Tanya Michaels - Tempting The Best Man

As they waited at the red light, he told her, “I know we were never friends in college, but I did admire you. I respected your smarts—”

“Even when I got a higher grade than you did?” she needled.

The gallant response would be yes. “On two projects, Hayes.” He’d busted his ass to earn an impressive GPA. “As I recall, I finished with a higher final score in both classes we had together.”

“Because you were teacher’s pet, dutifully regurgitating what the professors told us instead of exploring more divisive interpretations.”

“Arguing a premise out of sheer reflex is habit, not proof of intellectual superiority.”

“And I suppose when you grade essays and exams, you reward students who mindlessly parrot what you’ve told them?”

“Of course,” he snapped. “For I am an academic god with no patience for mere mortals who think for themselves.”

She laughed aloud at his sarcasm. “Good thing we’re mature now and finally get along, huh?”

He couldn’t believe that she’d provoked him so easily, yet sparring with her was perversely refreshing. “I was trying to pay you a compliment.”

“Next time, I’ll handle the flattery with more grace.”

“Pfft. What makes you think there will be a next time?”

“Run out of nice things to say about me already, Professor?”

You’re audacious and funny and so fucking sexy I can barely keep my eyes on the road. “I don’t think ‘nice’ applies to you.”

“You’d be surprised.” Her grin was wicked. “I can be very nice when I want to be.”

When she smiled like that, there wasn’t enough air in the car. His chest constricted. His body tightened with lust, and he gripped the steering wheel harder to keep from reaching for her. If he could’ve found his voice in that moment, he would have asked what it took to coax her to be nice.

But he was starting to think maybe nice wasn’t what he wanted.

* * *

DINNER WITH DANIEL was a revelation. Mia couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun on a date. Is this a date? she asked herself as the waitress set dessert on the table. Daniel’s explanation for asking her out hadn’t been a burning desire for her company, simply that he needed “a change.”

Still, his impersonal reasoning aside, their evening had the hallmarks of a date. Since Daniel had never been to the restaurant before, they’d decided to sample tapas plates instead of ordering entrées, sliding close together in the curved booth to share food. While enjoying yucca fries, miniature empanadas and grilled beef served with flavorful chimichurri, they’d had a lively conversation, discussing literature-based movies and arguing about which format was more successful for each story. Most date-like of all, there was palpable chemistry between her and her smoking-hot companion.

Daniel might spend a lot of his time teaching classes and publishing academic papers, but it was clear from his muscular build and lithe grace that he didn’t overlook physical recreation. He’d mentioned weekly basketball games with Eli and jogging the paths around the Chattahoochee River in warmer weather. It was difficult to decide which was sexier—his toned, masculine body or the gleam in his silvery eyes when he teased her. She was discovering he had a much better sense of humor than she would’ve anticipated. Daniel Keegan in a playful mood was nearly irresistible.

Mia tried not to get bogged down by regrets, but for the first time she wondered what their earlier relationship would have been like if she hadn’t had a chip on her shoulder when they’d met. She’d gone off to college angry with her father and her stepmother, wounded at their lack of support when she’d needed it most and betrayed by their attempts to remake her in the image of her oh-so-proper stepsister. Never gonna happen.

“Hey.” Daniel lightly poked her shoulder. “Did I lose you somewhere? I could understand if I’d been droning on about Renaissance literature, but I was sharing a quality childhood anecdote from my limited supply. I can count on one hand the number of times my brothers and I indulged in humorous shenanigans.”

“Then we have that in common.”

“Really? I would have thought your youth was full of shenanigans.”

Far fewer than he imagined, and none with her stepsister. “Patience and I didn’t have a whimsical relationship.”

“Patience being your sister?” He reached for a chocolate-coated slice of plantain.

“Step. It was just me and Dad for years. He remarried the summer before I started high school, and, boom, suddenly I had an older sibling. We’re only a year apart in age, but Patience...” Mia couldn’t think of a way to describe her that didn’t sound petulant.

“Is she bossy? I have lifelong experience being the youngest sibling.”

“Patience is shy and soft-spoken. She wouldn’t be able to boss around the world’s most accommodating personal assistant, much less me. We couldn’t be less alike.” Much to their parents’ dismay.

Even now, years after the fact, the memory of her father’s words were a raw wound. I’m not saying that it was your fault, but I can’t imagine the same thing would have happened if Patience had been in your situation.

“I don’t want to talk about my family,” she said abruptly.

Daniel nodded, unfazed by her harsh tone. Perhaps he’d heard it often enough in college to be used to it. “How did you decide you wanted to be an event planner?”

“By accident. I was interning for a horrible woman who used to pawn off her personal errands on me, everything from picking up her dry cleaning to emptying her cat’s litter box—which I firmly refused to do. But then she put me in charge of her parents’ anniversary party, and it was more fun than work. I mean, who doesn’t love a party?”

He gave her a sheepish look, silently admitting parties weren’t his favorite place to be.

But Mia had never been one to back down from a challenge. “I bet I could plan you the perfect party.” A successful event meant different things to different guests. One person’s backyard kegger was another person’s museum wine-tasting. She’d coordinated myriad events, everything from painting parties to bar mitzvahs to themed scavenger hunts.

“My birthday’s in early February,” he told her, sliding the dessert plate toward her so she could take the last piece. “It’s tempting to hire you to plan a celebration instead of going to my parents’. Breaking tradition would probably get me disowned, but...” He hitched a shoulder in a half shrug, suggesting family exile might not be the end of the world.

“My mom hosted my favorite birthday party of all time.” It was one of the few vivid memories she had of her mother. “It was for our dog, Sasha.”

He grinned. “You had birthday parties for the dog?”

“Not every year. Just that once. It had been a hot-as-hell summer, and I was antsy to start kindergarten.” She knew those details more from hearing her dad repeat the story than from her own recollections. “To help me pass the time—and probably for her own entertainment, since I had to be driving her crazy—Mom said we should have a party for the dog. She told me Sasha was turning one, but I have no idea if the dog’s birthday was even in July. Mom invited other puppies from around the neighborhood. She organized games and baked a cake for me and my friends in the shape of a giant bone. I still have the picture she snapped in the ten seconds when all the dogs were actually wearing their party hats.” Less than six months later, her mother had been killed in a car accident.

Daniel was smiling at her story. “Maybe, subconsciously, you decided then that you wanted to be a party planner.”