The Best Mistake of Her Life

by Aimee Carson

  Technically it was the truth, because she and Memphis had never actually had sex in a bed. Years ago the living-room sofa was as far as they’d made it before falling into an exhausted sleep. After her bedroom carpet last week, Memphis had set out to fulfill her wish of making love to her in every room, starting with the bottom story of her home. And there were no beds on the first floor.

  The disbelieving look on Tabitha’s face was comical.

  “No, I don’t know,” Kate said as she struggled to keep from laughing. “We’re just friends,” she added, hoping her coolly spoken words would bring an end to the woman’s need to share her opinion.

  But Tabitha Reed had opinion to spare. “You can tell me the truth.”

  Kate’s smile grew tighter. “I am.”

  The woman raised an overplucked brow. “Listen, hon, we need to talk. After everything you went through with Dalton, I’m worried about you.”

  “I appreciate your concern,” Kate said, hoping the droll tone wasn’t noticeable. “But I’m fine.” Tabitha’s eyebrow remained sky-high, no hint of returning to ground level any time soon. “Really,” Kate added for emphasis.

  “Girl, you have got to get back out there,” Tabitha went on as if Kate hadn’t spoken, her eyes settling back on Memphis. “And the delectable Mr. James is the perfect transition man.”

  The label caught Kate by surprise. The term seemed too tame to apply to Memphis. “Transition man?”

  Tabitha let out a long-suffering sigh, as if she had much to teach her, and Kate was surprised the woman didn’t refer to her as her young apprentice. “Kate, you need to get with the divorce program. A transition man is a good-time guy who clearly isn’t marriage material. One who has no interest in a long-term relationship.” A smile crawled up Tabitha’s face as she stared at Memphis. “A transition man offers the freedom of not having to worry about whether he’s the right man, or good for you, or whether he has enough money or not.” She flicked a diamond-studded hand. “Or all those other serious dating dilemmas.”

  “I never considered money—”

  “They offer fun times, lots of laughs,” Tabitha said, ignoring Kate’s response. “And great sex.” She glanced back at Kate. “And you look like you could use all three.”

  Kate blinked, stumped as to how to respond to the woman’s crass critique. Of course, it didn’t help that Kate was still struggling to recover from having really great sex with Memphis.

  She swallowed hard, gathering her composure. “I appreciate the concern, Tabitha,” Kate said smoothly. “But I’ve known Memphis since I was a teen.” And because she’d done everything in her power to label him as a friend at the first dinner party, Memphis was now considered fair game by any and every single female in the room, and a few of the married ones, as well. “He is simply my brother’s best friend.”

  As if sensing her lie from across the room, Memphis turned his head, and their gazes locked. The look was so hot that the fifteen feet separating them felt like fifteen inches, frying every one of her nerve endings. The resulting dizzying sensation made her clutch her purse harder, heat curling the edges of her every cell.

  “I think you forgot to tell the man he’s only a friend. And remember, Kate,” murmured Tabitha, leaning close as if departing great wisdom. “Carpe diem.”

  And then Tabitha headed off, leaving Kate trapped in Memphis’s gaze.

  Given the hand-placement debate during their last public performance, and knowing she’d never be able to function if he was touching her again, as soon as they’d arrived at the party tonight she’d shooed him away. She’d made the perfunctory rounds of the guests with the sole intent of meeting her social obligations as quickly as possible. Hanging out with Memphis was dangerous. His smoldering looks alone were enough to muck with her cool demeanor.

  Like the forceful pull of a swirling maelstrom, Memphis’s gaze continued to hold hers, and Tabitha’s words came back to taunt Kate. The concept of relaxing and indulging in a sexy man’s company was incredibly tempting. The months of strain, of pretending that she and Dalton were a united front—especially in front of her family—had worn her down the way a swift current erodes a riverbank.

  If Memphis had been anyone else she might have made the decision to go with the flow after the sizzling night they’d spent in her house. But even though the man defined temptation, his gaze more tantalizingly sinful than the seven deadly sins combined, he was still Memphis James.

