Lord Bachelor

by Tammy L. Bailey

  He choked back a laugh. “Yes, you do.”

  “I’m afraid she doesn’t do well with intoxicating drinks,” Tommy offered.

  Abby poked at the man’s ribcage with the point of her elbow, an adorable blush starting to creep into her round cheeks. “Why?”

  Tommy turned to her, his dark brows tugging into a serious frown. “Because if he’s going to be taking you out, he needs to know these things.”

  Edmund watched the pair argue, his curiosity regarding their relationship boiling to the surface. Was this man the one, the two, or the half? Or, was he vying for the three-and-a-half slot?

  “Oh, Eddie, why did you disappear on us?” Courtney smacked against Edmund’s back, spilling something wet and sticky close to his ribcage.

  “It’s Edmund,” he said, his irritation growing.

  She turned her bottom lip outward. “Oh, well, Edmund. Don’t you find it just a little boring over here?”

  “Boring, no. Drier, yes.”

  She didn’t get his hint, staring at him with clueless, blinking eyes.

  “Hey, Abs. Hi, Abby’s old boyfriend.” Zella stumbled between him and Courtney. “Tell me, Johnny—”

  “Tommy,” the man corrected Zella, a fierce scowl on his face.

  “Whatever.” Her voice rose over the jarring music. “I want a dirty margarita.”

  “Then ask the bartender,” he said, pointing with his thumb to a short man in a tuxedo.

  She looked confused, swaggering closer to where he stood. “Hey, do you ever regret dumping Abby at the altar?”

  Edmund’s heart stopped as Will, who had made himself comfortable four feet away, spit out his skunk-smelling beer. Two bar stools down, Joe peeked from behind his camera, obviously unsure if he’d heard what Zella had said correctly. To make matters worse, Abby just sat there, not saying a word.

  “Why don’t you go puke in your hair, Zella,” Tommy offered.

  The woman scoffed, then belched, and then turned on her heels, twisting an ankle on her dramatic exit.

  “Abby,” Edmund said in a dry tone, the need to talk to her growing with each inhale. She answered him with a shake of her head and hopped down from her high seat, adjusting her dress for the hundredth time.

  She pressed her hand against his chest, her warm softness penetrating through his shirt.

  “Please, not here,” she said, her voice strained. She thought to get away from him, from the questions. He followed her for all of ten seconds before Will’s hand landed hard upon Edmund’s right shoulder.

  “Did you know she was once engaged?”

  Edmund shook his head. “You’re the ones who did the background check. I’m thinking, shouldn’t you have?”

  Will shrugged and backed away, allowing Edmund to tramp in Abby’s footsteps, right between a half dozen or so beautiful couples drifting to a song so perfectly sensual, he had no doubt they were hired like extras in a movie.

  Fortunately, their hypnotic dancing slowed Abby down enough for him to grasp her elbow. She didn’t turn, forcing him to wrap his arm around her waist and draw her against him. Unwilling to make more of a scene, he pressed his mouth to her ear, holding back a grunt when she shoved her backside into his groin.

  “Careful,” he warned her. He meant to blend in, imitating the erotic dancing to the full extent of his abilities. He held back with “Lavender Blue.” He wouldn’t this time.

  “Were you engaged?” he said in a husky whisper, his mouth grazing her earlobe. This conversation sounded familiar to him, and he couldn’t believe how the tables kept turning.

  In his arms, she stiffened, her hair tickling his cheek as she shook her head. His hand settled on her hip, his body sinking lower to match her hesitant, though arousing measure. He already wanted her, so being this close, like this, was driving him bloody mad.

  She leaned further back, turning her chin over her shoulder. “I thought you said you couldn’t dance,” she said, breathless.

  “That’s not what I said.”

  She stopped moving for an instant, until he lifted her hands and twisted her around to face him. He held her in place, his palms sliding down the satiny smoothness of her arms, dropping again to rest on her hourglass waist.

  He thought she fit him perfectly as he coaxed her to sway with him, their bodies touching and teasing. He held her selfishly, possessively, at this moment, never wanting to share her with anyone else.

