Free The Sexiest Man Alive by Juliet Rosetti Page B

then—just Mazie and Juju, out for a night on the town. But maybe that was worse. Juju Danda was hell on wheels, and Mazie Maguire didn’t have the sense to come in out of the rain. By herself, each woman was scary; combined, they were a recipe for mayhem.
    They didn’t know it yet, but they were going to have a bodyguard.
    Abandoning the ice chest in the middle of Mazie’s living room, Ben hurried to his car, made an illegal U-turn, and followed them, glad that Juju’s car was so bright it practically glowed in the dark.

Chapter Twelve
    “Welcome to Phero-mates, everyone! I’m Kandace McHutchins, your Phero-mate emcee for tonight!” The woman at the microphone, wearing a sequined halter dress and a smile that outdazzled the chandeliers, exhibited a level of enthusiasm that would have made a
Reader’s Digest
Sweepstakes winner seem apathetic.
    “Is everyone ready to find your Phero-mate?” Kandace squealed, and a few audience members cheered halfheartedly. Most of them seemed embarrassed to be here, as though their name tags read: I’M A BIG LOSER WHO CAN’T GET A DATE THE NORMAL WAY SO I HAVE TO LET WEIRDOS SNIFF MY UNDERWEAR .
    The event was being held in the ballroom of the downtown Hilton Hotel. There must have been around a hundred people there, Mazie guessed; they were milling around guzzling cheap wine and nibbling wilted appetizers. The air reeked of scented candles, underlaid by the odor of unwashed T-shirts, because even double plastic Baggies could not contain the aromas of three nights’ worth of sleep sweat. The T-shirts were arranged on long tables, women’s in transparent pink bags; men’s in blue bags, each bag numbered. The noise level was high, with lots of nervous chatter and strained-sounding laughter. Women outnumbered men about two to one, which Juju said was normal for dating events. It reminded Mazie of a middle school Christmas concert, where all the girls glitzed up, wearing their best dresses, while the boys looked as though they’d RipStiked to the event directly from the skate park.
    Juju, who believed that
subtle
was a waste of time where men were concerned—like sprinkling tarragon on your dog’s kibble—was wearing a one-shouldered satin cocktail dress in a yellow that was edging up into the neon green of construction crew vests. She’d accessorized with chandelier earrings, a tinkling wrist full of bracelets, and transparent high-heeled sandals that Imelda Marcos would have killed for. Mazie envied Juju her ability to look fabulous in the most outlandish colors, whereas she felt like a tart if her lipstick was too red.
    “They say love is blind,” Kandace went on in her headache-inducing chirrup, “but does love smell?”
    “Love smells, but marriage stinks,” called a guy in the audience, causing a ripple ofnervous titters.
    “Every human being exudes his or her own unique pheromones—sex-attracting chemical signals,” Kandace babbled on. “Scientific experiments have proved that pheromones can cause sexual arousal or sexual revulsion.”
    Mazie hated this whole concept. She even hated the word
Phero-mates
. It sounded like something you sprayed on crops.
“Abner
—
y’all go squirt them turnips with Phero-mate afore the worms take hold!”
    “All right, boys and girls—when you find a smell-tastic shirt, bring it up front, hold up the lucky number in front of our video cam, and wait to be claimed by your Prince or Princess Charming,” Kandace instructed. “Remember to return the shirt to the table when you’re finished. Okay—ready, set,
sniff
!”
    Mazie picked up a bag at random. Number 48. She opened it and inhaled, then nearly gagged. Her nasal receptors felt as though they’d been scoured out with drain cleaner. Had this guy been sleeping with wolverines? Hastily resealing the bag, Mazie thrust it back in the pile and cautiously reached for another bag. She wished she’d stayed home to zap gnomes and wondered whether Labeck had taken his stupid