Made for You (The Best Mistake 2)

But it was too soon. She still looked like a wary cat ready to call her stupid boyfriend at the first sign of her being turned on. And he knew he could turn her on. Easily. Her eyes kept moving to his lips and her pupils were dilated.

She wanted him. She’d wanted him when she he’d kissed her in the driveway last week, and when he’d rubbed against her in the kitchen this morning, and she wanted him now.

But she wouldn’t take him. Not until she’d gotten rid of Jimmy what’s-his-name. If he kissed her now, she’d hate him. Hate herself for liking it when she was supposed to be loyal to an absent boyfriend.

He allowed himself one more lingering touch of his fingers on her palm. Just enough to remind her of what it had been like with them. Enough to have her sucking in her breath and springing away from him.

Clearing his throat and hoping his erection wasn’t that obvious, Will glanced around until he spotted the salesguy he’d shooed away a few minutes ago.

He rattled off his desired size and model to the short, eager-to-please employee, who took rapid notes, and couldn’t resist sneaking a look at Brynn.

She looked properly furious.

“You didn’t even try that mattress,” she hissed after he’d given his payment and shipping information. “That brand of mattresses is over on that side of the store, and we haven’t gotten there yet.”

“Yeah, I don’t really want something new. I like the one I had before.”

He didn’t know if the double meaning was unintentional or if his subconscious had made him say it, but he found himself meeting her

eyes all the same, watching for any sign of understanding.

But she lowered her eyelids as soon as he tried to meet her gaze.

Too soon, he thought, sucking back a sigh.

“Come on,” he said, patting at her butt. “Let’s go get you that baked brie.”

The wine bar was just around the corner from the mattress store, exactly as Will had planned.

“What is it with women and wine bars?” he asked, as Brynn led them to a spot at the bar. He would have preferred sitting at a table so he could see her—read her—but he knew that was too date-like for her.

“They’re our response to sports bars,” she said, gracefully sliding onto the high stool and arranging her skirt around her knees like the perfect lady she so wanted to be. “Except there’s no peanuts on the ground, no obnoxious TVs, and very few leering men.”

“Except for me.”

She smiled at him, and then looked surprised for smiling. “Yeah. Except for you.”

Two cheese appetizers, a crème brûlée, and a bottle of wine later, Will was guiding a very tipsy Brynn toward his car. He’d deliberately let her drink more than her share of the bottle, not only because he was driving, but because she’d clearly needed it to forget that she was with the enemy. Maybe even enjoying herself with the enemy.

For the first time in their history, they’d shared a meal, just the two of them, and there hadn’t been a single argument or jab. She’d even laughed.

God he loved her laugh.

“I’m drunk,” Brynn said with emphasis, swinging her purse into the backseat of his car and dropping messily into the passenger seat.

She didn’t object when he scooped her legs up, tucking them into the car. Didn’t object when his fingers lingered on her smooth calves.

“You’re not drunk. Just…happy,” he said, closing the door carefully behind her.

The ride home was mostly silent, other than the radio, which she changed every two seconds.

It started to rain as he exited the freeway, and though it was raining more often than not in Seattle, he wondered if she remembered the only other time they’d been alone in his car together.

It had been raining then too, but she hadn’t been tipsy. Just good and pissed about something he’d said and his own temper had spiked until he’d almost told her everything. And then he’d lost his mind and kissed her. Their first kiss.

He wondered if she ever thought about it.

Will pulled into her driveway, and she gave him a puzzled look. “You could have parked in your own garage. I could have walked.”