Read The Best Mistake of Her Life Online
Authors: Aimee Carson
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 now buttoned, Memphis turned to face the two ladies, clearly underwhelmed by their participation to date. “Well?”
Disappointed the shirt covered the nicest thing about the room, and feeling a little fuzzy, Kate murmured, “Nice. But I’ll need to see the rest of them.”
“Absolutely,” the clerk said in agreement. “No need to be too hasty.”
After several more rounds of the same, she and the clerk were no closer to choosing, and Kate was feeling even more light-headed as she drained the last of her wine. At this rate they could be here all day, and Memphis would have to cart her out of the private dressing room in a wheelbarrow.
Halfway through the shirt selections Memphis tried on one of his choices.
“How does that one feel?” Kate said.
He shrugged into the oxford. “Strangely enough,” he said with a touch of sarcasm. “It feels like a shirt.”
She rose from her seat, surprised to find her legs even more rubbery than they’d felt while sitting. Handing him the shirt with the higher thread count, she said, “Now try this.”
Kate waited as calmly as she could as he slipped out of the first and into the second, pivoting to face the mirror.
She turned to inspect his reflection. “And?”
He cocked his head, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “I suppose if I have to attend this fancy freak show, I might as well be comfortable,” he said. “This one is definitely softer.”
A big I-won smile spread across her face. “I told you so.”
His grin was deliciously tiny but big on meaning. “You’re gloating.”
“I’m just pleased that Memphis James can admit when he’s wrong.”
His voice lowered an octave. “Too bad Kate Anderson can’t do the same.”
She froze, staring at his reflection, wondering what, specifically, he was talking about. That she thought she’d been prepared for Memphis’s presence in her life again? Or perhaps he was referring to her recent assessment of the night she’d made love to him, stating it had been a mistake? Or maybe her declaration she wouldn’t repeat the same mistake again?
Feeling wobbly, Kate pivoted on her heel to face him, her back to the clerk, her voice low. “I’m not wrong.”
“You are about several things.”
The intense look on his face and the heat in his gaze seared her to the soul.
Seemingly oblivious to the tension, the clerk said, “If you don’t mind me asking, Mr. James, how did you get those scars on your chest?”
Eyes on Kate, Memphis pulled off the shirt and handed it to her, a hint of humor in his gaze as he pointed to a small patch of purplish skin on his left side. “I got this as a teen when I tried a burn before I’d had any formal training.” Memphis looked at the clerk and pointed to the well-healed, angry puckered line along his right collarbone. “Two years ago I took a fall and broke my clavicle. Despite the fracture, I did the stunt two more times to get the gag just right. By the time I was
done the break was bad enough to require surgery.”
And then his gaze switched back to Kate. “This last one is from a spill I took jumping my dirt bike six years ago,” he said, pointing at the scar just below his navel, and the memory sent Kate’s belly spiraling with all the stomach-dropping sensations of one of his high falls.
During the longest night of her life, she’d used her lips and tongue to trace the mark on his flat abdomen before moving lower. The wine was definitely having an effect now, because she was feeling decidedly unsteady.
From behind her, the clerk’s voice sounded far away. “Shall I search for a few more items for you, Mr. James?”
Memphis’s gaze bored relentlessly into Kate’s, despite the fact he was addressing the redhead, his voice husky. “I have everything I need right here.”
Kate’s lips flattened and her chest pinched around her heart.
If the clerk was picking up on the undertones, hopefully she thought it was anger. Because Kate
was
angry, at Memphis for being so inappropriate and woefully unconcerned about their audience, and at herself—for still being susceptible to the bold, too-large-for-life Memphis.
Finally, the clerk said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes to check on you.”
His gaze shifted briefly to the woman. “I’d prefer that you didn’t,” he said, and Kate’s belly
burned at his frank words. His eyes returned to hers, and the tension in her insides reached levels that interfered with her ability to breathe as he went on. “Ms. Anderson and I will come find you when we’re done.”
A sensual heat and heart-thumping anticipation swelled so acutely it pushed the breath from her lungs and filled every available space in her stomach. As the salesclerk turned on her heel and exited, neither of them moved, their gazes engaged in a duel.
Once the lady pulled the door shut behind her, Kate took a deep breath and gathered her strung-out nerves, feeling woozy from the wine and the man. “Memphis, let’s just concentrate on finishing.”
He didn’t move. “That’s what I’m doing.”
A crackling electricity hit her body and spread. “No, you’re not,” she said. “You’re intentionally trying to make me uncomfortable. And that isn’t going to help us complete our task,” she said, and she turned to head for the rest of the shirts.
Memphis wrapped his fingers around her wrist, preventing her departure from his side, and her heart rate surged into overdrive as she reluctantly faced him.
His gaze was relentless. “Maybe that’s not the task I’m trying to complete.”
Oh, God. She wasn’t ready for this.
She would
never
be ready for this.
Desperate to delay the inevitable, she said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But she did, she just couldn’t admit it, because right now his skin on hers reminded her of just how long it had been since she’d been touched by a man.
