The Angel Tasted Temptation Read online

  Meredith glanced again in the mirror before she left Hair and Gone. It was going to take more than a night's sleep to make her look like Cameron Diaz.

  When she got back to the shop, Maria and Candace assured her they loved the haircut and that it was perfect for her face and her new look. The clothes they'd bought the day before were sassier and hipper than anything Meredith had ever owned, and once she put on one of the new outfits she had stored out back, she could at least stop sobbing.

  Maybe, in time, she'd be able to stop wearing waterproof mascara. But until her hair grew out, she wasn't taking any chances.

  Six hours later, she stood on Rebecca's front stoop, clutching her purse, and waited for Travis Campbell to come and pick her up. She wore the new outfit she'd changed into, a dark blue skirt and silky pink T-shirt. She'd fiddled with her hair until she was afraid she was going to go bald, all to no avail.

  No matter how much she strove for City Girl, Meredith was sure she came off looking more like Country Gone Wrong.

  A silver convertible slid into the parking space in front of her. Travis sat behind the wheel, his dark hair a bit windblown from the topless ride.

  Heat smoldered within her at the sight of him. He was more man than any man she'd ever met before, certainly sexier than the boys who'd been in her high school.

  They had been boys. Inexperienced in the world, and in knowing what made a woman tick.

  Travis was a M-A-N.

  He parked the car, slid out of the seat and came around to face her. "I wasn't sure you'd be here."

  In jeans, with a battered black leather jacket over a white T-shirt that stretched across the planes of his chest, Travis looked like an ad for sex.

  Oh, Lord. This was more than she'd bargained for. Meredith let go of her purse. It hit against her hip, the strap tugging against her shoulder, a dead weight reminding her of what was inside. Was she up to this? Could she really go through with it?

  Besides, would Travis even want to sleep with a woman who now looked like the long-lost third member of Wham!?

  He took a step toward her, reaching up and touching her hair. "I like this," he said, lifting the ends and releasing them in a flutter against her neck.

  "You like my haircut? I thought it was awful."

  He tick-tocked a finger at her. "Never argue with a man who's telling you that you look beautiful."

  "But—"

  "But nothing. It's a wonderful change." He touched the ends again, allowing the tendrils to slide through the first two fingers of his hand like silky ribbons. Beneath his touch, her hair felt a thousand percent feminine. Sexy. Like a weapon she could use for seduction.

  From somewhere in the ether, Meredith swore she heard Brigitte Bardot whisper, "I told you so."

  "And best of all," Travis went on, still toying with the ends of her hair, "it lets me see those eyes of yours." He tiptoed his touch up her cheek to circle her gaze. "Those eyes, that say so much and hide even more."

  Heat quivered in her belly, snaking through her veins. "I'm not hiding anything."

  "Oh yes, you are, Meredith. But telling me would mean getting close, and you don't want to do that, do you?"

  Oh she wanted to get close right now. Very close. Skin-to-skin close. But not the kind of close he meant. The kind where she opened her heart and let him in. That would mean a relationship and where Meredith came from, there was only one reason for a relationship.

  A ring.

  She didn't want one of those. And she didn't want any loose ends left here in Boston when she returned to Heavendale. "No, I don't want to do that," she said finally.

  "Uh-huh." A smile crossed his lips. "Then we're perfect for each other because I'm the last man on earth who should have a relationship with a woman."

  She opened her mouth to ask him about that, then shut it again. That would be going down the very road she'd vowed not to take. Nope. Meredith was only interested in the highway. None of those traditional detours for her.

  She pushed a smile to her face. A wind gusted past and tangled in her hair, whipping it against her cheeks. "Well, shall we go to a hotel?"

  Get it over with, quick, before she changed her mind.

  His smile widened. "A woman who says shall," he said softly. "No, we won't be going to a hotel right now."

  "But—but—" That was the agreement. That was all she wanted. Not to look at him and think how nice he'd look sitting on a porch swing beside her, sipping lemonade and complaining about the summer heat but meaning something else.

