Bachelor-Auction Bridegroom. Mollie MolayЧитать онлайн книгу.
hundred!”
Emily bit her lower lip and clutched her purse. Her funds were severely limited, and she was rapidly reaching the bottom of her wallet. But time was running out, and she had to have the man. “Two hundred and twenty-five!”
“Let’s get real here,” called her bidding rival. “The guy’s mine. I bid three hundred!” The man on the stage grinned, stuffed his hands in his pockets and winked at Emily.
Emily blinked at the blatant invitation from Number 46. Her first reaction was to brush him off and wait for the next man. After all, she reminded herself, what she had in mind was a business arrangement, not a seduction.
Her second and involuntary reaction surprised her. “Three hundred and fifty!”
The man on the stage raised his eyebrows. A smile of approval curved at the corner of his lips. The crowd began to murmur and crane their necks to look at the latest bidder. Emily wanted to hide.
The auctioneer intoned, “Going, going,” and silence filled the room. With the word “gone!” and a crack of a wooden gavel, Number 46, all six feet of him, was hers. The crowd broke into applause. Instead of being elated at her victory, Emily’s heart sank to her toes. Now what?
Chapter One
Number 46 watched the winning bidder slowly make her way to the stage to claim him. She appeared to be a conservatively dressed businesswoman with auburn hair, porcelain skin, and hazel eyes the color of an early morning western sunrise. She might be trying to look all business, but her short skirt and slender, shapely legs gave her away.
Something told him that under her carefully groomed exterior was a sensuous woman. In any case, as far as he could see, she was a dream walking. His spirits perked up. Maybe being “rented” as a date for a day wouldn’t be so bad after all.
He began to have second thoughts as she drew closer. There was something about her determined expression that telegraphed she was the type that played for keeps. The words “for keeps” weren’t even in his vocabulary, and he didn’t plan on adding them. Filled with belated misgivings at having volunteered for a bachelor auction, he fervently hoped his escort duties would be brief.
Receipt in hand, his buyer reached his side and glanced down at the program. “Mr. Kirkpatrick?”
He nodded politely and waited for her to identify herself. She blushed, and to his bemusement, her complexion turned a becoming shade of pink. “I’m Emily Holmes.”
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Holmes. T. J. Kirkpatrick at your service,” he replied politely. “What did you have in mind for the two of us?”
She blushed again.
He gazed at her quizzically. He may have thought she looked like a dream walking, but something about her body language told him there was more behind her bidding on him than met the eye. “You must have had something in mind when you bid for me. Right?”
Her expression was a study in contradictions. She nodded silently. Something was definitely wrong. It began to dawn on him that maybe being auctioned off to a strange woman hadn’t been such a good idea. Not even for a charitable cause.
He looked over her head at the cashier, who was watching them with interest. “Stay here for a minute. I’ll be right back.”
Her hand reached out to stop him. “Where are you going?”
The note of alarm in her voice and her grip on his arm stopped him in his tracks. “To get your money back for you. It looks to me as if you’ve changed your mind.”
“I haven’t. It’s not what you think,” she protested when his eyes narrowed. “Could we go somewhere private and talk?”
Private. Tim digested the idea for a minute. All of his instincts warned him he was teetering on the edge of deep waters. It was time to set the record straight. “I believe you may have made a mistake, Miss Holmes. Regardless of what this setup looks like, I’m not a professional gigolo.”
“I’m not looking for one,” she said firmly, squaring her jaw. Sparks of anger filled her eyes. “I won you as an escort for a day fair and square, Mr. Kirkpatrick, and I intend to have you face up to your agreement.”
His honor tested, Tim considered falling back on the alternate plan he used whenever his back was against the wall. What had started out as a joke had just lost its humor. A free spirit, the last thing he cared for was to be “won” by anyone, let alone by a woman high on looks and, if she took the auction that seriously, obviously one card short of a full deck.
But first things first. In case he had read the lady wrong, he intended to do the honorable thing. He reached for his wallet. “Here,” he said, offering her a wad of bills. “Keep your receipt. I don’t know what you had in mind, but I’ll give you your money back myself. That way you can have an income tax deduction and your money, too.”
“No, thank you,” she protested, backing away from his outstretched hand. “I don’t want your money. I want you. This receipt tells me you belong to me!”
His thoughts spinning, Tim gazed at his new owner. “Belong” sounded too permanent for his peace of mind. He’d have to see to it that their date was brief and took place where they would have lots of company. After all, how much of a problem could one date be as long as he kept it public? He nodded reluctantly.
Emily considered her prize. He was perhaps six feet tall, had brown hair streaked with gold and blue eyes that spoke of California summer skies. To add to her growing misgivings about her choice, he was decidedly too handsome for his own good.
Fortunately, he seemed to have a sense of humor, or he wouldn’t have offered himself to the highest bidder. Maybe he thought the whole idea of being on an auction block was a hoot. She didn’t.
He wasn’t her type, she thought as she gazed into his wary blue eyes. But nevertheless he appeared to be just the man she needed. He had to have a kind heart, or he couldn’t have allowed himself to be auctioned off for charity. She tried to ignore the uneasy feeling rushing over her. She was uncertain about her choice, but for better or worse, she was going to go with her instincts and hope for the best. Surely, the man must have a better side to him somewhere.
“Belong to you? In what way?” her prize asked cautiously.
“I want you to come with me and have our picture taken.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “If all you want is a photograph, I guess I can do that.” He straightened his tie, ran his fingers through his hair and grinned. “If you ask me, $350 for a photo seems a little high. But if it’s a souvenir you want, why not? I’m game.”
Emily didn’t have the courage to tell him why she wanted to have her picture taken with him. Not yet, and not before she had her photograph. “Good. There’s an instant photo shop in the lobby. If you’re ready, let’s go.”
She was pleased to see him take a deep breath and shove his hands into his pockets. “I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
With her prize beside her, Emily took quarters out of her coin purse, poised her head carefully next to his and looked up into his eyes with a bright smile. When she was satisfied they looked like a happily married couple, she dropped in four quarters and pressed the button that gave her a husband. “There!” she said when the photographs slid out of the machine. “Just what I needed.”
“That’s swell! By the way, thank you for your donation, Miss Holmes,” her partner said amiably as he backed out of the booth. “The foundation thanks you, too.” Before she could stop him, he waved goodbye and started out of the photo shop.
“Wait a minute!” she called after him. “I forgot to tell you I may need you again tomorrow.”
He swung around and stared at her. His wary expression came back. “Tomorrow? You mean the photograph wasn’t enough for you?”