Читать книгу Blame It on the Bachelor - Karen Kendall - Страница 9

DEVON, AFTER A MOMENT of stunned silence, followed Kylie out of the reception, only to see her disappear behind the door of the ladies’ room.

There was no question that given the opportunity he would do her. But he didn’t like the way she’d neatly plucked the power out of his hands along with the champagne glasses. He felt like a piece of meat.

He had a mental image of Kylie poking and prodding him through plastic wrap as he sat on a foam tray in the cold case of the local supermarket.

Repulsive appeal?

As if he had an area of gristle or a streak of fat running through him, and she wasn’t sure he was worth his per-pound price. As if she’d take him home in a pinch, but was tempted to wait until he oxidized a little and went on sale.

That stuck in his craw.

Devon McKee of Category Five had been Grade A prime beef in his heyday. Hell, he’d had a local artist make a mobile of the lacy thongs that had been tossed at him. He’d had the bad taste to hang it over his pool table in the game room of his rented house.

He wasn’t particularly proud of that now, but then, he wasn’t proud of a lot of things he’d done.

Kylie Kent was right. He was a mess. But he wasn’t used to being summed up so thoroughly and instantaneously by a woman. And he’d already decided to start cleaning himself up. Maybe not today. But soon.

“Dev, what are you doing lurking out here in the hallway?” Adam asked him. Adam Chase, a medical student, was the best man, and he was currently sporting a broken nose. Or close to broken, anyway.

“Nice schnoz. Where’s the stripper you stole from the bachelor party last night? You didn’t bring her as a date?”

Adam glowered at him, and Dev grinned.

The very cute blond stripper had exploded out of her plywood cake only to elbow his friend right in the face, knocking him to the floor.

Adam squinted at the champagne flute Dev held and deliberately changed the subject. “What’s with that? You hate champagne.”

“Yeah, but I’m trying to stay away from the rum.”

“Since when?”

Dev waved a hand at him and ambled into the garden room. He went to the bar and then belatedly brought Aunt Mildred the drink he’d promised her.

She arched a drawn-on eyebrow at him. “Thank you, young man. Did you have to harvest the grapes, first?”

Was every woman here, from five to ninety, going to bust his balls? But his lips twitched. “Yes, ma’am. Apologies.”

She patted his arm. “It’s all right. I saw you almost trip over your tongue when Kylie walked in. The girl’s always been a looker. Sweet, too.”

Sweet?

“She’s far too wholesome for you, dear. Wait until tomorrow at the wedding and I’ll introduce you to a naughty girl who’s more your speed.” Aunt Mildred, to his horror, winked at him.

For the second time in a half hour, Dev found himself speechless. Then he got defensive. “How do you know I’m not looking for a nice girl?”

She cackled. “In those pants?”

Damn it, he was going to set fire to them.

“I really am looking to settle down. You know, find the One. Believe it or not.” He wasn’t sure he believed it himself, but the words had somehow flown out of his mouth.

Mildred eyed him shrewdly. “Your tone is sincere. But are you serious or … self-delusional?”

Dev laughed weakly because he had no idea how to respond.

Was he self-delusional? After all, he’d just failed the challenge his sister Ciara had set him: to keep a houseplant and a goldfish alive for a month. She’d gotten the idea from some movie.

Anyway, the plant had died after ten days, despite his best efforts. And the fish was looking depressed and moody. He hoped the neighbor kid wasn’t overfeeding it while he was away for the weekend. Or forgetting to feed it at all.

“Why are you abusing me, Aunt Mildred?” Dev asked her, with his best innocent-little-boy smile.

“I’m not, dear heart. I’m fond of you, and I don’t want to see you make a mistake. My first husband thought he was ready to settle down with a nice girl, too.” She lifted her shoulders and took a sip of her champagne, leaving a mauve lip-print on the rim of the glass. “He wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. If Laurence hadn’t done me wrong, I’d never have met Mr. Right. Ed and I were married for forty-three years, all of them good. But I won’t lie to you—it’s easier to get it straight the first time.” She smiled at him. “So you make sure that you sow every last one of your wild oats before you go playing house, hmmm?”

Just what, exactly, was a wild oat? Wild and oats had never seemed to fit together, to Dev. And sow meant to plant. If something was planted, then it didn’t grow wild. Where did these phrases come from?

But all he said was, “Yes, ma’am. Thank you for the advice. Now, can I get you a shrimp puff or a Swedish meatball?”

