Read Online Borrowing a Bachelor by Karen Kendall - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Karen Kendall
Tags: All The Groom's Men
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talked, Dev assumed a sportscaster’s voice. “So Doctor Burke goes down in flames,” he announced.
Then he added, “I don’t get why she wouldn’t give you her number. You’re studying to be a doctor, man. Chicks dig that. You must have done something really crappy for her to stiff you on her phone number.”
Studying. Yep. What he should have been doing all night, instead of being a crazed and horny hound, thanks to Nikki. Adam sighed. “I did not do anything crappy.” Liar, liar, dick on fire.
“Did you have sex with her?”
“That would be none of your business.”
Dev grinned unrepentantly. “I know—that’s why I’m asking.”
Adam made no comment.
“The only reason for a girl not to give you her phone number is that you had bad sex. Lemme guess. You couldn’t get it up. Or you blew early. Which was it?”
“I’m not discussing this with you, Dev.”
“Why not? It’s just biology. Having erectile dysfunction is nothing to be embarrassed about, you know—”
“I do not have E.D.! We did not have bad sex!”
“Aha. But you did have sex.”
Adam said nothing.
“So was it good, then?”
I made the girl come three times and she finally begged me to stop. You tell me. But Adam didn’t say a word aloud. Another rule of Burke men: gentlemen didn’t kiss and tell. “I never said we had sex. All I said was that we didn’t have bad sex.”
“I’m not getting anything out of you, am I?”
“Nope. So how was your night, Dev? Did you have sex?”
“Not even with myself,” he said regretfully. “Too drunk. We did get two alternative strippers after about an hour. They got a little upset when I ripped off my shirt and went onstage to dance with them. One took off, but the other one stayed to party. She was a good sport. The bartender, now—he’s another story. Got all riled up because the boys took his whole container of sliced limes and threw them at me.”
“Ah. That explains why you smell a little tropical, on top of the b.o.—and the miasma of burrito farts, alcohol and morning breath. I don’t suppose you’d consider showering and using some mouthwash?”
Dev shrugged philosophically. “Why would I clean up for you? ” He yawned. “I’ll wait until later. What d’you say we go facedown until five, then shower, spruce up and go find us some cute bridesmaids?”
“Sure, man,” Adam said without enthusiasm. None of them could possibly be as hot as Nikki. Too bad he’d never see her again. “Whatever you say.”
He couldn’t go facedown. He needed to stay face-up and at least semi-vertical, with his books. Suddenly Dev’s snoring held more appeal: it would help to keep Adam awake.
He made coffee, poured it into a tall paper cup and dumped every available sugar packet into the vile liquid, stirring it up with a pen. Then he took a giant gulp, burning his mouth, and cracked open a chapter on molecular biology.
Reading was a challenge, since his nose was swollen…and every time he looked down it to focus on the text, he revisited the image of Nikki bursting out of the plywood cake, her elbow smashing into his face because he’d been so stupefied by her delectable ass in the red G-string that he forgot to dodge.
He was focused on biology, all right—every molecule in him wanted to fuse with every molecule in her. Again.
8
NIKKI SAT IN HER LITTLE blue Beetle, clenching her hands on the wheel. She was parked in her mother’s driveway, in front of the small two-bedroom stucco house she’d grown up in. In the front yard was the now huge royal palm that she and her mom had planted in a pot as a seedling and carefully tended because the more mature ones cost hundreds of dollars.
The streamlined palm stood straight, proud and true in the late-morning sunlight and seemed to reproach her for being here, for needing to ask her mother for a loan to cover yet another loan. It fed itself through photosynthesis and water, taking nothing that it didn’t need and giving
Then he added, “I don’t get why she wouldn’t give you her number. You’re studying to be a doctor, man. Chicks dig that. You must have done something really crappy for her to stiff you on her phone number.”
Studying. Yep. What he should have been doing all night, instead of being a crazed and horny hound, thanks to Nikki. Adam sighed. “I did not do anything crappy.” Liar, liar, dick on fire.
“Did you have sex with her?”
“That would be none of your business.”
Dev grinned unrepentantly. “I know—that’s why I’m asking.”
Adam made no comment.
“The only reason for a girl not to give you her phone number is that you had bad sex. Lemme guess. You couldn’t get it up. Or you blew early. Which was it?”
“I’m not discussing this with you, Dev.”
“Why not? It’s just biology. Having erectile dysfunction is nothing to be embarrassed about, you know—”
“I do not have E.D.! We did not have bad sex!”
“Aha. But you did have sex.”
Adam said nothing.
“So was it good, then?”
I made the girl come three times and she finally begged me to stop. You tell me. But Adam didn’t say a word aloud. Another rule of Burke men: gentlemen didn’t kiss and tell. “I never said we had sex. All I said was that we didn’t have bad sex.”
“I’m not getting anything out of you, am I?”
“Nope. So how was your night, Dev? Did you have sex?”
“Not even with myself,” he said regretfully. “Too drunk. We did get two alternative strippers after about an hour. They got a little upset when I ripped off my shirt and went onstage to dance with them. One took off, but the other one stayed to party. She was a good sport. The bartender, now—he’s another story. Got all riled up because the boys took his whole container of sliced limes and threw them at me.”
“Ah. That explains why you smell a little tropical, on top of the b.o.—and the miasma of burrito farts, alcohol and morning breath. I don’t suppose you’d consider showering and using some mouthwash?”
Dev shrugged philosophically. “Why would I clean up for you? ” He yawned. “I’ll wait until later. What d’you say we go facedown until five, then shower, spruce up and go find us some cute bridesmaids?”
“Sure, man,” Adam said without enthusiasm. None of them could possibly be as hot as Nikki. Too bad he’d never see her again. “Whatever you say.”
He couldn’t go facedown. He needed to stay face-up and at least semi-vertical, with his books. Suddenly Dev’s snoring held more appeal: it would help to keep Adam awake.
He made coffee, poured it into a tall paper cup and dumped every available sugar packet into the vile liquid, stirring it up with a pen. Then he took a giant gulp, burning his mouth, and cracked open a chapter on molecular biology.
Reading was a challenge, since his nose was swollen…and every time he looked down it to focus on the text, he revisited the image of Nikki bursting out of the plywood cake, her elbow smashing into his face because he’d been so stupefied by her delectable ass in the red G-string that he forgot to dodge.
He was focused on biology, all right—every molecule in him wanted to fuse with every molecule in her. Again.
8
NIKKI SAT IN HER LITTLE blue Beetle, clenching her hands on the wheel. She was parked in her mother’s driveway, in front of the small two-bedroom stucco house she’d grown up in. In the front yard was the now huge royal palm that she and her mom had planted in a pot as a seedling and carefully tended because the more mature ones cost hundreds of dollars.
The streamlined palm stood straight, proud and true in the late-morning sunlight and seemed to reproach her for being here, for needing to ask her mother for a loan to cover yet another loan. It fed itself through photosynthesis and water, taking nothing that it didn’t need and giving
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