Karen Kendall - Bringing Home a Bachelor

“You’re playing with fire…”

Curiously enough, Mel didn’t ask herself if she wanted Pete.

She just exulted in the power of him wanting her.

She had a red-blooded man in a tuxedo who was very happy to be with her right now. And they had a beach all to themselves… Except it wasn’t so private, what with the hundred-odd windows looking down at them from the hotel.

Mel brushed those concerns aside for the moment—she’d just have to get him to his hotel room. For now, she had her hand on the prize. She squeezed him gently through his pants and Pete groaned.

“Mel,” he said hoarsely, “you really shouldn’t be doing that.”

Mel used her other hand to ease down his zipper. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Pete made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. “Melinda, you’re killing me!”

She smiled. “I know. But you’ll die happy.”

Dear Reader,

I’m sure you’ve heard the saying: you can’t please all of the people all of the time. And most of us, at some point, have felt that we can’t please anyone, at any time.

I was in a hotel registration line, witnessing a clerk gracefully accept abuse from a woman who clearly thought she was the disrespected empress of her own universe, when I got the idea for Pete Dale’s character. What would it be like to have a job that involved trying to keep people happy all day long?

Pete, the hero of Bringing Home a Bachelor, works at a luxury hotel with very picky customers. His job is to bring in more business, and therefore more money. But trying to please his customers, his boss, his good friend the groom, the woman he loves and her dragon of a mother—all at the same time—is a recipe for disaster!

Poor, professionally polite Pete has to take a stand, and it’s not one he’s comfortable with: no more Mr Nice Guy … at least when it comes to the people who are making his girlfriend Melinda’s life impossible.

I hope you’ll enjoy reading Bringing Home a Bachelor as much as I enjoyed writing it, as well as the two previous books in the All THE GROOM’S MEN series— Borrowing a Bachelor and Blame It on the Bachelor.

All the best,

Karen Kendall

KAREN KENDALLis the author of more than twenty novels and novellas for several publishers. She is a recipient of awards such as the Maggie, the Book Buyer’s Best, the Write Touch and RT Book Reviews magazine Top Pick, among others. She grew up in Austin, Texas and has lived in Georgia, New York and Connecticut. She now resides in south Florida with her husband, two greyhounds, a cat … and lots of fictional friends! She claims to have real ones, too. She loves hearing from readers! Please visit her website at www.KarenKendall.com.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

WHAT A MONDAY. The clock said it was only 9:45 a.m., and Pete Dale, senior account manager for Miami’s Playa Bella Hotel, had already put out three customer-relations fires by the time his office phone rang ominously for the fourth time.

He squinted at the phone suspiciously, rubbed his temples and sighed. Who was calling now? The cantankerous, octogenarian charity-ball chairwoman? The pain-in-the-butt, preppy pro-golfer’s rep? Or the charming, chin-wagging Chilean who loved to chat for hours about every detail of his upcoming fiftieth anniversary dinner for two hundred?

Pete had jumped at the job with Playa Bella two years ago because it enabled him to return to the sun, sand and sea of Miami. But paradise had its price.

He picked up the receiver and held it to his still-burning ear—Playa Bella’s spa had managed to offend a Latin American dictator’s wife, and her secretary had just given him what-for. “Pete Dale. May I help you?”

“Pete!” A voice boomed like a cannon into his brain. But he didn’t mind, because it was the voice of a friend. His oldest friend, to be exact. He’d known Mark since junior high.

“Mark, my man,” Pete said with relief. “How are you?” He grinned and leaned back in his leather chair, letting his head loll to the side. “You ready for this weekend?”

Mark was getting married in five days, and Pete and the rest of the groomsmen had wild plans for him first. There was no bachelor party like a Miami-based bachelor party—they planned to put The Hangover to shame, though without actually losing their groom in the process.

“I’m ready—the question is, is Kendra?” Mark laughed.

“Nobody could be prepared to take you on for life,” Pete ribbed him.

“True. Very true. Listen, I called for a couple of reasons. One, to say hi. Two, er … you remember my sister Melinda, right?”

“Of course I remember Melinda.” Pete shifted in his chair.

He’d gotten a real shock when he’d run into her at a Dolphins game a couple of years back. Hadn’t recognized her. Though she’d looked familiar, he couldn’t place her. A tumble of dark hair, a sunburned nose, big blue eyes, and a curvaceous body made for a man’s pleasure.

She’d glanced at him, then turned to walk away with her friends. He’d been openly admiring her rounded ass and wondering what it would feel like in his hands, when she’d turned back toward him and stared, hard.

Busted, Pete pretended that he’d been searching for something.

Then she’d put a hand on his arm and said, in tones of disbelief, “Pete? Pete Dale, is that really you?”

He’d raised his ogling eyes and looked at her face again, puzzled. Where had he seen her before?

“Pete, I’m Melinda. Melinda Edgeworth. Mark’s sister.”

Shame flared in his gut as heat climbed his neck. “Mel? No way … oh, my God, it is you.”

He registered with surprise that she was blushing, too. Of course she was! He’d been fixated on her ass, pervert that he was, and she knew it. Oh, hell. “You’re all grown up,” he added, instantly wishing that he could take back the lame words.

She shrugged. “How are you?”

“Uh, great. You?”

And then her friends had hustled her away, before he could think to get her number. Not that he should have. Mel was Mark’s little sister, which put her strictly off-limits.

Mark’s next words brought Pete back to the present with a jolt.

“Melinda doesn’t have a date for the wedding, and I wanted to ask you if you’d, well, make sure she has a good time.”

“Sure, no problem,” Pete said easily.

“You’re the only nice guy of my acquaintance, and you know how it is with Mel,” Mark said.

No, How was it?

“If she’d just lose that baby fat of hers, her life would be different.”

Baby fat? Pete frowned, sat up straight in his chair and settled his elbows on his desk. “Oh, come on. Mel’s a very pretty girl.”

“Uh, huh,” Mark said, in dismissive tones. “You know, Kendra tried to give her some advice on how to eat, but it didn’t go over too well.”

Pete felt a quick wave of sympathy for Mel. Kendra was so thin that he wasn’t sure she even qualified for a size at all. He was pretty sure he’d heard of women who were actually size zero. Kendra’s legs looked like chopsticks, if you asked him, and her arms were toothpicks. She looked downright brittle; as if she’d break in half if she so much as stubbed a toe. Mark was lucky that she hadn’t punctured his kidneys in the night, with one of her elbows.