Free Temptation's Kiss by Sandra Brown

she couldn't speak. Why wasn't she casting aspersions on him? She should be lambasting him with every insult her mind could compose.
    Instead she sat flustered and mute as he backed slowly away from her and sat down on the sofa once again.
    “That's the main reason I wanted to see you today. To apologize. I'm here like this”—he indicated his clothing—“because one of my agents called me while I was at the gym. I thought you should know what he told me right away.”
    The portentousness in his voice alarmed her. She hadn't heard such grave tones since the day he had called her at home and told her to come to the hospital right away. Her husband was in the emergency room fighting for his life.
    “What is it, Josh?” Unconsciously she spoke his name with the intimacy of a valued friend, a … lover.
    “As you know, one of our major accounts is the Dixieland food-store chain.” She nodded. “They're threatening to pull all their advertising off your station and divide it up between your competitors.”
    “What?” She gasped, knowing immediately the importance of what Josh had told her. Dixieland grocery stores ran television commercials throughout the day and night. Losing their advertising dollars would cause a vacuum in the budget that would be difficult, if not impossible, to fill.
“Why?”
    “Barnes,” he said tersely. “Megan, I wouldn't trouble you with this if I thought their complaints were petty. Were this an isolated case, I'd take Dixieland's promotion man to dinner and convince him that pulling their commercials off WONE would be a stupid move. You'd never have to know about it.” He stopped suddenly, as if realizing he'd revealed more than he'd intended.
    “You've done that before, haven't you?” she demanded, her face paling. “Run interference to protect me?”
    “I … it—”
    “Haven't you?” she asked again, impatiently.
    “Yes,” he admitted reluctantly. “But that's no more than I do for every sales manager of every television station all over the South. I smooth ruffled feathers all day. That comes with my territory. So don't go all defensive on me, okay? I've done for you what I've done for many others.”
    Her back was still ramrod-straight and her chin still at a haughty angle, but she said, “Go on.”
    He studied her for a long time. If she hadn't known him so well, known the kind of man he was, she might have thought his expression was wistful. His eyes scanned her hair, her face, her throat. He looked at the rosebud ensconced between her breasts for long moments. Finally he raised his eyes to hers again, and cleared his throat.
    “As I was saying, if this were an isolated case, I'd let it pass. But this is the third time this week I've heard a complaint about WONE. Barnes handles each of those three accounts.”
    Megan picked up her telephone and punched three numbers. “I need to see you. Now.”
    She hung up and turned back to Josh. “Thank you for telling me. I can take care of it from here.”
    “I'd like to stay.”
    “I'd rather you didn't.”
    “I'll stay.”
    Before she could offer another argument, Barnes was opening her door, looking very uncomfortable. “Come in.” She was upset with Barnes, but not nearly as much as she was with Josh. One minute he was presenting her with rosebuds and whispering humble apologies; the next he was interfering in her life with the cold insensitivity she had come to expect from him.
    Barnes sidled inside and closed the door behind him. He blanched visibly and wiped his palms down the sides of his pants legs when he glanced at Josh lounging on the couch. He didn't even seem to notice Josh's casual attire. “Mr. Bennett.” He nodded respectfully.
    His genuflection to Josh only heightened Megan's irritation. “All right, Barnes, let's hear it. There had better be a damn good excuse why three of Mr. Bennett's clients have complained about you this week.”
    “Three?” he squeaked.
    “Three or one, it doesn't matter,”