by Aimee Carson
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.
Truth. It was all about truth.
For a brief moment Kate was admitting the attraction was still mutual, at least in body if not in words. It was the only time this woman, the one who had driven him mad in so many ways, was stripped of the hands-off aura she kept firmly in place.
As the seconds passed, need wove through his every cell, and he slid Kate’s hand down his abdomen, over the denim of his jeans, and pressed her palm firmly against his erection.
An intense surge of pleasure shot through his body at the same time a tiny protest came from Kate’s throat—a soft, barely heard noise that matched the free hand she used to press against his chest, and instinctively he knew what both actions meant.
Kate Anderson could kiss him as if he were the only man she’d ever wanted, even as she berated herself for her choice.
Memphis braced his fist against the door and pulled his mouth away. Heart pounding, he stared down at her flushed cheeks, the blue eyes now clouded with desire and the delectably parted lips, damp from his. Toss in the furrow of concern on her brow and it was more than any man should be forced to endure.
“Time for you to go, Kate,” he said, his tone carefully even despite the heart pounding violently in his chest. “The clerk and I can take it from here.”
CHAPTER FOUR
TWO days later Memphis stared at the cloudless sky that domed over the Atlantic, the aquamarine color broken by the pier jutting into its waters. The dock contained the pyrotechnic crew and was littered with barrels, crates and fake cans of fuel. A fishing boat was moored at the end. Multiple cameras were set up to record the stunt from different angles.
Memphis adjusted the snatch harness hidden beneath his protective attire, the harness attached via a ratchet line to a heavy-duty hoist. Two propane-filled canisters were pointed directly at Memphis, the tanks set to detonate and shoot a blast of fire at the same time the hoist was to jerk him back, as if the explosion was knocking him into the water.
Memphis had been rehearsing this gag for days, connecting the various pieces of equipment and working on assuming a natural position in the air. He was good to go. Unfortunately, the crew wasn’t ready, which meant Memphis was left waiting with too much time to think. Which was never ideal leading up to a particularly tricky stunt, but was particularly troublesome when he was stewing over problems unrelated to the task at hand, threatening his usual focus.
Bad things happened when his focus was off.
It had been forty-eight hours since he’d sent Kate from the designer store and finished the shopping. Despite her original insistence on being present for the selections, Kate had willingly bolted. Frustration welled again, and Memphis raked a hand through his hair, blowing out a long breath as he fought to control the sense of dissatisfaction.
Used to be, he’d been confident that when Kate grew up and stopped blindly following the wishes of her family, had stopped being the dutiful Anderson daughter long enough to stand up for what she wanted, then she would want him as much as he wanted her. After yesterday he wasn’t so sure.
A faint frown crossed his lips. Maybe he’d read too much into the surreptitious glances he’d caught from her during their teens. Perhaps they’d been a figment of his overly hormonal imagination, and she hadn’t been as attracted to him as he’d thought. The chemistry crackling between them could have simply arisen from the anger she felt as she repeatedly tried to get him and Brian to stop taking risks that got them into trouble—upsetting the image of the powerful Anderson family.
And maybe the night she’d spent in his arms had simply been fueled by sorrow over the argument she’d had with her husband. Or maybe it was an attempt to get back at Dalton for his treatment of her. But even as the thought entered his mind, he knew it wasn’t true. Kate Anderson might be a lot of things but she was neither vindictive nor cruel. No, the likely reason was far worse.
She might be attracted, but not enough for Memphis James to be worthy of a second look.
His lips twisted wryly at the bitter taste in his mouth. Being relegated to the insignificant defined the early years he’d spent living on the wrong side of the tracks, and was something Memphis had set about to change. He’d accepted being poor.
He’d refused to accept being treated as if he were invisible.
Immediately he was back ten years in time to being Tiffany Bettingfield’s date to Kate and Brian’s senior prom. Tiffany was just one of several girls at the private school who had asked him to attend. He’d had no interest in the lavish event, but couldn’t resist the chance to see Kate in action—the biggest, most beautiful fish in her tiny pretentious pond. Their two-year age difference had seemed huge back then, and he’d been frustrated by his inability to let his fascination go. He should have been concentrating on the older females who had made themselves so available.
No doubt his friends would have been surprised by his choice.
