Filthy Beautiful Lust(2)

"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.                       
       
           



       

But I'd shot him down, which I know is for the best. I have personal  experience with men like him. They're looking for no-strings sex. And  considering the last guy I was with played ding-dong-ditch-it with my  uterus, and left me with a baby to raise, I'm more than a teensy bit  skeptical about men like him.

Max is the only man I have time for these days. And the only man I will give my heart to.

I can't resist pulling out my iPhone to look at the pictures of Max.  Just as I know I won't be able to resist going into his room to listen  to the sounds of him breathing and leaning down to his crib to smell his  baby scent, even though I know there's a chance it'll wake him. But his  chunky baby thighs and big round tummy are too much for this mama to  resist.

It was actually quite sweet of Pace to ask about Max. Last summer, the  first time I'd met Pace at Colton's pool party, he carted a screaming,  teething Max around all that afternoon, swimming with him in the pool  and bouncing him in his big arms. Colton seemed to have no explanation  for Pace's sudden interest in the baby. I was convinced it was merely  him taking pity on his brother's employee. I was beyond stressed out  when Max was cutting his first two teeth. And I'm sure I looked it.

As flattered as I am about his interest in me, I'm fine with being  celibate and focusing on my career and being a mom. Well, that's not  entirely true. I do miss having a man in my life. I miss strong arms  holding me close, the brush of a stubbled cheek on mine, the feeling of  absolute security. When I'm ready to start a relationship again, it will  be with a man who makes me feel safe. There is nothing safe about Pace  Drake.

He's as dangerous as they come. Young. Sexy. Wealthy. Carefree. The  dark, hungry look in his eyes promised me hot, intense sex. I shiver,  recalling the way my body responded under his watchful stare. Yes, I'm  sure he'd be a wild beast in bed, probably with a giant cock to match  his stamina, not that I will ever know such things.

As the limo driver pulls to a stop in front of my house, I push all the  crazy thoughts from my head. Fantasies are nice, but it's time to get  back to my real life.





Chapter Three


Pace





I haven't stopped thinking about her since Saturday night. No, not  Malibu Barbie. I'd accepted her proffered blow job on the drive home  –   it was mediocre  –  and then dropped her off at her front door. I haven't  heard from her since. Which is just as well, because it's Kylie I can't  seem to get out of my brain.

I had no doubt she saw straight through me because that sassy mouth of  hers had called me out on the one-night stand. I know there's no way  we'd fit neatly into each other's worlds, but I have to try.