Sweet on You (The Wilde Sisters #1) by Marianne Rice

talking, laughing, going out to eat, doing fun stuff, and never once had he made a sexy remark, stared at her boobs—granted, they were tiny, but still—made a pass, kiss her other than on her cheek…he never, ever, ever hit on her and that truly hurt.
    The kiss in his bedroom nearly melted her kneecaps. Thank God she had his shirt to hold onto or she would have fallen over. He kissed her like a man—not a gay man—who was attracted—at least a little—to a woman. He kissed her like he enjoyed it, the moans coming not only from her but from Trent as well. Obviously she misread those cues too.
    As usual. Typical Rayne Wilde making something more of a situation than there was. This was why she was no good at relationships. In her book, a kiss like that meant happily ever after. Okay, maybe she had been a bit presumptuous in her interpretations in the past, but that kiss was…wow.
    If Trent kissed every woman like that, then she could understand why so many fell at his feet. Well, that and his scruffy good looks. And hot body. And killer smile. And funny personality. Other than that, Trent Kipson was a dog.
    Rayne stared at her pale reflection in the bathroom mirror. Get a grip, Rayne! Her eyes weren’t red; she hadn’t had time to cry about it. And she definitely hadn’t had time to figure out what it would be. Crying about an amazing kiss that would go nowhere? Crying over the fact that the man of her dreams was not gay and not interested in her? Crying about Hurricane Katrina who was most likely doing the nasty with her One True Love? No, no. Nothing to cry about at all.
    Rayne splashed water on her face, plastered on a fake smile, and stepped out of the bathroom, shoulders back, head high. The first person she saw was Claire, and the sympathy in her eyes nearly made the waterworks start to flow. No, she was strong and had years of experience in handling rejection.
    “Hey, sweetie,” Claire said, rubbing a reassuring hand up her arm. “You okay?”
    “Me? Of course.” Rayne laughed. “That was quite a misunderstanding. I must have really wounded his ego. I’m really embarrassed. Oh well. No harm, no foul, right? So let me guess, you and Brian are married?”
    Claire nodded.
    “How did Brian take it? Me thinking he was gay?” Better to laugh at the situation than think about what it all meant.
    A sly smile erupted from Claire’s lips. “When it was just about Trent, he thought it was hilarious. Couldn’t stop laughing when he returned from the grocery store last night. When I pointed out that you must have thought he was Trent’s boy toy…well, that wasn’t so funny.” Claire laughed.
    If she hadn’t been so coldly rejected five minutes ago by the love of her life, she too would view the situation as a little funny.
    “There you are, babe,” Kevin said as he set his empty beer bottle on the counter. “Hey, so, Curtis texted me about some arm wrestling tournament at Breakers. Grand prize is five hundred bucks. I’ve got this one nailed.” He pulled up his shirtsleeve, flexed, and kissed the mountain peak on his bicep.
    “Uh, yeah. Totally, Kev.”
    “Knew you’d understand. The bar’s a few blocks from here. I’m gonna walk down, loosen up a little. You can come cheer me on when you’re done here. You don’t mind, do you?”
    Aware of Brian’s, and now Trent and Katrina’s, presence behind her, she plastered on another fake smile. “Oh, gosh, Kev. This is a great opportunity. I don’t want to miss a thing. I’ll go with you.” Opportunity, her ass. It was the perfect excuse to rush out of Trent’s house before she lost all self-control.
    She turned to everyone in the room, thanked them for a lovely time, and quickly headed out the door before anyone could object. Thankful that she had insisted on driving—more so because she knew Kevin would end up drinking himself stupid—Rayne slid behind the wheel of her car and fought back tears.
    She pulled up to the curb in front of the bar.