  And there was no escaping their past. Or her mistake.

  Memphis continued to unbalance her from across the room, his eyes traveling over her form with appreciation, revving up her heart, and Kate’s palms grew damp against her clutch purse. Maintaining a collected air was critical, but with every passing second Memphis seduced her from afar—until she felt the need to escape lest she pool into a molten puddle on the floor.

  In search of a moment of peace, Kate turned on her heel and headed out of the living room and down the hall, away from the chatter of the party and into the seclusion of Ted Jackson’s den. On the far side of the room a door was cracked open, a sink visible beyond. Blowing out a breath of relief, Kate passed through the den, the walls lined with pictures of a large fishing boat. She entered the bathroom, turned on the tap, and stuck her hands under the water, nearly groaning out loud in approval.

  The quiet was calming. The cool water was soothing. And she didn’t feel so hot and bothered anymore, so Kate turned off the tap. Just as she was beginning to enjoy the peace and quiet, she heard female voices.

  “Poor thing,” a woman said as she entered the den on the other side of the door. “She must feel so abandoned.”

  “I know,” Tabitha’s voice replied, and several female voices murmured in agreement. “It’s not like she had a life outside her marriage.”

  Kate’s heart freeze-dried in her chest and crumbled, a powerful sense of dread overtaking her. It was bad enough being talked about behind her back, but she had no desire to hear exactly what people were saying—especially when the only thing between them was a partially open door that blocked her from view.

  “It’s hard to feel sorry for her, though,” the first voice went on.

  “Personally, I don’t think she appreciated what she had with Dalton.” Tabitha Reed’s tone was without sympathy. “Everything always went her way, and she has no idea how to cope now that it’s not.”

  Kate was half tempted to walk in on them, just to watch their faces burn with embarrassment. But confrontation wasn’t the goal. The goal of the evening was to survive with as few ripples as possible. Confronting the gossip girls would be horribly awkward.

  Debating her next move, she closed her eyes. Waiting for them to move on and then finishing her social obligations before making a dignified exit seemed the wisest course of action. Unless one of them decided to use the facilities …

  The only thing more awkward than confronting them directly would be getting caught cowering in the bathroom.

  Unfortunately, it was past time to make an appearance, and the women seemed in no hurry to leave as they continued to chat about her inability to cope.

  “Kate needs to get a life outside of being Mrs. Dalton Worthington,” Tabitha said, her tone showing no signs of tiring of the subject. “And she’s a fool for not taking advantage of the gorgeous Mr. James.”

  Memphis.

  Heart pounding, a plan swirling into place, Kate reached in her purse for her cellphone, punching the keyboard and texting: I need your help.

  Memphis was dealing with two fawning females and an enthusiastic action-film fan determined to describe Memphis’s every stunt when his cellular beeped. Grateful for the interruption, Memphis pulled out his phone and read the message—and a knot of irritation coiled in his chest.

  He was at the pretentious function because he’d agreed to help Kate out. And yet, despite a night of spectacular passion—after which she’d told him it couldn’t be repeated—she’d dragged him here and then dropped him like a hot an
d heavy stone. Practically pretended he didn’t exist. Now she needed his assistance again and suddenly she was acknowledging his presence.

  Memphis stared at the text message asking for his assistance and contemplated how to respond. Several seconds later, he typed: Happy to help. Which bedroom shall I meet you in?

  Memphis held back the smile as he imagined Kate biting her lip in irritation. It served her right, especially after avoiding him tonight as though he was the proverbial plague. Several seconds ticked by, and he knew she was wrestling with her annoyance, trying to find a politically correct response.

  She texted: That’s not the kind of help I need.

  Memphis finally let a smile slip up his face as he sent another response. It was the other night.

  During the pause that followed, Memphis pictured steam coming from Kate’s ears as she fought to maintain that ever-present cool expression. Feeling the need to goad her further, to at least get an honest response from her, Memphis typed another message. I noticed that the Jacksons’ chandelier looks a little plain. Are you interested in donating your bra to a worthy cause?

