Arriving home from a day full of meetings, Jackson found himself anticipating the moment he’d see Meghan with a feeling that was damn near excitement. This morning’s kiss had been just a taste of things to come, and he couldn’t wait to spend the night with her. Tonight, he meant to claim her. To finally have what he’d yearned for all those years ago.

He walked into the living room and froze. “Wow,” he said softly.

Meghan glided one hand over the slinky white dress she was wearing, her expression uncertain. “Is this okay?”

Some of her dreadlocks were curled into a complicated pattern behind her head, while others hung loose over her shoulders. She had a cascade of stars tattooed across her upper arm, and they shimmered with sparkles the stylist must have applied. Her eyes were ringed with makeup as smoky as her voice, and her lips were a deep shade of red.

“You’re stunning.” The word wasn’t enough to describe how she looked, but the sight of her seemed to have knocked any eloquence out of his head, so it would have to do.

She gave him a grateful half smile, though her brow was still creased. “It’s not exactly subtle. I only hope the place won’t be full of stuffy businessmen in suits.”

“Does it matter if it is? That dress is even better than last night’s one. And it’s high praise for anything to be better than bacon.”

“I’ve always had bad experiences with businessmen. I’ve never met one I liked.”

“I’m a businessman.”

“You’re a musician, and you always will be, even if you refuse to play your guitar.”

The words made him feel almost painfully wistful, even as he smiled. It was probably the best compliment she could give, and it had stirred a sharp pang of nostalgia, making him wish for the life he’d given up all those years ago.

He offered her his arm. When she stepped forward to take it, he saw her dress was backless, dipping almost to the curve of her tempting ass. And judging from the outline of her breasts, she was braless. From every angle, there was some part of her he itched to run his hands over.

Tonight would be a long night until they got home. But the anticipation was a pleasure in itself. It would mean that making love to her would be even better, when it finally happened.

“We’re taking the limo again?” she asked as he led her outside.

“Unless you’d prefer to try one of my other cars.”

“The limo’s fine. It’s easy to get in and out of while I’m wearing a tight dress.”

“So,” he said, when they were settled in the back of the limo on their way to the party. “Besides disliking businessmen, do you have other aversions?”

“Nope. Just businessmen and ex-boyfriends. I should get on okay with everyone else, I hope.” She crossed her fingers and gave him a smile that looked a little nervous. “What about you? Anyone you don’t like?”

“Liars,” he said, without needing to think about it. “And people who treat me as a meal ticket, just because I have money.”

She frowned. “I hope you don’t put me in that category because you’re paying me to go to parties with you.”

“That’s a business agreement. It’s different.”

“Good.” But her frown didn’t disappear as she studied him, and he could tell she wanted to ask who had treated him that way.

Instead of elaborating, he turned the conversation to music, asking for her thoughts on some new songs he’d been listening to. He was counting on her finding it an irresistible subject, and he wasn’t disappointed.

When they arrived at the conference center, the party was already crowded. Walking in, plenty of heads turned to look at Meghan. She walked stiffly, her back straight and her head high.

“Told you I wouldn’t fit in,” she whispered. “There are way too many stuffy suits in here.”

“Relax. They’re only admiring how stunning you look.”

She grimaced. “At least there’s a band instead of a DJ.”

The band was playing quietly, and what Jackson mostly heard was the hubbub of a hundred or so people all networking their asses off. If time suddenly froze, he could probably run around the room and snatch at least forty business cards out of the air, caught in the act of being presented.

“I’ll point out the woman I want you to talk to.” He peered through the crowd. “This way.”

“Your friend’s over there. What’s his name again?”

He followed her gaze across the room to Derrick’s frowning face. No doubt the fact Jackson had turned up with Meghan had given his operations manager that sour look.

“Don’t worry about him. There’s the woman you’ll be entertaining, in the black dress.” Jackson made his way through the crowd to the man he’d come to meet, and introduced Meghan to the telco boss and his wife.

Meghan shook their hands, then nodded to the woman’s protruding stomach. “Congratulations. First one?” she asked with a smile.

“Yes, it is.” The woman put both hands on her baby bump. “Do you have any kids?”

“Me? Hell no. Thank goodness.” Meghan’s answer was so emphatic, Jackson wasn’t sure whether to laugh or groan. Judging by the offended looks the woman and her husband exchanged, probably the latter. “I couldn’t play guitar over a stomach like yours,” Meghan added. “And there’s no way I’d be able to stop drinking for nine months.”

Jackson took her arm. Maybe he could yank Meghan away before she could do any more damage. Or perhaps he could pass her rudeness off as a joke.

