My Sexiest Mistake

Cade waved him off and looked at the passing waitress. Maybe he would have a drink. After all the work he’d put in, he deserved it.

RYAN WALKED INTO THE Copley Plaza Hotel, teetering a bit on her heels as she spotted the lobby bar, her heart trip-hammering. The silk of her dress slithered against her as she walked, making her conscious of every brush of her thighs. She’d wanted to look good for tonight, but maybe dropping $250 on the peacock-blue mid-thigh number was overdoing it, considering it would be off in less than half an hour. Oh my God. Butterflies surged in her stomach at the thought. What in the world was she doing? She had to be out of her mind. Only the panic of facing her empty computer screen kept her from wheeling around and going right back to her car.

She glanced across the semi-crowded room. On one of the groupings of deep, soft couches, a group of noisy businessmen laughed at each other’s jokes. From the looks of their rumpled suits and disheveled hair, she figured they’d been sucking down martinis for some time. On a nearby settee, an older woman with an air of faded elegance cast a disapproving glance at the group, leaning close to whisper to the young girl beside her. Up by the bar, a piano player was murdering an old Harry Nilsson tune. There ought to be a law, Ryan thought. And then she saw him, sitting on a couch, an empty glass at his elbow. He raised a beckoning hand.

Her knees turned to water.

Helene’s friend hadn’t exaggerated. Stunningly good-looking didn’t come close to describing him. Thick, dark hair stopped just at his collar, a sheaf falling down over his forehead. His face was strong-boned, the eyes too shadowed under the slashes of dark brows for her to see the color. But his mouth…a fantasy blazed through her mind, her naked, on her back, looking down to see his mouth on her. And it was going to happen, everything she wanted, everything she could think of. Oh my god. She took a quick breath to fill lungs that felt robbed of oxygen. Then she breathed in again.

Okay. The thing to do was to be casual, classy, self-possessed oh my god just walk up, introduce herself, and go upstairs oh my god, he’s going to—

Ryan reached the couch. Blue. His eyes were the deep blue of the Atlantic on a clear fall day. As he looked her up and down, she felt her cheeks heat. Casual, classy, self-possessed.

Oh my god.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Hello. I’m Ryan.” She put her hand out.

He hesitated just a beat, then caught it up and brought it to his lips. “You’re also lovely.”

She was, simply, stunned. His lips sent a frisson of heat and electricity through her hand, which seemed to have instantly grown a thousand new nerve endings. She sank down on the couch because her knees wouldn’t hold her.

Cade studied her in bemusement. Granted, he’d been out of the bar scene for a couple of years—okay, for six or seven if you wanted to get picky—but he was almost sure that gorgeous women didn’t just fall into a guy’s lap because he was sitting in a bar alone. At least not unless you were Russell Crowe, anyway. The waitress he’d waved at brought him another scotch. He passed her a bill and glanced at Ryan. “Would you like something?”

Nothing from the bar, thanks, a little voice in her mind answered back. I’ll just have you. Cade and the waitress looked at her, waiting for her response. Her cheeks heated. Classy. What was a classy, sophisticated drink? “A martini,” Ryan said quickly. “I’ll have a martini.”

“How do you want that?”

Great. How would a martini drinker answer? “Um, dry, please.” Ryan breathed a sigh of relief as the waitress nodded and walked off. Then she pushed back her hair and turned to the man beside her.

She truly was something to look at, Cade thought, watching the blush slowly fade from her high cheekbones. Long and lovely in a narrow, electric blue dress that slipped up to show legs longer than any woman had a right to have. Glossy dark hair tumbled down her back. Her mouth was a deep, ripe red that sent his brain running down carnal pathways. He took a sip of his scotch. “So how are you this fine Wednesday evening?”

Nervous. Giddy. In heat. “Fine. How about you?”

“I’m good.”

