Blame It on the Bachelor (18 page)

“
Hundreds
of women?” Kylie asked.

Dev had the grace to blush and look away. Then he recovered and shot her his signature bad-boy grin. “Well, how do you think I perfected my technique?”

She choked on her wine.

“I’ve been trained by all of them to do one thing—make you happy. And I haven’t heard you complain yet.”

Kylie’s mouth hung open at his sheer outrageousness.

His eyes twinkled.

Finally, she couldn’t help but laugh. “You—I don’t know how you do it.”

“What?”

“Take a background as a degenerate and turn it into the perfect résumé for monogamy!”

“Ah-ha. So you’re seriously considering my application.”

“I didn’t say that.” But she laughed again.

“But you are.”

Thank God the waitress approached at that moment and asked if they’d like another round. They said yes, Kylie because she had a feeling she was going to need alcohol in order to deal with Dev’s peculiar logic and persuasive tongue. Then again, maybe she should abstain.

She didn’t.

“So how am I doing?” Dev asked.

“I don’t know how to take you,” Kylie admitted honestly.

“As is. On sale, especially for you.”

“As is? Does that mean you come with an STD or something?”

Dev’s eyebrows shot up. “As a matter of fact, I’m clean. If you want to see my medical chart, I’ll have the doc fax you a copy. I may have been a slut, but I was a smart slut. I always took precautions.”

“So there are no little Devon McKees running around out there?”

“Not a one.” Dev looked a little regretful about that, which made her nervous. “Any further questions?”

“Any other confessions?”

His face became very serious, his mouth flattening into one thin line. “I’m afraid so.”

The waitress returned with their second round and Dev remained somber.

Kylie couldn’t think what he had to tell her that might be worse than what he already had. There were really only a few possibilities: he was gay. She dismissed that one. Or he’d been a drug dealer. Or he’d murdered someone.

She waited until the waitress had disappeared, but then she had to know. “Well? Dev, what is it that you have to tell me?”

“Yeah, I don’t know that I can trust you with this one, Kylie.”

Dread blossomed in her stomach, then dissipated as she reminded herself that she wasn’t going to date this guy anyway. But—

“Devon, you’re scaring me. Do you dismember people for fun?”

“Nah. Too messy.”

She cast about for other grisly possibilities. “You’re a contract killer?”

He shook his head, still looking grave despite his flip response earlier.

“You’re a spook? An international arms dealer? A—?” She swallowed hard as the worst thing possible came to mind. “You’re not a pedophile?”

His jaw dropped open.
“No.”

“Then what is it you have to tell me?” Her voice had risen to almost a shriek.

“Patience is a virtue, Kylie.”

“I’m fresh out! Tell me, for the love of God.”

He heaved a deep sigh. “Well, okay. I guess I’ll have to.”

17

DEV GAZED INTO her eyes and took her hands in his. He could see the doubt growing in her eyes and feel the tension in her fingers as they lay in his.

“I’m hungry,” he said.

She stared at him. “That’s it? That’s your big confession?”

He nodded.

“You— You—” She tried to pull her hands away but he held on tight.

Dev laughed as she smoldered across the table.

“I thought you were going to tell me that you’d murdered someone.”

“Would you like me to?”

“No.”

“Dry-cleaner didn’t press your suit well? Fast-food worker gave you the wrong order? Bag boy at the grocery store squish your bread? I’ll do away with ’em and toss ’em in the bay.”

“McKee, you are so obnoxious.” She gave a final tug and got one hand back, which she put immediately on her wineglass and brought it to her lips.

“It’s an appealing quality in a man, I think,” he mused, draining half of his beer.

“Appalling is more like it.”

He grinned in appreciation. “So, I have no more terrible secrets to tell you. They’re all on the table.”

“No skeletons still in the closet? You’re sure?”

“My skeletons are way too shameless to stay in the closet. They dance around in public with a microphone, just like I did. Now, how about you?”

“What about me?”

“Have you ever done anything bad? Or are you as good as you look?”

Kylie repressed a smile, causing a dimple to appear at the corner of her mouth.

“Uh-huh. I thought so. What was it?”

She caught her lower lip between her teeth and looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “I set my fiancé’s laptop on fire.”

“You
what?
” Dev burst out laughing.

“He— Well, he liked to look at porn on the web. A lot. He got obsessed with it. And he’d drink and pop pills. So one day I came home and found him passed out in our bed with his laptop. And I don’t need to tell you what was on it. That day was
it
for me. I had reached the breaking point. So I took the laptop out to the barbecue grill, lined it with foil and set the laptop inside. Then I turned on the gas and lit it.”

“You lined the grill with foil, first,” Dev repeated, in disbelief.

“Yes. I didn’t want to ruin the grill, just the computer.”

He shook his head, his mouth working.