“You play guitar?” asked the woman. Her smile was fixed and her eyes glinted. This hadn’t been such a great idea after all. Sticking with a date from his black book would have been a safer bet.

“I’m a singer.” Catching her lower lip between her teeth, Meghan shot Jackson a look that told him she knew she was messing this up. “What do you do?” she asked.

“I’m preparing for our new arrival.”

“Oh. Well, I can relate to that.”

The woman’s eyebrows rose. “You can?”

“I know it’s nothing like getting ready to bring a baby into the world,” Meghan said. “But when I’m writing a new song, I feel like I’m creating something really special. Something bigger than I am, that’s going to have a whole other life outside of me. When I’m writing, I feel like I’m more, somehow, than the person I am when I’m just doing ordinary things.” She leaned in a little, dropping her voice to make their conversation more intimate. “I imagine being pregnant must be like that, only multiplied by a hundred. Tell me, am I right? I’d love to hear how it feels for you.”

The woman’s smile lost its stiffness. “That’s such a beautiful way to put it. I hadn’t thought of it like that, but you’re right. It’s a special time.”

Her husband looked a little dreamy, as though Meghan had made him want to get knocked up too. Jackson nodded to the man. “Let’s step away for a few minutes to talk about how your company can get in on the ground floor with my new technology.”

The telco boss touched his wife’s back to get her attention. “Will you be okay if I move to a quieter corner, darling? We won’t be long.”

His wife waved him away, already engrossed in her conversation, and Jackson gave Meghan a nod. After a shaky start, that had been a brilliant save. If only it hadn’t made him think of the song he’d written all those years ago. The one that had kicked off the chain of events which led to him leaving the band and his home behind. And Meghan, too.

But it had been a long time since he’d dredged up those painful memories. They should stay safely buried, where they belonged.

He led the man to a couple of chairs out in the quiet of the lobby. It took them close to an hour to talk through the opportunities, but finally they shook hands. “I’ll get a rough outline of a contract to you tomorrow,” promised Jackson. “We can start discussing the finer points at tomorrow night’s dinner, if you’ve had a chance to read through it by then.”

When they went back to join the women, Meghan and the man’s wife had moved to sit in a couple of chairs at the side of the room, but they were still talking. His wife threw back her head and laughed at something Meghan had said. Good. Meghan had earned her money.

“There you are, Jackson.” Derrick’s sour voice came from behind him as his operations manager joined their group of four. “And you brought a date.”

“You remember Meghan, I assume?” asked Jackson, turning.

Derrick had a glass of whiskey in his hand. Shit. It was when he was drinking that he got most bitter about how his ex-wife had shafted him.

“How could I forget?” Derrick shot Meghan a narrow-eyed look. “The impoverished musician who was sleeping in her car.”

As Meghan’s cheeks went pink, Jackson fought a flush of anger. His operations manager was being intentionally rude, and now Jackson would have to tell him to back off in front of the telco boss he’d just made a deal with.

Meghan beat him to it. She stood up and gave Derrick a sweet smile. “Speaking of my car, did you get it fixed yet?”

The balding man’s lip curled. “I run an international technology company. I don’t fix cars.”

“Oh? I thought Jackson asked you to get my car repaired.”

Derrick’s face reddened. He was about to drain the last of his whisky when Jackson stepped forward and grabbed his arm, pulling him away.

“Have a glass of water instead,” Jackson said into Derrick’s ear. “Before you embarrass yourself any further.”

The telco and his wife were both frowning as they watched Jackson lead Derrick away. His operations manager had clearly made a bad impression on them.

Derrick lowered his own voice. “She’s not who you think she is.” The whisky fumes in his breath made Jackson angle his face away. “It’s the pretty ones you have to watch out for, like my bitch of an ex-wife. I gave her everything, and she threw it back in my face. You can’t trust her, Jackson. She’ll lie to you as easily as breathing.”

Jackson frowned. Meghan was nothing like Derrick’s ex-wife. And his bitterness was starting to make his operations manager a liability. “Go home, Derrick. Take a couple of days off. You’ve been working too hard. You need a break.”

Derek gave a snort. “Yeah, right. Like I can take time off. Maybe after the release, when the projector goes into full production.”

“It’s not a suggestion. Take some time completely away from work. Don’t turn on your phone or check your e-mail. Play some golf, or watch some movies. Whatever. I don’t want to see you again until Wednesday, at the earliest.”

Derrick’s head jerked back. “You’re serious? But I can’t take time off now. It’s the last day of the conference tomorrow, and there’s the dinner tomorrow night. I was going to talk to—”

“I’ll handle it.” Jackson took the man’s forgotten glass of whisky out of his hand before it landed on their shoes. “I don’t need you for tomorrow’s meetings, and I’m taking Meghan to the dinner.”