“No, Devon, but thank you. Run along now and play with someone your own age.” She tilted her cheek up and he dutifully kissed it.

As he moved away, he caught Pete smirking good-naturedly at him. “What?” he growled.

“That blonde you hit on a few minutes ago?” Pete chuckled. “I’ve never seen the mighty McKee shut down so hard.”

“Oh, yeah? It might interest you to know that she wants to do me.”

His buddy guffawed. “Oh, clearly. I suppose she told you that right up front.”

“As a matter of fact, she did. So you can save your sarcasm.” Dev swiped a shrimp puff off a passing waiter’s tray and popped it into his mouth.

“You lie,” Pete said. “Like a rug.”

Pete could say things like that to him, because they’d known each other for over a decade—since freshman year in college. All the groomsmen had. They’d all been pledges in the same fraternity.

Dev didn’t respond, because Kylie Kent chose that moment to undulate through the doorway and wink at him.

Women didn’t wink at him. He winked at them. How dare she seize the power of the wink and the one-liner? Things were all out of whack, here. Off-kilter. Askew.

He was the wolf. She was Little Red Riding Hood. They needed to get the rules straight, here.

Dev shoved his hands into his pockets and sauntered toward her with a scowl on his face. She’d plucked another glass of champagne off a waiter’s tray and moved into a corner.

Just as she held it to her lips to take a sip, he reached her and leaned into her space. “Where do you get off?” he asked indignantly.

She raised her eyes to his, amusement in them. “Where? Or how? Use your imagination. I have the same parts as other women.”

Again, she’d rendered him speechless. Wholesome? Had Aunt Mildred really called her wholesome, for God’s sake?

“But if you want to know where …” She shrugged. “There’s a utility closet down the hall from the ladies’ room. You can’t miss it.”

Devon found his voice. “You know damned well what I mean. You’ve got a hell of a nerve, Kylie Kent. What makes you so sure I’d do you?”

She tilted her head at him. “You undressed me with your eyes as soon as I walked into the room.”

“So?” Dev said, flushing in spite of himself. “It’s a disgusting male habit I have. It doesn’t make you special.”

“Then you brought me a drink.”

“A more polite male habit.”

“And you talked to my breasts.”

“So you have a nice rack.”

“McKee,” she said patiently, “just admit it. You want to have sex with me.”

“Yeah?” said Dev, outraged. “Honey, I’ve got news for you. I wouldn’t bang you if you were the last chick on earth.”

“That’s your pride talking, not your dick.”

His mouth fell open. How dare she? “You are so full of it.”

“Is that right?” she smiled. She dropped her gaze to his fly, which made him uncomfortable. Him, of all people. She drank deeply from her glass.

Then she wet her lips and peered up at him from under her lashes. “I’ll bet it’s big,” she whispered. “Isn’t it?”

The breath he was taking turned to a rasp in his throat.

“And I’m so ready for it. Did you know I’m not wearing any panties? What do you think about that, Dev?”

The air he’d drawn in refused to circulate. It stayed there and rattled helplessly in his windpipe.

“I’ll bet you like sex fast and hard … with her ankles on your shoulders … unless her mouth is on you, taking it all the way in….”

And just like that, Devon was wearing an erection as well as a tie to Mark’s rehearsal dinner.

He was furious, and yet he was filled with an unwilling admiration for her as well as lust. She had definitely called his bluff. “You’re a world-class witch,” he said to Kylie.

“I’m really not.” Was there a hint of apology in her tone?

He let out a bark of laughter as he buttoned his jacket and held his glass strategically in front of himself.

“I was only trying to make—” She broke off, looking—of all things—abashed.

He didn’t buy the act for a second. “Make what, darlin’?” he asked sardonically.

She hesitated. “A point.”

That hadn’t been what she was going to say. He knew it instinctively. “Well, you did.” He looked down at his crotch. “You made your point and now I’m stuck with it,” he said bitterly. “Thanks.”

“I’ll help you with that,” she said, evidently emboldened again. “Really. Just meet me in the utility closet in five.”

He gritted his teeth and leaned forward so that his lips almost brushed her ear. He could smell her honeysuckle shampoo, her light floral perfume, the clean scent of her skin. “Not even if the fate of the free world depended on it.”

Kylie gulped the last of her champagne. Was it his imagination, or was her lip trembling?

He didn’t care. “But you go ahead to that closet. You just hop on your broomstick and enjoy yourself, sweetheart. You hear?”

With that parting shot, Dev turned on his heel and walked away without compunction—still horny as all get-out.

Damn her.