by Aimee Carson
“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.”
She ignored the old shame and concentrated on today’s humiliation instead. She had one trick left to get Memphis to agree. Her name was firmly attached to this reunion and, if nothing else, she would make sure it went off successfully.
“Brian told me you’d refuse,” Kate said. At the mention of her brother, Memphis froze, his face devoid of emotion. The pause was the most awkward to date which, given their history, was saying something. “He asked me to tell you to consider saying yes as a favor to him.”
Memory torqued his every muscle, and Memphis’s body tensed as he remembered the last time he’d seen Kate, right outside Brian’s hospital room. It was the only time in their history he’d seen her so tenaciously outspoken, not to mention livid, fighting for what she wanted. The feisty female he’d sensed all along but had rarely seen.
Until today.
Apparently the change was now permanent, and Memphis wondered how much their history together had contributed.
For the first time since she’d chased him down Memphis allowed himself a moment to take in every detail. The sleek blond hair was arranged in a loop at the back of her neck, a style that was casual yet elegant. A few loose tendrils framed her face. The blue eyes were clear and cool—and used to flip-flop between an infuriatingly eager-to-please manner toward her family and the frustrating ice-princess look of disapproval she’d saved for Memphis. Especially while lecturing him after every stunt he and her brother pulled as teenagers. And then there was the slim figure in a classy sundress that covered her gentle curves, a sight that could tempt a man into doing things he knew wouldn’t turn out well for him. A body that in one memorable night had ferried Memphis straight to heaven right before it had condemned him to hell.
Memphis cleared his throat, sorry all the memories weren’t as easy to banish. “How is Brian?”
“He’s getting around better now,” Kate said, the words expanding the uneasiness in his gut. For a moment her expression softened. “You should give him a call.”
Regret made his voice gruffer than he’d planned. “Eventually.”
There was an awkward pause before she went on. “Well,” Kate said. “Will you help me?”
He’d rather face the harrowing drop he’d done off the rim of the Grand Canyon last year, the one that had come close to getting him killed. All for an action film remembered only for its death-defying stunts by Memphis James and its lethal lack of a decent script.
Memphis ruffled an impatient hand through his hair, studying Kate. His teasing, provoking behavior in the past had all been in response to a teenage obsession that had frustrated the heck out of him. Fortunately, hellaciously sharp chemistry aside, experience had made him immune to her now. But Kate had definitely changed, correctly surmising the one weakness he had left and using it against him—which meant he was caught between the woman he’d sworn off long ago and the friend to whom he owed a debt that could never be repaid.
Helping Brian’s sister was the least he could do.
“Okay,” he said, letting out his breath and giving one last swipe through his hair. “I’ll do it.” He dropped his hand to his side. “Exactly what does this favor entail?”
“In celebration of completing our task, the reunion committee has voted to combine business with pleasure,” she said. “There are several meetings that have been turned into social functions.”
“Sounds like the kind of pompous crap your private-school classmates would pull,” he muttered.
“I want you to go with me,” she said.
He narrowed his eyes at her, growing wary. “How many events?”
Dropping her gaze to his shoulder, she fingered the belt of
her dress, and her uneasy fidgeting didn’t bode well for Memphis. “A dinner party, three cocktail parties …” Kate met his gaze again. “And then there are the two events on the reunion weekend itself.”
Memphis’s mind balked at the thought. “No wonder you can’t find anyone to help you. I’ll agree to the dinner party and one cocktail party.” He shot her a you’re-crazy look. “But I didn’t attend Biscayne Bay Preparatory Academy. No way am I going to your reunion.”
“But that’s the main event I don’t want to attend alone.”
Memphis enunciated each word succinctly. “I am not going to your reunion.” Brian’s old classmates would take one look at Memphis and remember his highly publicized mistake. The one that had almost killed his friend … “That’s beyond the kind of torture I can take. You’ll have to find someone else for that phase of your plan.”
