Sophie excuses herself a moment later, and I'm thankful for the private moment with Kylie.
"Can I get you something else to drink?" I offer, tossing her a flirty grin.
Her answering smile is coy, guarded. "Shouldn’t you be getting back to your date?"
A quick look over my shoulder at Sheena, or Trina, or whoever the hell she is, tells me I have no desire to spend any more time with her. In contrast to the beautiful woman standing before me, my date is all but forgotten. I might have thought she was sexy before, but now, I'm seeing her more clearly. Her dress is too short and her breasts are too big, even for my sizeable hands, while Kylie, in comparison, is perfectly proportioned–soft and curvy–just like a woman should be. I wouldn’t mind devoting hours to exploring the valleys of her body. With my tongue. And my cock. The bastard throbs at the thought.
"She looks pretty well taken care of right now," I remark.
The bartender is all but ignoring the other customers in his eagerness to talk to her. He can have her for all I care. Good luck, buddy.
Kylie sets down her empty wine glass on the tray of a passing waiter. "I'm actually not much of a drinker. A glass of wine or two is generally my limit."
Good to know. I file that information away. Remembering her kid, I ask about him. "Where's Max tonight?"
She smiles lightly as though thinking about her baby brightens her mood. I like that, and I don't have a frigging clue why. "His nanny stayed late tonight. I'm sure he's in bed by now."
I still recall that day in the pool last summer when I'd taken the crying baby from her and entertained him all afternoon. I couldn't even be sure why I'd done it. I suppose, looking back, she just looked like she could use a hand. I've never liked seeing a woman struggle. Although a damsel in distress, she is not. I get the sense she's not the type to back down from a challenge and has enough strength and determination to succeed at just about anything she tried. A sexy quality, to be sure.
As we stand there, me sipping my bourbon, and Kylie grinning politely at the crowd, the silence between us grows. I feel like we have nothing in common, and I'm at a loss, trying to think of something to say, anything that will keep this beauty in my presence. There are so many things I want to know about her, but none of them are any of my goddamn business. How she tastes, what noises she makes when she comes. I also want to know how she ended up a single mother, and if Max's dad is still in the picture. I tried asking Colton about it once, but he remained incredibly vague. The asshat. If there was a worst wingman award, it would go to my brother.
"Have dinner with me this week," I say. It wasn't what I'd been planning to say, but once the words leave my mouth, they feel right.
"Pace, that's sweet of you to ask, but I can't…" She pauses, like she wants to say more, but doesn't. Her body language is all wrong too. Where women are normally vying to get closer, placing their hand on my bicep, or even brushing their breasts against my arm, Kylie stands straight and tall, like she wants to avoid physical contact at all costs.
"Are you here with someone?" I ask. It's also absolutely none of my business, but I'd happily shell out ten grand just to find out if she's fucking someone.
"No," she confirms.
"No boyfriend?" I press further. I need to know what I'm up against.
"There's been no one since Max's father," she says quietly.
My inner alpha male beats on his chest in triumph. "That's quite a dry spell."
"Indeed," she murmurs.
"It's just dinner, Kylie. It's not like I'm offering to step in and play daddy." I treat her to a playful, crooked smile, my dimple out in full force. I've heard it's quite irresistible and that's what I'm banking on.
"That's exactly why I can't. I'm sorry."
Fuck. Why am I such a fucking idiot?
"Oh," I stammer, at a loss for words for the first damn time in my life. Christ. Grow a pair, Pace.
"Besides, something tells me if you're interested in a woman like that," Kylie tips her chin toward the bar where Sheena, or Trina, is making a spectacle of herself, "you can't possibly be interested in a woman like me."
Hold the fuck on. Now that's where she's wrong. "Why's that?" I ask, meeting her fiery green gaze. If she's about to criticize herself, I will not hold back in proving to her how very wrong she is.
"Pace," she admonishes. "Look at her. They look…inflatable."
When I realize she's not tearing herself down, but instead chastising my taste in women, I almost want to laugh. "A woman like that is good for only one thing and we both know it," I say.
She raises her eyebrows, waiting for me to explain.
"One good fuck," I continue.
"You're crass." Her eyes light up, and her mouth twitches in an attempt not to smile.
"I'm direct, and you like it."
She shrugs. "At least you're honest. That's more than I can say for most men."
"Go out with me. One time, Kylie. What do you have to lose?"
I can practically see the wheels turning in her head, and for one brief, beautiful moment I think I might have a chance. "Bye Pace." She turns and walks away, her long legs carrying her across the room while my heart throbs.
Fuck.
"Kylie, wait."
She turns and tosses me a sexy wink. "Go have fun with Malibu Barbie.
This is not over.
I play to win.
Chapter Two
Kylie
This is not my real life.
My real life is not evening gowns and silk panties and fancy dinners. It's heating bottles up at two a.m., spit-up stains on my yoga pants and fishing Cheerios out from between my couch cushions. But it feels amazing to pretend, if only for a brief moment.
As I sit in the back of the limousine Colton insisted I take, I remove my earrings one at a time and drop them into my handbag. The twinkling city lights blur past as we cruise down the freeway, and my thoughts drift back to the gala. The event had turned out beautifully, even better than I could have expected. But of course it isn’t the details of the fundraiser occupying my brain. It's a certain six-foot, two-inch, well-muscled slice of man named Pace Drake. My boss's younger brother. And there is no way he'd be interested in the real me.
I chuckle to myself, remembering that he didn't even know his date's name. I should feel outraged that he all but ignored her in favor of paying me compliments and asking me out. Instead I'm strangely flattered. When a man as handsome as Pace paid you attention it felt wonderful. Especially for someone like me. He could have any woman he wanted. And for some strange reason he'd set his sights on me – with my post-pregnancy body that is still curvier than I would have liked.