Chapter Eighteen

Meg got to her feet. “Laura, what the hell is he doing here?”

Following him into the kitchen, Laura started to scoop papers off the table and shove them in her bag. “After you disappeared from the party on Saturday we talked. Where did you go anyway?”

“I had a headache.”

Michael grinned at her. “Your little friend Sam, too?”

Meg chose to ignore him. “Laura, we are not giving him a job.”

“Hey, I deserve a chance the same as the next man. You might at least interview me before you make your decision.”

Laura lifted her bag off the chair. “She will.”

“Me? What the fuck?”

“I need to go and deliver leaflets so we can get some customers.” Laura waved a bunch of leaflets in Michael’s direction then in Meg’s. “Of the two of us, you’re the most qualified to interview him.”

“What does that mean?”

“You were our inspiration, remember. Now I have to go.”

Before Meg could come up with another reason why Laura should stay, or why he should go, Laura disappeared out the front door, slamming it shut behind her. She was alone with Michael Monaghan.

Without waiting for an invitation, he pulled out a chair and sat down, crossing his legs out in front of him.

“So, Maggie, what do you want to know?”

She hated being alone with him. She didn’t fancy him, not at all. With his dark hair and dark eyes he was the exact opposite of Sam. They were both toned from working out, as evidenced by the rippling pecs beneath his skin tight t-shirt, but Michael Monaghan was not the sort to watch chick flicks, share her love for Ben & Jerry, or care whether his partner had a good time in bed. So why did the memory of him butt naked keep creeping into her mind?

From the smirk on his face she guessed he had a fair idea what was going on in her head, either that or he knew something about what she’d been up to with Sam. No he couldn’t, no one could, other than getting caught by her dad, they’d been discreet. Now he was sitting in her kitchen, she figured the only way to get rid of him was to go through the motions and reject his application. She had no idea what to ask, she needed some time to get her shit together.

“You want a drink before we start?”

He shrugged. “What’s on offer? How about a beer?”

“How about a coffee?”

“I’ll take it.”

Meg refilled her mug and made a cup for Michael. She took a seat on the other side of the table and tried not to fidget.

He added milk and sugar and slowly stirred his drink. “So, Maggie, where do you want to start?”

She had no freakin’ idea. If Laura had warned her she would have thought of some questions or, more likely, left home.

“How about I start by telling you what Laura told me about your business venture?”

Meg nodded, happy to be given time to think. “Sure, what do you know about the job?”

“Well, let me see. Apparently you’re looking to find men who know how to make women feel special. Help them buy new clothes, learn to dress, take them out to dinner, and generally give them a good time.”

She glanced up and he winked at her. Despite her best efforts, her cheeks flushed.

“Now let’s assume that, like Laura said, you were the inspiration for the business. If you hired me to make you feel special I would start by getting you out of those track pants and oversized men’s t-shirts, and into something figure hugging and slinky to show off your beautiful jugs.”

Jugs? No man had ever referred to her boobs as jugs. Certainly no man had ever said he wanted to see her in anything figure hugging, other than Sam. He loved her in outfits she wouldn’t wear for anyone else.

Michael clearly had no idea how to dress a woman. She would look like a hooker and most discerning clients would wallop him around the ears with their purses for the jugs comment.

He focused on her boobs, and even though they were behind a fortress of brushed cotton and a sensible and very unattractive sports bra, she suddenly felt exposed. She cleared her throat, searching her scrambled brain for a question. “Don’t you have a job already?”

He stretched his arms above his head, revealing a flat stomach lightly dusted with dark hair. She glanced at him but was not going to stare, no way, nope. When she glanced back at his face his grin had spread so wide she could’ve counted his teeth.

“To answer your question, yes, I work at a bar but I thought it was time to expand my horizons and cash in on my God given talents.”

Meg snorted. “God given talents, I bet Father Murphy would love to hear you refer to them as that.”

“What can I say? You need to work with what you’re given. It’s hardly my fault if God gave me a great body and an eye for the ladies. I’d be happy to give you a workout so you can see me at my best.”

Folding her arms, Meg tried to shove the vision of his bare arse rising and falling above her prone sister from her mind. “I’ve heard all about your best.”

“I bet you have, but how do you know if it’s all talk and no substance unless you take me for a trial run yourself? I’d be happy to oblige.”

Dear God in heaven, had he just offered to fuck her? Was this what he did at all his job interviews? Did it work? No way. No way would she ever become a notch in Michael Monaghan’s belt. She might have been tempted before she started sleeping with Sam but now she was nowhere near desperate enough.

“Did Sian give you the flick?”

“I’m not dating your sister. I met her at work the other night and she needed someone to take to the party. She didn’t think it wise to bring Sandra Baker, and I figured it would be fun to see your ma’s reaction.”

“Sandra Baker? Isn’t she gay?”

“Absolutely.”

“I don’t get it?”

“You want me to draw you a picture? And there I was thinking you were sexually adventurous, at least you seemed to be when I walked through the kitchen Saturday afternoon on my way to the bathroom.”

Oh, please he couldn’t have seen them. “The kitchen?”

“You and your little flat mate were going at it like a couple of randy dogs. The boy sure did seem to be giving you a good time.” Michael leaned forward and grinned at her. “And I was thinking Sian was the one most likely to make your ma blush. You’re a dark horse, Maggie Riley.”

The air in the kitchen was stifling. Interview or not, he needed to go. Getting to her feet, she folded her arms tight across her chest.

“Okay, well if we need you we’ll be in touch.”

He stood and grinned at her. “I don’t think I’ve had a chance to sell myself yet.”

Sell himself? What did he think this was, a Tupperware party? “I’ve seen enough.”

“No you haven’t, not nearly enough.” Slowly, he unzipped his jeans. Despite her brain yelling ‘get him the fuck out’, her mouth wouldn’t open. Not only had her voice gone on vacation but her eyes decided to stop following orders and instead followed the actions of his fingers as he unbuckled his belt, popped the snap on his jeans and pulled out his cock. Oh my, he was no pencil dick.

Swallowing, she stepped backward as he moved toward her, pushing his jeans down over his hips. “So, Maggie, as you can see I have the necessary equipment and it’s all in good working order.”

Squashed up against the cupboard, she had nowhere to go. Before she could find an escape route, he grabbed the back of her head and covered her lips with his own. She fisted her hands in his shirt and tried to shove him off, refusing to respond to his warm mouth and probing tongue. When his left hand grabbed her breast she shoved him harder, making him step backwards.

“Get off me.”

Her eyes flicked to his cock, which now stood proudly to attention. Apparently, God had blessed him. Fully erect, he was a purple, pulsating sight to behold, no wonder women fell into bed with him.

The sound of the front door slamming brought her to her senses.

“Meg? Where are you? You want to take a shower?”