The Best Mistake of Her Life. Aimee Carson
was me you wrapped your arms around while you cried.”
“I’d had a huge fight with Dalton and left with the intention of never going back. I was looking for an escape from it all. I didn’t expect to find you at my brother’s apartment.”
He paused, letting the memory wash over him. After years of being away from Miami, he’d been disappointed his friend was out of town, but crashing at Brian’s place on his way through had only made sense. Until a sobbing Kate had let herself into her brother’s apartment, so inconsolable she couldn’t speak. Thrown by the sudden appearance of his old crush and disturbed by her profound sadness, he’d pulled her into his arms to console her. It was the first time he’d ever felt sorry for Kate Anderson.
And it would definitely be the last.
“I know you were upset, Angel Face.” Although his voice was soft, he couldn’t contain the edge to his tone. “But after twenty minutes of sobbing against my chest, when you’d finally recovered enough to speak, all you did was beg me to make love to you.”
And in the span of a fleeting two seconds, he’d debated waiting until she was less emotional. A fleeting two seconds of brilliant insight that had been followed by hours of blissful—pleasurable—ignorance.
As the silence grew, tension infiltrated the air.
“Memphis …” Kate closed her eyes, and her voice grew wearily frustrated. “I made a mistake. All I can do is say I’m sorry. What else do you want from me?”
Edgy, feeling the sudden urge to leap off a tall building, he was beginning to realize he didn’t know the answer to that question himself. He hated being considered a mistake. And what did he want? Another apology? A hundred of them? Or maybe a chance to prove she wasn’t as delicious as he remembered …
He tamped down the thought. For now he’d settle for a little acknowledgment. Starting with the truth she dodged when convenient. All pretense and teasing gone, he said, “I want you to admit out loud that you wanted me that night as much as I wanted you.”
She lifted her lids, the blue eyes troubled, but said nothing.
The need to hear the words grew more acute, and he shifted closer, determined to use any means necessary. “And when you spend the night with me again,” he went on. “I’d prefer you didn’t sneak away without saying goodbye.”
Her mouth worked for a moment before she responded. “I won’t sleep with you again.”
Damn, he should be agreeing with her.
Why wasn’t he agreeing with her?
Unfortunately, the only thing he wanted right now was to pull her into his arms and verify that she didn’t taste as good as she did in his memories. Without pausing for a second thought, he reached for her, Kate’s lids stretched wide in surprise—and they were interrupted by the redheaded sales lady.
“Here you two are.” The clerk beamed at them as if she’d just bought the winning lottery ticket. “Follow me and I’ll take you to the VIP room.”
Still wobbly from the disturbing near-miss encounter, Kate gratefully sank into one of the copper-colored silk armchairs of the luxurious private fitting room as the salesclerk loaded the rack with their selections, along with her own. The large room came equipped with a well-stocked bar and an offering of gourmet cookies. The latter didn’t interest Kate at all, but the former might come in handy before the afternoon was over.
The bumpy trip down memory lane had left her shaky. She’d spent the first two years of her marriage convincing herself time would make things better, and the second two years feeling neglected. Her fight that fateful night with Dalton had left her horribly confused and hopeless that things would ever improve. She’d needed to feel that she was important to him. He’d needed her to accept the life of sacrifice as a future politician’s wife. Going to her parents afterward to confess her relationship was over had been a mistake, because they’d simply said that marriage was hard, Dalton was a good man and to go back to her husband. In that moment, she’d never felt more alone. Brian’s company would have helped.
Memphis had been a dangerous substitute.
“I don’t know why I’m going along with this,” Memphis muttered as he stood in the center of the dressing room, as if unclear exactly why he was still here.
Kate pushed the memories aside and crossed her legs. “Just start with trying on a few shirts,” she said. “It can’t be near as bad as hitting an air bag from a hundred-foot drop—”
Memphis pulled his T-shirt over his head—cutting her sentence short—and tossed the garment aside. Kate was grateful she was already sitting. Now clad in nothing but jeans, Memphis’s form elicited a full-scale assault on her senses. The vision of a lean, muscle-adorned chest brought back a slew of powerful memories….
Memphis, frowning as he finally relented to her pleas and claimed her mouth with his.
Her, beneath him, clinging to his hard torso as passion drove away the years of loneliness.
“Can I get you anything from the bar, Ms. Anderson?” the clerk said. Now that Memphis was shirtless, the woman’s voice sounded strained.
Kate blinked, and the vision of a bare-chested Memphis returned. A drink? Absolutely. An alcoholic beverage was definitely in order.
Kate sent the saleslady a beyond-grateful smile. “What do you have?”
“Champagne.” The redhead’s gaze slid to Memphis, and she looked as if she needed a drink too. “We also carry a nice selection of wine and several imported beers.”
“Wine,” Kate said. “Red, please.”
The saleslady complied, and as she poured the drink Memphis said, “She’s a lightweight, so I wouldn’t be too liberal with my portions.”
Kate shot him a look. Memphis obviously felt no need to send the saleslady away, and the clerk was clearly loath to leave. Kate was simply glad the woman provided a buffer, so she accepted the glass with a smile. After a sip that curled low in her belly, she took another—all in the name of fortification, of course—and sent the saleslady a bigger smile.
“Have a seat and we can rate the selections,” Kate said.
The clerk’s return grin was brilliant as she complied. “If you insist.”
Kate glanced at the masculine chest on display and restrained the sigh. “Might as well enjoy your job,” she muttered.
“Some days are definitely better than others,” the clerk murmured.
Memphis headed for the rack, the corded muscles and sinew in his back rippling as he shifted through the selections.
Eyes on the vast expanse of masculinity on display—and trying hard not to remember how long she’d gone without—Kate picked up the basket of cookies, offering the clerk one. “If you can’t have wine, at least enjoy a baked good.”
Kate turned and saw the clerk was just as pleased with the view.
“I probably should,” the redhead said. “I think my blood sugar just dropped.” Her smile was wan. “I’m feeling a little woozy.”
As if oblivious, Memphis turned and lifted his arms over his head, spearing them into the sleeves of a dress shirt, the muscles in his chest shifting. Kate heard the clerk catch her breath at the beautiful display that highlighted his athleticism, his power and his dedication to his job by how meticulously he maintained his physical condition. And with the sexily rumpled style of his brown hair, Memphis always looked as if he’d just climbed out of bed after enjoying a satisfying night….
Kate briefly pressed her lids closed. Dear God, maybe that perception was more a reflection of her than him. She took another gulp of wine that her hit her empty stomach and burned, the warmth spreading lower.
Shirt