Bad Bachelor

by Stefanie London

  How the hell did women wear those jangly things without feeling like a freaking house cat?

  “Just give me another half hour or so,” Annie said. “I have a report to—”

  “No. Now.” Remi stopped short of stamping her foot. “What if he’s gone by the time we get there?”

  “How the hell do you know he’s going to be there anyway?” Darcy crossed her arms. “Have you got an army of spies out there tracking all my potential dates?”

  “Darren Montgomery happens to live next door to one of the barre instructors at the Lexington studio. She invited us to come for a drink.” Remi winked. “She said she’s more than happy to introduce you if you like what you see.”

  “No. No introductions.” Darcy shook her head. “Not yet.”

  “Good men are hard to find. Do you want to watch the Darrens of the world get snapped up by women who are willing to put themselves out there?” She folded her arms across her chest with the pinched expression of a disapproving schoolteacher. “Sitting around doing nothing hasn’t worked so far, has it?”

  “No,” Darcy admitted.

  Annie threw her hands up in the air. “Fine, I’ll leave the damn report. I don’t know whether you two coordinated this guilt trip, but I’ll remember it next time I need something from either one of you.”

  Remi clapped her hands together. “Excellent. Let’s get our manhunt on.”

  The cute place Remi had described wasn’t so much cute as it was all-out glamorous—funky chandeliers, plush seating, and a smooth bar that curved in waves along the length of the room, mimicking the dip at a woman’s waist. It was dimly lit, designed for intimate conversation and suggestive touches.

  The girls had snagged a spot at the end of the bar that gave them enough privacy to talk, but also a good vantage point from which to scope out the room. The bar was busy. They were in the financial district and the crowd was of the suited variety—bankers, management consultants, bean counters. In other words, not Darcy’s type. She preferred the eclectic bars in the Village—but in order to find herself a decent guy, she needed to not only get out of her comfort zone but also out of her preferred zip code.

  Darcy reached for her old-fashioned and sipped. “So what, exactly, is your colleague going to say? ‘Hey, this chick likes your reviews. Want to date her?’ Not sure how well that will go down.”

  “I’m sure she knows how to frame an introduction.” Remi chuckled and toyed with the straw in her drink. “Or you could go over and introduce yourself.”

  “Oh yeah, no problem. Maybe I should bust out my wings and fly over there while I’m at it,” Darcy scoffed. “I need a reason to speak to him. You can’t send me in cold.”

  Annie and Remi debated the best methods for striking up a conversation, but Darcy tuned out. This whole thing made her want to puke up her cocktail all over the expensive, shiny bar. Her people skills had never earned her any gold stars growing up, and not much had changed. Hadn’t she already learned that from her interactions with Reed?

  That’s different. He eats girls like you for breakfast.

  The dirty thought that zinged through her brain almost made her choke on her drink. God, she needed to stop thinking about that. About him. But yesterday had done something to her opinion of him. Seeing him with his father—stressed and worried and all the things one should be when their loved one was in the hospital—made him seem a little more human.

  A little more…entry level.

  There is nothing entry level about Reed McMahon. He’s for experienced players only.

  Even if he wasn’t as bad as Bad Bachelors made out, he was still a shameless playboy with far too many skills when it came to seducing women into bed. The last thing her confidence needed was to be shattered by someone who could write the book on sex and seduction while she was still sweating bullets about striking up a conversation in a bar. But Remi had a point—doing nothing had gotten her exactly that.

  “I’m going to the restroom,” she said, in need of a moment to herself. “I’ll see if I can get a vibe from him as I walk past.”

  “That’s code for stalling,” Remi grumbled, but she didn’t say anything further when Annie shot her a look. Darcy slid off her stool and let out a relieved breath.

  Baby steps.

  Tugging down the hem of her top, she shuffled through the crowd, edging closer to Five-Star Darren. From a distance, she could see he was thinning on top, his blond-brown hair looking a little dull even in the flattering bar lighting. He was cute…kind of. Darcy looked on as he laughed with his friends, hoping even the tiniest flame of attraction might flicker in her belly.

