The Best Mistake of Her Life. Aimee Carson

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The Best Mistake of Her Life - Aimee Carson Mills & Boon Modern Heat

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forever?” She narrowed her eyes doubtfully. “And just what is your long-term career goal, outside of being labeled the man who never says no to leaping off tall buildings?”

      “To be the best damn high-fall stuntman in Hollywood.”

      She studied him for a moment. “And when does that happen?”

      He stared at her, and, although his posture was relaxed, uncaring, the intensity in his eyes gave him away. “When everyone knows my name,” he said, as if the simple statement justified his insane job.

      Before she could ask any more questions, he nodded in the direction of the hallway. “If you want to check out my clothes you’ll have to go to my closet,” he said, sending her belly BASE jumping for her toes, those sinfully sexy eyes far too steady on hers. “My bedroom is at the end of the hallway.”

      The mood grew strained as Memphis followed Kate down the corridor. His chest grew tight, a potent mix of desire, tension and a touch of self-directed frustration snaking around his rib cage. His bedroom was just as barren as the living area, except for the king-size bed that was currently commanding center stage like a mocking reminder of their past.

      He’d sworn off touching Kate again, but right now her delicate scent was filling every corner of the room where he slept. And suddenly, her presence in his personal space made him uncomfortably aware his vow of keeping his hands to himself might be harder to pull off than he’d thought.

      “Everything is in the closet,” he said.

      Kate looked around the almost empty room. “You don’t have a dresser?”

      “The rental apartment didn’t come with one.”

      She shot him a look. “And you couldn’t be bothered with buying a few pieces of furniture?”

      “What would be the point? I arranged only for what I absolutely needed because I’m not going to be around long enough for it to matter.”

      He had no intention of discussing just how hard he’d grappled with the decision to return to his hometown. It was the only place his reputation as a high-fall stuntman was ever called into question. Granted, his mistake had been five years ago, and had taken place during a prank. But still …

      The five-year-old ache of regret resurfaced and he pushed it aside, refusing to dwell on the role this woman had played in that moment, as well.

      And if he had to spend the next month attending one pretentious social function after another, he might as well indulge in his favorite pastime from his teens: provoking Kate, if for no other reason than to arouse some kind of emotion from her. And it had nothing to do with caring why she kept herself so carefully contained.

      Not only was he done touching Kate, he was done wondering why she tried so hard to keep her emotions encased in ice.

      She opened the doors to the walk-in closet, staring inside, and Memphis bit back the urge to smile as a look of dismay slowly spread across her face.

      The jeans and shirts on the shelves were haphazardly arranged—okay, “hastily dumped” was probably a better description. And he had better clothes at home, but why cart them along for a month’s worth of work?

      Kate finally turned a doubtful face to Memphis.

      He gave an easy shrug, amused by her expression. “I travel light.”

      Her lips quirked at the understatement. “There must be something usable in here.”

      “Nothing that will fit the Anderson norm, for sure,” he said with a hint of humor, running his gaze down her form.

      Although her sundress was simple and modest, nothing come-hither about it, the dress also reeked of wealth and privilege. As always, she was meticulously put together. And the exposed creamy skin of her shoulders was tempting him to take a taste.

      “If by ‘Anderson norm’ you mean an occasional article outside of denim,” she said with an overly patient look, turning her attention back to the shelves. “You’d be right.”

      “Nothing wrong with denim.”

      “There is when it’s all you have.”

      “For a former representative’s wife, I suppose you’re right.” He shot her a skeptical look. “But I don’t give a damn about standards.”

      “That’s not true.” She pulled out a pair of jeans and shook them out, staring at the holes in the knees. “What I remember is a boy who went out of his way to defy every standard society threw in his direction.” And the look she sent him challenged him to disagree.

      Humor tugged at the corner of his lips. “I think you mistake me for someone who cared.”

      His family might have been poor, but he was comfortable with his simple beginnings. Proud of where he’d come from and what he’d made of himself. He didn’t give a damn about people’s perception of him now, and he’d been even less concerned way back when. As a teen, the only exception to that rule had been the disapproving looks on Kate’s face.

      Those had irked the hell out of him.

      “I think you cared very much about helping Brian annoy my parents,” she said.

      He fought back the surge of resentment. “Oh, come on, Kate. Face it,” he said. “It wouldn’t have mattered what I did. The ugly truth is your parents hated me. Still do, truth be told.”

      Jeans clutched in her fingers, she dropped her hands to her waist. “They didn’t hate you,” she said with an exaggerated show of patience, though there was a hint of a defensive tone. “They simply—” She paused, as if to find the right words, and refolded the pants into a neat little bundle, placing them back on the shelf. “They were worried about your influence on Brian.”

      The delicate phrasing brought a small scoff of irony. “They were more concerned about the neighborhood I lived in and the risk I’d contaminate their only son.”

      When she turned with protest in her eyes, he shot her a half grin and crossed the room to lean against the doorjamb. Near enough to smell her scent, to touch her skin. And there was a lot of skin exposed in that pretty little slip of a sundress, demure or not.

      If he couldn’t get her aroused, he’d have to get her annoyed. He supposed the partial grin on his face might have been a touch predatory. “Though they should have been worrying I’d contaminate their perfect darling of a teenage daughter.”

      Hesitation rolled off her like sweat from a newbie poised to leap from a skyscraper, until she straightened those tempting shoulders, her blue eyes recovering their cool. “There was never any risk of that.”

      Another amused scoff burst from his mouth. “I remember the heat that sizzled between us every time you showed up to coolly give me a piece of your mind.”

      “That was anger.”

      “That was lust.”

      Her brow crinkled with disagreement. “I was just a kid.”

      “You were a half-grown woman.” The words came out throatier than he would have liked. He hooked his thumbs

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