  Several heartbeats passed before she responded: Although that sounds like fun … Despite missing out on her tone, Memphis knew the words were dripping with sarcasm. The sad truth is, Mr. James, that I’m not wearing one.

  The text was punctuated with a slyly smirking emoticon, and Memphis knew she was taunting him back. So he texted: I think I should verify the lack of proper underwear for myself.

  Her reply was quick. Instead, maybe you should pretend you have manners and help your friend in need?

  Do you promise to tear my shirt from my chest if I do?

  Another lengthy pause followed, and Memphis hoped he would experience Kate’s first cussword via text message.

  Her response was a huge disappointment. Are you going to help me or not?

  So much for profanity. He typed: What’s the problem?

  Tabitha and her friends have me trapped in the bathroom in the den.

  How the heck could they have her trapped? Memphis texted a simple question mark.

  They’re talking about me. There was a pause before she texted more. And you.

  Memphis’s brow scrunched in amusement. Are they saying nice things about me?

  The text Memphis! was followed by several punctuation marks mimicking a barrage of cuss-words, and he let out a chuckle. It was rather sadistic of him, being pleased he’d frustrated her as much as she was frustrating the hell out of him.

  But there was something about Kate’s ability to walk away from him, about her parents’ long-held belief in his inferiority, and this town’s surprise at his professional success that cranked up his usual don’t-give-a-damn attitude to in-your-face supreme.

  Resurrecting bad memories.

  Because, while growing up, it hadn’t mattered he wasn’t a drug dealer or a gang member, he was from a seedy neighborhood so people assumed he was trouble. It hadn’t mattered that he’d earned a grade point average to be proud of, he’d attended the wrong high school so the grades didn’t count. And when a single mistake had almost gotten his best friend killed, few in town were shocked, because what more could one expect from someone like Memphis James?

  Staring down at his phone, he pushed the old resentment away, focusing on his current dilemma. Kate was neither fragile nor a coward. The gracious way she’d handled the press so far was admirable. But for some reason she had a thing about conflict, going out of her way to avoid confrontation. And that included the habit of emotionally retreating from him. He supposed he should rescue the fair maiden yet again. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t use her predicament to find out what made her tick … and enjoy himself in the process.

  A smile curled on his lips as he texted: I’m on my way.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “I HEARD Dalton’s fiancée has worked for him for the past two years,” Tabitha Reed said, her interpretation of that piece of news clear in her tone of voice.

  Blowing out a breath, Kate quietly closed the lid to the toilet and took a seat, crossing her legs. What was taking Memphis so long? She was dying of thirst, her stomach was growling with hunger and if she had to spend another nanosecond in the enclosed walls of this bathroom she was going to go stark raving mad.

  Unfortunately, Tabitha droned on. “As soon as Dalton established himself politically, he dumped Kate for a—”

  “Good evening, ladies.”

  At the sound of Memphis’s voice, Kate breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God the nightmare was over.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he went on. There was a faint scrunching sound, like someone taking a seat on one of the leather chairs in the den. “Dumped Kate for a what, Tabitha?”

  Kate recognized the challenge in his voice—God knows she’d encountered it a million times before—and dismay shot through her like a torpedo. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping she’d heard him incorrectly.

  “I’d love to hear the rest,” he went on easily.

  Of course he would, because Memphis James did whatever he wanted.

  And right now he didn’t care how long she’d been trapped. He wanted to provoke the women who had spent the past fifteen minutes analyzing every detail of Kate’s marriage, minus the bothersome nuisance of actual facts, of course. Kate fisted the hand in her lap. So much for escaping her tiny prison. Next time she hid out while people talked about her, she wouldn’t text the maddening hell-raiser for help.

  Kate could feel the awkward silence from here.

  “He dumped Kate for a trophy wife,” Tabitha finally said, her voice cool.