  Nada. She could have been staring at her aunt’s collection of vintage porcelain dogs for all the excitement she felt. Darren didn’t do it for her, that much was crystal clear.

  Shoulders slumping, she continued pushing through the crowd until she reached the hallway that led to the restrooms. She leaned against the wall, letting her head roll back so she could suck in a breath and wait an appropriate amount of time before returning. Not that anyone would have noticed her coming or going—none of the men in the bar had looked twice at her.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Reed’s wolfish smile engulfed her whole body in heat. If the man were any hotter, a single glance would have set her hair on fire. He leaned his shoulder against the wall, his large frame blocking the entry to the hallway. Crowding her. Hiding her.

  The deep, rich, and all-too-familiar scent made Darcy’s heart start to gallop. “Enjoying the booze, like everyone else.”

  “I’m not here to enjoy the booze,” he said.

  For a brief second, her stupid heart wondered if he was here for her. But that was just the late-onset horniness doing terrible things to her brain, like destroying whichever section was responsible for logic and reasoning.

  “Got your eye on someone?” She ran her tongue across her lower lip. His eyes tracked the movement, intently following the half-moon swipe as if his life depended on it. “Chasing a little skirt?”

  He smirked. “I’m pretty sure people don’t say that anymore.”

  Darcy’s cheeks burned, but she tried to hide it with a haughty flick of her ponytail over one shoulder. “Dodging the question, I see. Nice move, but it won’t work on me.”

  “What would work on you?” He leaned a little closer and Darcy’s brain short-circuited. It would be a goddamn miracle if sparks weren’t flying out of her ears.

  Mayday, mayday. Brain is down. I repeat: Brain is down.

  “Respect. A little courtesy.”

  He frowned. “You think I don’t respect you?”

  “I don’t know if you respect any of the women you pursue. How can you when all you want is sex?” The second the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to take them back.

  Reed wasn’t the kind of guy with whom she should engage in verbal sparring. Not only that, but she was also starting to wonder exactly how much her opinion of him was based on what had been spoon-fed to her. It was easy to see him as the villain with his hypnotic good looks and commanding charm.

  “Why do you think wanting sex and being respectful are mutually exclusive?”

  The question halted her internal parade of confusion. “I don’t know, actually.”

  “Because you’ve been conditioned to think that once you hand over the keys to the kingdom, you’ve lost all bargaining power.” His tilted his chin up ever so slightly. “Women are taught to believe that once men get sex, they won’t want anything else.”

  “Isn’t it true?” She folded her arms across her chest. The moment Reed’s eyes eased down to where her breasts pressed against the low neckline of her borrowed top, she dropped her hands again. “Do you want anything else from a woman after you’ve slept with her?”

  “Why don’t you find out?”

  He inched closer, his hea
d dipping to hers. The air in Darcy’s lungs stilled, an indignant squeak clogging the back of her throat as her lips parted. A protest should have shot out of her, a “no fucking way” aimed squarely in his direction. But her dignity melted under the fire crackling between them, causing her body to prepare itself for his kiss. A dull ache pulsed between her legs, and she squeezed her thighs together—but it didn’t quash the knowledge that should he slip a hand down her pants, he’d find her ready and willing.

  “You’re not my type,” she gritted out.

  Instead of looking affronted, Reed threw his head back and laughed. The booming sound cut the tension like a knife through butter.

  “What?” she huffed. “Is it really so hard to believe I don’t find you attractive?”

  “Sweetheart, most women find me attractive. Some just hide it better than others.” His hand came up to brush a strand of hair that had fallen across her forehead. “For the record, you don’t hide it. At all.”

  “Screw you.” She planted a hand against his chest and gave him a warning shove.

