The Best Mistake of Her Life

“I won’t be comfortable until these functions are behind me,” he said with a small frown of frustration. “And who really cares what I’m wearing?”

“You should. As my companion, the press is likely to analyze and criticize your every move, including your choice of attire. Take it from someone who knows,” she said. “You don’t want to give them any ammunition beyond their own twisted imaginations.”

She studied him for a moment before returning the shirt in her hand to the rack. And Memphis had the distinct impression he’d just taken a step backward in his mission to complete the afternoon of torture.

“Why did you put that one back?” he said with a groan.

“The fit will be wrong,” she said. “You’re in excellent shape, so you’ll look best in a tailored style.”

He picked up another shirt she’d rejected. “And what’s wrong with this one?”

“The thread count. All other things being equal, the thread count is important in how it feels against your body.” Obviously the skepticism rolled off him in discernible waves. She steadily held his gaze. “You don’t believe me.”

In answer, he simply hiked a brow.

She removed the two he’d selected from the rack and handed them back to him. “Okay,” she said, holding up the ones she’d chosen. “Let’s go take them all for a test drive.” She bunched her brow in amusement and went on. “I bet you’ll feel a difference.”

“I bet you’re wrong.” He followed close behind as she headed for the private dressing room in back. “At least tell me you don’t try to control the clothing of every guy you’ve dated since Dalton.”

“I haven’t been out on a date yet.”

Stunned by the news, Memphis stopped short. Her ex was engaged, albeit at record speeds, but she hadn’t even found the time to go out with another man. Kate must have sensed he was no longer following her, and she stopped and turned to face him.

He shouldn’t be so curious. “Why not?”

“No time.”

Memphis scanned her face, wondering what was stirring behind those blue eyes of hers, a disturbing thought working its way into his brain. “I hope that’s not just an excuse because you’re pining for your ex.”

“Trust me, Memphis,” she said, her lips twisting. “I’m not pining for a man.”

Both relieved and disturbingly challenged by the news, Memphis leaned in close. “Not even for me?”

She blinked once as she met his eyes, the emotion unreadable. “Least of all you.”

Although he’d started out teasing her, as Memphis stared at Kate’s steady blue gaze, a small stab of resentment flared, and he struggled to tamp down the unwanted emotion in his chest. There was a time in his teens when he would have loved to have Kate pine for him, despite their age difference. And how could she throw herself so passionately into a night of making love with him only to go back and spend another four years with her husband? He sure as hell hadn’t entered into the moment with forever in mind, but it still grated that she could nonchalantly walk away.

As if he were a dress shirt that wasn’t suitable.

“Well,” he said softly. “I know you like what I did to you.” Her eyes widened a fraction, and he went on. “There’s no denying that.”

He enjoyed the way, these days, she held his gaze instead of visually scurrying for cover when confronted. But she didn’t look quite as composed now, her breaths coming a little faster. Whether it was from attraction, nerves or irritation at his reminder of her less-than-noble moment, he wasn’t sure.

“It was simply sex, Memphis,” she said in a low voice.

“There was nothing simple about it.”

She bit her lower lip. “That night had everything to do with my state of mind and nothing to do with you.”

“It 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.