Blame It on the Bachelor by Karen Kendall Page A

and odd. But sex seemed too casual for what he felt.
    He stroked Kylie’s hair back from her face. “Honey, you don’t seem like the type of girl who propositions a random guy and gets it on in a supply closet during a rehearsal dinner. Or during a wedding reception.”
    “Um, thank you.”
    “So would you care to explain?”
    She sighed. “Isn’t it obvious, after what I just told you about my engagement? I’m hoping that a little sex with someone else will flush my system, so to speak, of Jack.”
    “And is it working?”
    “Mmm. Very nicely, thank you.” She gave him a cat-with-cream smile over her shoulder.
    He took her earlobe possessively between his teeth and nibbled. “So you weren’t thinking of this Jack-ass while my face was between your legs and my tongue was inside you?”
    “Definitely not. He didn’t like that much.”
    “Which only confirms my opinion of him as a complete numbskull. Did you think about him when my hands were on your ass and my cock was in you?”
    “Not once.”
    “How about when you had that triple orgasm?”
    “Dev, are you asking me for an evaluation of your sexual performance?”
    He shrugged, trying to hide a smirk.
    “You were the best I’ve ever had. You’re every girl’s fantasy.”
    Music to a guy’s ears, even one as jaded as Dev was. He lost the battle with the smirk. He preened a little. But then he frowned and lightly bit her shoulder.
    “So you picked me to wash Jack-ass out of your hair,” he said. “That was your hidden agenda.”
    Kylie shifted her legs. “ Agenda sounds pretty cold.”
    “But that’s exactly what it was.”
    She didn’t answer.
    “Just out of curiosity,” Dev persisted, “why me?”
    She sighed. “I don’t know. You had the look, I guess.”
    “The look?”
    “The hair, the gold chain, the leather pants, the reputation… Come on, Dev. You know what I’m talking about.”
    “Not really,” he lied, somehow wanting to deny it all.
    “Yes, you do. You look like a nightclub guy. The kind who goes out trolling bars for drunk, easy women in short, tight skirts. A one-night-wonder type.”
    “Are you calling me a slut?”
    Kylie rolled to face him. “You’re not getting offended, are you?” She touched his cheek with a manicured index finger.
    “Yes. Yes, I think I am getting offended.” He lightly bit the finger, now.
    She pulled it back. “Please don’t be. You asked why I chose you—and I’m telling you, that’s all. You seemed like a guy who’d jump at the chance for uncomplicated sex with a stranger. And you did—so I read you correctly.”
    The more she talked, the more pissed off Dev became, probably because she was right. “Don’t you think it’s possible that you’ve misjudged me?”
    She traced circles in his chest hair. “It’s possible. You’re much nicer than I thought you’d be. Much more understanding. But I’m a pretty good judge of character, Devon McKee. And I don’t think my first impression of you was all that far off the mark.”
    Stung, he said, “What if I told you that yes, I’ve been that guy…but I don’t want to be him any longer?” Dev stopped, amazed that those words had come out of his mouth, yet also dead certain that they were, strangely enough, true.
    “Meaning what, exactly?”
    Good question. “Meaning I want a real relationship. Complicated sex. A girlfriend. Someone to share my life with.”
    Aw, Jesus. Really? Where is this coming from?
    The disturbing words were surfacing through the tide of self-loathing that ebbed and flowed within him. At low tide, he could stand himself, but at high tide? At high tide, he often ended up drunk and doing something that he regretted later.
    “Why?” Kylie asked.
    Why did he want to share his life? Hmm. Another good question. One that he wasn’t prepared to answer, since it involved confessing his loneliness. “What kind of a question is that?”
    “Okay, why now? ”
    Dev stared at her beautiful face, at the tiny lines