“So I hear.” Ryan’s eyes widened and she put a hand to her mouth. She’d said it out loud. It must have been that voice, vibrating her nerve cells and setting loose butterflies inside her. She forced a laugh that sounded fake and tinny even to her own ears. “Just, uh, joking. So, are you having a nice evening?” she asked brightly. Jeez, Ryan, can you get any more pedestrian? On the other hand, she thought, it didn’t really matter if she was a fount of witty banter or not.

He was a sure thing.

She laughed again, this time for real.

Cade raised an eyebrow. “What’s the joke?”

Ryan gave a small cough. “Sorry, I’m just in a good mood tonight. I don’t usually go out on weeknights, so this is like a holiday for me.”

“What’s the occasion?”

Her mouth curved. “Oh, I think a chance to meet someone like you is occasion enough.”

He glanced at her legs appreciatively. “I’d say the pleasure’s all mine.” He’d forgotten what it was like to sit in a bar and flirt with a sexy woman. Patrick was right, he did need to start getting out more.

“And do weeknights usually find you out and about?”

Cade shrugged and rested an elbow on the back of the couch. “Sometimes a special job makes it worthwhile. It was definitely worth it tonight, especially since now I’m sitting here in the company of a gorgeous woman.” He eyed her over the rim of his glass. “You are gorgeous, you know.”

He enjoyed watching her blush. She was luscious—dark, vivid, unconsciously lovely with none of the hard-edged gloss and sophistication that seemed to run through so many of the women he met. There was something addictive about the quick flash of her smile, something that compelled him to keep the conversation rolling. “Anyway, a buddy of mine was just lecturing me that I need to get out more.”

“I suppose all work and no play makes life dull. Do you like your work?”

He paused to consider before answering. “Yeah, I do. It has its challenges, but boy, when it goes well I just feel like if I can do that, I can do anything.”

Her pulse speeded up at the thought of just exactly what he might do to her. The waitress returned and Ryan reached out for her drink. This would be interesting, she thought, given that she’d never had a martini in her life. They always looked sophisticated, though, with that deep green olive glowing in the icy clear liquid. How bad could it be? “Here’s to weeknights,” she said, and clinked her glass against his. She took a sip and the cold, clean taste of the liquor flowed over her tongue. Then the heat slammed into her and she coughed fire.

“You okay?”

Eyes watering, Ryan nodded, giving up the pretense of sophistication. “My first martini.” She coughed again. “I always thought they looked great but never had the nerve to try one before.”

“And what’s the verdict?”

She gave a rueful smile. “It’s an eye-opener.”

Cade ran his thumb lightly across her cheek. “So are you.”

A shiver ran up her spine at his touch. Then the first flush of the liquor hit her. She couldn’t tell whether the warmth she felt was from the drink or from the heat in his eyes. Her pulse jumped and she groped to organize her scattered thoughts. Say something witty, Ryan. “Do they give you guys a script or something?”

Cade blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“You say such pretty things it’s like something out of a movie.” She took another cautious sip of her drink and was pleased to find that it flowed down easily this time.

“Is that a polite way of saying ‘stop feeding me lines’?”

She smiled. “No, it’s nice. I like it. Guys just don’t usually say things like that to me.” And though she tried to tell herself it was part of his professional persona, she was charmed.

“You’re obviously hanging around with the wrong guys. I guarantee any man in this room would be thrilled if you walked up and started talking with him.” His eyes glimmered. “Unless his wife were sitting next to him, of course.”

“Oh please.”

“You don’t believe me?” He surveyed the room. “There are about fifteen or twenty men sitting in this bar. We can take a poll.” There was a burst of raucous laughter from the conventioneers. “Actually, I don’t need to take a poll. Those guys over there? The only time they’ve been quiet the entire night was when you walked through the door. Aunt Cordelia and her charge at the next couch over were very grateful.”

Ryan caught the glare the older woman gave the group. “I noticed when I walked in that she wasn’t very happy. Why do you suppose she stays there instead of moving?”

Cade shrugged. “Boston Brahmin—she was there first, why should she move for a bunch of savages?”

Ryan’s smile flashed again. “You seem to know the type well.”

“I was married to a baby Brahmin for a couple of years. I learned to recognize entitlement from fifty paces.”