The Best Mistake of Her Life

by Aimee Carson

  Despite her best effort, a sliver of defensiveness crept into her voice. “We bought it because the formal living and dining area were perfect for entertaining,” she said. “And the size was nice because it was convenient when Dalton’s extended family came for a visit.”

  “Perfect for housing a small nation, too,” Memphis said dryly.

  “But too big for a divorced woman living alone.”

  An awkward silence fell between them, blanketing the mood with tension again. There was no relaxing with Memphis around, and after the evening she’d had, relaxation was definitely in order. But the thought of entering her house alone, left to rattle around until she finally fell into an exhausted sleep, held zero appeal. She’d done that too much lately.

  She turned to look at him. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to ask you in for a drink?”

  “Only if you want to be completely unoriginal.”

  She hiked a brow. “I think I’ve had enough originality for tonight.” His eyes crinkled with amusement, at least until she went on. “So … will you come in?”

  The humor in his gaze was slowly replaced with caution. “One drink and then I’ll go.”

  Feeling like a gawky teen, body thrumming with the possibilities, Kate weighed his response as she led him up the walk and into the house, heading for her living-room bar. Despite the fact he’d stopped to lean against the doorjamb to the room, his presence seemed to fill the space, the fine physique, the bedroom eyes, the sexily mussed hair …

  Unfortunately, the memories of making love to this man made her fingers clumsy, the glass rattling as she poured a brandy. Apparently Memphis sensed her inner turmoil.

  “Kate,” he said, hesitation in his expression. “Why am I here?”

  For a long moment she fought the answer that formed, but it was no use. It had been years since that time he’d made her feel so alive. Despite the shame that had come with the event, despite the years of regret, she longed to recapture the little light that night had brought to her life.

  Finally making the inevitable decision, the only decision she could, she set the bottle down and crossed the room, placing her hands on his chest. “I want you to stay the night, Memphis.”

  His caramel eyes took on the color of very dark chocolate. She held her breath, hoping he’d say yes. Praying he’d say no.

  And wishing she wasn’t living so close to the edge of insanity these days.

  He stared down at her for a long, uncomfortable moment, his eyes full of doubt. His voice was gruff. “I’m not part of an escort service.”

  She closed her eyes, feeling unsure, but the heat and the muscle beneath her hand—and the memories—called to her. She lifted her lids, took his hand and pressed his palm to her breast.

  Memphis froze, and then his jaw muscle twitched. “I’ll admit you make a convincing argument,” he said slowly, his voice full of tension. “But this wasn’t part of our agreement.”

  “I’d like to amend the agreement.”

  “A deal is a deal.”

  “Deals can always be renegotiated.”

  Several seconds passed as his dark eyes searched hers, and then he said softly, “Why should I?”

  Because Tabitha’s mention of Kate’s old perfect life still held her in its grips. Because she was tired of rattling around the house that represented a dream that had fallen apart. But mostly, it boiled down to the length of time since she’d been touched by a man. Had felt wanted. Desired. Memphis had always made her feel that way.

  Even when it had been wrong.

  “Because I want you to make love to me,” she said.

  Memphis’s lips twisted wryly. Just a few days ago, her answer would have been enough, and the tempting curve of her breast beneath his hand was sending signals his body insisted he not ignore.

  When it came to Kate he had no shortage of desire. But as he learned more about her current situation, there was also a growing awareness of her vulnerabilities. Even though he’d promised himself never to feel sorry for this woman again, tonight had changed his mind. Though frustrating, her graceful dignity under fire was admirable. And when she had stared up at this big house, the lost look on her face had nearly done him in.

  Lust alone was fine. But lust mixed with sympathy was dangerous.

  “I think I should go,” he finally said.

  “I want you to stay.”

  Damn, he shouldn’t need her to push him away.

