Читать книгу Blame It on the Bachelor - Karen Kendall - Страница 13

AS THE FIRST NOTES OF the wedding march sounded the next evening, Dev stood with the other groomsmen, flanking a beaming Mark. The doors of the chapel opened wide to admit a white-clad, veiled Kendra, escorted by her father.

She looked beautiful in the dress, which had a V-shaped neckline filled in with some kind of fancy lacy stuff and short, poofy sleeves. Her waist looked tiny and the back of the dress dragged along the carpet, which women seemed to find romantic for some reason that he’d never comprehend.

Everyone in the church gave a collective sigh at the bride’s stunning gown and radiant face. Her mother, grandmother and even Great Aunt Mildred produced white handkerchiefs and began their eye-dabbing immediately.

As for Mark, his chest swelled and he looked as though he’d died and gone to heaven. His eyes even held suspicious moisture. Once Dev would have made fun of him, but today … today he swallowed a weird lump in the back of his throat.

As the bride made her graceful journey down the red-carpeted aisle, Dev searched for Kylie among the pews. There she was, sitting in the second row back on the groom’s side, with an odd expression on her face. It seemed loving and warm … and at the same time forlorn. Her hazel eyes held a regret that seemed out of place for the occasion.

Dev had noticed her sudden disappearance after the champagne toast the night before, and fought the uneasy feeling that he might be to blame—even though he’d been a complete gentleman. He, Dev, the artist formerly known as Gig, the idiot who’d taken pride in the bra-festooned chandelier over his dining room table, had done his very best to behave.

Kylie met his gaze for the briefest of seconds before she averted her eyes and stared fixedly at the black-robed minister who waited for Kendra and her father to take their final steps to the front of the church.

What, Kylie couldn’t even look at him? Dev’s mild indignation of yesterday grew. It was one thing to use him then deny him her phone number. But it was quite another to pretend now that he didn’t exist. He’d existed, all right, when she’d come for him in the supply closet.

And no matter what she might think, he had not given the guys a blow-by-blow description of what had taken place. So after the ceremony, he and Ms. Kent were going to have a chat, whether she liked it or not.

A naked chat would be better than a clothed one, truth to tell. As the minister droned on, Dev tuned him out and indulged some enticing memories of what Kylie’s smooth, bare thighs looked like. And what that sweet little derriere of hers felt like in his hands. And—

“We are gathered here today…” intoned the minister.

To have impure thoughts in church? To pop a woody in front of God and all the guests? Get a grip, man!

Mark and Kendra held hands as the familiar words of the traditional ceremony echoed throughout the nave. They looked into each other’s eyes. They smiled like a couple of drunk angels. It was—no other way to put it—sweet. And Dev had no doubt that the two of them would not lose that lovin’ feeling. You could tell with these two—they’d make it through anything life lobbed at them.

Dev wondered if one day a woman would look at him like that: as if she’d gladly put her soul into a stew pot and serve it to him with hot, crusty bread. As if nothing would make her happier than simply to make him happy.

And he wondered, too, if he’d look at a girl the way Mark did at Kendra: as if he’d slay any dragon, shoulder any mortgage and work five jobs just to keep her in designer shoes.

Aw, hell. He was getting all whatdyoucallit, that German word for sentimental—verklempt.

“Do you, Marcus James Edgeworth, take this woman …”

Dev found himself staring at Kylie again.

Her gaze flickered over him and she moved in the pew, uncrossing and recrossing her legs. She didn’t acknowledge him in any way, though.

Squirming, honey? If not, you will be soon. Because not only are you going to look at me before this night is over, but you’re also going to dance with me. Up close and personal.

“Do you, Kendra Lynn Kirschoff, take this man …”

He kept staring deliberately at Kylie until he could have sworn she blushed, but he was too far away to be sure.

Dev turned his attention to the ceremony just as the minister said, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Up went the veil, down bent Mark’s head, and it was a regular smooch-a-rama up there.

“Easy, boy!” said Kendra’s father, and everyone burst out laughing.

Then bride and groom went traipsing down the aisle and out the door, followed by the wedding party. While people milled around, Dev lurked behind a partition in the musty-smelling hallway until he saw Kylie.

He greeted her affectionately as she passed him and slid an arm around her waist. “Need a ride to the reception?”

“No, I—”

“Fantastic,” he said, grinning amiably and hustling her out into the parking lot.

“I don’t want a ride from you!” Temper flared in those hazel eyes.

“Funny, you sure wanted a ride last night.” He continued to tow her along while she balked.

“Oh!”

“So I find it real interesting that you didn’t say goodbye, that today you won’t make eye contact with me and that you seem to want me dead.”

An ominous silence fell, until she finally retorted, “Alive. But in serious pain.”

“Why?”

“You know exactly why.”

“Nope. I don’t. If your nice-girl-gone-astray guilt is kicking in, you shouldn’t take it out on me. I didn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do. I didn’t proposition myself, tease myself or screw myself in that closet, Sweet Pea. You were there for every step of the process.”

“This has nothing to do with guilt. It has to do with you being a jerk of epic proportions.”

