Karen Kendall - Blame It on the Bachelor

She began to laugh, then, on top of the sobs, because she figured he was right, but that didn’t make her behavior any better.

She felt his hand cover hers, then take the purse back.

“I assume that you’re staying here in the hotel?”

She nodded, smearing more makeup onto his jacket.

“And that you have a key card to a room in here?”

She nodded again.

“If you’d care to tell me the number, then I can push the relevant elevator button and take you there.”

“Six-twelve,” she mumbled. “Thanks.”

He hit the button, keeping one arm still around her. She was amazed and grateful.

The elevator rose, thankfully without anyone else trying to get on. They stepped out onto the sixth floor and her room was only a few short steps away.

Dev slid her card into the slot on the door and opened it for her. “There you go.”

She stepped out of his arms, feeling suddenly bereft, and went inside.

“Can I suggest a hot bath?” he asked.

Kylie smiled wanly.

“And maybe a bottle of wine from room service?”

She nodded.

“Okay, then.” He stepped forward, took her chin in his hand, and dropped a quick kiss on her mouth. “Whatever this is all about—this emotional storm—it will pass. You’re gonna be okay, Kylie. I promise.” Then he turned and headed for the door.

The spiked hair with the gel in it that she’d thought was too Miami-stud yesterday suddenly looked right on him. His shoulders filled out the black tuxedo jacket to perfection, and the posture that she’d dismissed as cocky … well, who’d have known that it disguised real empathy?

“Dev?” she asked tentatively.

He stopped. “Yeah.”

“How would you like to share that bottle of wine with me?”

He turned to face her, one eyebrow raised.

“Please?” she added.

He hesitated.

Perhaps it was underhanded, but she really didn’t want to be alone. So she fixed him with one of those you’re-the-only-man-who-can-save-me-from-certain-disaster looks.

“Hmm,” he said. Not yes .

“I swear not to hit you with anything.”

He grinned at that and seemed to relent. “Will you promise not to yell?”

She swallowed and pushed her hair out of her face, then struck a mock-sexy pose. “No. But I’ll save it for when you get to … you know … the good parts.”

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