Blame It on the Bachelor

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.

3

KYLIE WAS SHAKING INSIDE, though she wore her smile like armor. What was wrong with her, that she couldn’t even score with a bona fide man-whore like Devon McKee? His reputation preceded him. Everyone knew he had no standards; that given the chance he’d do a day-old bagel.

And yet he’d turned her down, despite the fact that she’d lost her mind and talked to him like a professional phone-sex operator.

The cocktail hour was drawing to a close and soon everyone would take their assigned seats for dinner. She was on the verge of tears. She had to pull herself together.