The Best Mistake of Her Life

‘Oh, my, what a fantastic debut by Aimee Carson.
I loved it! It really has everything that I like
in a good contemporary romance: a feisty heroine
who is far from perfect, snappy dialogue and
sizzling chemistry—and I mean sizzling. *That* scene
in the elevator … phew! The romance and relationship
between Alyssa and Paulo is actually quite simple, but
perfectly done. Aimee’s writing flows beautifully, and
she has created two great characters. I applaud her for
Alyssa’s ‘bad girl’ roots, I loved her! The book is well
written and developed, with plenty of sass and sparkle.
I can’t wait to read more from Aimee in the future.’
—www.everyday-is-the-same.blogspot.com on
Secret History of a Good Girl

The summer she turned eleven,
AIMEE
left the children’s section of the library and entered an aisle full of Mills & Boon
^®
novels. She promptly pulled out a book, sat on the floor, and read the entire story. It has been a love affair that has lasted for over thirty years.

Despite a fantastic job working part-time as a physician in the Alaskan Bush (think
Northern Exposure
and
ER
, minus the beautiful mountains and George Clooney), she also enjoys being at home in the gorgeous Black Hills of South Dakota, riding her dirt bike with her three wonderful kids and beyond patient husband. But, whether at home or at work, every morning is spent creating the stories she loves so much. Her motto? Life is too short to do anything less than what you absolutely love. She counts herself lucky to have two jobs she adores, and incredibly blessed to be a part of Mills & Boon’s family of talented authors.

Dare She Kiss & Tell?
How to Win the Dating War
Secret History of a Good Girl*

*Published as part of the
Mills & Boon Loves …
anthology.

Did you know these are also available as eBooks?
Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

www.millsandboon.co.uk

M
EMPHIS
James stood on the twenty-second floor of the downtown Miami building and looked down at the camera crew on the street below, spectators lining the barricade like curious ants. There was only one chance to get the high-fall right—no do-overs possible. Along with the stunt engineer, Memphis had meticulously checked and rechecked every detail, including his harness, the cable hoist and the wind conditions. No matter how crazy the stunt, death wasn’t likely—more of a distant possibility that hinged on either mechanical error or miscalculation, so nothing was left to chance. Memphis
never
left anything to chance.

It was a necessary compulsion in this twisted business of mocking gravity. Because if his focus was off, mistakes were made and he could be killed or, at the very least, sustain a dream-crushing injury.

Or worse … someone else might pay the price.

For one second the memory resurfaced, just like it always did before a high-fall. In a now-familiar
sequence of reactions, Memphis’s chest cinched tight, his stomach balled into a knot and his heart beat mercilessly against his ribs.

Willing his muscles to relax, Memphis forced the memory from his mind as he gazed down at the two-hundred-plus feet between him and the empty pavement. There was nothing to break his fall save the camera on the ground that would record his descent. His lips twisted wryly. He liked the idea that if something went wrong—and he hit the pavement traveling approximately eighty miles per hour—his last seconds on earth would be recorded for posterity.

If he was checking out, he’d do it with flair and with his name on everyone’s lips.

The stunt engineer broke into his thoughts. “Everything’s set. Wind speed steady at five mph.”

With one last look at the ground below, Memphis said, “That’s as good as we’ll get.”

“You ready?”

Now rock-steady, his pulse at a regular rate, Memphis took his position in front of the temporary window constructed of safety glass. “I’m always ready.” A grin slipped up his face. “But gravity is a bitch of a mistress.”

“An unforgiving one, to be sure,” the man returned with a chuckle.

Memphis’s grin grew bigger in anticipation. “So let’s not keep her waiting.”

One hand clutching the barricade, Kate Anderson shaded her eyes from the sun and stared up
at the tiny hub of activity twenty-two stories above the ground. A gentle breeze carried a hint of the salty Atlantic Ocean tinged with hot pavement, and the crowd of curious gawkers pressed in around her, making the warm Miami day even warmer.

Or maybe it was her strained nerves that were overheating.

Up until now, self-preservation had deemed it necessary she ignore Memphis James’s return to town. But today’s tabloid article about Dalton and his fiancée had garnered Kate no less than eight sympathetic glances, three well-intentioned condolence hugs and one unsolicited pep talk from a bitter divorceé—all while simply waiting in line at the local café. As the recent ex-wife of Miami’s favorite homegrown politician, fading into the background was impossible for Kate, especially with a heavy social schedule looming ahead. And for the first time since she’d started dating Dalton at sixteen, she was faced with the prospect of attending an event by herself.

