Her Sexiest Mistake Read online

  Damn it, she had wanted to. “If you know you’re impossible, maybe you should do something about it.”

  “Nah, it’s part of my charm.” He handed over her pen. “I was only eighteen, the same age when she divorced me for not kissing her ass enough.”

  “I didn’t ask that, either.”

  “You were wondering.”

  She looked at him and he laughed softly, a sound she was beginning to react to like Pavlov’s dog.

  Drool, drool.

  “What about you? Ever been married?” he asked.

  Now she laughed. “Do I look like the marrying type?”

  His gaze ran over her face, her body, heating every single inch. “You look like the type to do whatever she pleases.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s never pleased me to be married.” Because that seemed incredibly revealing, she distanced herself. “I’ve got to go check on the crazy kid.”

  “Crazy?”

  “Trust me.” She stood up. “Crazy.” She soaked in his extremely pleasing-on-the-eyes face. “See you?”

  “See me, or do me?”

  She laughed.

  He didn’t.

  And she sighed. “Right.” He didn’t want just sex, he liked more, and she didn’t. “Bye.” Feeling a little like Alice down the rabbit hole, she grabbed the last bag of groceries and went into the house.

  Hope was heading for the stairs.

  “We have to talk,” Mia said.

  Hope slowly turned back, her eyes filled with misery.

  Ah, hell. She was waiting to be rejected, sent away, and much of Mia’s anger melted away in spite of herself.

  The girl had been made to feel unimportant for most of her life, and Mia knew that feeling all too well. Damn if she’d add to it.

  So how to do this? Right up front, she decided. She might be a bitch in her world, but she wouldn’t be one in Hope’s. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s just talk.”

  “No good ever came out of talking,” Hope said. “Trust me, I know. My mom does that. ‘We have to talk, Hope.’” She said this in a perfect imitation of Sugar. “‘About your attitude toward the men I date. About your grades. About your stealing.’” The kid put her hands on her hips. “Well, the men she dates are assholes, the teachers all hate me because she slept with the principal, and then his wife found out and he quit. Some jerk took his place and he’s awful, but that’s not my fault. And I don’t steal!”

  Mia stared at the kid’s stiff spine, her shoulders thin and narrow and seemingly weighted with the world. Mia’s early fury was still firmly in place, but now it was mixed with something that felt like sorrow and guilt and regret, and, damn it, she hated when something got in the way of her righteous anger. “Hope—”

  “Look, I’m sorry I screwed up your day, okay? I know I’m going home. I’ll go pack.”

  And with that, she took her heavy-soled boots up the stairs, probably leaving scuff marks with each step.

  “Hope, wait.”

  Hope stopped but didn’t turn around.

  Fine. She’d talk to the girl’s back. “I know what it’s like to grow up feeling as if you don’t matter. As if nothing you do or say makes any difference in this world. I know what it’s like to have hopes and dreams and be afraid you won’t get a chance to live them. I know, Hope.”

  Slowly the girl turned around.

  “I’m sorry you were dealt those cards, that you had to run far and fast to get what you think you want. I, more than anyone else, understand. But you have to understand me in return. I don’t know anything about raising a teenager, about being a role model, about making your world right for you. Nothing.” She drew a deep breath. “But I’m willing to see this through until the end of the week if you are.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re so sweet and kind?”

  Hope smiled. Smiled.

  Mia covered up the unexpected emotion eased by that and pointed a finger in Hope’s face. “But no more joyriding in my car.”

  Hope shook her head.

  “No more messing with my work.”

  Another shake of her head.

  “No more cracks about me being old.”

  Hope smiled.

  “All right then,” Mia said.

  “All right then,” Hope repeated in the same exact tone, though Mia would have sworn there was a light of excitement and hope in her eyes that hadn’t been there before as she turned and went up the stairs.

  Watching her, Mia let out a slow breath, then sat on the bottom step, wondering what the hell she’d just gotten herself into.

  Kevin watched Mia vanish into her house and shook his head. “Way to keep your distance there, stud,” he said and, with a disgusted shake of his head, headed toward the basketball court.

  Mike was already there because of course he didn’t flake out on the good stuff.

  Mike didn’t look at Kevin, so Kevin merely walked onto the court and got in Mike’s way as he came down for a warm-up layup.

  And checked him.

  Mike bounced back and glared at him.

  “Oh, would you like to know my problem?” Kevin asked politely, forcing him to read his lips even though he knew Mike didn’t like to.

  Mike shook his head.

  “Too bad. They would have hired you today, you dumb-ass.”

  Oh, so now I’m a dumb-ass?

  “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

  Mike snatched the ball from Kevin and drove it down the court, executing a perfect layup. He could have played basketball for college, and possibly even the pros, but not a single college would recruit him because of his handicap.

  Mike landed and turned around, no triumph in his face, nothing but desolation.

  All his life he’d been whispered about and pointed at. The times were changing, and these days a deaf man had just about the same rights and expectations as anyone else, but Mike still carried the chip on his shoulder.

  It was getting damned heavy.

  Kevin understood it. He had been trying to hack away at it for years, but he understood it. He waited until Mike’s gaze met his. Please interview. You’re a shoo-in, I swear it.

  Mike just dribbled, thinking God knows what. Then he tossed Kevin the ball, hard enough to sting. I’ll be there, he signed.

  When?

  Tomorrow. Now, are you going to play or nag?

  Kevin looked at him for a long moment, searching his brother’s gaze, finding nothing but bare honesty. Fear, too, but Mike wouldn’t want him to comment on that, so he nodded. First to ten, loser cooks dinner.

  Mike grinned. Get ready to cook, Mrs. McKnight. And he came after the ball.

  Thirty minutes later they were both a sweaty, exhausted mess, slumped on one of the benches on the side of the court slurping from their water bottles.

  A woman pulled onto the street in a red Honda. She got out and came along on the sidewalk, and Mike stopped drinking to watch. She wore a jean skirt cut a few inches above the knees and a red tank layered over a white one. Normal summer gear, only there was nothing normal about the tall, athletically toned brunette—she was beautiful enough to grace the cover of any magazine.

  Mike glanced at Kevin and waggled his eyebrows.

  Kevin rolled his eyes. Don’t even think about it, he signed. You’re cooking dinner for me tonight.

  I’m going to be cooking all right…

  Mike—But Mike wasn’t looking. Instead he’d risen off the bench and, hiding his wince from his various aches and bruises, plastered his I’m-God’s-gift smile in place.

  Kevin kicked his foot to get his attention. She’s out of your league.

  Yeah? Watch and learn, big guy. Watch and learn. He moved off the court and onto the sidewalk directly in front of the woman.

  She stopped and smiled at him. “Hi. Haven’t seen you before. Are you new around here?”

  Mike nodded his head.

  “Well, welcome!” She held out her hand. “I’m Tess Reis. I don’t live on this street—m