Bachelor Auction (15 page)

The solution to her problem had come early this

morning. The head of public relations at the

children’s hospital, Rita Guerrera, phoned with a

last minute change in their trip’s itinerary. Having

worked with her on other campaigns and dodged

several of the woman’s attempts to matchmake,

Charlotte shouldn’t have been surprised to hear Rita

exclaim over her perceived romantic involvement

with Marcus.

The doorbell rang just as she started to deny it,

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and Rita rushed on to say rumors abounded all over

town, everyone speculating on the outcome of their

relationship. When she added how pleased the

sponsors were to have a real couple for the

Valentine’s seasonal promotion, an idea had begun

to develop. Before the bell rang a second time,

Charlotte’s plan was clear.

Though confident she could carry it off, she

remained unconvinced she’d make it out of their

weekend affair unscathed. Their past encounters

had proved that already.

From the corner of her eye, she could see him

watching her as he had from the time she found him

in her bedroom, taking in every detail and no doubt

dissecting it. She had to believe he hadn’t seen the

psychology books on the bed or noticed the difference

in her bedroom’s decor compared to that of the living

room since he hadn’t called her on it.

Not like he had about Sam. But even then, his

calm acceptance of her little prank, when she’d

expected anger, had amazed and disturbed her.

More disturbing was the remorse she felt for

misleading him. She didn’t understand its sudden

manifestation. Everything she’d ever said or done in

Marcus’s presence was meant to mislead him. But

while her deception had niggled at her conscience

over the years, this was full-fledged, no-holds-barred

guilt.

“You know,” he said, drawing her attention. “I’ve

been thinking about this whole situation.”

She blinked, trying to recall their conversation

since boarding the plane. “What situation?”

“The bachelor auction in relation to the

children’s hospital benefit.”

“What about it?”

“I’m wondering if the integrity of the benefit

isn’t somewhat slurred because of its association

with the bachelor auction. Isn’t there a moral issue

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here?”

Her mouth dropped open, and she had to

mentally nudge herself to shut it. “Are you serious?

Did you know that when the league first convened,

they barely scraped together enough to cover

medical supplies? There was nothing left for the kids

or their families. Some of those people don’t have

insurance and have to depend on charities like ours

to help them.”

“I’m sure—”

“And not just with medical bills. There’s the cost

of a place to stay while their child is hospitalized.

Food, transportation, counseling. Until I got

involved, I had no idea.”

“I don’t doubt—”

“And that’s the problem. So many of our

acquaintances turn a blind eye to those in need,

when as a privileged society, it’s our duty to help in

whatever way we can. We tend to be stingy with our

treasures, only giving enough to satisfy our

consciences. That’s why the league instituted the

bachelor auction. What better way to squeeze a few

extra dollars out of the rich than to let them think

they’re having fun?”

“Yes, but—”

“I’ll have you know that since implementing the

auction,

donations

have

quadrupled.

And

furthermore, nowhere is it mentioned or intended

that anything unsavory or out of line take place

between the participants. Nor should the auction be

held responsible if they choose to test the waters

when the urge strikes.” She paused for a breath and

caught Marcus’s amused expression. “What? Do I

have lipstick on my teeth or something?”

He laughed. “No.”

“Then what?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re laughing at me.”

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“I’m not laughing at you. It’s obvious you’re

dedicated to your cause. I admire that.”

“The children aren’t a cause. They’re human

beings and as such—” She snapped her mouth shut.

His grin widened, and she knew she’d just fallen into

his trap again. “You’re purposely trying to get a rise

out of me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“You tell me.”

“I’m not trying to make you mad, though it

worked like a charm as a distraction. Since you

began your defense of the auction, you haven’t

noticed the turbulence. You know, there’s nothing to

be ashamed of. A lot of people are afraid of flying.”

“What makes you think I’m afraid?”

“Well, for starters, you asked for the aisle seat.”

She shrugged. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“No, but then you wanted me to close the

window.”

“The sun was in my eyes.”

“It was raining.”

“Still doesn’t mean anything. Rainy weather

depresses me.”

“Maybe.” He lifted a brow. “But there’s also the

fact that every time it gets a little bumpy you cut off

the circulation in my arm.”

Her gaze followed his to where her hand grasped

the armrest between them. Only it wasn’t the

armrest.

His muscled forearm flexed beneath her palm.

She jerked her hand away and rubbed it along her

thigh to erase the tingling his scratchy wool sweater

caused. She refused to acknowledge the true origin

of the sensation.

“Now, how about a drink. What would you like?”

“I don’t drink,” she said and instantly cursed her

slip. Not many people knew how much she feared

following in her mother’s footsteps and becoming a

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prisoner to the bottle. It wasn’t an easy secret to

keep when everyone expected the life of the party to

imbibe.

“I’ve seen you drink before.”

“Have you?”

“You drank like a fish at all those frat parties.

And at the benefit you had champagne.”