The pitying looks she’d received from complete strangers were bad enough, but the public scrutiny was bound to get worse. Imagine how awful the tabloid headlines would be if she showed up at her high-school reunion alone?

Inhaling a calming breath, she forced her muscles to relax and renewed her resolve to ask Memphis for help, even if he was her childhood nemesis turned hot-shot stuntman … and a living reminder of the biggest mistake of her life. Apprehension threatened to crack her composure, and she stared up at the window far above the ground.

Where was the condolence hug when you
really
needed one?

There was a crackle of walkie-talkies from the crew on the street, and Kate caught her breath. One second later the window exploded, glass fragments spraying outward and fanning around the stuntman’s form, Memphis following a graceful descending arc before plummeting toward the bone-breakingly hard, air-bag-less pavement below.

Kate’s mouth turned to dust, her heart turned to stone and her every cell froze as, for several terrifying seconds, Memphis free-fell past twenty-one rows of windows. At the last possible moment the cable slowed his fall until he came to a jerky stop, just inches from the camera trained up at him from the ground.

Applause broke out around her. Dizzy, Kate sucked in a fortifying breath while her heart pulsed back to life, pounding with the aftereffects of an adrenaline surge so strong it had surely melted her nervous system. Kate released the barricade, her palms slick, and tried to brush off the grains of sand that had embedded into
her skin during her tight grip. And she watched in shocked annoyance as Memphis calmly and coolly disconnected his harness as the crowd continued their cheering.

He
had plunged to the ground at high rates of speed while
she
had aged five years in the process.

Since the day her twin brother had befriended the then thirteen-year-old hellraiser, Memphis had elicited so many heart-pounding reactions in her body that if her nervous system ever burned out completely, ninety-nine percent of the blame belonged to Memphis.

When Kate spied him heading off she abruptly brought her doubts up short. Without a second thought, she rounded the barricade and strode toward his retreating, blue-jean-encased figure. His well-formed backside and powerful legs brought back memories she’d done her best to forget.

A shout of displeasure came from the security guard to her left, but she ignored it and called out, “Memphis!”

Either Memphis hadn’t heard or chose to ignore her call, but more warning voices came as the crew and security began to target her more aggressively. Sensing time was running out, Kate broke into a brisk walk that bordered on a jog, her casual sundress flapping around her legs and her high-heeled sandals pinching her feet, as if to remind her they weren’t intended for giving chase.

“Memphis, wait!” she called again.

This time Memphis came to a stop and turned
on his heel, and she knew the second he recognized her. For a brief moment, his expression froze. The reaction stopped Kate in her tracks, a mere ten feet from the man who was looking at her with those mesmerizing caramel-colored eyes …

Like a movie special effect, immediately she was transported back five years to the last time they’d been together. She had just yelled at him to get out of her brother’s hospital room. A yell fueled by fear for Brian, fury at Memphis and confusion at the memory of him making love to her in a fit of passion that had stripped her of the ability to function. Too bad the feel-good heights had been followed by the inevitable crash.

Dizzying emotional highs and death-defying lows.

Ecstasy and disaster.

Memphis never brought about humdrum emotions, and she needed to remember that truth. But her body was too busy appreciating the light brown, casually cut hair that blatantly defied refined society, the melt-in-your-mouth, thickly fringed eyes and the hard, masculine jaw that was sexily covered in half a day’s growth. His walking, talking, sex-on-two-legs attitude had intimidated her as a teen and aroused her as a young adult.

For a moment she questioned the sanity of her plan. Maybe attending the social events alone and exposing herself to more public ridicule was the better option.

A security guard grabbed her arm, his gruff voice unhappy as he said, “You can’t be back here, miss.”

But Kate dug in her heels and didn’t budge, her gaze locked on Memphis.

Memphis raised a hand. “Let her go, Hal,” he said, his gaze targeting hers as he walked closer, her heart pumping harder with his every step.

“You know her?” the security guard said.

A half smile curled the corner of Memphis’s lips with a familiar teasing humor, his sheer sex appeal cutting all the way to Kate’s heart. “Yeah,” Memphis said, coming to a stop four feet away. “I know her very well.”

It was the slight emphasis on the word
very
that infused Kate with warmth, and her palms—already damp from the hair-raising fall and the hell-raising man before her—grew even more damp, remembering the passion. The
pleasure …

Quietly inhaling another calming breath, Kate pulled a hand wipe infused with organic lavender from the travel container she kept in her purse. Shake enough hands during a campaign and later as a representative’s wife and you learn to carry the necessary accoutrements. The ritual was soothing. Calming. And a vast improvement over the lingering grit on her palms left from the barricade. With the heated way Memphis was looking at her, a cold hosing-off was in order, but cooling her hands was the best she could do.

