Forbidden To Taste. JC Harroway

      Drake’s brows slant downwards and his mouth tightens. ‘I’ll call you back.’ He disconnects the call while I dither in the doorway, torn between running to the nearest fast-food restaurant advertising a vacancy and riding out my mortification.

      I stand tall. We’re adults. I’ve been looking after myself and my sister since the age of twenty-one, since the death of our parents in a car crash. I can handle one inconvenient little sexual attraction...

      ‘Hi.’ I didn’t actually touch a single hair on his glorious head. I can laugh off the rest—hypothermia and too much wine... Not that we’ve ever teased each other, as if we both subconsciously knew playing it straight guaranteed the boundaries stayed in place.

      Drake stands, beckoning me inside and showing off his broad chest in another of his crisp shirts. ‘Good morning. Are you all signed in?’ I guess we’re not going to talk about my overt proposition. He’s right. I, too, should pretend it never happened and get on with proving myself worthy of the vacancy.