Fingers wrapped around her wrist, Memphis took a step closer. “Do you remember what you said the last time we made love that night?”
Kate’s mouth went dry and her throat constricted, cutting off her breath. The heat of his palm was but a small reminder of the fire this man had the ability to create. It was several moments before she could answer. “No.”
His eyes told her he knew she was lying. “You need a little more practice telling the truth, ex-Mrs. Worthington,” he said, his deep voice rumbling up her spine. His tone was infused with the insatiable need they’d shared so long ago.
Along with a generous dose of frustration.
Memphis had always come with a tangle of emotions that had been impossible to unravel—some of them good, some of them bad, but none of them had been lukewarmly felt. Right now intense desire and a rising anger of her own was making rational thought difficult.
He was wrong for her. He’d
always
been wrong for her.
“Memphis,” she said, struggling to stay calm despite the lack of oxygen. “I’m not—”
“You promised me the morning,” he said smoothly.
Her heart tripped in her chest. “That was a long time ago.” She pulled her hand free and took
a step backward, trying to distance herself from the memories and all she’d done with this man,
to
this man, and the consequences. “And during a turbulent time in my life.”
He went on as if she hadn’t spoken, stepping forward in her direction even as she continued to back away. “And then I woke to find you gone.”
Guilt, her ever-present companion, reared its persistent head.
“I was upset.” She hated that her words came out weak. “And confused …”
As if that explained everything she’d done.
He continued to slowly advance on her as she backed up, until her shoulders hit the door and there was no more room for retreat. “There,” he said softly, his gaze deliberately provoking her. “That will keep the overly helpful clerk out until we’re through.”
“We
are
through.”
“Angel Face,” he said, his voice gruff. “I’ve finally figured out we’re so far from done it isn’t funny.”
Irritation drove her chin up. Memphis James might do what Memphis James wanted, but that didn’t mean she had to be obliging. “There is nothing left—
He took her hand and placed her palm over the bared scar beneath his navel, and the tiny muscles in her fingers twitched, desire paralyzing the rest of her. Despite being no match for solid ground at high rates of speed, the heat and the hard planes of his abdomen were unyielding, as well.
“Do you remember kissing me here?” he said.
Her body flooded with fire. “Of course I do.”
“Do you remember where your mouth went next?”
Her head swam with desire, and her protest came out as a weary groan. “Memphis—”
“Kate.” He braced a hand on the door by her head, the other sandwiching hers against his taut abdomen. She could barely breathe, and the process grew more difficult as he leaned in until she could see the dark chocolate flecks in the caramel color of his eyes, smell the intoxicatingly masculine scent of sandalwood. “I want one more kiss.”
And, as if knowing there’d be no consent, he simply took her mouth with his.
At the touch of his lips, it took every ounce of self-possession she could muster not to melt against him. The kiss wasn’t gentle, but neither was it harsh, reflecting none of the frustration she sensed still simmered beneath his surface. Instead, there was a restrained curiosity in the way he moved against her. As if reacquainting himself with her texture, familiarizing himself with her flavor. Reexploring the depths of her mouth and just how deep their passion went.
She should push him away. Her conscience kept screaming there would be no redemption in seeking out the very man who knew just how far from perfect Kate Anderson had strayed. But it had been so long, and the cravings were so intense, that right now her body didn’t care.
He pulled his head back a fraction, a faint
frown on his face, his eyebrows knitted together as if he was disturbed.
“Damn,” he said, his voice disappointed. “You taste as good as I remember.”
The second kiss was even harder to resist, and she relaxed a fraction as Memphis angled his head, firmly gathering her lips closer, taking the kiss so deep she began to lose hope she’d find her way back up. Their shared frustration finally made an appearance, too, along with an achy need so strong it rendered her helpless in her quest to push him away.
The pleasure pulsed higher, demanding to be recognized, and Kate knew her resistance was slipping away….
As their kiss continued Kate’s mouth grew softer, and Memphis could feel himself grow harder, until desire firmly embedded itself in his body. He spent several seconds pressing his fingers into the door, trying to resist the alluringly sweet flavor with a hint of spice. Curiosity, the sense of challenge and a trace of irritation had brought about his actions. Resentment at being verbally dismissed by this woman who was so thoroughly a part of his past that he held few memories from his teens without her in them—the physical yearning, her cool treatment of him, her displeasure at his antics, his
character
. And then there was the pleasurable thrill at the rare appearance of the fiery Kate. All had combined to drive him insane.
But he’d only wanted one more kiss.
Unfortunately, now he knew the simple contact would never be enough.
And then Kate touched her tongue to his bottom lip, as if tentatively asking for more, and, with a groan born of years of living with the delicious memories, Memphis fisted his hand against the door and slanted his mouth across hers with a recklessness that probably wasn’t wise. Drinking in the taste that had mesmerized him. The intoxicating mix of sweet submission and underlying strength of spirit that was singularly Kate.