Kate blew out a breath and eyed him steadily. “One dinner party, two cocktail parties, and the reunion weekend,” she said, going on smoothly. “Brian will be there, and he’s looking forward to seeing you.”
Damn, another low blow. “One reunion event,” he said, hating that he’d caved in the face of her less-than-subtle pressure. “Either Friday or Saturday. Your choice.”
“Deal,” she said, and then her eyes swept down his well-worn jeans. “And I get to select the clothes you wear.”
The grin hit him hard, as did her sweeping gaze. “You got a problem with my wardrobe?”
She lifted a brow. “I remember what you wore after one of my misguided classmates invited you to our prom.”
“Tiffany Bettingfield didn’t mind my faded kakis and athletic shoes. Because after I watched you get crowned Prom Queen alongside your golden-boy Prom King—” his smile crept higher “—Tiffany suggested we head to my car. I was happy to show her that there are more important things about a man than his clothes.”
“Hopefully she’s recovered from her lapse in judgment by now,” she said with a sarcasm that was so smooth he almost missed the tone. “Do we have a deal?”
Despite everything, Memphis was delighted with Kate Anderson’s new spunk wrapped in her usual class. “Deal,” he confirmed. “But just to be clear, I’m doing this for Brian, not you.”
Her lips twisted. “Don’t worry, Memphis. I’m under no illusions you would ever do a favor for me.”
A sliver of anger shot through him, momentarily dimming his good humor. There was a time in his teens when he’d have done anything for Kate, if she’d only hinted that she cared. But those days were long gone, killed in a fateful night that had had far-reaching consequences that neither of them could have predicted.
Her ice-princess behavior and hands-off attitude used to frustrate the hell out of him, but these days things were different. He was certainly done touching Kate, but now he was impressed and intrigued by her cool demeanor and polite facade, especially in the face of their tumultuous past.
Yet a small part of him longed to see her emotional cool crack, just for a moment. And, after their teen years, provoking her was as ingrained as breathing.
“I did you a favor once.” He deliberately turned his voice husky. “Do you remember?”
He took comfort in the slight catch of her breath, a small smile forming on his lips as Kate clearly struggled to remain composed.
“Memphis,” she finally said, recovering her cool and holding his gaze. “That was a long time ago. And even you can’t be so conceited as to think of sex as a favor.”
He studied her for a moment and then he leaned close, inhaling the haunting scent of lavender he’d come to equate with Kate. “Well, it ranked right up there as one of the best nights of my life,” he murmured, and the bitter truth in his teasing words made his smile grow tight. “Right up until I found out you and Dalton were still married.”
CHAPTER TWO
GUILT.
Kate closed her eyes as her heart strained to keep from crumpling under the weight of the emotion. She’d let the feeling drive her back to a marriage that had begun to die long before the night she’d spent in Memphis’s arms. And then she’d let the emotion keep her stuck in her vow of forever well beyond the point where all hope for a happy-from-here-on-out was gone.
But there was only so much guilt a girl could take before she eventually was either permanently crippled by it or finally declared she was moving on. And the time for that was now, if for no other reason than to save her sanity.
She lifted her lids and said the words that were five years overdue. “I’m sorry.”
Too bad the apology didn’t make her feel any better.
“Sorry?” He tipped his head skeptically, as if vaguely amused by her pitiful words. “For which part? For leaving without saying goodbye? Or for me learning the truth from your brother?”
Her heart stopped. “You called Brian?”
“The very next day,” he said. “And in an attempt to figure out what the hell had just happened, I casually asked him how you were doing.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Imagine my surprise when he said you were having marital problems.”
Heart now doing double time, Kate pressed her lips together and blindly turned to look at the dwindling crowd, but she was determined to keep moving forward. Growing up in the spotlight—with every family problem scrutinized by the public in excruciating detail—had taught her to persevere. Pretending everything was okay wasn’t always the best choice, but sometimes it was the only one you had.
“The first function is this weekend.” She faced Memphis again. “We need to make plans.”
