Beauty and the Best Man

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Her shoulder-length hair was a tumble of soft, light brown curls that tempted a man to spear his fingers through their silkiness. Even in a sea of artsy, trendy people wearing black, Kayla stood out. Black was a stark color that only accented her pale, creamy skin, her dress clung to curves he ached to explore again. When she turned, and their gazes locked across the room, he noted the brief reaction of shock and pleasure in her blue eyes before it faded away into a cool businesslike stare. A flush of color stained her cheeks but it wasn’t embarrassment or desire—it was anger.

Damned if he didn’t find that exciting.

“Hey,” Evan said, “I see Angelica over by that weird bird sculpture. I’ll catch you later, okay?”

“Sure.” Matt didn’t even see his friend leave. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Kayla.

People wandered in and out of the line of vision locking Kayla and him together, but nothing could shatter the connection alive and sizzling between them.

She felt it, too. He could see it in her eyes, in the firming of her luscious lips. Just as he could see that she wasn’t happy about what she was feeling. He had to bite back a satisfied smile. Good to know he wasn’t the only one being twisted into knots. Kayla wasn’t an easy woman to figure out.

It was one of the things he liked best about her.

Most of the women he’d been involved with over the years were all too simple to understand. They enjoyed being with him because he had access to the rich, the powerful, the famous. But Kayla was different. She looked at the world through eyes that searched out and found beauty in the most unlikely places. She wasn’t interested in society or the connections she could make through Matt.

She’d wanted him. And that had thrown him. Hard. Because he’d felt the same about her. From the first moment he’d met her, Matt had known that she was going to be different. That she had the ability to cut through his defenses and bring him to his knees. Not a place he was used to finding himself.

Memories raced through his mind, causing sensory overload. He remembered the arguments, the conversations, the incredible tension that had hummed through every moment that they’d spent together.

Mostly, though, he remembered the one night they’d had together. The frenzied need that had fueled their desperate coupling. The out of control desire that had swept away every clear thought.

Even recalling that night had his body going hard as stone and his brain fuzzing over until the only thing it could focus on was her. Nearly nine months away from her in a voluntary absence and she was as fresh in his mind as she had been the morning after their “encounter.”

That’s why he’d left. Why he’d had to go and put half a country between them. Love was not part of his game plan. He was focused on his career and didn’t have the time—or the inclination—to deviate from the plan that had been guiding him since college.

But damn he’d missed her.

She lifted her chin, tossed her hair back from her face and started walking toward him. The crowd seemed to part for her, as if in a series of orchestrated moves. She was damn near electrifying. Her hair, her eyes, the curve of her hips and the way those hips swayed invitingly when she walked.

Hell, everything about her screamed sexy, powerful woman—and that really did it for him in a big way.

The hard tap of her heels against the marble floor sounded out like tiny gunshots, even over the noise of the surrounding crush of people. She never stopped. Never hesitated. Until she came to a stop right in front of him.