Free Perfecting the Odds by Brenna St. Clare Page A

to go this far. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He deceived her, lead her to believe he was a complete stranger. Truth was, the embarrassment of it all stung worse. Michael knew more about how she felt about her husband’s deception than anyone else. She had confessed her soul to him, her fears, her mistakes, her sins. And for the first time, she understood the reason behind the confessional booth, the barrier between the confessor and exonerator--anonymity protected both parties.
    But here he was staring at her, his lips deliciously swollen and ruddy from their kisses, his eyes piercing hers with tenacity. Michael was so much more than an unobtrusive listener, wasn’t he?
    And here she was, her soul shredded. Yet, she had done nothing to stop him from thinking she wanted more. In fact, she went and encouraged it, for godssake.
    “ Karis,--,” he said then reached for her.
    “ Stop.”—his hand dropped—“Did you know I would be at that bar tonight?”
    “ Of course not.” He walked within a few inches from her.  The air cracked. The tension, the need, ruthlessly lured them closer to each other.
    Her mouth formed a sneer of a smile. “So you get your rocks off on saving widows from their lonesome misery?” He winced and backed away from her. She countered and stepped toward him. “I am pretty pitiful, aren’t I…hitting on the first guy who showed interest?”
    “When did you know ?” Shit on a hot tin roof. “You recognized me as soon as I spoke. I saw it in your eyes, Karis. Yet you didn’t say anything.” His face cringed with desperation, maybe even pain. “Why, Karis? Why the fuck didn’t you say anything? Why did you let it go that far—“
    “ I let it go that far! You were the one in the goddamn mask,” she retorted before turning toward the door. She had to. Although she accused him of lying, she knew her behavior was no better. Quite frankly, the whole situation was one big shitty mistake, of which she was all too accustomed. She smoothed her hands down her costume in a vain attempt at dignity and headed toward the door. “I have to go,” she threw over her shoulder. “Eve’s probably a basket case by now, and I need to get my kids from the sitter.” Maybe the mention of children would help him back off.
    W armth singed her back before his hand circled her arm. “Answer one question for me.” She paused then nodded slowly, terrified of the question “If you knew I was deceiving you, why did you kiss me like that, Karis?”
    She drew a deep breath and gave a shrug. Thank god she was turned away. Her eyes would belie her comment. “Even widows need affection,” she said before pulling away and cringing at her whiny response.
    “Clearly ,” he scoffed.
    She gaped and whipped around on him again. “You know what, Michael? I may have teased you a…a little , but at least I had the balls to give you my name. Your response: ‘Of course I do, sweetheart’” she said in a mock low timbre. “I mean, what the hell!”
    ***
    The argument was inevitable. Michael had prepared for this moment for three years.
    The “hard” comment nearly had him falling off his seat and, of course, making him hard enough to hammer nails. Her flawless Latin had him eager to ask her questions about her life, her hobbies, what she did for a living. And that kiss, that one mind-fucking kiss had scrambled his entire plan to take it slow and come clean. Karis seized him like a three-pronged grappling hook: in his head, in his heart, and in, of course, his needy dick.
    And then there was that other vexing problem. Fucking mask. It was an unforeseen wrinkle, but he’d anticipated the banter, the name calling, and the defensive posturing. Even though she was drunk, she had admitted she wanted him, and yes now she chose to ignore that fact. Fortunately, Karis’s brutal honesty along with her inability to ignore goading were two qualities that would help him. He was certain he could combat some of the anger she threw