Borrowing a Bachelor Read Free

cake, on legs that seemed to reach all the way to heaven. Funny how heaven looked a lot like the satin string that disappeared between her cheeks.
    Correction. Heaven looked a lot like the barely restrained breasts that now swiveled toward him and bounced as she tottered over on her ridiculously high heels.
    Adam’s eyes widened as she bent over him and dangled the breasts like ripe, luscious fruit above his face.
    “I’m so, so, so sorry!” she said. “I told Yvonne I was claustrophobic. I told her not to make me get in there. Are you okay? ”
    He blinked. The guys were all falling over themselves laughing—especially Mark. Only Pete, Mr. Customer Service, called out—between knee-slaps—the same question. Was he okay?
    Adam gazed up at the spectacular breasts again. And like a gift from the universe, they lowered closer to his face as he lay prone. “Yeah. I’m okay,” he said weakly, eyes glued helplessly to them.
    The breasts heaved, and a sigh of feminine relief wafted down to him in the form of sweet, minty breath. “Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid I’d killed you.”
    Manfully, Adam looked away from her breasts and focused instead on her face, which was a mistake, since he found himself drowning in her large, seawater-green eyes. Not even the fact that she wore awful false eyelashes and cauldron-black liner could change the loveliness of those eyes or the shocked concern they expressed.
    Adam gingerly put a hand up to his nose to confirm that it was still there, and hadn’t been knocked through the backside of his skull. His hand came away bloody, and Cake Girl winced.
    “I’m so, so sorry,” she said again, and to his consternation she burst into tears. Fat, heavy drops rolled down her cheeks, gathering mascara and makeup in their wake.
    “Really, it’s okay,” Adam told her, struggling up onto his elbows. Her tears began to plop onto his head, and her distress grew.
    “I’ll take you to the emergency room right away! You could have a concussion. Oh, God, why did I ever think I could do this? I should have known that if I tried to dance in public I’d murder someone.”
    “I’m not dead,” Adam reassured her. But he almost had a heart attack as she straddled him in the high heels and then crouched down to take his face between her small, soft hands. She peered intently into his eyes, now raining black, inky tears onto his face.
    They left pale white streaks down her heavily made-up face and he didn’t think he’d ever seen someone so beautiful look quite so pathetic. She sniffed woefully.
    Of course, the rest of the guys could see nothing but their evening’s entertainment hovering provocatively over him. They leered enviously at the picture Adam and Cake Girl made, eyes fixated on her luscious bottom with its disappearing G-string. For some reason that bothered him. Vaguely, he noticed Dev snapping pictures with his cell phone.
    “I’ve never done this before,” the girl sobbed.
    Poor thing. She was truly upset. “What,” he teased. “You’ve never coldcocked a man before? It’s fun. See?”
    “Of course I’ve never—” Briefly, she looked indignant. “What I meant was that I’ve never, um, stripped before. And I don’t know how to do it properly, and because of that I’ve hurt you—but I had to get out of there. I just had to! I was coming unglued.”
    Adam struggled to sit up more, which brought him nose to, er, nipples. Or two inches of shadowy cleavage, depending on which way he looked. She removed her hands from his cheeks and moved back self-consciously.
    “Well, I can assure you that none of the men here want you to strip properly.” He winked. “They’d much rather you did it improperly.”
    Her lush mouth worked for a moment. Then she stood so that his eyes now met her— Oh, Christ. A tiny scrap of satin covered it, and it looked so sweetly beckoning. His mouth went dry and he averted his gaze.
    She grabbed a handful of cocktail napkins and brought her