  He pulled her tighter, craving the firmness of her breasts pressed hard against him. Her heartbeat thundered and he reveled in the thought that he was able to cause such an ignitable emotion from her.

  Her gaze finally flashed, their powdery blue pools locking with his for a hypnotic moment. “Tell me,” he said, his voice low and full of raw, wanting emotion. He bent his head as if he might kiss her, his lips lingering enough to breathe in her sweet ginger breath.

  “Can’t we talk about this later, Edmund?” She sounded winded and rattled.

  “No.” He showed no mercy in his answer. “If you have something to say, this might be the best time. The microphone can’t pick up anything from here.”

  She nibbled on the corner of her lip, but remained quiet and thoughtful.

  “Is that why you’re so closed all the time?”

  She sucked the air into her lungs. “Me?”

  He pulled away, but only slightly, sending her a questionable glance. She huffed, an animated gesture that caused him to chuckle.

  “Although you find humor at my expense, I don’t believe this is the place to disclose my life history.”

  He nodded, wanting to get her alone, and fast. “At last, I agree.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Abby let out a surprised yelp as Edmund lassoed her wrist and pulled her along with him toward the exit. She didn’t resist him, her legs more willing than her mind.

  Into the narrow hallway, he wiggled a few doorknobs, causing Abby to screech her disapproval. “Are you insane?”

  He tested another one. “That may have been insinuated once or twice, but my relatives never wanted me tested for fear of social retribution.” He tried another narrow door. “Ah ha!”

  Abby fell into a janitor’s closet, the lighting dark and yellow. Although small, it was well organized and clean. As she surveyed her surroundings, Edmund turned to lock the door. When he rotated toward her, she crossed her arms and squinted at his rigid form. “What are we doing here?”

  With his handsome face masked in a mustard glow from a swinging light bulb, he lifted a finger and stated in a stately manner. “You are going to tell me all about Johnny.”

  She scoffed. “His name is Tommy, and I don’t,” she said, then paused to lower her voice, “think a janitor’s closet is the best place for this either.”

  He nodded and glanced around as if noticing where he’d put her for the first time. “You’re right. My room is much better.”

  “What? No!” Abby grabbed at Edmund’s arm, unsure if was kidding or not. “God, I can’t believe I’m telling you one of my most embarrassing secrets between rolls of toilet paper and disinfectant.” She sniffed, the ammonia from a possible leaky bottle burning her nose.

  He feigned indifference to their surroundings, taking a permanent stance a few feet away.

  “Fine,” she said, glaring at him. “I had just lost my father, and Derek and I had a horrible fight.”

  “Derek Crumwell?”

  “Yes,” she confessed. “Anyway, instead of wallowing in self-pity, I decided to throw myself at a community project.”

  “Molly and Paul,” he added.

  She nodded and then sighed. “It’s where I met Tommy. His grandmother was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s and his grandfather loved the idea of meeting her as if they were on their first date. After that, Tommy and I became instant friends.

  “Friends?” he questioned her.

  She nodded, not giving into this sarcasm. “He saw I was in a lot of pain, so, afraid I might fall into some endless depressio
n, he asked me to marry him. Afraid he was right, I said yes.”

  “But he left you at the altar?”

  “No, Zella remembers it all wrong. We left each other. Believe me, it was mutual. We didn’t love each other, not in that way.”

  Edmund paced from the mop bucket to the porcelain sink, his left hand reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. She didn’t want to be the reason for his stress, not when all she wanted was her uncomplicated life back. “I’m sorry.”

  He stopped abruptly before her and dropped his hand to cup the side of her cheek. He pulled closer and laid his forehead to hers. “I want to kiss you so badly, it’s killing me.”

  Abby’s pulse leaped as she placed timid fingertips against his chest, his heart drumming so fast it felt like electricity pulsing against her skin. If he wanted to kiss her so much, why wasn’t he?

  “Where is Edmund?”