“You’re taking…? What?” Spittle flew from the man’s lips. “That little nobody can’t stand in for me. You haven’t told her anything, have you? Jackson, you can’t trust her. And she sure as hell can’t replace me.”

“Look.” Jackson motioned to Meghan, who’d drawn the telco and his wife’s attention back to her. Both were laughing at something she’d said. “She’s doing what I need her to do, and you’re not. So, have a glass of water, make your apologies to anyone you’d set up a meeting with, and go home.”

Derrick shook his head. “I’ve worked my ass off to get our new projector ready for release. I have everything riding on this.”

“Exactly why you need to step back. You’re blowing it, Derrick. I can’t say it any plainer than that. This event is about playing nice and charming prospective business partners. Right now, all I see is an angry drunk.”

“Did she put this idea into your head? Can’t you see she’s playing you?”

“She’s not playing me. Meghan and I have an arrangement.”

“What kind of arrangement?”

“A financial one. Clear and well defined.” He stepped back. “Sober up and get a taxi home.”

Derrick caught his sleeve. His face was purple and his chest heaved. “Okay, I’ll get a glass of water. You’re right, I shouldn’t have started on the whisky. But tomorrow, I’ll come to—”

“You’re not coming to the conference. I’ll see you Wednesday. And I don’t want to have this conversation with you again.”

Jackson shook him off and moved back to Meghan. He joined in the conversation for a few minutes, then excused them both so he could guide Meghan to another group of party guests, and then another. She handled each introduction well, and Jackson noted the appreciative gaze of the males in the room with a feeling he couldn’t quite categorize. Pride? A little. Possessiveness? Yeah, maybe. Jealousy? Surely not.

Still, when she got too deep in conversation with a good-looking Silicon Valley hotshot, he found himself slipping an arm around Meghan’s waist. The hotshot got the hint, taking a step back. Meghan raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised by his touch.

“Let’s dance,” Jackson said, his voice gruff. He led her to the empty dance floor. The three-piece male band were playing something slow, the singer crooning into the microphone. Taking Meghan in his arms, he couldn’t quite believe she still smelled of chewing gum and old leather, as though the scent had sunk into her skin when they were at high school and stayed there.

Dancing had its pros and cons. He had her all to himself. But inhaling her scent, pressed against her silky curves, his arousal spiked. He wanted to bury himself inside her. To hear that rasp in her voice deepen with pleasure. To make her come into his mouth and against his hand. To feel her clench around him when she shuddered with pleasure.

“Derrick’s an asshole,” she said, her mind obviously on a completely different topic.

Jackson grunted, dragging his mind away from his imaginings with an effort. “He thinks you’re a corporate spy.”

“A what?”

“Forget it. Even before his wife left, he wasn’t the trusting type. Now he’s decided women are the enemy. It’s not personal.” Dropping his hand into the curve of her bare lower back, he let his annoyance with Derrick go. The man’s bitterness wouldn’t ruin his night. Besides, there was no room in his brain for anything but the feel of Meghan in his arms.

“The singer’s good,” she murmured.

“Not as good as you.”

She moved her head back to give him a twisted smile. “Singing is all I’ve ever wanted to do. Tell me, is it crazy to stick to the same dream, even when I keep failing?”

“You’ve had some bad luck, that’s all.”

“But we started off well, didn’t we? All those good reviews for our band. Maybe we should start it back up.” He narrowed his eyes, and she laughed. “Okay, I know you don’t play anymore. Can’t blame a girl for trying, though, can you?”

She moved her head beside his so her ear was close to his mouth. Arcing around its curve was a line of tiny, silver, musical note earrings. “What do you think might have happened if you hadn’t left?” Her voice held a wistful note. “Would you have stayed with the band?”

He pushed back her dreadlocks to expose the soft skin of her neck. If they weren’t in a public place, he’d kiss under her lobe and make her shiver.

“Probably.” He didn’t want to think about the night he left. There were much nicer things to contemplate. Like how soon he should take her home to continue their unfinished business from this morning.

“Then you wouldn’t be so rich.”

“I would. Because you’d be more successful than Adele.”

She gave a low, throaty laugh. Its husky note turned it into the sexiest laugh he’d ever heard. It sounded like she was brushing velvet against his ear. “We’d be more like No Doubt. A band, not a solo artist.” She leaned her face against his shoulder, angled toward him.

