Page 19 of Beautiful Distraction

I don’t know why, but disappointment courses through me. Jealousyrears its ugly head. The blonde is without a doubt beautiful. Her skin isglowing, her eyes shimmering. She looks young, carefree, happy. They both do.

I turn around to Mandy and hold up the frame, trying to keepmy voice steady. “He’s off-limits,” I say. “He has a girlfriend. Maybe even afiancée or a wife.”

“So what?” Mandy retorts. “You don’t know everything aboutmen and relationships, Ava. Nothing’s ever off-limits. Besides, we’re notplanning on marrying him, right? And last I checked, I saw no ring on hisfinger,” she whispers and turns around, signaling that the conversation’s over.

I shake my head. I know exactly what she’s planning ondoing: adding another notch to her bedpost or forcing me to add one to mine.She’s had so many, it’s both impressive and time-consuming. Or tiresome.Whichever way one might want to see it. I’m not a wallflower either, but myconquests pale in comparison to hers.

“See, cheating’s where I draw the line.”

“What?” Mandy says again after catching my glare. “You can’tchange a cheater, just like a leopard can’t change its spots. That’s nature.” Hertone sounds resolute, as if she’s made up her mind already.

For some reason, I’m not comfortable with Mandy chasing him,but I keep my reservations to myself. That’s another beauty of our friendship:we allow the other to make mistakes, which we call life lessons.

It’s all pretty deep and spiritual.

It’s a thing between us no one else understands.

But the more I think about her kissing him, or anyone’s lipson him for that matter, the more the thought makes me sick. Why’s that? I don’town him. And I sure as hell shouldn’t feel disappointment at the prospect thathe might be seeing someone.

But I do.

“It’s still cheating.” I put the picture frame back on themantelpiece and join Mandy, right before Mr. Hot Guy returns with three cups ofsteaming liquid that smells of black tea, cane sugar, and—

“I didn’t know what you wanted, so I added a bit of rum toit,” Mr. Hot Guy says, pushing a hot mug of tea into my hands. My gaze sweepsover his fingers. No ring. No shadow. Not even the presence of a faint tan line.For some reason, relief floods through me.

As I grab the mug out of his hand, I cringe at the surge ofpain shooting through my fingers, but I don’t complain, in case he changes hismind and decides to throw our unwelcome asses out after all.

“Thanks,” I mumble and follow his invitation to take a seaton the large leather sofa overlooking the fireplace.

I sink into the luxurious cushions and let my gaze slideover everything and anything but Mr. Hot Guy, who’s taken his seat oppositefrom me and seems to regard me with a frown lodged between his brows.

“You look familiar,” he says after taking a gulp of his beverage.

My breath hitches, and I almost choke on my drink. With anervous glance at Mandy, I turn my eyes back to him. “Excuse me?”

“I’m sure I’ve seen you before.” His gaze locks with mine ina strange battle. “I just can’t remember where. Care to refresh my memory?”

What the hell!

Is he suffering from short-term memory loss? Because I’mpretty sure he recognized me on the porch, so why the question? Taking a deepbreath, I catch the glint in his eyes.

He must be playingwith me.

The sudden knowledge angers me. Mr. Hot Guy is off-limits,and Mandy isn’t exactly the kind of person you can tell everything without herwanting to meddle in one’s private affairs. And then there’s his girlfriend.I’ve no idea what he’s trying to achieve, but I don’t do cheaters. Ever.

Two can play this game.

Planting a fake smile on my lips, I stare him down. “I’msure we haven’t. You must be confusing me with someone else.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I have a feeling we’ve metbefore. Ford, right?”

“The car?” I shrug. “It’s a popular brand.”

“I’m sure it is.” His eyes lock with mine, forcing me tokeep his heated gaze until I feel myself melting under his scrutiny. “But my feeling’snever wrong.”

“It is this time.”

“You sure?” he asks.

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