Jill Shalvis - Her Sexiest Mistake

"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, pointed at, prejudiced against, and prejudged. 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-my best friend, Mia Appleby, does-I'm just going to drop some things off at her house. Have you met her?"

Mike nodded and shook her hand, bringing his other up to cup over hers. Then he pointed to himself, and his ear, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I don't understand."

Again Mike tapped his ear and shook his head.

"You're… deaf?"

He smiled and nodded.

"Oh!" And as Kevin had witnessed a thousand times, maybe more, this melted her. Women, he thought in amazement. Always softened for the underdog, even if that underdog was really a damn wolf in sheep's clothing.

But the two of them were seemingly managing to communicate despite the handicap, and Kevin just sighed. Bending, he gathered the waters and the ball, and stuffed them into his duffle bag.

On the sidewalk, Tess laughed out loud at something Mike did. Over her shoulder, Mike turned to Kevin and winked salaciously. I'm going to need a rain check on cooking, big brother.

Unbelievable, Kevin thought. Just unbelievable.

A few days later Kevin was in his kitchen, seated at his table with a beer and stacks of paperwork. A stack for the taxes he hadn't yet gotten together, a stack for ongoing fund-raising tactics for the teen center, a stack for filling out forms for grants and funding from the state. And yet another of the pop quiz he'd given in class today to see where everyone was at.

Yeah, he knew how to party.

It was late, past midnight, and he was hip deep in grading, staring down at Cole's quiz, not surprised to find the kid had answered every question correctly, even the ones Kevin hadn't expected the kids to answer at all, when there came a knock at his kitchen door. He lifted his head, figuring it was his idiot brother coming in from a date with Tess, who he'd seen three nights running now.

But Mike had a key… The night was dark, and Kevin couldn't see out the glass pane in the door. Tossing his pencil down, he got up and flicked on the porch light.

Mia Appleby stood there in a filmy, gauzy sundress that bared her shoulders and arms, showing off smooth, creamy skin and a body he suddenly, sharply wanted squirming beneath his. She had a hand on her hip, her mouth turned upside down in a frown, her eyes narrowed as she took in his low-slung jeans and unbuttoned shirt hanging open over his torso.

From some part of his brain, he acknowledged the hard kick to his gut. And also farther south.

He'd seen her every morning, of course, strutting her stuff in her designer wear and towering heels as she got into her Audi with Hope in tow, the girl a contrast in her stark black and shimmering metal rings and belts and earrings. Neither of them had appeared at the teen center, though he'd spoken to Hope yesterday afternoon about her car, which needed an alternator and water pump. She'd thanked him for the news and said she'd get it fixed, but he knew she probably didn't have the money for it. Kevin also knew through Mike, who'd gotten the scoop from Tess, that Hope was having fun with all things electronic in Mia's life, and it'd amused Kevin to think about Mia dealing with the teen on a daily basis.

Mia knocked again, her eyes narrowed, looking ready to chew him up and spit him out, and still he felt a surge of unwanted lust.

Which really proved it. His brother wasn't the idiot. He was. "Where's Hope?" he asked through the glass.

"Hopefully packing."

It was Thursday. He'd thought she wasn't going home until the weekend. "She's leaving? By herself?"

"Listen, that little tornado can take care of herself. Trust me."

When he just looked at her, she sighed. "I'm not letting her take off by herself. "Sugar's coming for her on Saturday. Happy now?"

Happy? Was she kidding? "What is she really doing?"

"Probably hot-wiring my car. Believe me, she's capable."

"She's a sweet kid."

Mia laughed, a low, throaty sound. "Yeah, sweet. Listen, about tomorrow. I can't have that 'sweet' kid with me at work anymore. Now, before you begin with a lecture, you should know, she wired hip-hop and rap into my building's speakers at decibels previously uncharted. She rerouted the phones through the donut shop on the lobby level. She-"

Kevin smiled. "Smart kid."

"She stole my boss's wallet.".

His smile faded. "Ah, hell. Really?"

"So the story goes. So are you going to let me in or not?"

Was the Pope Catholic? Did a bear shit in the woods? He wondered what she wore beneath that dress-

"Earth to Kevin. Come in, Kevin."

"I'm thinking." He paused while she swore softly beneath her breath, some slur on his heritage, and despite himself, a smile tugged out of him. "I didn't hear a please."

"Goddamnit, let me in."

He had no idea why, but he pulled open the door, then blocked her way in with a hand on the jamb. Her middle pressed against his forearm, and despite the chill in her voice, she was warm, very warm. He knew from experience her bare skin would be even warmer, and taste like heaven. "Maybe we should set some ground rules first," he said.

She blinked once, slow as an owl. The warm beat of desire pulsed between them along with the storm. "Like?"

"Like…" God, she smelled amazing. Something exotic, sensual. And she looked good enough to eat right then and there. "Like no-"

She slid past him, making sure to glide that glorious body of hers all over his as she did. "No… what?" she murmured, spinning to face him in his own kitchen, a daring, tough, cocky, miserable light in her eyes he figured he knew all too well.

She'd had a rough day, she was hurting, and she needed oblivion.

Him.

Damn it. "No-oomph-" was all he managed as she obliterated the rules by wrapping herself around him and kissing him-and not a hello-sweetheart kind of kiss, either, but a deep, wet, hot one-and only when air was required did she pull back. "You were saying?"

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Um… no more of that, for one thing. And no touching, either. And especially no fu-"

She lifted a condom out of her pocket, brandishing it like a trophy as she shimmied out of her sundress, answering his question of what she wore beneath it.

Just a set of high-heeled sandals and bright pink toenail polish. He took in her taut, tan skin, smooth limbs, high, full breasts. Between her legs, she was freshly waxed.

Kevin heard the rough groan leave his throat, and he slammed shut his eyes. "Put that dress back on."

"Why?"

"Because we're not doing this. Damn it, we're not."

"How about next time we don't."

"Mia-"

"You want me."