BACHELOR NUMBER FOUR Read online

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  BACHELOR NUMBER FOUR

  by

  MEGAN HART

  Amber Quill Press, LLC

  http://www.amberquill.com

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  Bachelor Number Four

  An Amber Quill Press Book

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Amber Quill Press, LLC

  http://www.amberquill.com

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  Copyright © 2006 by Megan Hart

  ISBN 1-59279-557-9

  Cover Art © 2006 Trace Edward Zaber

  Layout and Formatting

  Provided by: ElementalAlchemy.com

  Published in the United States of America

  Also by Megan Hart

  Driven

  All You Can Eat

  The Clear Cold Light Of Morning

  Convicted

  Dream Upon Waking

  An Exaltation Of Larks

  Friendly Fire

  From Distant Shores

  Lonesome Bride

  Love Match

  Monster In The Closet

  An Exaltation Of Larks

  Opening The Door

  Passion Model

  Playing The Game

  Pot Of Gold

  Right To Remain

  Riverboat Bride

  Sand Castle

  Emerald Isle

  Trial By Fire

  With Steps Like Knives

  Dedication

  To girlfriends, everywhere!

  And to DPF, my own bachelor number four...

  BACHELOR NUMBER FOUR

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  "You need to get laid."

  Dead silence filled the room that only moments before had been filled with the sounds of laughter and crunching popcorn.

  Every eye turned to look at Lida Crowley, who didn't even have the good sense or decency to blush. She shrugged and popped another chocolate sandwich cookie in her mouth. "It's true."

  True, but harsh, Arden Walsh imagined the rest of the women in the room thinking. "Yeah, well, unless Keanu's knocking at my door, I guess I'm out of luck."

  She could practically hear the collective sigh of relief at her use of humor to defuse what could have potentially been an embarrassing situation. She looked back at the big screen TV, which was now showing a rather lovely picture of male anatomy. "Ewan McGregor would be okay, too."

  Lida, bless her, reached for the remote and rewound the scene, then used the DVD's remote to zoom in on the luscious backside. "Ewan McGregor wouldn't even have to knock on my door. I'd catch him while he was still standing in the driveway."

  The room rocked with laughter. While moments before the continuous chuckling and innuendo-filled comments had sounded sincere, now they rang false.

  No wonder, Arden thought, turning her determined attention toward the film, which sadly was no longer showing naked male booty. What kind of downer was a widow on Ladies' Night anyway?

  "I need another drink. Anyone else?" She got up from the plaid couch and looked around brightly, ice cubes clinking in her glass.

  A chorus of, "No" greeted her, and she was glad because that meant she could take the trip to the kitchen by herself, eyes burning with unshed tears, throat clogged so tight she wouldn't have been able to make small talk had she tried. In Lida's disorderly kitchen, she found the pitcher of sangria and poured the rest of it into her glass. She didn't really want the booze. It made her melancholy. She swirled the soggy fruit around in the bottom of the glass for a moment before dumping it down the sink. She'd be better off with diet soda.

  Rooting around in the freezer, Arden took the time to press a handful of ice against her eyes. The cubes burned, but not as badly as the tears had. At least the pain stopped when she took the ice away.

  "Cucumbers work better for that than cubes." Lida lit a cigarette and parked her butt at the kitchen table to scoop up a chip full of taco dip. "Mmm. Man, this stuff is fabulous. Try some."

  Arden shook her head and sipped from the soda.

  Lida tilted her head. Smoke wreathed her face. "I meant what I said out there."

  "I know you did." Arden sighed and looked back into the living room, where the ladies were now hooting and hollering over a scene featuring a naked Russell Crowe. "Don't worry about it. I think they felt worse about you saying it than I did."

  "That's because you know I'm right." Lida let out one of her throaty, delightful laughs that had always made men's toes curl. "You need to get laid in the worst way, Arden."

  Arden shook her head, emptied her glass in a hasty swallow and poured another. "You heard what I said."

  "Last I saw, Keanu wasn't riding his motorcycle up and down Main Street. You need to set your sights a little lower."

  Arden fixed her eyes on her friend's. "Lida, you know that's not going to happen."

  "Why not? You're young. You're gorgeous. You're available."

  Again, Arden sighed. She helped herself to some of the spicy dip and followed it with a swig of cola. "That's...that's not really part of my life any more."

  "When's the last time you had sex with something other than Mr. Jolly?"

  Arden spluttered and laughed. "Mr. Jolly?"

  "Or whatever you call yours." Lida grinned slyly. "I call mine The Joystick. What can I say? Bill's out of town a lot. What battery-operated toy do you have in your night stand drawer?"

  "Um." Arden bit her lip, but she and Lida had shared almost every secret since the seventh grade, and there was no way she'd be able to convince her friend she didn't have any toys. "It's a butterfly. It vibrates. And it doesn't have a name."

  "And it's not a man."

  Arden's first sob leaked out before she could stop it, and the next hit her like a baseball bat over the head. Arden pressed her fingers to her mouth to stop them, but they refused to be held back. Tears squirted, scalding, and her throat burned like she'd swallowed hot wax.

  Lida's hand pressed hers, and Arden grasped it like a drowning woman clutching at a piece of floating driftwood. Then Lida pulled Arden into her arms, rocked her like a baby, patted her back and shushed and hushed her until spent, Arden sat back. Without a word, Lida handed her a handful of tissue and a full glass of soda.

  "I shouldn't have come tonight," Arden said in a voice as hoarse as a frog's croak.

  "Bullshit. You should've come six months ago, when I invited you the first time."

  "I wasn't ready then. I'm not so sure I was ready tonight." Arden looked back into the living room. More hooting told her they'd switched to another raunchy movie. She looked around the kitchen, overflowing with bowls of dips and chips, platters of brownies and cookies, with bottles of booze and beer on every counter. "I should go home."

  Lida stared, took another drag on her cigarette and blew towards the ceiling, where the wobbling fan spun away the wisps of smoke. "Why, you got a date with your butterfly?"

  As quickly as she'd wept, Arden burst into laughter. She and Lida guffawed and giggled, until the commotion made everyone else get up to see what was going on.

  "What's so funny?" asked Marla, a divorcée in her late thirties.

  "Yeah, dish." Candace popped open a beer. "It better be good because I'm missing Orlando Bloom on the big screen."

  "Oh, hush...why bother? That baby boy's got all his