Her Sexiest Mistake by Jill Shalvis

enough, now her face was.
    “You didn’t really make them, did you?”
    “I never claimed I did.”
    “It was implied. Among other things.”
    “Like what?”
    “Like—” But suddenly his eyes narrowed and he took a step closer to her, frowning as he lifted a hand and touched her singed eyebrow. “What happened?”
    She fought the urge to slap his hand away. “Nothing an eyebrow pencil won’t fix.” Turning away, she began to walk again, only to feel his fingers wrap around her arm and gently but firmly pull her back.
    He peered into her face, so close now that she could see his eyes were more than light chocolate, but lined in dark as well, with specks of gold dancing in them. “Stop staring,” she said and lifted a hand to cover her brow.
    He simply took her wrist in his hand and held it out. “You’re burned. What did you do, catch yourself with a whatcha-call-it, a curling iron?”
    “It’s nothing.”
    His other hand came up and gently probed at the sensitive skin, making her hiss. His eyes cut to hers. “Nothing, huh?”
    Her belly quivered. Hunger, she decided, but, damn it, deep down she knew it was his touch. He was waking up her body again, making it remember how wonderful and amazing and shockingly perfect last night had been. Trying to cover this unwelcome reaction to him, she shoved his hand away. “Just a…work incident.” No big deal. She’d laughed it off countless times today with all the others at work, despite deep down remaining off balance about the “suspicious” incident.
    But having this man look at her with concern darkening his eyes had an effect she couldn’t have possibly imagined: the odd urge to set her head down on someone’s shoulder, someone who cared about her, someone who would tell her she was going to be okay.
    Only she’d never had the luxury of someone else’s shoulder in her entire life, and she wasn’t going to start now.
    “A work incident?” That frown still marred his lips. “I thought you were some PR wizard.”
    That almost made her smile. “Advertising.”
    “You kick some ass today, Mia Appleby, advertising exec extraordinaire?”
    “You know it.” She cocked her head and studied him, blackening eye, cut lip, and all. “You’re looking a little worse for wear yourself.”
    “Nah.” He pulled a face, then swore and lifted a hand to his lip. “Shit.”
    “Uh huh. You need help cleaning that up?”
    He was now gingerly touching the blooming bruise, licking his cut lip. “No, thanks. I’m still bleeding from our last encounter.”
    “Suit yourself.” She began to back away but couldn’t resist running her gaze over his face one last time. No, you can’t have him again. “You might want to give yourself a break from basketball for a day or so.”
    “Are you kidding?” His eyes lit. “We won. ”
    Her heart squeezed with competitive spirit. With lust. And more. She’d have to make sure to avoid the basketball courts. The entire street.
    And especially his bedroom.
    He touched his lip again, looked at the blood on his fingers, and shook his head. “I’m losing my touch.”
    Now that he was most definitely not doing, but before her thoughts could take her there she firmly walked away.
    “See ya,” he said, only slightly mockingly. “Or if you get your way, not.”
    That’s right. They would not be seeing each other. Keep walking. She managed it, too, and only when she’d taken the turn on the path, did she glance back.
    He was gone.
    Good. Perfect. Mission accomplished. She’d distanced herself from him both physically and mentally.
    Only, oddly enough, the surge of victory never came.
      
    Hope couldn’t believe how insanely people drove in California, but finally she found Mia’s street. The block was nice, and there was not a trailer park within miles, she’d bet.
    Mia’s place was Spanish style, with a ceramic-tile roof and stucco walls. It was barely dusk, but streetlights flickered on and so did some house lights