  Torn, he looked around her living room and the foyer—a sea of off-white stucco, wrought-iron fixtures and hardwood floors—his every nerve aching to take her. Unfortunately everything about Kate was complicated. Their rocky relationship. Their difficult, turbulent past.

  His conflicting feelings …

  His doubtful look was probably bigger than it should have been. “Kate, it’s a bad idea—”

  She rose on tiptoe and placed her mouth on his, stunning him with her actions. For five pounding heartbeats filled with her enticing scent, he battled the need.

  And then he gripped her shoulders with the vague thought of pushing her away. But her mouth moved against his with an allure that allowed little room for rational thought, and he was left halfheartedly maintaining their distance. Not pushing her back, as he knew he should, yet not pulling her closer, either, as he wanted to do. Instead, he remained frozen, enjoying her passionate plea even as his brain insisted he’d regret it in the end.

  Kate softly nipped his lower lip, and, with a groan that took place in his mind only, Memphis tipped his head to the side, succumbing to the overpowering need to take more. He dipped his tongue against hers. She smelled sweet and tasted even sweeter, pure deliciousness wrapped up in a delicate female softness, yet coated with a hint of abandon.

  The pleasurable torture continued with a mix of lips and tongues and lust, until he remembered that morning all those years ago—waking to find her gone—and his hands on her arms began to push her away.

  Mouth fused with his, Kate clutched his shirt with frantic fingers, pushing him back toward the base of the staircase until he thumped against the wall, driving his need higher. It was almost as though she was afraid he would escape.

  And maybe that was what this was all about. A chance for her to forget. To bury her head and ignore her problems, the way she always did. He frowned even as he continued to enjoy her soft lips, the sensual slide of tongue against tongue. The sweet taste of citrus and the smell of lavender invaded his system and made resistance difficult.

  He tried anyway. Because he needed a moment to think. Time to breathe. Memphis pulled his lips back a fraction. “Angel Face, you need to slow down—”

  “No.” Her mouth landed back on his as her fingers began to fumble with his buttons.

  Desire battered him, growing stronger as the memory of their first time together came roaring back. She’d been as needy and out of control then as she was now. That night it was the shaking fingers, the hesitant uncertainty and the sweetness beneath her desperately bold maneuvers that had finally banished his thoughts of waiting until she was less emotional.

  But this time, the sweet submissive side was nowhere to be found.

  Kate wrestled with the front of his shirt until the top button popped, landing on the hardwood floor with a soft click.

  He lifted his mouth a fraction. “Shouldn’t that have held together better, given how much I paid for it?” he said.

  “Probably,” she said distractedly, her fingers still working, and a second button hit the floor.

  Memphis didn’t give a damn about the clothes, but his tenuous control on his sanity was close to shattering. Especially as she fought to finish the buttons. “You’re ruining my shirt,” he said.

  Fingers gripped on the front of the garment, blue eyes smoldering, Kate took several backward steps up the stairs, pulling him along with her, her hot gaze now level with his. Turning him on as never before.

  “I’ll buy you another one,” Kate said.

  “I went through a lot
to find this one,” he said gruffly as he trailed behind her.

  Now a quarter of the way up the grand staircase, Kate pulled his shirt off, tossing it aside, and it landed on the banister, draping across the handrail like a banner. “I’ll help you pick out another,” she said, and then threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled his head in the direction of hers.

  “Damn it, Kate,” he muttered just before he gave in to another soul-drugging kiss that snapped a few more threads of his control.

  He gripped the dress covering her thighs, bunching the silk as he fisted his hands. After allowing himself a moment to slant his mouth across hers, to lose himself in another taste, he finally managed to regain a semblance of restraint and pulled his mouth away.

  “I don’t have a condom,” he said.

  Showing no mercy, Kate unfastened his belt, removed it and tossed it aside. “It doesn’t matter. I’m on the Pill.”

  He scowled skeptically. “How do you know I don’t have anything catching?”

  “Do you?”

  “No,” he said, his scowl growing bigger. “But you don’t know that.”

