“This isn’t about Sophie!” he said more sharply. “This has never been about Sophie!”

“Oh really?” She scoffed. “So it’s just coincidence that you’re taking her side on everything. You just don’t want to see me happy, so you’re doing your best to ensure my relationship with Gray never has a chance.”

“You don’t even like the guy!” Will yelled. “This isn’t about Gray or Sophie, it’s about you trying to control absolutely every little detail in your life because you don’t know what you really want.”

“I do know what I want! I want Gray. He’s perfect for me. Smart, successful, genteel…”

“The man’s a Goddamn mannequin, which is exactly what you think you want because you can ensure he fits into your plastic life.”

“Why are you acting like this?” she whispered, staring into his blazing blue eyes. “I know we’re always bickering, but you’ve never been cruel before.”

“God, Brynn.” He turned away and stared out the front of the car, running his fingers through his blond hair and muttering a string of curses.

“I don’t expect an apology,” she said quietly. “I know better. I just want to know why.”

“Why? Why?!” His voice had taken on an agitated tone, and he sounded completely unlike the controlled and manipulative Will she knew so well.

“This is why, Brynn.”

A rough hand slid behind the nape of her neck and jerked her over to the driver’s-side seat. Firm lips slammed down on hers as he held her head still and took control of her mouth.

She parted her lips on a surprised gasp and his tongue flicked teasingly across her bottom lip. Brynn moaned. She didn’t know if this was supposed to be her punishment, her embarrassment, or simply more ammunition that he could use against her, and she didn’t care.

She didn’t care that they hated each other, didn’t care that she was lying awkwardly across the middle console of his car like one of his groupies.

She didn’t care that he probably had some sort of agenda or that she was most certainly going to regret this in the morning.

Because at this moment, all she cared about was kissing Will.

His tongue slid against hers in a silky stroke and she moaned again. Winding her arms around his neck, Brynn pressed closer, letting her tongue tangle with his in a kiss that wasn’t civilized or rehearsed or practiced. Kissing Will was a lot like dirty dancing. It was heady, instinctual, and it gave her the urge to move her hips.

They kissed like they argued. Savagely, taking as much as they gave. His hands tilted her head to the side so he could press deeper, and this time it was Will that let out a low groan. His mouth broke away from hers, and his lips softly pressed against the side of her mouth, skimming along her jaw before gently brushing her cheeks, her eyelids.

Reality crashed down as Brynn realized what he was doing. He was kissing away her tears. He cupped her face gently, as though using his lips to try and erase the pain he’d caused.

And suddenly it just felt too…tender. Animal passion had been safe. She could blame that on the champagne and their anger.

But kindness and tenderness from Will…she couldn’t…she wouldn’t…

She pulled away sharply.

“Brynn,” he said quietly, reaching out to her again.

“Don’t,” she said. “Just don’t.”

Clutching her purse, she scratched at the door again, shoving it open in clumsy haste. She set one foot out into the stormy night before hesitantly looking back at him.

“You won’t…you won’t tell anyone about this, right? We’ll just chalk it up to a moment of absurd insanity?”

Any softness that might have been in his eyes vanished. “Don’t worry,” he snapped. “Your secret is safe with me. You think I want anyone knowing that I failed to get a hot reaction from Ice Princess Brynn? You’re just as cold as everyone thinks you are.”

She didn’t let his words sting. She was already numb.

“Good night, Will,” she said stonily as she climbed out of the car. “If you’ve given me some sort of disease, you’ll be hearing from me.”

She’d barely slammed the door before he peeled away from the curb with a squeal of tires. Typical, she thought. Slowly her snarl faded as she stood hunched in the rain, staring after his long-gone taillights.

That was a mistake. The realization came as a shock.

Because Brynn Dalton did not make mistakes.

* * *

“No. Absolutely not ever. The dining room table was fine. The living room furniture was tolerable. Your home office collection was pushing it, but I absolutely draw the line at shopping for your bed.”

Will gave her a patronizing pat on the shoulder. “I understand. Too many memories?”

Brynn’s eyes narrowed as he’d known they would. “Seems to me there’s not much to remember.”

“Oh? Is that why you were panting at me in the kitchen this morning?”

“Oh baby, yeah, because conniving men in ratty jeans who steal my coffee really turn me on.” She brushed past him, shoulders back as she headed in the direction of the mattress store.

He gave a little smile of victory. He’d been gently manipulating her all day long, turning her “two hours” max into a full day of shopping.

So far the day had gone exactly as he’d planned. He hadn’t counted on her holding out quite so long before letting him into her house, and the chorus of “Jingle Bells” was still banging through his brain. But it had been worth it just to see her in that sweet little pink robe. Even the messy coffee stains hadn’t been able to distract from the long toned legs.

Legs he remembered wrapped around his waist all too well. And his head. And his…

“Thatcher, you coming, or what?” Brynn snapped from up ahead.

Oh, I wish.

“You know, manipulating my whole day is really pushing it, considering that putting on my spare tire took you all of twenty minutes.”

“Twenty difficult minutes,” he corrected, holding open the door for her. “So far all you’ve had to do is wander around in the air-conditioning and test couch cushions for comfort.”

“I still think you should have gone with the café au lait–colored one,” she said, as she frowned around at the enormous collection of mattresses.

Will had dragged her to the Bellevue Collection, a mass of multiple upscale shopping centers that had a variety of furniture stores within walking distance.

“Was the café au lait one the boring beige one?”

“No. Beige and café au lait are not the same thing. Although both can be nice, and neither is boring.”

“Says the woman with all-white future.”

Will threw himself back on the first mattress in the row, knowing immediately that it was too soft for his preferences. But he had every intention of drawing this part of the shopping adventure out as long as possible. Every intention of reminding her of him on a mattress. Of her on a mattress with him.

“What do you think of this one?” he asked casually. Apparently too casually, because she immediately narrowed her eyes at him.

“Oh no,” she said, crossing her arms. “I’ll endure you bouncing on a mattress that hundreds of other people have writhed around on, but I’m not playing.”

“C’mon,” he said, turning the corner of his mouth up in the half smile that always got women all riled up. “What if I take you to an early dinner at Purple after this?”

Brynn rolled her eyes. “Save that smarmy smile for one of your groupies. And how’d you know I like Purple?”

I know everything you like. Everything.

Instead he rolled his eyes right back at her. “Well, let’s see, it’s an upscale, totally pretentious wine bar that pretends not to be pretentious. How could you help yourself from liking it?”

He saw her hesitate. Brynn was always a sucker for New Zealand Sauvignon Blancs, and Purple’s menu had a handful of them.

“No thanks,” she said, pressing her lips together. “I should get home. I should call James.”