His Best Mistake (Shillings Agency 6)

him speculatively, he sighed. “Look, I didn’t come over here to get you naked in my bed. I came over to talk to you because, to be honest, you looked a little sad. And I hate seeing women sad.”

She swallowed hard, not sure what to say to that because he was right. She was sad, but it wasn’t something she wanted to talk about, especially with a stranger.

When she remained silent, he shifted closer. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep talking to you. But if you’d rather be alone, I’ll take my pink drink, and slide over a seat or two to give you space. I’m not interested in the blonde woman. I’m interested in you, and making you smile a few times, if you’ll let me.”

She should send this guy packing, because he was tempting her in ways she wasn’t ready to be tempted. She opened her mouth, and the stupidest thing she’d ever said came out instead. “I’d like that. You can stay.”

Chapter Two

Mark couldn’t take his eyes off the woman next to him. She had deep red hair, and bright green eyes that honestly pulled him closer to her in ways he didn’t understand or even want to understand. The second he walked in to the hotel bar, his gaze had fallen on her sitting there with a cast on her arm, looking seconds from either punching something, or bursting into tears, and he hadn’t been able to ignore the urge to walk up to her, sit down, and say something witty to get her attention.

Because, fuck, he needed her attention.

So…he’d settled for ordering pink drinks.

Smooth. Real smooth.

But still, he couldn’t regret his choice. After all, she hadn’t denied being sad, and he hadn’t been lying. He hated seeing women looking so upset. More than likely she was down because some dude she’d loved had broken her heart. That’s usually how love ended.

Badly.

Life was too short to lose time to that emotion.

He’d learned that the hard way.

Smiling, he settled back into his seat and tugged on his collar. “Okay. Good. I’m—”

“Don’t.” She pulled on a long curl, staring at him without a hint of flirtation or pretense. “I still don’t want to know your name,” she said flatly. “At all.”

There was something about her, and the way she just blurted out whatever the hell she was thinking, that called to him. She was refreshingly honest in a sea storm of false smiles and even emptier promises he’d encountered ever since his wife, Tina, died…and left him alone in the world with a three-year-old daughter who happened to love pink socks. “Then how about we give each other fake names, just so I can call you something in my head besides ‘pretty woman’?”

She laughed but cut it off quickly. “Uh…okay.”

“Excellent. I’ll call you…” He leaned back and considered her. Long legs that went on for miles. A waist that cinched in before flaring out gently for her hips. Breasts that looked as if they’d fit in his palms perfectly. She was, hands down, the prettiest woman he’d ever met, besides—he shut that thought off right away. Tonight wasn’t about her. “Scarlett.”

She choked on a laugh. “Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“Is it the red hair?” she asked drily.

“Yeah. I’ve always had a thing for Black Widow, and she had red, curly hair like yours.” He reached out and tugged a curl gently. She sucked in a breath and held it, staring at him with wide eyes. “Shorter, but still. Scarlett it is.”

“All right, then.” She leaned closer, giving him the same careful inspection he’d given her. It didn’t escape his notice that her new position lifted her breasts and offered a delicious display of cleavage for him to enjoy. He shifted uncomfortably, his body coming to life a little bit too enthusiastically. “In keeping with the Marvel theme, you’ll be…Chris. Or Tom. Nah. Definitely Chris.”

“Hold up.” His interest in her kicked up about twenty notches. “Don’t tell me you like superheroes. Or, even better, all of their movies…even The Avengers?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“That’s it, Scarlett. I’m keeping you. You don’t have a choice. I found a beautiful woman who likes superheroes. That’s the mecca of the dating world.” He grinned and lifted his pink drink. “To our happy future together.”

For a second, he saw panic gathering in her eyes, and he thought he’d taken the joke one step too far. But then she picked up her drink, clinked it to his, and said, “To Chris and Scarlett.”

They both took a sip, and Mark winced. It tasted like a damn lollipop. “This is…” Sweet. Horrible. Alcohol-less. “Good.”

She laughed and took it out of his hand, lifting her arm as she slid his sweet drink toward her other one. The bartender came back immediately. “He’ll have a double shot of whiskey, neat.”

“How’d you know I liked it neat?” he asked, not even bothering to argue because that pink shit was not his thing.