Charlotte was saved from replying as the

airplane suddenly skidded through an air pocket.

She let out a strangled yelp then clamped her teeth

on her lower lip and pinched her eyes shut. She’d

almost forgotten she sat thousands of feet in the air

in a contraption that weighed tons and that a wing

and a prayer wouldn’t save her if the engines failed.

“I think we should discuss our itinerary.”

She peeled one eye open to look at him. “What

about it?”

“Melody gave me a schedule of our promotional

obligations. I think we should skip some of them. Do

you think they’d mind? They could probably get

anyone off the street to pose for these things.”

“Are you nuts? These people expect—You’re

trying to distract me again, aren’t you?”

“Is it working?”

She laughed and felt the muscles in her

shoulders relax. “You had me going there for a

minute. It’s just that this weekend is so important to

the benefit.”

“So do you think we can call a truce? Maybe try

to get along while we’re there?”

“Well, actually, I’ve been giving this a lot of

thought, and I think we need to do more than just

get along.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Geez, I hate this.” She faced him squarely.

“Look, I know this will be difficult for you, but

because of the publicity we—you and I—received at

the auction, rumors are circulating that we’re an

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item. The sponsors are ecstatic. They expect us to be

a real couple.”

“Hmm.”

“Lovers even.”

He frowned. “I see.”

She hoped not. “We need to appear as if we’re

madly in love.”

“Madly? In public?” He forced the words out as if

he found them distasteful.

“Yes.” Anticipation bubbled inside Charlotte,

and she fought the urge to squirm under his steady

gaze. His agreement was not only important for the

sake of the bachelor auction’s reputation, but it was

also imperative to her plan of seduction. If he

guessed she intended to rake him over the coals of

desire in order to achieve that end, he’d never agree.

“I wouldn’t want the children, or Preston

Enterprises, to suffer because of our inability to get

along.” He cocked his head to one side. “I don’t see

why we can’t put aside our differences for one

weekend.”

Charlotte caught her smile as it started to slip.

The airy excitement she’d felt moments ago

vanished, as if he’d taken a pin and popped all the

tiny bubbles and kept on going until he struck her

heart. It didn’t matter that his reasons for

cooperating were the same she’d used to ensure his

participation. The reminder of his initial reluctance

still hurt. “Great. You don’t know how much—Oh!”

The plane dipped to one side, slinging her

against him. If not for her seatbelt, she’d have been

in his lap. As it was she clutched his sweater and

buried her face in the crook of his neck. His arm

came around her as the aircraft evened out, and his

heat seeped through the thin material of her dress to

warm her. His whispered breath fanned the hair at

her temple. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I think so.” Even as she said the words,

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she couldn’t stop the tremor of fear that shook her

body. His arm tightened, joined by the other to

encircle her, and she knew he’d felt it, and probably

guessed its cause.

As much as she loved the feel of his embrace,

she hated his knowing her weakness. Granted, he

considered her completely flawed, but the defects

he’d seen before were only the ones she’d purposely

shown him.

She sighed inwardly. She could play the

situation two ways. Pull away and let him continue

to feel sorry for her. Or turn his suspicion around.

Pushing upright, she braced one hand on his

thigh, the other on his chest, and looked at him with

heavy-lidded eyes and a sultry smile. “Mmm, I think

I’m beginning to like this ride. It’s producing some

rather unexpected results.”

His gaze, as dark green as the forest on a cloudy

day, slid to her mouth then downward to linger on

her breasts before returning to lock with hers.

“While we’re on the subject of unexpected

results...” She eased her hand up his denim-clad

thigh. “And since you agreed so easily to our

pretending to be lovers, what say we slip into the

restroom and make it real. Let’s join the mile high

club?”

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“Mr. Preston, could you place your right hand on

Ms. Reese’s thigh?”

Straddling a bale of hay draped with a wool

horse blanket, Marcus had one foot in heaven, the

other in hell. And both hands on Charlotte’s hips to

still her wriggling ass.

Her thighs, spread wide, pressed against the

inside of his. Her familiar scent, mingled with her

spicy perfume, and her small shell-like ear, so near

his lips, teased him. Almost as much as the view

over her shoulder. Twin mounds of satiny flesh—

peaks budded from the cold—swelled above her low-

cut sleeveless blouse and quivered as she searched

for a comfortable position.

He welcomed the discomfort of the scratchy

blanket and straw beneath, hoping it would distill

the same predicament he had struggled with on the

flight to Denver. Somehow he had managed to

decline her offer to initiate him into the mile high

club, but only barely. He counted himself lucky she’d

taken his refusal well and napped during the rest of

the flight, even if she had snuggled against him as

close as the seatbelt and armrest would allow.

He couldn’t deny he’d been tempted. If the

seatbelt sign hadn’t remained lit, he might have

whisked her to the nearest unoccupied restroom to

get his membership card stamped, punched, and

validated.

But he’d seen the spark of terror in her troubled

blue eyes, felt the shudder that shook her body, just