  He took a step closer, his hand reaching up to brush the hair out of her face. "Don't be in such a rush, Meredith. Savor the anticipation."

  She stepped back, breaking the contact. He was messing up the plan. "I don't need to be wooed, Travis. You don't have to make me anticipate anything."

  He shook his head. "Sorry, but I have other plans for you."

  "Other plans?" The words came out in a squeak.

  "Do you trust me?"

  "Trust you? I don't even know you."

  He pressed his right hand against her abdomen. Heat raced through her, as if he'd tossed a match into her gut."Here, Meredith. That's where you find trust."

  "That's also where you'll find the chicken I had for dinner."

  "Chicken? When you're in Boston?" He shook his head. "Seems a shame, when you're surrounded by the best seafood in the world."

  "I stick to safe meals. You can get food poisoning from undercooked shellfish."

  "And salmonella from chicken and trichinosis from pork." Travis took her hand and tugged her toward his car. He leaned forward and opened the passenger's side door for her. "Come on, live a little dangerously, Meredith."

  "I am living dangerously. I'm meeting you and asking you to ... well..."

  Unwrap a little foil with her? Hop in the sack and do the horizontal mambo with her? That sounded too crass, so Meredith let the words trail off.

  Travis grinned. "I never do that on an empty stomach."

  She slid into the seat and looked up at him. His eyes were such a deep green, like roasted spearmint leaves. "If you eat a full meal first won't you get stomach cramps?"

  He laughed as he shut her door, then came around the car and slid in beside her. "It's not swimming, Meredith. You're okay to enter the shark-infested waters with me anytime."

  That was an image that only inflamed the heat inside her. Swimming with him. Naked. Water running down that hard body, sluicing between them.

  Meredith reached forward and flipped the air conditioning on, in lieu of a cold shower.

  Travis put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb.

  "Travis, I didn't ask to be wined and dined," she said a moment later, as they wound their way out of Cambridge and through the downtown streets of Boston. "You don't have to do this."

  "I'm giving you a taste of the city. Isn't that what you want?"

  "Well, maybe a small taste since it is my first time here. And then—"

  "And then we'll get to tasting what you wanted. I promise."

  His grin sent another shiver of heat through her, despite the cold air blowing on her skin. And, damn him, it also gave her a little thrill of anticipation and joy that he'd planned something, rather than rushing off to the first Motel 6 he found that had left the light on.

  Damn him, she thought again. He'd gone and put penguins in the chicken coop of her plan. All she wanted was an end to her virginity, not a date who showed up every Friday night with a spray of mums and a bottle of zin ... and an expectation that the Friday nights would never end. She'd had that with Caleb and it had been a dead end.

  Literally.

  City women didn't settle down with morticians into wedded bliss. They lived their lives without much care for consequences or other people's opinions. And they didn't need a full stomach to do it.

  Clearly, Travis had no intentions of following her plan. Well, she'd just have to get him back on track— if she had to drag him there herself.

  A few mi
nutes later, they were in a part of Boston that Meredith recognized as located not far from Gift Baskets. Travis zigzagged along the small streets, then parallel parked along one so narrow, Meredith couldn't imagine it fitting more than one car at a time. Buildings on either side abutted each other like conjoined twins centered by a cobblestone road and stone sidewalks.

  Meredith got out of the car and pivoted on the sidewalk, taking in the sights and sounds. Everywhere she went in Boston, it seemed as if each area was unique unto itself, sprinkled with its own flavor. "Where are we?"

  "Quincy Market, home of Faneuil Hall Marketplace."

  From down the street, she heard the raucous sounds of a party spilling out of a bar. "It's very different from what I'm used to. I've never seen so many businesses in one place."

  "Actually it used to be a lot more like Indiana than you think. Quincy Market started out as an open-air food market back when the Puritans arrived."

  "I can't imagine that."