  Mistake. The hard muscle beneath his crisp, white shirt felt even better than it looked. Her imagination was already having a field day filling in the blanks—the smooth skin, the little trail of hair that would guide her hand down below the waistband of his pants. The hefty weight she’d feel in her palm.

  She resolutely kept her eyes forward. No way was she going to get caught checking out his crotch, regardless of how much her eyes wanted to pull downward.

  “I’ll have you know I’m here for someone else.”

  “Yes, Five-Star Darren.” Reed smirked. “I saw him at the bar. You know he’s balding on top, right?”

  “I hadn’t noticed,” she lied. “How about you make yourself useful and give me some tips? What should I say when I walk up to him?”

  To her delight, Reed’s expression darkened. He looked…jealous. “You can do better, Darcy.”

  “What, like with you?” She wrinkled her nose. “No thanks.”

  * * *

  There was something about Darcy that caused Reed’s competitive streak to flare up. It prickled under his skin, turning a fleeting thought into a persistent drone. It was the exact reason he’d come into this bar when he’d spotted Darcy by chance. She’d walked in with two friends, laughing and smiling in a way she didn’t around him. Before he’d even given it a second thought, he’d headed into the bar after her, desperate to see more of Darcy in her natural state.

  Then he’d seen Five-Star Darren too. He didn’t know the guy personally, but he’d trawled through Bad Bachelors looking at the guys they’d deemed better than him.

  So that’s why she was here? To chase some guy who’d likely leave her wanting and unfulfilled?

  It was obvious she was attracted to Reed—and not because he believed the drivel he spouted about women wanting him, but because he could see it plain as day. Yet she fought it at every turn.

  Her chest rose and fell in uneven bursts, as though she had to remind herself to continue breathing. Then there was the fidgeting, the hair flipping, and the tightening of that perfect, pouty mouth.

  Unfortunately for him, the game wasn’t one-sided. Because every time that delicate pink tongue darted out to moisten her lips, he got a flash of silver that had made him hard as a fucking rock.

  This is a dangerous game. Do you want to piss off anyone else right now?

  “I bet if I kissed you, that sweet, little mouth would part like the Red Sea.” Satisfaction coursed through him when her nostrils flared. He dipped his head lower, so he could whisper right into her ear. “And I bet your hands would curl into my shirt, so you could hang on for dear life.”

  Her breath stuttered in and out. “You don’t affect me, Reed.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Defiance rolled off her in waves, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. She was torn between wanting to prove him wrong and the fear that she wouldn’t be able to. The music from the bar had gotten louder; a thumping bass rolled through his bloodstream and urged him on. He wanted nothing more than to press her up against this wall and kiss her until all that resistance blew away in the wind.

  “Kiss me then,” she taunted. “You’ll be disappointed with my reaction.”

  “I doubt that very much.”

  Her eyes widened when she realized he fully intended to prove her wrong. Shifting, he moved his body over hers, trapping her by planting his palms against the wall, one on either side of her. Caging her in. Sealing off the exits.

  “Reed…” Her breath came in ragged bursts, but she didn’t tell him to stop. Instead, she flattened her hands behind her and blinked her long, sooty lashes up at him.

  “Darcy.” His lips hovered over hers, their breath mingling in that delicious pre-kiss limbo.

  Just as he predicted, her lips parted in that final second, inviting him in. He pressed against her, locking her down with his hips and his mouth. She didn’t kiss like a woman who wasn’t interested. Hell no. She kissed like a woman starved. Any pretense of tenderness was crushed when her tongue slid along his, her piercing bumping him in a way that was foreign and exciting. He stifled a moan—the combination of metal with the sweet taste of bourbon winding through his system like a drug.

  She ground her hips against him and his cock pulsed. The thought of unzipping her pants so he could slide a hand into her panties rocketed through him. It would be oh so easy to glide that little bit of metal down and feel her hot and ready. To find that tight bundle of nerves and toy with her until she came against his hand. Until she begged for him to be inside her.

