut, pulled, and tossed away. She stood on the deck of the beach house and wore the daintiest of white sundresses with her cell phone pressed to her ear.
    Ache grabbed at his heart. She’d never wear such a dress to the office. Much too feminine. Much too sweet.
    Cole tore his eyes from Meg and pushed himself to run. To stop thinking about this woman. This woman was dangerous to him in every way. She made him think of forevers and commitments and possibilities that he never dreamed existed for him since he’d lost his parents and been betrayed by his uncle.
    Cole’s feet pounded up the steps to the beach house deck. He glanced once more toward Meg’s room. She’d disappeared inside. For that he was thankful. He didn’t want to see her. Didn’t trust himself. Family hurt you. People betrayed you. Better to build a higher, sturdier wall. Better to block that lovely tendril from ever finding a way into his heart.
    The deal with TBC would close tonight. Then he and Meg would return to Los Angeles and he’d give her a fabulous promotion—everything she’d ever dreamed of obtaining. And then…then…he’d block Meg from his view.
     
    *
     
    An hour later, Meg stood before the full-length mirror in her room and surveyed the brown dress she had purchased that afternoon. The color looked like wet dead leaves and washed out her fair coloring. The loose fit and empire waist covered her from the top of her neck to well below her