Free The Temporary Wife by Jeannie Moon

didn’t know if that was going to work, either. She liked him too much. She might hate him for what he did to her, but Jason always got to her, without fail.
    The car door thumped closed and, not wanting Molly to wake up, she wiped her hands on a dish towel and walked to the foyer.
    ***
    He hadn’t even gotten up the front steps when she pulled open the door and folded her arms. Defensive. Great. Not what he needed tonight. After setting up the home office, he’d had to deal with an emergency that developed at a Hong Kong bank and had barely gotten up from his chair since. He should still have been there, handling things, but he’d wanted to see Meg. He needed to see her.
    Now she stood there, staring at him like he was toxic waste, and all he wanted to do was kiss her brainless.
    Instead, he handed her the envelope of sketches.
    “I thought you might need these if you were going to talk to Gwyneth about any changes.”
    “Thank you. Everything is fine, though. I called before dinner.”
    “Oh, good. You said you got a dress?”
    “Yes, I did. Thank you for arranging everything.”
    “My pleasure. May I come in?”
    Meg took a deep breath, like she was trying to calm herself, and stepped away from the door, carrying the envelope into the house.
    Jason took the hint to follow. He nudged the door shut with his foot. “So, do I get to see it?” he asked.
    “What?”
    “Your dress.” He had no idea why he asked—he knew she’d look gorgeous in a paper bag—but it was a way to make conversation and hopefully get them back to a friendlier place.
    “No. You’re going to have to wait.”
    “Nothing, I don’t get even a hint?”
    She dropped the envelope on the kitchen table and turned to face him.
    She was angry. At him. But in spite of that, just being in her presence sparked his desire. It was nuts, and he didn’t see how they were going to keep things platonic. If this were any other woman, he wouldn’t be reacting this way. He was reacting because it was Meg.
    “My dress is white,” she said. “And it has a little bit of lace.”
    “That’s it? Is there a picture?”
    “Yes, but you can’t see it until the wedding. It’s tradition.”
    “Honey, our marriage is anything but traditional.” He moved closer, leaned in, and whispered in her ear, loving that she sighed. “Show me.”
    “No,” she whispered back. Jason wasn’t going to let the moment get away from him, so he let his mouth travel with a brush of his lips from her ear, over her jaw, and finally he nipped at her neck. “You’re not playing fair,” she said.
    “I’ve never played fair with you. Ever.” He kept nuzzling until he drew another sigh from her. “I’m sorry about what happened today with Owen and Nate.”
    “Everything that happened was a long time ago, but I won’t lie. It hurt to be reminded that I was never good enough.”
    “You were good enough. I wasn’t. If it’s any consolation, my friends think I was a prick. They got a kick out of the picture you brought.”
    “Did they?”
    He nodded. “Why did you bring it?”
    He looked down, and Meg was doing her best not to make eye contact, but he could see the light flush in her cheeks. “I thought you might like it. I don’t know. It will, ah, lend some credibility to the story.”
    Jason stepped back, giving himself some space to look at her face, and that’s when he had his own reality check. She was still hurt; it was right in front of him. All these years and the wounds were still there, still part of her. He was sure she’d moved on in most ways, but the events with his family, having to deal with him again, must have brought it all back to the surface. This was going to be rough.
    Meg looked up at him through the veil of her lashes, and a ball of desire formed at his core.
    God, she is beautiful.
    “Jason?” She might be annoyed and hurt, but Megan could read him like a book, which was what she was doing now. Her voice held the question of what this