“Then I went inside and packed all my stuff and got a friend to come help me move it out. Jack never woke up once. He was out for hours, oblivious.”

“You didn’t have furniture there?”

She shrugged. “It wasn’t nice. We were waiting to buy new stuff until after we got married.”

“How recent was this, again?”

“Eight months ago.”

Dev nodded. “So when he woke up, you were gone.”

“Pretty much. He called me, cussing, and said I owed him an explanation and an apology. I gave him the explanation—not that I hadn’t warned him many times what would happen if he didn’t pull himself together—told him to get help and that
he
owed
me
the apology.”

She pressed her lips together as if to keep her emotions from escaping. There were no tears in her eyes, but he could see the pain there.

“I’m guessing you never got it.”

“No. And I never will.”

Dev was still holding her hand in his, and he felt it quiver. He stroked the back of it with his thumb. They sat there in silence for a few moments.

Then Kylie pulled her hand away.

Dev pursed his lips. “So, tell me the truth. Did this guy wear golf shirts?”

Kylie gulped the rest of the wine while looking darkly at him over the rim of the glass. Then she nodded as she put it down. “And he drove a blue BMW sedan.”

“I
knew
it.” He slammed a fist onto the table.

She began to laugh. “And he was looking at country clubs to join…”

“See, you should stick with the black T-shirt kind of guy, like me.” Dev nodded, poking himself in the chest with his index finger. “I rest my case.”

“You’ve argued well, counselor,” she agreed. “With somewhat skewed logic, but it works for you.”

“So you’ll retain me, then.”

“Don’t push it. Take me to dinner and keep talking.”

So Dev did. He took her to the Ritz-Carlton on Lincoln Road, and they ate in Bistro One LR. They shared an intimate poolside table, with romantic lighting and an infinity view of the Atlantic.

Dev watched her eat king crab with clear enjoyment of both her food and the ambience. She ate the crab delicately, as if she were afraid to hurt it, which he found amusing.

She was such a study in contradictions. A lady who’d come on to him like a whore at first meeting; a prim bank executive who’d let it all hang out at the most formal of occasions. A hard-hitter who blushed.

Kylie looked up with a mouthful of crab and caught him watching her. She finished chewing self-consciously, swallowed and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “What?”

He smiled. “It’s about time someone treated you well. You deserve it.”

“This is beautiful, Dev. Thank you.”

“You’re beautiful. The pleasure’s all mine.”

“You know, at some point we really should talk about business.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But now’s not the time.”

She nodded. “Fair enough. So what about your family, Dev? Did you grow up here?”

He nodded. “Like I said, my mom is Cuban, and my dad’s Irish. That can be a strange combination, but their core values are the same, and they definitely gave us all a love of music. We all know how to party, too.” He grinned.

“How many is
all?
”

“There are four of us—Ciara, Bettina, Aidan and me. My mom got to name the girls, and my dad named us boys. I’m the youngest.”

The waiter took away the remains of their first courses. Then he brought Dev’s beef brisket and Kylie’s wild salmon.

“What did your parents think of their baby becoming a rock star?”

“That I’d outgrow it. They’ve been really supportive, though—aside from the occasional lecture on my lifestyle. They’ll be at the grand opening. You’ll meet them. They’ll love you.”

“Oh, great,” Kylie said, avoiding his gaze.

Clearly she didn’t feel that they were at the meeting-his-parents stage yet. Dev resolved to change that as soon as possible.

“Yeah, they’ll be so shocked to meet a nice girl on my arm that they’ll have you fitted for a wedding gown on the spot,” he joked.

“Ha,” said Kylie faintly. “
Fantastic
salmon.” She reached for her wine again.

“Glad you like it,” Dev said. He couldn’t resist torturing her a little. “So, do you cook?”

“Me? No.”

“Ah, that’s okay. Mom will give you copies of all her good Cuban cookbooks. You’ll have to learn Spanish, of course, to read them, but you’ll pick it up fast.”

“Uh—”

“You like plantains?”

“Not exactly…”

“You should definitely develop a taste for them, because—”

“Wait a minute, Dev, hold on.” Kylie set down her fork. “Just because I went out on a date with you, doesn’t mean that— I mean, I’m not going to
marry
you!”

He produced his most wounded expression. “You could at least wait until I ask before you turn me down.”

“I— But—”

“Relax, Kylie. I’m only teasing you.”

She breathed a sigh of relief but then she got that look in her eye again. The look that said she was going to kill him with her bare hands. It was very entertaining.

Dev forked some brisket into his mouth and smiled at her while he savored it. It was tender, smoky, tangy and delicious. He wondered if he could smuggle some to Bodvar to see if he could reproduce it. Then he dismissed the thought. Bodvar would probably throw a Nordic tantrum and quit if Dev even asked him to taste the food from another restaurant, much less food from the Ritz.