  A trophy wife? Kate’s lids stretched wide. Is that how the public viewed the soon-to-be new Mrs. Worthington? And how was it possible at twenty-eight years of age to be replaced by a trophy wife? It had to be a new world record.

  “And you’re basing this assumption on …?” Memphis said.

  There was another pause before Tabitha spoke. “Everyone knows the only reason Dalton married Kate was for her political family name.”

  Kate raised her brow. Amazing what one heard about one’s marriage from other people.

  “That’s interesting,” Memphis went on smoothly, though his tone contained a thread of steel. “Dalton told you this himself?”

  “No, of course not,” Tabitha replied. For the first time she sounded flustered.

  “But you’re basing this knowledge on actual facts, I hope,” Memphis said dryly.

  There was an extended pause, and despite the tension gripping her back, Kate couldn’t prevent the smile from creeping up her face.

  “Well,” Tabitha said, her voice defensive. “I find it awfully convenient he dumped Kate for a younger woman right after the election.”

  “So, should I assume the worst about your husband, as well?”

  “Excuse me?” Tabitha said, sounding shocked.

  Memphis didn’t miss a beat. “No, I don’t think I will,” he went on smoothly, not sounding the slightest bit contrite. “But seeing how your husband left the living room at the exact same time as the pretty woman who was enjoying his latest fishing tale, I suppose I could assume he’s off for some monkey business of his own.”

  The noise that followed was like a tiny strangled sound coming from a malfunctioning throat, and the next thing Kate heard was the sound of movement out of the den. No doubt Tabitha’s groupies followed her out the door.

  When Memphis entered the bathroom, Kate shot to her feet and lightly jabbed his arm. “Memphis,” she hissed, relief and frustration so tightly entwined she wasn’t sure what to say next.

  Memphis closed the door behind him. “Is that the thanks I get for chasing your captors away?”

  She sagged against the bathroom counter. “I am grateful,” she said. “But next time will you please not settle into a comfortable seat and proceed to prolong my torture by antagonizing my jailors?” She narrowed her eyes curiously at Memphis. “Did Tabitha’s husband re
ally sneak off with one of the guests?”

  “Not exactly,” he said as he propped a shoulder against the wall looking relaxed. Watchful. And terribly amused. Unfortunately, there was also something in his eyes that screamed trouble. Instantly the tiny room shrank to the size of a teacup, his muscular frame filling every available space. “I think the woman in question left to find her date while Tabitha’s husband left with Ted Jackson to admire his boat in the garage.” He lifted a brow. “So unless he goes both ways, the malicious gossiper is safe from a pending infidelity scandal.”

  Kate smoothed a hand down her dress, gathering her scrambled nerves. She really needed to acknowledge his help, finish her socializing responsibilities and get out of this house. “Thank you, Memphis,” she said. “You saved me from a potentially embarrassing moment.”

  “Actually,” he said, his voice dropping to a throaty rumble. “I didn’t come to save you.”

  She steeled herself against the sensual tone, refusing to ask why he’d come. She was positive nothing helpful would spring from his mouth.

  He went on as if she’d asked anyway. “I came because I wanted to confirm your previous statement.” He took a half step closer, which was enough to rob her of her breath and leave her drowning in those whiskey-colored eyes.

  “Which statement?” she said.

  “The one where you said you weren’t wearing a bra,” he continued, and heat flooded her belly before seeping lower—a sensation not unlike downing a shot of alcohol.

  Note to self: never tease Memphis James, even if he is several rooms away and you feel safe.

  But she’d had enough cowering for one day. Kate lifted her chin and said, “My dress has a built-in bra. And you are not feeling me up in Cheryl Jackson’s bathroom.”

  Ignoring the warning tone in her voice, he said, “I’m not?”

  “No,” she said firmly. “And furthermore …” Her words trailed off as Memphis reached out and traced the off-the-shoulder, crisscrossing lace neckline of her dress, and desire shot to her every corner. “I want to finish my duties here and leave.”