But no one had been surprised when Kate was crowned Prom Queen next to her equally perfect Prom King, the man she’d eventually marry. When Memphis had approached them to offer his congratulations, simply a lame attempt to get her reaction to his invasion of her bright, shiny world, it was Dalton who’d been friendly, graciously shaking his hand. The blank look on Kate’s face had left Memphis stewing. And then she’d sent him a cool smile and a polite nod, looking right through him before she turned to address a classmate.
He and Brian had achieved legendary status at the private school, a certain popularity with most of the students; but to Kate Anderson, Memphis was too insignificant for a short conversation. Worse, he couldn’t shake his interest in the younger girl.
“Hey, Memphis,” a familiar voice called, interrupting the disturbing memories, and Memphis turned and spied Kate’s brother.
Tall and lean, Brian Anderson shared the same aristocratic features and blue eyes as his twin sister. In khakis and a T-shirt, the sandy-haired man made his way up the dock, heading for Memphis. His progress was marked with an uneven gait, favoring the leg that had been shattered in that fateful jump five years ago, and Memphis tensed.
Damn. Why had he come back to his hometown?
“Dude, you’ve been in Miami for … what, three weeks?” Brian said as he drew closer. “What took you so long to call and invite me down to see you in action?”
The guilt climbed higher. “Sorry, Brian,” he said. “Last night was the first chance I got.”
“Kate said she told you to call me,” his friend said.
Memphis’s lips quirked. Brian’s sister was wrong about a lot of things, but she was right about him needing to call Brian. It had been way too long.
“How about we grab a beer tonight?” Brian said. “On a bar overlooking the beach, of course.” Hair ruffling in the breeze, Brian shot Memphis that devil-may-care grin that was famous around Miami, his antics, paired with the prestigious family name, landing him in many a newspaper over the years. “It’s good to see you, Memphis,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder.
“You, too,” Memphis said, and he meant it.
Brian nodded at the propane tanks. “Reminds me of when we first met,” he said. “I was riding my dirt bike out at that old grove when I got splattered with a rotten orange you shot from your potato gun,” he said as he sent Memphis a huge grin.
His mouth twisted in humor. “I told you,” Memphis said. “That was an accident. Besides, I let you help me detonate those propane cylinders to make up for the hit.” Memphis shot him a smile. “Suckers blew sky-high.”
“And my heart didn’t restart for a week.”
“We were just lucky the orange grove didn’t catch fire.”
“What’s really amazing is that we still have our hearing.” The twinkle in Brian’s eyes grew brighter. “If we had been smarter we wo
uld have started with one canister instead of lighting all three at once.”
“Well,” Memphis said with a laugh. “No one ever accused us of being smart.”
Brian’s laughter joined his and, for a few seconds, Memphis enjoyed the moment that was full of every stunt they’d pulled, starting out amateur and becoming more sophisticated over time. Some had been lame, some had been brilliant, but all of them had been born out of passion and forged in a kindred spirit that Memphis hadn’t quite matched since.
Once the laughter died there was an awkward pause, and Memphis searched for a way to fill the blank. “How’s work?” It was a stupid question, because Memphis had followed Brian’s growing reputation as stunt coordinator on a local TV show that was garnering national acclaim. It was a double-edged sword. Memphis was enormously pleased with his friend’s success, yet disturbed by the thought of what Brian could have accomplished without the injury bestowed upon him, courtesy of Memphis. With effort, he pushed the guilt aside as Brian went on.
“Work is good,” Brian said. “Speaking of, I have a jump I’d like to discuss with you tonight.” He shaded his eyes from the sun with his hand.
“And the beer is on me, as a thanks for helping Kate.”
Instead of a painful groan, Memphis let out a noncommittal “Hunh” and paused to gaze out over the aquamarine waters of the Atlantic. The bright sun rippled on the water as he reined in the conflicting emotions.
“The divorce has been rough on her,” Brian said. “I know in the past you two were always arguing, but try to be nice, okay?”
Clamping back the bark of an ironic scoff, Memphis was inordinately grateful when the crew signaled they were almost ready to start.
Memphis shot his friend a look. “Nice isn’t my specialty,” he said. “But I’ll do my best.”
The flash of fire was larger than Kate had expected, and the cable snatched Memphis up and back with a heart-stopping force. Her chest froze, refusing to cooperate with the act of breathing as Memphis arced through the air, his body assuming a ragdoll position that mimicked death. At least she hoped it was an act. If it wasn’t, she was going to kill him herself for shaving five more years from her life.