  Fingers through his belt loops, eyes on fire, she pulled him up several more steps. “I trust you.”

  They spent several minutes making their way higher in a give-and-take battle for the lead, Kate urging him up the stairs even as Memphis attempted to slow the progression by occasionally pinning her against the wall—a lame attempt to buy himself time to regain control. Lame because each time he caved in to his cravings, taking her mouth with his, the kisses grew rougher. Caught between his need to resist the hold the memories had over him even as he longed to give in.

  They reached the last step before the landing, and Kate unfastened his pants and pushed them to the floor with a thunk, her hands greedy as they skimmed across his chest, lighting him on fire.

  At this rate, he was going to be finished before he’d even mentally committed to participating.

  “Kate, I think—”

  She pressed him back again and this time his shoulder bumped a picture on the wall, knocking the frame to the stairs several steps below where it shattered with a crash.

  But Kate, fastidious, painstakingly correct Kate, didn’t notice.

  And Memphis’s reluctant mind finally fully aligned itself with the rest of his body. With a curse, he released the longing and frustration and the acute ache, cupping her buttocks and pulling her closer. He lifted her until his brief-covered erection nestled between her legs, consuming her mouth in an act of ownership that was as much about his own capitulation as it was about his possession of Kate.

  Mind spinning, he finally allowed himself to indulge in his craving for the feisty woman he’d pushed so hard to uncover. All his teasing looks and goading words, taking delight when the real Kate would emerge, briefly dropping the ice-princess facade in exchange for the fiery girl/woman who had lit his adolescent years and set him ablaze. And for the first time she was taking what she wanted, even if it was only physically. It was intoxicatingly sexy, this irresistibly full-blooded Kate he’d waited so long to see. Asserting herself. Making her wishes known and not taking no for an answer.

  He’d wanted her to do as much at dinner.

  He’d settle for now.

  Lips consuming hers, relishing the seductive rasp of tongue against tongue, he pulled the pins from her hair, freeing the silken strands as he backed her toward the first closed door he saw, his heart pounding with the need to be inside this woman.

  When he pinned her against the bedroom door, Kate pulled her mouth from his. “Wrong room,” she said.

  “What the hell difference does it make?”

  “I want you in my room.”

  Frustrated, Memphis rolled until his back was against the wall, freeing Kate from the pinned position. He gripped the hem of her dress, hauled it over her head and gave it a careless toss. The red silk sailed over the railing overlooking the foyer, fluttering out of sight to the floor below.

  Arms wrapped around her, he kissed her with the same urgency that raged in his veins, working to release her bra as he steered her backward down the hall for the next room. When he pushed her against the second door, he let out a sigh of relief as he dragged her bra off and tossed it over his shoulder.

  “This isn’t the right room, either,” Kate said.

  Need now at a critical level, Memphis muttered, “Damn it, Kate.” He reached for her hips and pulled her against him, arching his hard body against the enticing softness of hers. “Where’s your bedroom?”

  “Third floor.”

  He eyed the spiral staircase at the end of the long hall. Knowing death by explosion was imminent if he didn’t have this woman soon, he realized he had to take matters more firmly in hand.

  Not bothering with a warning, Memphis leaned down and hoisted Kate over his shoulder.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “MEMPHIS,” Kate choked out, closing her eyes, breathless from desire and the awkward position. Being hauled like a sack of flour was hardly the romantic ending she’d envisioned as she’d all but dragged him up the stairs. “Wait—” She opened her eyes, and the sight cut off her protests.

  The upside-down view of Memphis’s backside could only have been improved with the loss of the white briefs that stretched across his tight rear end. Mesmerized, Kate watched the alternating bulge and lengthening of the corded muscles of his buttocks and thighs as Memphis carried her with impressive speed up the spiral staircase to the eagle’s-nest guest suite. The space had been her bedroom since the end of her marriage.

