Her Sexiest Mistake

The skies let loose then, dumping buckets down on them. It didn't matter; Mia for one was so hot that the rain felt good on her steaming skin. 'I want to be enough for you,' she whispered. 'Just as I am.' She arched up, gliding the wettest part of her over the hardest part of him. 'Please, Kevin. Let me be enough.'

He swore at that, and in the next instant slammed his mouth over hers as he tugged down her shorts and panties, shoved his shorts to his thighs, then lifted her back up to wrap her legs around him. 'Hold on to me then,' he demanded. 'Damn it, hold on.'

'I am.' She hung there, suspended by time, by his body, by the storm, lost in his possession, in his ragged breathing and the rain pummeling her heated flesh, in the feel of his muscled body, the scrape of his beard, the scent of him, and the wet trees and earth all around.

He slid into her with one powerful thrust, making her cry out. She had no idea how it was always like this between them, a match to dry timber, a moth to flame, every single time. She would die if she didn't have it. Him. No one but him. 'Kevin…'

A low, rough, gravely sound of tortured pleasure escaped him, and with the rain pelting down on them, he surged into her, again and again, until with a gasping sob she exploded. She was still in the throes when he followed her over, her name on his lips.

Still quivering, she closed her eyes and just held on, loving the way he had his face plastered to her neck, panting for breath, his arms crisscrossed against her back, protecting her from the bark of the tree, bowed over her body so that the majority of the rain fell on him instead of her.

Even when frustrated, hurt, and furious, he was the best man she'd ever known, and from nowhere the emotions reared up and battered her. She tightened her arms on him, preventing him from stepping free, but he didn't even try. He stayed still with her a long moment, his muscles still quaking, until finally he lifted his head. His eyes were dark and shadowed. 'You okay?'

She closed her eyes and pulled his face close, touching her forehead to his. 'Yes,' she whispered.

'Sure? It was kind of rough.' He eased her shaky legs down until her feet touched the ground, and helped her right her clothes. 'I'm sorry.'

She couldn't speak past the lump the size of a regulation basketball in her throat, so she just shook her head. She didn't want him to be sorry, she wanted-

God. What she wanted.

They walked back in the pouring rain, their fingers entwined. Outside his house, he brought her fingers up to his mouth. 'I have to go to work.'

And she did not. The wince came out of her before she could stop herself. He squeezed her fingers. 'Mia-'

'I'm a big girl, I can handle it,' she said. 'Besides, I have tons of stuff lined up-' She broke off, looked away, and then back into his eyes. 'No, that was an embellishment. I have nothing. No leads, no interviews, nothing. I am unemployed. Completely. All I have is a part of a cookie dough company that looks good in theory but has yet to prove itself. How's that for letting you in to see the real me?'

His smile was slow, and no less sexy for the sympathy in his eyes. 'A damn good start. I was getting tired of being a piece of flypaper for the obnoxiously bullheaded and obstinate.'

She felt her own reluctant smile. 'Obnoxiously bullheaded?'

'Hey, if the shoe fits…'

She laughed, and, God, that felt good.

'So what now, Mia?'

'I don't know.'

He looked at her for a long moment. 'Let me just lay it out there for you. I want you more than I've ever wanted anything or anyone else in my whole life.'

Once again the breath backed up in her throat.

'You either feel that way back, or you don't.'

Since she couldn't breathe, she just stood there. Brilliant.

'What's the worst that could happen, Mia, if you go for it?'

'I could screw it all up. I could-'

'Snore?' he asked ironically. 'Have stinky feet? Be bad in bed?'

'This is not funny.'

'No,' he agreed, his smile gone. 'It's not. But if we're going to just do this, I want all of it.'

'Define 'all.''

He just looked at her, and she swallowed. 'You mean-' She swallowed again. 'The whole white lace dress, tacky white tiered cake, complete with a lease on a double-wide?'

'I'm not trying to freak you out, I'm just telling you how I feel.'

'Kevin.'

Something in her face must have given him her answer, and he stared down at his feet. Nodded. 'Yeah.' He looked at her then. 'Good-bye, Mia.'

A sob welled up and she bit it back. If this was really how he felt, it was the end.

The end.

Oh, my God. Through blurry eyes she watched him walk away, a profound sorrow working its way through her as she realized she'd never see him smile at her, never feel the touch of his kiss, hear the timbre of his voice all directed at her in that special way he had of making her feel like the only woman on the planet.

Not ever again.

She waited until he was gone to sink to the ground, curl up in a ball, and watch the rain fall.

Alone.

Chapter 24

When Mia got home, she was surprised to find the world still spinning. The refrigerator hummed, music emitted from Hope's alarm that she was ignoring… Yep, everything looked and sounded completely normal. Chilled, she took a long shower. By the time she got out, she was warmed and dry again. She surveyed her closet. Prada or… Target?

Target. Sweats and bunny slippers, to be precise. Dressed, she headed for the kitchen and any alcohol. Only problem, it was still morning. Settling for caffeine, she dumped three teaspoons of sugar into the coffee to add a desperately needed sugar rush. Then she glanced at a box of small chocolate donuts on the counter. Hope's. Screw watching calories, this was a mental-health emergency. She ate one, then five more.

At seven thirty, Hope staggered into the kitchen, went straight to the refrigerator, and pulled out the OJ container. She shook it and drank straight from the jug. 'I'm going to finish it,' she said when Mia just looked on.

'Fine.'

Hope eyed her more closely. 'You look like crapola. What's wrong?'

'Nothing.' Gee, unless you count the fact my life is in the toilet. 'Why?'

'Are you wearing…' Hope squinted in disbelief. 'The Target clothes?'

That the girl recognized the difference of designer versus plain brand gave her a proud-aunt moment.

'Are you?' Hope pressed.

'Tell anyone and die.'

Hope laughed.

'Hey, I'm not kidding. And just so you know, I wasn't always a clothes snob.'

'You know it sounds like English coming out of your mouth, but I just can't quite make it out,' Hope told