Free The Best Mistake of Her Life by Aimee Carson

gaze, tossing the bloody gauze aside. As the silence ticked by between them, she searched for the cotton balls and the alcohol, her fingers clumsy. Shecould feel his expectant gaze. When she was finally steady enough to face him again, the rich caramel eyes with a hint of heat nearly stalled her heart. He was waiting for her to respond.
    And she knew why.
    “I …” Despite her attempt to keep her tone light, her voice faltered. “I shouldn’t have kissed you back yesterday.”
    “Why not?” Memphis asked. “It’s not like you’re married anymore.”
    “But still,” she said, dipping the cotton ball in the alcohol. “It was wrong and I apologize.”
    Memphis’s hand shot up and wrapped around her arm, the cotton ball reeking of alcohol as she stared at him, heart pounding in her chest.
    “It wasn’t wrong, Kate,” he said, his gaze intense on hers from below.
    Fingers clamped around the soft cotton, she pulled her arm away. “I was drunk.”
    “You were tipsy.”
    “I was intoxicated,” she said through clenched teeth.
    “You had full command of your faculties and picture-perfect Angel Face doesn’t want to admit it.”
    “And you’re going out of your way to make this apology difficult,” she said, and, with no gentleness in her touch, she plopped the alcohol-soaked swab directly onto the cut.
    The swift intake of his breath was sharp. “That’s because I don’t want another damn apology,”Memphis said, his voice hard. “I just want the truth.”
    They locked gazes and several seconds passed while Kate’s heart struck her rib cage with added force. Now was the time to redraw the line in the sand. “There’s only one truth, Memphis,” she said. Finishing her task, she reached for the bandage, tearing open the package, her fingers clumsy. “We are not involved. We are just friends who made a mistake in the past.”
    Memphis hiked a brow skeptically. “Friends?”
    Kate pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to let loose. But a verbal tirade, no matter how much Memphis James the Provoker deserved it, wouldn’t help. She centered the bandage over his cut and smoothed the edges in place. “In a loose interpretation of the word, yes,” she said. “Just friends.” When he didn’t respond, she brushed a stray strand of hair back from her cheek. “So, in keeping with our established relationship, I expect you to keep your hands to yourself at the dinner party tomorrow.”
    His chuckle came out as a throaty rumble that shimmied down her spine and spread outward, heating various parts of her body she’d have preferred to remain cold.
    “When have I ever done what’s expected of me?” he said.
    Heart knocking harder, she blew out a long, slow breath. “Never,” she said as coolly as she could, her tone firm. “But I’m looking forward to being pleasantly surprised.”
    His lopsided grin was enough to make a grown woman weep. “And I’m looking forward to disappointing you, Kate.”
    “Memphis.” A tight smile plastered on her face, Kate gazed out the glass wall of the revolving restaurant overlooking the nighttime lights of downtown Miami. “Your hand on my back isn’t exactly projecting the platonic attitude I was hoping for.”
    Not to mention the heat from his palm must surely be leaving an imprint on her now-sensitized skin. Not surprisingly, Memphis sounded unconcerned.
    “My hand is a disappointing distance from your lovely breasts,” he said. His sandalwood scent was especially distracting tonight. “And respectfully placed well above any other parts that could be considered sexual.”
    “It’s too low,” Kate said as quietly as she could given her irritation, praying the soft background music in the elegant bar covered their words. And, dear God, couldn’t they shut down the revolving function of the top floor? Memphis’s hand was making her dizzy enough. “Your fingers are too close to my backside. You need to shift your hand higher.”
    If for no other