  Dizzy with desire, hot blood surging through her veins, she fought for breath as he mounted the last step, crossed into the suite and set her down in the middle of the room.

  She didn’t want to miss a thing, so she pushed the hair from her eyes, and was a little disappointed he didn’t instantly pick up where they’d left off. Instead, as if stunned, he looked around at the slate-blue walls, the feminine Battenberg lace curtains and matching bedspread—covered in every outfit she’d nervously tried on and dismissed before tonight’s dinner.

  Memphis’s gaze was firmly fixed on the queen-size bed, clearly meant for one.

  Heat flushed up her neck, and she felt a sudden need to explain. “Before Dalton and I officially separated, I moved out of our master bedroom.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  She hesitated for several heartbeats. “Eighteen months.”

  A stunned silence followed and his brows reached for the ceiling. “You’re kidding me.”

  A twinge of self-consciousness twisted in her chest. “By the time we’d finally accepted the fact that our marriage was over, it was only six months before the election.”

  Memphis stared at her skeptically. “What did that have to do with anything?”

  The twinge in her chest grew stronger. “I told you, I believe in Dalton’s policies,” she said, knowing the excuse sounded inadequate. “And I loved being the driving force behind his fundraising events.”

  She didn’t add that her role had given her a sense of fulfillment she’d desperately needed. Or that it had seemed logical at the time. But now she wondered if there weren’t bigger issues at hand. Namely, a fear of being alone.

  Memphis’s silence made her uncomfortable, and she felt the need to fill it. “I was the one to suggest we maintain appearances until the election was over and things had time to settle.”

  His expression remained incredulous. “Was it your idea to be locked in a chastity tower?”

  “It was of my own making.”

  “No men have been up here since you two decided to separate?”

  “Not unless you count Frank who did the remodeling.” Despite the fact that Memphis wore nothing but tight briefs, and his finely honed torso made conversation difficult, she said, “And even though it’s been two years since I’ve had sex, I’m not into seventy-year-old men.”

  “Two years,” he said, as if still struggling to take it all in. And then h
is attitude gradually shifted, his eyes growing dark as he slowly came toward her, his rumbling words loaded with meaning. “So what are you into, Kate?”

  His predatory look was mesmerizing, and the rate of her breathing increased as she struggled for an answer to the delicately worded question about her sex life. She lifted her chin in defense of her choices. “Solitary activities.”

  As he came closer, a second emotion briefly flashed across his face, a cross between a disturbed-by-her-choices look and sympathy-for-the-reasons expression.

  But she’d had enough pity these past few months to last her lifetime. “You can make it up to me.”

  Instantly the last trace of sympathy disappeared and his demeanor returned to one of pure predator. “How?” he asked, and then he shed his underwear and she bit her lip at the raw glory, the pure masculine form primed and intent on her.

  Her voice was husky. “That was a good start.”

  “I’m thinking I need a few more details,” he said, his hot gaze intense as he took the last step separating them, the long, lean, wonderfully muscled body so close she could feel his heat. “What else does Kate Anderson want?”

  “For you to make love to me in every room of this house?” An embarrassing amount of hope radiated in her tone.

  “I’m in good shape—” He leaned in for a kiss that sent her spiraling, his tongue taking a quick taste of hers before he pulled his head back. “But I don’t think even my stamina is up to that kind of endurance test.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, desperate to keep him close. “It’s been so long I might finish before you get started,” she said, hoping he’d take the hint.

  Without a word, not bothering with the bed covered in clothes, Memphis dragged her down to the thick carpet as he threaded his fingers into her hair, tilting her head so he could take her mouth again. And, this time, the intent behind it was clear. The fusion of lips and heat and tongue held a determined quality that made it clear that Memphis wasn’t going to stop until he was through. Kate nearly cried in relief. Mouth on hers, he skimmed one hand down to stroke her skin, caress a breast, lingering a moment to tease the tip until she was ablaze.