  Abby sucked in a janitor’s closet full of stale air and chemicals, almost choking as Will’s voice echoed through the hallway, his footsteps loud and charging.

  Frantic, she whispered, “He can’t find us in here…together. It might even be a breach of contract or something.”

  “Don’t worry, he won’t,” Edmund said, while retrieving his phone and pushing a number on his speed dial. An obnoxious ring blared under the doorway, Will’s shoes clomping further away.

  “What are you doing?”

  Edmund placed a gentle finger to her lips and answered his friend. “Will, where the hell are you?”

  Abby couldn’t help but notice how Edmund had become Americanized with his cursing. She leaned in, trying to catch both ends of the conversation.

  “Me? I’ve been all around this hotel, and can’t find one sign of you or Abby. The other girls are getting restless, not to mention bored. I need you to come out here and ruffle them up.”

  “Sounds delightful.”

  “Better you than me, bro.”

  Edmund ended the call and placed the phone in his pocket. She remained in his embrace until the inevitable question arose from his lips. “So, um, would it be impertinent of me to ask if Tommy was one of the two or the half?”

  “Yes,” she said, “it would be impertinent of you to ask.” Some things, she believed, were better left unsaid.

  Edmund nodded, moving toward the door and back to her again. She knew he didn’t want to end on this note, but waited for him to say something. Instead, he just stood there, staring and blinking.

  She fell back against the cement wall. “Stop doing that.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Looking at me as if you’re trying to figure out how to fit me into a prepackaged box or something.”

  He bent down close so she could see every masculine contour of his beautiful face. His warm breath hypnotized her. “And you stop doing that.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Automatically assuming you know what the other person is thinking, so by the off chance that you are right, you can congratulate yourself with an ‘I told you so’.”

  “Are we done?”

  He reached behind her to unlock the door. With his lips so close, she thought he might kiss her. Instead, his hot breath tickled the inside of her ear. “Soon, Abby, we will get to know each other very well, without one word spoken between us.” She wondered if he said this to remind her of this, or himself.

  Nevertheless, he left her shaken and confused. It must have shown on her face as she returned to the bar, Tommy’s expression one of knowing concern.

  “Wow, are you all right?”

  “Yeah, perfect,” she murmured unconvincingly.

  “What did you tell him?” he said in a sing-song voice meant to put her at ease.

  She shrugged. “The truth.”

  “Do you want some more ginger ale?”

  “Yes.” And then she spotted Derek Crumwell coming toward her. She froze on her seat, the blood draining from her head to her dangling feet.

  He was as handsome as she remembered with jet-black hair and steely gray eyes. He smiled at her, flashing a set of bright white teeth. She knew his handsome, suave appearance only reached the surface. Deep down, he resented her, cursed her.

  “You know, I think I’m going to have one of those White Russians,” she said with an adamant nod toward the small-statured bartender. Best to get drunk so when Edmund coerced the truth out of her regarding that part of her life, she would be too intoxicated to relive it.

  “All right, but I know your limit better than you do,” Tommy said behind her.

  Abby rotated to her most loyal friend. “And what’s that?”

  “Right before you climb on the bar and start singing ‘Our Lips Are Sealed’ by the Go-Go’s.”

  She balked at his memory. “I did that once.”

  “Twice.”

  “Damn.”

  “Abs, darling. I didn’t know you were going to be here.” She cringed at Derek’s whiny voice and turned. Unable to help herself, she said the first thing that popped into her head.

  “Wow, Derek, you still haven’t learned the art of lying.”

  His artificially tanned face turned a rare shade of sweet potato orange.

  “And you’re still a teasing little tramp.”

  Abby winced, knowing Tommy stood within earshot and had already threatened to pound Derek into dust the next time he saw him.

  “You must be Derek Crumwell?”

  Abby bit down on her lower lip as Edmund flanked her right side. She didn’t want the two of them to meet, not now, not ever.

  “And you must be Lord Bachelor,” Derek said, unsmiling. “Let me give you some advice. Drop Abs here in the next round. You won’t be sorry.”