  "Just a block or so away at Haymarket Square, they still have the food market on Fridays and Saturdays. The charm of the marketplace, though, is all in the food. Almost every taste for every kind of person." He grinned and gestured toward a long, tall masonry and glass building. "There's a great restaurant here that I want to take you to. The Salty Dog."

  "Salty... Dog?"

  "Sailor's term, not canine cuisine."

  She smiled. "That's a relief. I had to wonder if we were dining on dog biscuits tonight."

  Travis chuckled. "Usually it's my exes who are sending me the dog biscuits. And more often than not, I suppose I deserve them."

  Again, another comment that begged Meredith to probe a little deeper, to ask a little more. She glanced at him and wondered how other women could find him so horrible. Had they not seen the Travis she'd seen in Slim Pickin's?

  Or was she so blinded by her goal that she was missing some fundamental flaw in Travis's character?

  Meredith reminded herself that it didn't matter. She didn't need a saint to help her shed her virginity. And, she suspected, a saint wouldn't be much good at it anyway.

  They walked along the street and then crossed it to enter the bustling marketplace. Dozens of shops lined the glass fronts of the building. Ann Taylor, Coach, Crate & Barrel.

  Meredith made a mental note to come back here again. With more time and her Visa card.

  She and Travis strolled along close enough to touch, yet he didn't take her hand, nor did she take his. Her fingers brushed against his when her arm swung forward and an ache of want for the feel of his palm in hers surged through her.

  No. She wouldn't go there. She wasn't here for hand-holding. Especially not hand-holding. Her experience in Boston was designed to give her more independence, more confidence. Not more dependence on anyone.

  "Where we are used to be the edge of Boston Harbor," Travis said as they walked along, as if he, too, wanted to change the subject from the simmering heat that ran between them.

  "Really? But I thought the water is still quite some distance from here."

  The lights were coming on as twilight turned to dusk. Christmas lights twinkled in the trees in the center of the plaza area while tall black poles with clusters of globe bulbs illuminated the brick and stone walkways. It cast everything with a magical glow, something that might have had Meredith feeling romantic.

  Had this been anything other than what it was.

  "As Boston grew," Travis went, "they brought in dirt and created more space. Quincy Market was the commerce center." He gestured down the end of the marketplace, toward an impressive white stone building with three wide columns supporting the large overhanging roof.

  They built all this from nothing?"

  He nodded. "It's amazing how you can change something from simple to elaborate when you want to."

  "It's beautiful," Meredith said, spinning in place. And it was. The buildings were bustling with sound and people, the music carrying from each door adding a festive air. The entire place seemed rich, infused with flavors, as if she could taste it and ingest some of that city life.

  People strolled from shop to shop, laughing and chatting, their conversation sparkling as much as the lights overhead. Benches peppered the cobblestone walks, a few decorated by bronze figurines seated as silent companions to those who visited.

  "Sometimes simple is better, too, though," Travis said. "It's busy here in the city. And noisy. A lot of people leave it for the country."

  Meredith laughed. "I can't imagine why. If I lived here, I'd never leave."

  He laughed. "You'll feel differently after a while. The grass is always greener on the other side of I-93."

  Had he always lived here, in Massachusetts? And what would make anyone want to leave? Meredith wondered again about Travis Campbell and bit back the urge to get to know him more.

  They arrived at a small restaurant, its bright blue canopy and matching umbrellas heralding the outside cafe-style tables. True to Travis's word, the name "Salty Dog Seafood Grille & Bar" circled the logo in the center of the awning. The scent of the ocean drifted from the kitchen, along with steam and the citrusy smell of lemon.

  "Do you want to sit outside?" he asked.

  The weather was still warm and Meredith nodded, not wanting to be inside just yet, craving more of the magical environment around them.

  They waited a few minutes before being seated at one of the tables along the edge of the restaurant's outdoor seating area. Meredith propped her chin in her hand and watched the people come and go. Coffee, cookies and seafood scents carried on the air with the hum of conversations. An elderly couple sat silently on one of the black benches, holding hands and watching the shoppers come and go.

