do with a little sprucing up,” she said. It was then she noticed several framed photographs on the floor, propped against the wall as if it was too much trouble to hang them in place.
For a moment he looked as if he regretted letting her come to check out his wardrobe. “My needs are simple,” he said.
“I can see you have a love of basic white,” she said dryly.
“Even if I was into interior decorating, which I’m not, I’m not in town long enough to bother,” he said. “It has everything I need: a great location, a refrigerator …” The only movement was a slight tip of the head. “And a bed.”
The silence that followed filled the room, his expression remarkably placid, no overt twinkle in his gaze necessary. The thick, dark eyelashes gave him a sinfully sated look, framing caramel-colored eyes that oozed sex, whether intentional or not.
She knew he’d brought her here to make her uncomfortable, and the sooner she got this over with the sooner she’d get out of his apartment. Her heart was pounding embarrassingly fast, and no matter how many lectures she’d given herself as she’d followed him here, it was hard not to remember the last time they’d been alone togetherin an apartment. Completing her task and getting out of his home suddenly became a top priority.
But clothes meant closets, and closets meant bedrooms, and suddenly her heart stopped and she couldn’t breathe.
Stalling for time to recuperate from his effect on her, she crossed to the living room and picked up one of the pictures. It was of a red convertible Porsche, top back as it sailed off the end of a towering cliff. Like a surfer, Memphis was crouched on the driver seat, his hand on the top of the windshield, body poised to push off.
She wasn’t a fan of action movies, but when the film had been released Kate had gone to see it in the theatre. Alone in the dark, with only her popcorn for company, she’d watched the hero—who, in actuality, had been Memphis—push off from the free-falling car and do a back flip in the air before unfolding into position. Arms pressed to his side, body arrow-straight to decrease wind resistance, he’d aimed for the flatbed truck far, far below. At the last possible second he’d pulled the cord to the chute on his back and targeted the moving semi, landing gracefully on the trailer.
The stunt had brought back all the turbulent emotions Memphis had elicited as a teen, the larger-than-life adolescent constantly goading her into feelings that were too messy to handle. Exasperation. Danger. And a whole lot of electric chemistry that had short-circuited her ability to function when he was near. Back then, Dalton had made her feel safe.
But the only reason she’d been watching Memphis’s stunt on screen was because her husband had backed out on his date night with her. Just another one of many nights she’d spent by herself, achingly lonely because Dalton had been buried in his studies at law school. Not the happy marriage she’d envisioned when he’d proposed. But how could she fault him for fulfilling the dreams she had staunchly supported from the beginning? So she’d headed to the theatre alone. At the last second, she chose Memphis’s latest movie instead of the indie film she’d planned.
And she’d spent the rest of the night with vivid dreams, relieving the adolescent angst and the clashing attraction she’d worked so hard to keep under wraps.
Memphis’s voice came from behind. “That was my first big film.”
Disturbed by his nearness, she gripped the picture frame. “How did you get your start?”
“BASE jumping.”
Ignoring the heat from his body, she kept her gaze on the photo. “I never understood the appeal the sport held for you and Brian. Is skydiving from an airplane too tame?”
“A bit too regimented for my taste. Where’s the illicit fun in that?”
“Illegal or not, I’m not sure there is any fun to be had while free-falling toward earth,” she said,