His hand was on her back, and with her dress cut so low, he could run it a long way down and only feel bare skin. Was it any wonder he was stiffening? She was pressed hard against him, so she must be able to feel him jutting into her.

“All you need is a little luck to go with all that hard work,” he murmured. “And you’ll find success.”

“Maybe my luck’s turning,” she whispered against his ear.

His body responded instantly to the warmth of her breath. He was so hard, he felt like he might rip right through his trousers. Not a great look in a crowded ballroom. Good thing the lights were dim.

He let his lips press against her neck while he breathed in her scent. He wanted to take her. To possess her. The need for her was so overwhelming, it was all he could think of.

When he trailed his mouth downward, she let out a breathy sound from deep in her throat. Even that outtake of air had a huskiness to it. What was it about that raspy edge that made his body react like she’d reached into his pants?

His arm tightened around her waist to pull her harder against him. Then he remembered again where they were.

“Not here.” It took everything he had to drop his arms and step away from her. “Not yet.”

Her lips parted, and she blinked as though recovering from a dream. Her eyes were half-lidded, their pools turned a deep midnight blue. Through her dress, her nipples were obvious. They were so hard he had to clench his fists to keep from reaching out to run his fingers over them.

“You want to go now?” she asked.

“Yes. But I’ll freshen up first and say goodbye to a couple of people on the way out.”

“If you’re going to the restroom, I’ll go with you. I mean, not in with you, obviously.” She gave a breathless laugh. “I’ll go to the ladies’ room and freshen up.”

He escorted her through the crowd. Thank goodness for dark suits and dim lighting. Nobody seemed to notice his awkward bulge, or the fact her nipples were leading the way forward.

The men’s and ladies’ rooms were next to each other, but when Jackson came back out of the men’s room, Meghan was nowhere in sight. He went back into the ballroom to look for her, and heard someone call his name.

He turned to see Derrick, and frowned. “What are you still doing here?”

At least his operations manager no longer had a drink in his hand, but his expression was more sour than ever.

“What you should be asking is what your date’s up to. Come with me and I’ll show you.” Derrick turned and started across the big ballroom, and after a moment, Jackson followed.

“There.” Derrick stopped and nodded to two figures standing apart from the crowd, talking in a dark corner. “Still think she’s not trying to scam you?”

Meghan had her back to them, and a tall, good-looking man was hunching to murmur in her ear. Lex Blaine. His company had competed for market share over similar products in the past, but it was Jackson’s new projector that had riled Lex the most. Jackson’s technology was miles ahead of what Lex had been working on, and the man was openly resentful.

“I told you.” Derrick sounded smug. “She’s got a slick poor-homeless-girl act and a fuckable ass, I’ll give her that. But she’s working for him. Got to be.”

Jackson’s fists clenched and heat flushed through his body. If he wasn’t so furious at Lex, he’d tell Derrick to shut his mouth and get the fuck out of here. But he was too outraged by the way Lex was touching Meghan. Lex was standing too close and had his hand on her shoulder like he was holding her in place. The asshole needed to back off. Now.

There were two ways to handle this, and he ached to choose the way that involved Lex hitting the floor with a broken nose. He stalked over to them and with a sneer, Lex pulled his attention away from Meghan. “Jackson,” he said.

Meghan jerked around. Her eyes were wide, and her cheeks flushed. “Screw you,” she spat at Lex. “Let go of me.”

“What’s going on?” Jackson demanded.

Lex raised both hands, palms facing Jackson in a gesture of surrender. He wore a cocky smirk. “Nothing. Just a misunderstanding.”

With barely a glance at Jackson, Meghan ran for the lobby.

Jackson hesitated a moment, debating whether punching Lex would be worth the scene it would no doubt cause. But it was more important to make sure Meghan was okay. He went after her, but didn’t catch up until she was on the sidewalk outside the conference center. “Where are you going?” He had to grab her arm to stop her from rushing off into the night.

“That guy’s an asshole.” She was looking around, as though picking a direction to head in. “I’m sorry, Jackson. I think this was a mistake. I have to go.”

“Go where? You can’t wander the streets.”

“I don’t know.” She dragged in a deep breath, and when she spoke again, her voice was calmer. “This sucks. I hate not having any money. I can’t even storm off properly, can I? I’ve got nowhere to go.”

“Call my car,” he said to the doorman. Every muscle in his body was tight, but he managed to keep the anger that still boiled inside him out of his voice. “Come on,” he said to Meghan. “Let’s go home.”

His driver pulled up and moved quickly to open the back door of the limo. Jackson got in next to her. “Home,” he said to the driver. Then he pushed the button to slide up the partition that would give them privacy. “Now tell me what happened.”