He shot her an incredulous look.
“Part of the deal was I’d help you pick out something suitable to wear,” she went on.
After a brief hesitation, his lips twitched. “I’m sure I can find something appropriate in my closet,” he said, the look in his eyes one of pure entertainment.
At her expense, of course.
Clearly her soundness of mind was taking a brief holiday. After all, she’d convinced Memphis to spend the next month helping her. She was going to need a straitjacket before this was over, mostly to keep from pulling her hair out in frustration.
“You forget,” she said, feigning patience. “I’ve seen your idea of appropriate.”
“Fine,” he said, startling her with his easy agreement. Grateful he’d given in so easily, she let her tensed muscles relax, until he jerked his head in the direction of the street. “Let’s go,” he said.
“Where?”
“To check out my wardrobe.”
“Now?” Her heart sank and the tension returned. She hadn’t even begun to recover from seeing him again.
“No time like the present.” He sent her a tiny smile that left her hugely nervous. “You can follow me home and check out the contents of my closet.”
Still questioning her good sense, Kate followed Memphis into the upmarket apartment in an exclusive neighborhood, noting that he was all but ignoring her as she trailed behind him into the kitchen. The lack of attention was a welcome change. He tossed his keys on the kitchen table and turned to lean a hip against the counter, watching her as she assessed what was clearly meant to be temporary living quarters.
In one slow pivot she took in the kitchen and the spartanly furnished living area. A flat-screen TV, a single leather recliner and a side table were the extent of the furniture. No couch. No bookshelves. The walls were painted white, and there were no pictures or mementos to break up the bland color theme. The apartment was a blank slate waiting for the occupant to fill it with his belongings, bringing a personal touch.
Memphis hadn’t bothered.
“It could do with a little sprucing up,” she said. It was then she noticed several framed photographs on the floor, propped against the wall as if it was too much trouble to hang them in place.
For a moment he looked as if he regretted letting her come to check out his wardrobe. “My needs are simple,” he said.
“I can see you have a love of basic white,” she said dryly.
>
“Even if I was into interior decorating, which I’m not, I’m not in town long enough to bother,” he said. “It has everything I need: a great location, a refrigerator …” The only movement was a slight tip of the head. “And a bed.”
The silence that followed filled the room, his expression remarkably placid, no overt twinkle in his gaze necessary. The thick, dark eyelashes gave him a sinfully sated look, framing caramel-colored eyes that oozed sex, whether intentional or not.
She knew he’d brought her here to make her uncomfortable, and the sooner she got this over with the sooner she’d get out of his apartment. Her heart was pounding embarrassingly fast, and no matter how many lectures she’d given herself as she’d followed him here, it was hard not to remember the last time they’d been alone together in an apartment. Completing her task and getting out of his home suddenly became a top priority.
But clothes meant closets, and closets meant bedrooms, and suddenly her heart stopped and she couldn’t breathe.
Stalling for time to recuperate from his effect on her, she crossed to the living room and picked up one of the pictures. It was of a red convertible Porsche, top back as it sailed off the end of a towering cliff. Like a surfer, Memphis was crouched on the driver seat, his hand on the top of the windshield, body poised to push off.
She wasn’t a fan of action movies, but when the film had been released Kate had gone to see it in the theatre. Alone in the dark, with only her popcorn for company, she’d watched the hero—who, in actuality, had been Memphis—push off from the free-falling car and do a back flip in the air before unfolding into position. Arms pressed to his side, body arrow-straight to decrease wind resistance, he’d aimed for the flatbed truck far, far below. At the last possible second he’d pulled the cord to the chute on his back and targeted the moving semi, landing gracefully on the trailer.
The stunt had brought back all the turbulent emotions Memphis had elicited as a teen, the larger-than-life adolescent constantly goading her into feelings that were too messy to handle. Exasperation. Danger. And a whole lot of electric chemistry that had short-circuited her ability to function when he was near. Back then, Dalton had made her feel safe.
