Read Online Bringing Home a Bachelor by Karen Kendall - Free Book Online Page B

melt, like one of Dali’s wet watches. It slid through her insides and puddled into her shoes.
    It wasn’t a comfortable feeling, not to mention that it left a large, aching cavity in her chest. She stretched her lips into some semblance of a smile as panic rose in her throat like bile.
    Booty call. That’s all it was, you stupid, stupid girl. You have no feelings for Pete and he has none for you. Got that?
    She turned away from Cryptic Kylie. “I’ll call you later, okay?”
    Her aunt nodded.
    Mel glimpsed her parents, and searched quickly for someone else to go and have a conversation with. She wasn’t ready to face her mother.
    Great-uncle Ernie was parked in his wheelchair by himself, enjoying a mimosa while his sparse white hair lifted in the breeze coming off the bay. He looked a little like Charlton Heston, if Heston would be caught dead in those huge, dorky, wraparound sunshades that fit over a normal pair of glasses.
    Heston also probably wouldn’t be caught dead in a melon-colored polyester jacket and plaid pants in tropical hues, but Great-uncle Ernie wore his colors with pride.
    “Good morning, Uncle Ernie,” Mel said, kissing his cheek. “How are you today?”
    “Oh, fine, just fine, thank you, Melissa.” He beamed up at her, and she didn’t bother to correct him. She’d be Marilyn next, and then Madeline.
    Oblivious, Ernie continued. “Thought I’d lost my teeth, but I found ’em. Can you believe it? I put my teeth in my glasses case—though they didn’t fit too well—and my glasses in a cup with the denture-cleanser. Let me tell you, that stuff is great for washing lenses! Who knew?”
    She laughed. “Did you have too much wine last night, Uncle Ernie?”
    “I hope so.” He frowned. “Can’t say as I remember.”
    “Beautiful wedding, though, wasn’t it?”
    “Oh, yes…even if the bride did get the hiccups during the vows. Cute, really. Never seen that before. Have you?”
    “No,” Mel said honestly.
    “Your brother must give her indigestion,” remarked Uncle Ernie.
    Melinda was still laughing at this when Pete appeared at her elbow with a mimosa in each hand. “Hello, Gorgeous. A little hair of the dog?”
    “What dog?” asked Uncle Ernie. “Can’t abide dogs in restaurants and hotels. Hated Paris. Ten dogs in every café, I tell you.” He snorted. “ Est ce vous avez fleas dans votre cappucino? Ha. I’d rather be in a nice Howard Johnson’s any day, and get no fur in my food.”
    “Playa Bella doesn’t allow dogs, sir.” Pete’s lips twitched, but otherwise he kept his face admirably composed. “That’s quite an excellent French accent you have.”
    “You bet. I was hot for this little French gal I met at the health club—this was back in the days when I had functional knees and ankles, you know—and when she said she taught at the community college I signed up for frog lessons real quick. She wouldn’t teach me any dirty words, though, and I figured out pretty quick that she was seeing some Cuban fellow.” Uncle Ernie’s mouth turned downward until another sip of his mimosa brightened him up.
    Melinda met Pete’s amused gaze over his head. She got lost in those rainwater-gray eyes of his, and forgot to be self-conscious.
    “I like that dress,” he said, as they edged away from old Ernie. “It looks a lot more comfortable than the one you had on last night.”
    “It is,” she said in heartfelt tones.
    “Of course, I like what’s under it a lot, too.” He winked.
    She felt the heat burning her cheeks. “About that, Pete—I’m, um, sorry that I…” Grabbed your dick like a drowning woman clutches at a piece of timber?
    “Sorry about what?” he interrupted.
    “Oh. Well. It’s just that I had a lot to drink, and, um…”
    “It was the champagne goggles, you mean? You’d never have touched me sober, ugly beast that I am?”
    “What? No! No, that’s not what I meant—” She stopped, flustered.
    Pete’s eyes twinkled. He was deliberately