“Thank you for the compliment. It’s true that my proportions have been described as epic. What I don’t get is the jerk part.”

“Oh, you get it, all right.” She tried to pull away from him again. “Let go of me.”

“No. We’re going to have a little talk,” he told her, stepping up the pace so that she tottered on her high heels and had to hang on to him for support as he towed her along.

“I have nothing to say to you, and if you dare try to manhandle me into your car, I will file kidnapping charges against you!”

“Don’t be melodramatic,” said Dev, unlocking the passenger door of his screaming red Corvette. “Now get in.”

“No.”

“What is your problem?” Dev asked, raising his voice on purpose as an elderly couple approached. “You practically raped me in the supply closet last night and now—”

Kylie whipped her head around. “Keep your voice down!”

The couple got a little bug-eyed but pretended not to hear as they shuffled toward their Buick.

“I’ll be glad to whisper if you’ll get in the car instead of behaving like the lead actress in a bad soap.”

With a look that would have reduced a lesser man to rubble, Kylie folded herself into the low-slung sports car, showing a lot more leg than she probably intended to—not that he minded.

Dev shut the door for her and rounded the nose of the ‘Vette to get in himself. “Now,” he said, closing his own door and starting the engine, “just what are you so pissed off about?”

“You know why I’m pissed! You’re disgusting. You’re a pig, McKee. I saw you telling your buddies all about us.”

“You saw nothing of the sort.”

“What, do you think I’m stupid? You were three tables away, your friends were falling over themselves laughing, and you were all looking at me!”

Dev shot out of the exit, took the corner on two wheels and watched, amused, as she flailed for her seat belt. The powerful eight-cylinder engine made her breasts jiggle under the prim dress. Pig or not, he enjoyed it.

“For your information, sweetheart, the guys were laughing because they were convinced that you’d blown me off. That I tried, and failed, to get into your pants.”

She finally clicked the tongue of the seat-belt fastener into the latch, then turned to face him. “Oh, but I’ll just bet you enlightened them, didn’t you?”

“No,” he said evenly. “I did not.”

“Then why were they all laughing so hard?”

“Because they loved seeing me strike out. It doesn’t—” Dev shut his mouth abruptly, as self-preservation kicked in. It was probably best not to call attention to his man-whore past.

“Doesn’t what?”

“Forget it.”

“Doesn’t happen often?”

Dev felt his face and neck get warm. “I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to.” Kylie crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the window as if she couldn’t get enough of the strip malls, gas stations and convenience stores.

“Interesting. So does that mean you think I’m hot?”

A low growl came from her throat.

Dev grinned, then cleared his throat. “So I’m waiting …”

“Waiting for what?”

“An apology.”

Kylie muttered something unintelligible.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, why should I believe you? It seems like an awfully convenient explanation.”

“Are you always this ornery, or do I just bring out the best in you?”

“Well, it does!”

Dev sighed. “Pete saw the tail end of our first encounter, okay? The one where you said I might do. And he saw you walk away from me and out the door, while I stared after you like a brain-damaged sheep.”

Her lips twitched.

“So he assumed that you blew me off, and he told the other guys, who thought it was hilarious that the one-time chick magnet crashed and burned.”

“Chick magnet?”

“Look, give me a break. I was the lead singer in a popular band. Women threw themselves at me.”

She tossed him a look of distaste. “Maybe I should have sprayed your epic proportions with the Lysol in the closet.”

Stung, Dev said, “I used a condom!”

“Yeah. Maybe I should have made you use duct tape, too.”

“Listen up, Miss Bee-yotch. As I recall, you were begging for it, and weren’t too particular about whether I had protection with me or not!”

Her gasp of outrage was satisfying. “I went to the closet to cry, not to have sex with you.”

“And I went to the closet to see if you were okay. Seems to me you’re on some kind of emotional roller coaster this weekend.”

Kylie shrugged.

“So what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“C’mon, tell Father Dev all about it.”

Kylie kept staring out the window.

“Unless you’re just a garden variety psycho?”

“That’s it. Stop the car and let me out.”

“No.”

“I’d rather walk to the reception than ride with you.”

“The drama queen returns,” muttered Dev, without slowing down.

“Stop the car!” she shrieked.

He rolled his eyes, made a last turn into the grounds of Playa Bella, the luxury hotel, and squealed to a stop under the portico, where a valet immediately came toward them. “Feel stupid yet? Would you rather I’d left you at the stoplight a block away?”

Kylie erupted from the passenger side of the Corvette like a blond hurricane, without waiting for the valet to hand her out. Dev was treated to the delectable view of her ass swinging furiously from side to side as she teetered up the carpeted steps and into the hotel without him.

He shook his head at the valet and shrugged his shoulders. “She had to get to the ladies’ room, quick.”

The valet’s eyebrows shot up in clear disbelief.

“Okay, fine. She’s late for a homicide,” said Dev, scooping up the evening bag she’d left on the ‘Vette’s floorboard in her haste to get away from him. “And she really likes to be on time for her bloody murders. Pictures at eleven …”