Spying Under the Mistletoe (Love Undercover #2) - Stina Lindenblatt Page 0,109

hem of my short dress scooted up my thighs, and that sadly neglected part between my legs accidentally brushed against the gearshift. Naturally, it wasn’t too thrilled that this was the only action it would see. Which was a helluva lot more than it had seen for the past 460 days.

But who was counting?

Still awkwardly straddling the gearshift and doing my best not to dry-hump it, I performed a graceful face-plant onto the passenger side. My knee landed on the seat; my face almost smashed into the window. On the bright side the sidewalk was empty of pedestrians. No one had witnessed my moment of humiliation.

I shifted my body and opened the door. With my skirt still hiked up my thighs, I performed a complex move of climbing out while shimmying the hem back into place. The Russian judge would have given me a 2.5, mostly due to lack of technical skills…and well, grace. But at least this time I didn’t land on my face.

Why I climbed out of my car was anyone’s guess. To scowl at it, maybe. That was about the extent of my mechanical skills.

Since Erin—my best friend—and her husband were already at the party, I called AAA and pleaded for them to send someone. Preferably now.

Apparently, 5:00 p.m. on a Friday afternoon was NOT a good time to need AAA. The soonest they could send someone was in four hours.

The sun peeked from behind a cloud, reminding me there was indeed always a bright side. The party wasn’t far from here, and AAA would phone me when the cavalry was on the way.

Now, I just needed to get to the party.

In romance novels, this was the moment when the hero pulled over and offered to help the heroine. In thrillers, this was the moment when the serial killer pulled over and added another notch in his…well, whatever serial killers added a notch to.

A familiar black BMW pulled in front of my car and option B would have been favorable at this point. I inwardly groaned as Trent Salway exited his vehicle.

“Hey Kels, you need help?” Six-foot-plus of dark-haired male hotness in a black business suit walked up to me, and the ache between my legs let out a dreamy sigh. Clearly it hadn’t forgotten how I had been crushing on my best friend’s big brother for as long as I could remember—only for him to see me as nothing more than a little sister. More specifically, his best friend’s little sister.

Trent’s gaze dropped to my lips and the ache between my legs drifted into its own fantasy land. It’s not what you think, my brain pointed out, always the party pooper. Your lip gloss is probably smeared.

Unconsciously, I ran the tip of my tongue along my lower lip. Trent’s sexy green eyes darkened, and his Adam’s apple shot up then slid back down.

His passenger door opened, yanking me out of my lust-filled moment, and a pair of never-ending legs, with shiny red stilettos attached, stepped out. Then in slow motion—or at least it seemed that way in my head—the rest of the body appeared from the car. At the sight of her, my heart clambered out of my chest and crash-landed on the asphalt with a big splat.

Whoever this woman was, she was the opposite of me. Her black dress clung to her slim body and her auburn hair was swept up in an elegant bun. Her makeup was smoky and made her look like a Hollywood starlet. My ex-fiancé used to call me kitten sexy—a nice way of saying I was cute—but I was nothing compared to this woman.

I had to admit, though, as my heart climbed back into my chest, she was perfect for Trent. She was sophistication on a stick.

Sophistication-on-a-stick smiled her perfect red lips at me. “Hi.”

I wished I could say her voice was like claws being dragged down a chalkboard. I wished I could say she didn’t have an Australian accent that would cause every guy within a ten-mile radius to blow his load at the sound of it.

“Kels, this is Holly,” Trent said. “Holly, this is my sister’s best friend, Kelsey.”

Holly offered her manicured hand and I shook it. “It’s nice to meet you.” The voice was so sincere and friendly, it was hard not to instantly like her, even if she was dating the man whose lips I craved.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.” Was I supposed to say that Trent had told me so much about her? And