  But this was about proving a point…wasn’t it?

  Teeth nipped at his lower lip and he growled, returning the action as one hand came to her ponytail. He had to force himself not to wind the silken length around his fist, so he could yank her head back and plunder that pouty, little mouth further. Christ, what was she doing to him? He never lost his head.

  When he moved against her, she shifted, opening her legs to accommodate the press of his thigh. Her hips rolled with the rhythm of their kiss, with the thrust of his tongue. Her body was already so in tune with his. His hand dropped to her leg and she gasped, a shudder rippling through her as he felt for her inner thigh.

  She pulled back, eyes wide. “I think I’ve proved my point,” she said shakily.

  “That I’m not pleased with your reaction? Think again.” He grinned. The second he got home he was going to need the mother of all cold showers. “Or are you going to tell me it was all an act?”

  “It was practice,” she ground out, glaring at him. “For when I get Darren to buy me a drink.”

  Liar. He’d seen her walk straight past the guy before, a perplexed expression on her delicate features. It wasn’t the same wide-eyed, flushed-cheek look she’d given Reed, that was for damn sure. But the thought of her doing this with Darren—grinding those hips and letting that damn piercing tease someone else’s mouth…

  It’s none of your business.

  Maybe so, but that didn’t stop him wanting to go all caveman and kiss the hell out of her in the middle of the bar and wipe all thought of Five-Star fucking Darren from her mind forever.

  “Make it a strong drink, then. You’ll need more than a Shirley Temple to forget you’re with him instead of me.”

  She opened her mouth to retort, but they were interrupted when a group of girls teetering in tall heels stumbled past, giggling and whispering as they looked Reed up and down. That was happening far too much lately.

  “I won’t need a drink to forget,” Darcy said, using the distraction to step around him. “By the time I set foot outside, this will be a distant memory.”

  “Bullshit again,” he said, but she was already fading into the crowd.

  Damn her. Since when did he give a shit about women who thought they were above him? Normally he�
��d get a whiff of that superiority and be outta there faster than a single guy at a garter toss. But Darcy was messing with his head. Normal reactions didn’t seem to apply to her, and unless he wanted another person siding against him, he was really going to have to stop tugging on her pigtails.

  Too bad it was the only shred of enjoyment in his life right now.

  Chapter 10

  “The guy makes a living helping bad people look good. What makes you think you could trust someone like that?”

  —NotCarrie

  Reed made it out of his apartment before six the following Monday morning. He was used to getting up at the ass crack of dawn, but he wasn’t used to doing it on minimal sleep, which he was now, thanks to a certain prickly woman who’d burrowed her way into his brain.

  Friday night had been hell. He’d tossed and turned, restless and dissatisfied, until well into the night. Darcy and her impossibly sexy piercing. Darcy and her judging, pouty lips. Darcy and her undisguised loathing of him.

  And that damned kiss…

  The power struggle turned him on, as did the memory of Darcy’s lithe body pinned between him and a hard surface. But right now, Reed had bigger things to worry about than an epic case of blue balls. After hounding Chrissy Stardust’s agent all weekend for a meeting, giving up his precious personal time to fix something that shouldn’t need fixing, the guy had eventually relented. Reed had half an hour of her time. But she sat like a sullen teenager, eyes glued to her phone and bleach-blond hair hanging like a curtain in front of her face. Not that it hid last night’s makeup or what looked to be a nasty hangover.

  It was impossible to know exactly what to expect from a meeting with Chrissy Stardust. The pop starlet, whose real name was Eloise Christine Johnson, had a predilection for drinking heavily at breakfast and popping Xanax like they were M&M’s. Which meant her temperament varied from barely coherent to Charlie Sheen on a thirty-six-hour bender.

  “I told you,” she said without looking up. “The move wasn’t personal.”

  “No?” Reed reached for his coffee and sipped the steaming black liquid. “It just so happened to coincide with me having some image problems of my own?”