  For a second, Meredith felt a twinge of envy for the old couple. To sit like that with someone after fifty years of marriage, hands clasped, with no need for conversation.

  Or, had they simply run out of things to say to each other after all those years? Was it like those last few dates with Caleb, where it seemed they'd run through every subject and had nothing left to fill the long silences except small talk?

  "Tell me, Meredith," Travis said, drawing her attention to him. He'd lowered his menu to the table, his hands flat on top of it. "Why did you choose me? Was I the first warm male body in the bar?"

  She smiled. "There were other men there."

  "Okay then, the first warm male body that wasn't drunk?"

  "No. Well... yes."

  He cocked a grin at her. "That's not exactly the best way to stroke my fragile male ego."

  "I doubt anything about you is fragile." The words, so much bolder than anything she'd ever said to a man before, were out before she could stop them. A thought, vocalized, and all because she hadn't been able to tear her gaze from his biceps.

  "My, my Meredith. You're not always the shy farmer's daughter, are you?"

  "Until a few days ago, I was." She stirred at her water with the straw. The lemon slice danced with the ice cubes, swirling a flash of yellow into the clear liquid.

  "What changed a few days ago?"

  "Me mostly. I got on a plane to Boston and decided to change my life."

  "And I'm part of that plan?"

  She thought of the condoms in her purse, of the vow she'd made to change everything about herself, from her clothing to her virginity, and nodded.

  "You didn't answer my question. Why me? Did I win eenie-meenie-miny-moe against Kenny?"

  She laughed. "No, not at all." Meredith toyed with her silverware for a moment, then decided answering him was only fair. "When I saw you in the bar, smoothing things over with the bartender for Mike, calling him a cab, calming him down about his dog ... You seemed like a nice guy."

  He snorted. "You don't know me that well."

  "Yet."

  His gaze met hers. Something smoldered in those dark green depths, something she'd never seen before when a man looked at her. Something that scared her, and excited her, and told her the roller-coaster she'd boarded had
twists and turns she couldn't see.

  Travis swallowed and looked away before Meredith could figure out where the next bend might be on the ride. "Listen, you're a nice girl," he said. "You really don't want to get involved with a guy like me."

  "Why?"

  "Because I'm not the kind of guy a girl like you deserves."

  She let out a gust and pushed her menu to the side of the table. "Why don't you let me decide that? I'm tired of everyone else choosing what's good for me. All my life, everyone has told me what decisions to make and I've gone along with it. Because I'm a good girl." She air-quoted that with her fingers. "Well, I'm tired of being the good girl. Now I want someone who can teach me how to be bad."

  When she said the words, she caught his gaze again and left no doubt of her meaning. Ever since she'd met Travis Campbell, she'd wanted him, and the more he pulled away, the more she wanted to reel him back in, like a stubborn bull that refused to be penned. He was the right man for what she wanted. She knew it, deep in her gut and deep inside the parts of her that had lain as dormant as onions in a cellar until the night he'd walked into Slim Pickin's.

  "Meredith, Boston is a city that... well, that does funny things to people. It's not like New York or LA or hell, Dallas. People here can get swept up in the quirkiness of the place and do things they'd never do anywhere else."

  "Are you saying I'm not thinking straight?"

  "Yeah."

  "You're wrong. I know exactly what I'm doing and what I want." She took in a deep breath and decided she'd prove that to him, and herself. Meredith got to her feet, skirted the table and stopped beside his chair. Before she could think twice, she cupped Travis's face with her hands, drew him to her, and kissed him.

  She didn't kiss him like she'd kissed Caleb. Or any of the fumbling boys who'd taken her to school dances and football games. She let her instincts guide her, allowing those primal calls she'd always ignored to be heard. Her tongue darted in to meet his, tasting and teasing, asking him to come out and play. When he did, a grenade launched itself in her pelvis, turning on switches she hadn't even known existed.