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  “No, you know what?” Lissa let out a smile that didn’t ease Annie one bit. “We’re done here. I think we’ll just leave the two of you alone. In case you have more…wild things to do.”

  “Funny,” Annie said, but started to panic when the girls all packed up their stuff and headed for the door. “Wait! Don’t go! My face—”

  “Just wash off the mask in five more minutes,” Lissa said.

  “But my hair—”

  “Take out the curlers in ten.”

  Annie plastered herself to the connecting door. “You can’t go.”

  “Why?” Lissa asked.

  “Yeah, why?” Kyle echoed.

  Because then she’d be alone with Kyle, who stood there looking so damn sure of himself in jeans, a soft-looking shirt and hiking boots. Sort of like a walking advertisement for Outsider Magazine. She loved that magazine.

  “Lissa, the breast cream,” she said in a desperate, last-ditch attempt. “It didn’t work. We need to do it again.”

  Lissa grinned and tossed the jar to Kyle, who caught it with ease.

  “I love applying breast cream,” Kyle said.

  Annie felt a scream of frustration coming on, even as Lissa tugged her away from the door. “But—”

  But nothing. The door shut in her face.

  Leaving her alone with Kyle Moore. Cop. Best man, not groom. Tough and big and gorgeous. Holding breast cream.

  Please, her body begged.

  No. Flings weren’t for princesses. She knew this for a fact, as she’d tried hard to make it work for her before. Flings weren’t for women with secret dreams of happily-ever-after.

  And how are you supposed to get that happily-ever-after if you keep shoving everyone away, a little voice asked.

  She ignored the little voice. She stared at the wood door in front of her and willed herself to relax.

  You are not attracted to the man behind you.

  But she was.

  Well, then you will not admit to being attracted to the man behind you.

  No matter what he did or said.

  * * *

  “ANNIE?”

  She didn’t move, just stared at the door in front of her.

  “Annie?”

  “Go away, Kyle.”

  “But I just got here.” He watched the back of her head covered in curlers, imagining he could see the wheels inside turning like crazy.

  Poor baby. She was studying the wood grain of the door as if it held the utmost fascination for her.

  She held the utmost fascination for him, though he felt vaguely uncomfortable with that realization. She wore only a skimpy little tank top and boxers, nothing else. Her bare feet curled into the rug. Her legs were toned and tanned and looked silky smooth. So did her arms. But it was the back of her neck, exposed by her tipped head and the fact that her hair was being tortured by the curlers, that really drew him.

  He wanted to kiss her there. Then turn her around and dip his gaze to see for himself what that breast cream had done for an already perfect set of breasts and the most mouthwatering nipples he’d ever seen.

  But she didn’t move, and he sighed. She was going to be difficult.

  “Problem?” he asked.

  “No. No problem. What makes you think there’s a problem?”

  “Because you won’t look at me.”

  “Maybe I don’t like to look at you.”

  “Annie.”

  “Why are you here?” At her sides, her hands fisted. “Haven’t you humiliated me enough today?”

  “Humiliated? You’re kidding, right?” He took a step toward her, so that the only thing that separated them was the ridiculous curlers in her hair. The tip of her head didn’t quite come up to his chin, and the oddest feelings slammed into him.

  Protectiveness.

  Possessiveness.

  Oh, man. Big mental step back here. Biiiigggg one. “I never humiliated you.”

  She let out a low laugh and continued staring at the door.

  Ah, hell. Why was he here? He could no longer remember, but felt certain it had something to do with wanting to tease her about the strippers and her reaction to them. About offering to strip for her, just so she didn’t feel left out.

  He hadn’t expected his tomboy to be wearing a facial mask and breast cream, looking so…well, vulnerable.

  “I’d like you to leave—” She gasped when he tossed the breast cream to the bed and whirled her around.

  “That’s better,” he decided, keeping his hands on her shoulders to prevent her escape. “Talk to me, not the door.”

  “The door cares about my feelings more than you do.”

  That stunned him for a moment, during which time he realized he was still holding her. She felt good in his hands, damn good, and before he could help it, he’d shifted a little closer. “I care about your feelings.”

  “No, you care about the cream.”

  His gaze dipped down to the edges of the tank top, and the smooth curves plumping out of it.

  “You’re wondering.”

  He looked into her face. “Wondering?”

  “If I still have the cream on.”

  No, he was wondering which bridesmaid put it on for her and if they’d let him watch next time.

  “Kyle?”

  He was lost in the fantasy. “Hmm?”

  “I’m waiting with bated breath to hear why you’re here.”

  Why he was here. “The strippers.” He was pleased to remember. “You were bothered by them. And I…” Nothing to do here but speak the truth. “I was going to offer to make you feel a little easier about it. You know, the whole stripping thing.”

  “By…”

  “Well…” He tried his most charming smile. It wasn’t a tool he used often, but whenever he had put it to the test, it hadn’t failed him yet.

  Annie just stared at him.

  Damn. It failed him. First time for everything, he supposed. “I was…uh, going to offer to strip for you.”

  She let out a laugh. “And that would have made me feel more comfortable, how?”

  Her voice said, “not interested,” but as he watched, her nipples puckered. Gotcha, he thought.

  “You know this might be a huge shock to your ego,” she said, crossing her arms and thereby removing his most excellent view. “But I’m not interested in you.”

  He took another step forward, watching with amusement as her chin came up. She refused to back up, though, his lovely, angry princess, which suited him just fine as it allowed her body to brush his. “Let’s stick to the truth,” he said.

  “Which is?”

  “Which is…” He reached out and ran a hand over her mud-slathered jaw. “You’re attracted to me, every bit as much as I’m attracted to you. You’re yearning and burning to find out if we’d be as combustible together as it seems. And…” he leaned in to speak directly in her ear, his lips just brushing her skin, causing a shiver that wracked his body as well as hers “…you want to know if making love with me would be…what did you say? Overrated.”

  She went utterly still.

  “It wouldn’t be, Annie. It’d be perfect.”

  He would have sworn she let out a little sound that conveyed her reluctant arousal at his words before she turned and jerked open the door.

  “Good night.” Her voice shook just a little.

  “Annie—”

  “Good night.”

  “Dream of me,” he said, walking past her.

  Because he sure as hell would dream of her, and misery loved company.

  CHAPTER 9

  BY THE NEXT NIGHT, Kyle had reaffirmed his decision to not get married. He’d truly had no idea how many functions one single wedding could create.

  He’d been to breakfasts, lunches, dinners, meetings with caterers and florists and photographers, and quite frankly, was getting tired of holding his brother’s hand.

  “You’re on your own,” he finally told Kevin, the night after the bachelor-bachelorette party. They we