For a brief moment the apprehension returned, and she fought back the certainty that he’d never
agree to her plan. She knew from personal experience that Memphis James did what Memphis James wanted. He always had and always would. Getting him to cooperate was going to require every ounce of the diplomatic skills she’d honed through the years.

As the daughter and granddaughter of two political giants, and a political ex-wife, God knows she’d had plenty of practice engaging in small talk. And given her history with the man in front of her, keeping the conversation superficial seemed wise.

She glanced up at the high-rise. “I see your death wish is still intact,” she said lightly.

He sounded amused. “If I had a death wish I would have jumped without the cable.”

“I heard you did while making the movie
The Indestructibles
.”

“That was a special circumstance,” he said.

“Special as in ‘crazier than usual’?”

He lifted a shoulder nonchalantly. “All in a day’s work.”

“Jumping off tall buildings? Leaping out of helicopters?” She lifted a brow. “Driving cars off
cliffs?
”

Good God, when Kate had finally watched that much-anticipated stunt on the big screen, her heart had stopped during the slow-motion scene.

Memphis’s brow bunched in amusement, and his voice held more than its fair share of suggestion. “You following my career, Angel Face?”

The nickname struck her hard, and emotion
punted the protest from her lips. “Please,” she said, the light tone now a struggle to maintain. “Don’t call me that.” She’d hated his name for her as a teen, and had even more reason to despise the label today.

“Well,” he said, an amused sparkle in those sinful eyes. “Angel Face fitted the placid, rule-obsessed girl you used to be.” And then his gaze flared with a fire that sparked through the air and lit an unwelcome blaze in her, too. He stepped closer, looking down at her with the knowledge of a man who knew all her secrets, his rumbling voice loaded with memory. “But I guess we both know at least one incident where the nickname doesn’t fit.”

Fighting for calm, she sent him what she hoped was her legendary campaign-cool smile. “Angel Face didn’t suit me nearly as much as Devil did you.” It was time to set the ground rules of their new relationship. They were both adults, certainly they could move beyond the past to a more … sedate friendship.

One could only hope.

“So forget about coming on to me, Memphis,” she went on firmly, ignoring the disturbing sensation his proximity created. “I’m not that easily intimidated teen anymore. The years have taught me how to maintain a certain amount of grace and dignity, no matter the adversity.” A humiliating tabloid-dissected divorce had helped, as well.

“Are you referring to me?” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “You take pride in being as adverse as possible.”

“A guy has to be known for something,” he said easily. “Is that why you’re here, to put your new skills to the test?”

“It’s an unfortunate perk,” she said. “I’m here because I need your help.”

The surprised scoff was sharp. “My help?” He stared at her for a moment, and then the hint of a teasing grin reappeared. “The circumstances must be dire for the mighty Kate Anderson to request assistance from little ol’ me.”

The soft Southern twang he reverted to when irritated, or aroused, only made his already rough voice sexier. The small knot of anxiety in Kate’s stomach bloomed bigger, and she licked her lips. It was a risk pinning her hopes on the wildly unpredictable Memphis.

But which was worse? Suffering through more of the humiliating public sympathy that, deep down, she knew she mostly didn’t deserve? Or enduring the taunting tone of the only man outside her marriage who knew why?

“Why are you coming to me for a favor?” Memphis crossed his arms across a well-cut chest, and his biceps bulged beneath his T-shirt, momentarily throwing Kate’s concentration. “Is Armageddon upon us?” he said wryly. “Is the end of civilization at hand?”

“It is according to the man holding the sign on the corner of Fifth and Main,” she said, striving for a nonchalant tone. “But on the off chance that
doesn’t pan out, my ten-year high-school reunion is a month away. And there are several pre-reunion functions that I don’t want to attend alone.”

Memphis tipped back his head and let out a genuine laugh. Yes, compared to the end of days her predicament did seem rather trite. But right now the doomsday feeling was real.

“The solution seems simple to me,” he said. “Just don’t go.”

“I have to attend,” she said. “I’m in charge. I’ve been working on this reunion for the past year.” As chairwoman of the event she’d spent months coping with her isolation and loneliness by stressing over every detail. She had no choice. “Skipping out isn’t an option.”

“I guess it never occurred to you to go alone,” he said, and his voice lowered a notch. “Or is Kate Anderson still unable to show her face in public without an adoring sap on her arm?”

The critique stung. “I don’t need adoration.”

“You certainly were on the receiving end of plenty in high school.”