Her Sexiest Mistake

Nor had he found his pot smoker, but he'd caught hell from Joe.

Mrs. Stacy had tattled on him to the principal.

Joe had taken great pleasure in reading him the riot act, not for wasting electricity or having kids smoke weed in his classroom, but for Kevin taking his parking spot.

Then had come far more troublesome news. The teen center, housed next to the high school in a building loaned to the rec center, had gone up for sale.

Unfortunately for Kevin, the owner happened to be Beth Moore, his ex, and she hadn't been happy with him in years. She didn't care that the town couldn't buy the building and that her selling would probably mean closing the teen center, which in turn would leave lots of kids with no supervised, safe place to hang out.

And speaking of safety, or lack of, he'd had three kids sneak off into the woods this afternoon. Two boys and a girl who'd come from a broken home and had no self-esteem, which made her easy prey. Thankfully, Kevin had found them before they'd talked the girl out of her clothes, but they'd all been drinking.

Damn it. Could no one make a good decision?

Then he'd come home and found yet another teen, dressed in wannabe goth, poking in his drawers. Mia's niece. And then there'd been Mia herself, eyes cool, body hot…

His entire world had turned into one big Peyton Place.

Mike came into the riving room, dressed for clubbing in all black, hair artfully styled to look like he'd just gotten out of bed, eyes sparkling with trouble. And he'd find it, too, then be worthless for the job interview he'd set up through Monster.com for tomorrow. This was usually the portion of the evening where Kevin gave the whole be-good spiel-don't go slutting around; you need to find a woman to love you, not fuck you; etc. etc.-but, damn, he was fresh out of pep talk tonight.

Mike stopped in the doorway as they passed each other, and looked at Kevin questioningly. What's your problem?

I don't have one. Nope, he had about fifty. He tried to go around, but Mike stepped in his way.

It's the hot babe, isn't it?

Of course not. He had all these other things going on, things that were important- Ah, hell. It was the hot babe. I'm fine. Try to stay out of trouble tonight. Which was like telling a bull in a china shop to be careful.

She doesn't want round two, huh?

Kevin hadn't wanted his brain to go there, but it was too late now. He pictured Mia in her robe, gripping a glass of wine as if it was a lifeline, looking pale and shaken and off her axis… and, damn, if that hadn't reached out and grabbed him by the throat.

Then she'd kicked him out. I think it's safe to say there'll be no round two, he signed.

Damn shame.

Actually, it was the smart thing. Mia had the same attitude toward sex that Mike did, and while Kevin couldn't fault her for that, he didn't have the gene that allowed him to sleep with someone and then move on in a blink. Go, Kevin gestured. Just don't be stupid.

Mike grinned. Don't worry, Mom.

I mean it. I don't have bail money this time.

Don't wait up.

The door shut. Kevin shook it off. He couldn't keep agonizing over every single person in his life, over their inability to make good decisions. It was too tiring. So he showered until the scalding water ran out, then pulled on a pair of sweats and wandered through his dark house toward the kitchen. The refrigerator wasn't promising. It held leftover pizza of questionable quality, a soggy-looking apple, and a beer, which he grabbed. Yeah, he was a party animal all right.

A hollow, empty-feeling one.

Just as he took a long pull from the bottle, someone knocked on his front door. Probably Mike, who'd forgotten something. Flipping on the porch light, he pulled the door open in one movement, then went still in surprise.

Mia.

She was beautiful. Maybe even crazy beautiful. And wickedly dangerous to his mental health.

Blinking from the sudden glare, she wore only that creamy, elegant robe, a pissed-off, hungry expression, and nothing else. He knew this because the light cast her in bold relief, cutting through that thin, drenched silk and highlighting her gorgeous body.

It was still raining. Her limbs glistened, her skin glowed damply. And everything within him tightened in anticipation. 'What are you doing here?'

'Can you cut the light?' She lifted a hand to protect her eyes as rain dripped from her hair to the silk, plastering it to her skin, revealing that she was good and chilled.

She looked amazing, if not oddly solemn. He should send her home, for nothing else than she also looked vulnerable, and then there was that melancholy in her eyes…

But to hell with being the good guy, to being the guy everyone came to when they needed something. He needed, too, goddamnit. And what he needed in this moment was to look at her.

'The light?' she said again.

'I don't think so.' He drank in his fill. Just look, don't touch. 'You never know who could be prowling around late at night.'

'Funny.' She drank her fill as well, her gaze lingering on his bare chest, wet now from the rain blowing at him. 'You going to let me in?'

Her cool, icy voice was back, overriding any vulnerability he'd caught a glimpse of. Even wet and chilled, she now looked put together, in charge of herself and capabilities, and sexy as all hell.

Which meant he was in big trouble. Trying to maintain composure, he propped up the jamb with his shoulder, his beer dangling from his fingers. 'Why? Need to hit me with another Mack truck?'

Arms crossed over her chest, Mia glanced behind her, as if worried about someone seeing her. 'I'm not dressed.'

'I noticed.' He took another long pull of his beer, letting his gaze soak her up, all that long, still-damp chestnut hair tumbling just past her shoulders. Her eyes flashed her frustration louder than a shout, that compact, neat, tight, toned body quivering with God knew what beneath that silk. All he knew for sure was that her nipples were still poking against the material, her softly rounded belly rising and falling with her every breath. And those legs. He needed a good long time to sigh over those legs. 'Where's Hope?'

'Fast asleep, and snoring like a buzz saw.'

'You've got a real thing about snoring.'

'Move,' she said and went to brush past him, only he straightened, trapping her between his body and the jamb.

She let out a sound that spoke volumes of how frustrated she was, and glared up at him.

God, she was something, all shimmering with pent-up aggression and a barely repressed excitement, and he felt a glimmer of his own excitement, which made him a very sick man, he decided. 'Do you ever say please?' he asked.