The Best Mistake of Her Life (5 page)

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.”

T
WO
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 would 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.

Right after she’d set him straight about their kiss, of course.

Memphis hit the sun-dappled water, but Kate didn’t breathe until his head popped above the surface. She gripped the barricade, steadying her annoyingly wobbly knees while she inhaled swiftly as the crew whooped and hollered
their approval. The cheering continued until he climbed the ladder out of the water and appeared on the dock. Several of the staff surrounded Memphis to help unhook the cable and remove the harness strapped to his chest, and Memphis pulled off his wet shirt to wipe his dripping face.

Now free, a bare-chested Memphis made his way to the monitor where a few of the staff were gathered, as well as her brother. At the sight of the two men together again, her heart twisted nostalgically, but Memphis’s attention was fully focused on the screen as the group watched the explosion and his flight from every camera angle. Kate studied his profile, fascinated by the concentration on his face as he reviewed the stunt he’d just performed. After a short discussion, the group disbanded and, with a nod at Memphis, her brother took off. Memphis headed for a portable canopy set up to provide escape from the sun, shading several card tables dotted with equipment. He was alone, so it was now or never.

And never was sounding pretty good.

Heart still thumping, she pushed aside the nervousness and rounded the barricade, targeting Memphis. When one of the crew noticed her, she braced, certain he’d tell her to get back behind the barrier. Instead, he nodded as she passed and greeted her with a “Mornin’ Ms. Anderson.”

Apparently Memphis had prepared the crew for the possibility of her appearance. As if he
knew
she’d come to discuss her participation in
that kiss. Suddenly flustered, Kate checked her forward progress, her footsteps faltering as a rush of heated memory deep-fried her nerves. She longed for relief, but short of jumping into the blue waters of the Atlantic, that was a laughable goal, because Memphis’s beautifully exposed torso was almost as good from the side view as the front.

At this rate, she’d need to carry a spare shirt for the man, just for such emergencies.

Memphis leaned over to examine a laptop computer, well-worn jeans slung low on his hips. The only thing sexier than Memphis James shirtless and in snug, faded jeans, was a
wet
Memphis in said condition. And the sight of his muscular thighs covered in naturally distressed denim was distressing her, as well.

Nerves vibrating with awareness, she approached him anyway. “How was the take?”

He cast her a glance from the corner of his eye. “It was a good shot,” he said, not sounding surprised to see her. Clearly he’d been aware of her presence for a while.

“And if it hadn’t been?” she said.

“I’d do the stunt again,” Memphis said as he turned and met her face-to-face.

His wet hair looked darker, curling at the edges and exposing a cut on his forehead. Blood blended with the water dripping down his temple.

Concern drove her footsteps closer. “You’re hurt.”

Memphis wiped his forehead and looked surprised
to find his fingertips tinged red. “Just a scrape.”

“But you’re bleeding,” she said, and frustration over his nonchalant attitude pushed aside the last of her uncertainty and drove her forward until she stood in front of him.

Awareness lit his eyes, but his tone was dry. “I wouldn’t come any closer,” he said, nodding down at her summer pantsuit. “I might get you dirty,” he murmured.

Simple, chic and made of the lightest of fabrics, the suit’s minimalist look was one she loved and the delicate, dove-gray coloring was purely feminine. With a pair of high heels, she felt confident and ready for anything … except for the lightly mocking look from Memphis.

She took a steadying breath, catching the scent of salty sea mixed with hot, potent male, forcing her gaze to remain on his face. Unfortunately her peripheral vision was working well, and it was hard to ignore the wet chest and hard plane of muscle that were begging for the full attention of her eyes.

“Why are you here, Kate?”

The rough timbre of his voice set her pulse thumping.

“I came to remind you about tomorrow night,” she said.

His lips curled at one end. “No you didn’t.”

His insistence on always calling her out left her irritated.

“I think I know the reason why I’m here,” she
said as smoothly as she could. He might not care about polite protocol, but she did.

“You could have just called,” he said. “Or texted me.”

“I …” Her voice died, because she couldn’t come up with a good excuse on such short notice. “I wanted to discuss how we’d ride to the dinner. And since I was passing by—”

He let out a bark of laughter. “You weren’t passing by.”

Kate curled her fingers against her palm. Simple small talk and graceful manners were outside the scope of the infuriating man’s capability. Memphis did whatever Memphis wished and, unfortunately, denying her a graceful entrance into this discussion was on his agenda for today.

As if trying to explain the dressing-room fiasco wasn’t difficult enough.

Buying time for composure, she nodded at the laptop computer, the screen containing a complicated mathematical equation. “What’s that?”

“A stunt Brian and I were discussing.”

“The dynamic duo is back at it again?” She could tell it was a bad choice for a question, his face remaining impassive, and she looked away, training her focus on the calculations on the computer. “What kind of math is that?”