  Edmund shifted his gaze down to her, a wry grin slowly lifting the corners of his sensual mouth. She didn’t know what he was up to, but she was sure he held the reins of their discussion.

  “Not as sorry as you were, right, Crumwell, where some things were left…hanging?”

  Abby swallowed and started to choke, shocked that Edmund had guessed her rather dismal, half experience was with Derek. She supposed the look of disbelief on her ex’s face confirmed Edmund’s speculation.

  “Did she…is that what she…this is absurd.” Derek stormed away, leaving everyone who had gathered around unsure of what they’d missed.

  “Edmund,” Will called, waving for him to join him on the dance floor.

  Abby heard him mumble something before ambling away to meet Will and Jasmine. Before her eyes, Edmund and bride number one were smashed together before the camera, Jasmine gyrating her midsection as if she was being shocked below the waist.

  “Eww,” Tommy commented.

  In front of her, the bartender sat down her drink, the ice clinking in the tall tumbler. “Could you make that two,” Abby asked in exasperation.

  Eager to numb her mind of the night’s events, she lifted the cold glass to her lips, shuddering as the potency of the vodka and coffee liqueur sent a shock through her system. She blinked and shook her head, going in for another taste, and then another until her head began to swim in a pleasant, carefree motion. She really should drink more…and eat before giving in to the sinful habit.

  Just as she finished the first, the bartender placed a second one in front of her, this one much more powerful than the first. She closed her eyes only to feel the air shift around her.

  “What are you having, Abby?” Edmund said close to her right ear, his arms cocooning her, his chest pressing against her back. She sniffed, the sensual smell of his skin making her even more lightheaded.

  “Iced latte,” she said, flipping her eyelids open and helping herself to another dizzying sip.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll cut her off at one,” she heard Tommy promise.

  “Well, since this is her second, I think you’re a little too late.” This came from Edmund as he grasped the cold glass just as she started to take another sip.

  She tried to focus on his rigid stance as the room began to spin, fas
ter and faster. It was as if she was in control one moment and floating the next.

  “I’m getting you out of here.” The tension in Edmund’s voice made her jump.

  “I’m fine,” she lied, hiding her numb nose with the tips of her fingers. His dusty brows quirked upward and she found herself drowning in the mist of his captivating sea-green, blue-flecked eyes. “I’m perfectly sober, do you want to…” she said, pausing to let out a dainty hiccup, “…see?”

  “Tell her no,” Tommy said, his voice resonating somewhere behind her.

  “No,” Edmund nodded, confusing her already befuddled senses.

  She didn’t succumb to alcohol often, once every six to nine months, but when she did, it was usually quick and merciless. With her world tilting to her right, she stood and tripped over the shoes Holly had talked her into wearing.

  “Blasted shoes,” she mumbled, as Edmund caught her around the waist.

  “Perhaps you should take them off then,” Edmund offered.

  “Oh, good idea.” With one hand clasping the strained muscle of his forearm, she reached down and pulled them off, one at a time.

  “Better?” he asked, a worried smile lighting his beautiful face. He was so handsome—his eyes like a tranquil wave, his lips slightly open, like Cupid’s bow. She’d dreamed about how they might feel against hers and took her time staring at them.

  Then, all of a sudden, she wanted to sleep, her eyes closing, her head longing for a pillow to place underneath it. “Edmund?”

  “Yes, Abby?”

  “Will you take me to bed now?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Edmund caught Abby by the waist just as her knees began to buckle. To his relief, Will had Joe filming Jasmine and Zella dancing together, both on the verge of doing something that would need to be edited for the afternoon show.

  “Tommy,” Edmund called, the man appearing at his side in a matter of moments. “I’m going to take her to my room. Do you think you can keep them occupied?” he asked, tossing his head toward the intoxicated crew.

  Tommy hesitated. “If you—”

  “She’ll be safer with me than with them.”

  Tommy’s short eyelashes blinked, his face showing a stern and cautious expression. “She’d better be.”