Aimee Carson - The Best Mistake of Her Life

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.”

“I just want company.” She inhaled a breath, struggling for calm. “Who I go with doesn’t matter.”

“Just a hint, Angel Face.” Amused, he tipped his head, as if sharing a secret. “That’s no way to make a guy feel special.”

“You aren’t special,” she said lightly. “You’re trouble.”

His brow bunched together with exaggerated concern. “Clearly you need to work on your dating techniques,” he said. “I prefer to be wooed.”

“Wooed?” she said, struggling to maintain her composure. “This won’t be a date. You’d simply be attending as my friend.”

His eyebrow climbed meaningfully. “Except, I’m not your friend.”

“You are my brother’s friend and I’m asking for a favor.”

Two heartbeats passed before he said, “I guarantee you, Kate.” His eyes grew dark with an emotion that left her spinning. “You don’t want my help.”

She steeled herself against his sensually teasing tone. By the look on his face it was clear he showed no signs of relenting, and her anxiety edged higher. With Memphis accompanying her, no one would dare lecture her about moving on from being the discarded wife. “I’m asking nicely, Memphis.” She tried not to sound as desperate as she felt, digging deep for the Anderson smile that she’d perfected from an early age. “I just need a little of your time,” she said, laying a hand on his arm.

The muscles beneath her fingers bunched, and the last trace of teasing amusement in his eyes died. A myriad of expressions flitted across his face, none of them obvious. But when he spoke, his voice was resigned.

“Sorry. You’ll have to find another guy to parade around town,” he said, and then he turned and headed for the crew gathered around a monitor, watching a replay of his spectacular fall.

Kate followed him. “There isn’t anyone else.”

He kept his eyes forward. “Where are all your groupies from that expensive private high school you attended?”

“I didn’t have groupies.”

“Okay, I stand corrected,” he said, and then he glanced down at Kate. Unfortunately those long legs of his kept right on going, forcing her high-heeled sandals to double as track shoes. “Perhaps flock of admirers is a better phrase?” he went on.

“I didn’t have those, either.”

He let out an amused laugh. “That’s not how I remember it. What I remember is a straitlaced, popular princess who attended the high school with the highest per-capita-income area code in the state, Biscayne Bay Preparatory Academy.” He stopped and stepped close, and Kate’s discomfort stepped up a notch, too. “A girl who was too good to give the time of day to a kid from lowly County High on the seedier side of town.”

Heat crept up Kate’s face. As a teen, there had been a whole host of reasons why Kate had treated her brother’s best friend with a nonchalant reserve. Money had never entered her extensive list. “Your memory is jaded, Memphis.”

He cocked his head, staring down at her with the look of a man who wasn’t going to play along. “My memory is fine. It’s your perception that’s off.” His eyes lingered on her face, and a combination of desire and dread tap-danced across her chest. “Then again,” he went on softly, “burying your head in the sand was always your specialty.”

By God, her marriage had proved that right.

But if she stopped to list all her mistakes she’d never get anything done. “I didn’t come to discuss the past, Memphis.”

He took a stray lock of her hair between his fingers, absently rubbing the strands, the back of his beautifully muscled forearm millimeters from her breast. “It doesn’t work that way, Angel Face,” he murmured. Her body throbbing, she blinked back the disturbing emotions, careful to keep her face blank. His all-seeing eyes held hers as he went on, his voice reflective. “Yesterday is inextricably linked to tomorrow via that inconvenient concept we call today.”

He toyed with her hair a moment longer before dropping his hand.

She hated sounding desperate, but her tone came close to crossing that line. “I need your help, Memphis.” She paused before going on. “Please.”

For a fraction of a second he looked as if he cared that she was almost begging him. A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Why?”

How to explain to a man who could never relate? “Today I was forced to listen to a divorceé give a detailed description of how her sex life improved after her lousy husband dumped her, and then she proceeded to inform me to get back on the horse before it was too late.”

His eyes crinkled in humor. “Sound advice.”

A skeptical scoff escaped her lips. “I’m growing weary of all the advice.”

“She was just offering you her sympathy.”

“I don’t need sympathy.”

“Yeah. And I’m not sure you deserve it, either,” he said thoughtfully, and a surge of guilt threatened to swamp her. But she pretended not to know what he was talking about when he went on. “Don’t you have any friends you could ask?”

“No one who is available.”

“Everything is for sale in this day and age,” he said easily. “How about an escort service?”

She forced a patient look on her face. “I’m not hiring an escort.”

His eyes crinkled in amusement. “It would come with some pretty powerful perks.”

Kate pressed her lips together and counted to five, reminding herself that Memphis did whatever Memphis wanted. And right now it was clear he was intent on making her pay for the past.

Kate briefly closed her eyes, inhaling deeply and seeking a peaceful calm, not the turbulent chaos that he specialized in eliciting. “I’m not looking for perks.”

Several seconds passed before he said, “Sorry, Kate.” He almost sounded as though he meant it. “I am not going to be your go-to patsy.” A hard glint flickered through his eyes. “I fell for your damsel-in-distress routine before, and I’m not doing it again.”