Bachelorette for Sale (3 page)

First, he needed to find Dave—as usual he was never where Jason left him—then they could divide and conquer. Working his way through the crowd, he spotted Dave surrounded by several men, slapping him on the back and congratulating him.

“. . . most thrilling auction I’ve ever attended,” gushed an elderly lady he’d never seen before.

“Man, you missed it.” Dave shook another guy’s hand while nodding his thanks to a couple more. He was suddenly the freaking life of the party.

A guy takes a leak and all hell breaks loose. “What have you been up to?” Jason scanned the room looking for the pretty dark-haired woman and the redhead they’d seen at check-in.

“Getting you a date.”

“What?”

“A date. You know, that thing when a man brings a woman flowers, then takes her to, say, a restaurant, they have dinner, a little conversation, enjoy each other’s company, and if all goes well, you go back to her place for some mind-blowing sex.”

Black tie affair or not, he was about to knock his best friend’s block off. “I know what one is. I’m surprised you do. I don’t need one, nor do I need help getting one. What I need is a contract.” He looked around again for the women he’d been told were the committee chairs.

Dave slung his arm across Jason’s shoulders and propelled him toward the outer hall. “See, that’s the beauty of my plan. Not only do you get a date with a smoking-hot babe—the redhead who checked us in—but she’s the co-chair of this shindig.”

“How exactly did you get this date?”

“I won her during the auction.”

Crap. Why couldn’t he have brought Brody with him tonight?

“You had to notice her when we arrived. She’s got the rack of a goddess.”

Yeah, he’d noticed the redhead, dressed in her conservative white shirt and black skirt, which was why he’d thought she was one of the staff members. “And why did you feel compelled to bid on her? The plan was to talk business with the chairs, get them to know us, to see we’re serious about the project. Not get me a date.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets so he didn’t wrap them around his friend’s throat.

“Competition is tough, we needed an edge. She was on some dating reality show. Didn’t find her true love, duped the guy or got duped, some scandal. You wine and dine her, soften her up, and she’ll be more likely to vote for giving us the contract.” Dave clapped him on the shoulder. “Buddy, she’s our in to win this contract.”

He had no desire to take some pseudo star to dinner. He had no desire to take anyone to dinner lately. She’d probably expect a five-star restaurant, order the priciest entrée on the menu and champagne, and be as boring as a cardboard cutout. He didn’t follow the show she’d been on. They were all staged, and if he wanted his brain cells killed off, he could find more entertaining means. Now he’d probably have to hear every sordid, tiresome detail.

Whatever it took. That was the deal he and Dave had agreed upon when they went after the community center project. Not that it’d make them a fortune. Not by a long shot. It was all about the connections. It wasn’t enough to be the best at what you did. If the right people didn’t know about you, you didn’t succeed. Getting the center job would put their names in the hands of Providence’s upper crust.

They joined a line of people in the narrow hallway waiting to pay for the auction. “You take her out,” Jason said. “You’re the charming one.” As if to prove him correct, a random guy walked up and knuckle-bumped Dave while congratulating him on a killer bid.

“Can’t, bro, you’re the contractor. I’m only an electrician. Plus, I like my balls just where they are, and if I went on a date with another woman, Mandi would have them sliced, diced, and gift-wrapped.”

Did he have to go there? No guy wanted to hear about slicing and dicing unless the subject was food prep. “Thought you two broke up.”

“We did, but she begged me for another chance. Being the kind-hearted guy I am, I gave in.”

A snort of disgust made the woman in front of him turn around and give them a revolted look. Jason said, “Having met Mandi with an ‘i,’ I’m betting the roles were reversed and it cost you a pretty penny to get her to give you a second chance.” The line moved closer to the table, giving Jason a glimpse of the two women from earlier. He wondered how his
date
would feel when she found out she’d be stuck with a lowly carpenter.

“Why didn’t Brody come with us tonight?” Dave asked. “This event seems to be right up his alley.”

As was wining and dining the redhead. Or better yet, keeping Dave under control when Jason left the room, so he wouldn’t be in this predicament.

“His mom needed something fixed around the house . . . again,” Jason said. “Her standard excuse to get Brody to come over for dinner. It’s hard on her now that Mr. Nichols is gone. How anyone could miss the bastard, I’ll never figure it out, but she does. I guess it takes all kinds.”

“Yeah.”

The couple in front walked up to the table to take care of their transaction, giving Jason a moment to prepare. Maybe they could donate Dave’s auction money to the fund-raiser? There were still a couple of hours left before the event ended, and he could follow through with his original plan of approaching the brunette and asking for a few minutes of her time. Except what if the redhead was anything like his ex, Stephanie, who thought the world was created as her personal playground? She’d take his bowing out as a slight.

With the way his luck had been running lately . . . crap.

Sucking it up, he accepted he’d have to put up with Dave’s harebrained scheme.

Although Jason had no intention of wining and dining her on false pretenses. He’d tell her straight up at the beginning of the date why he was there.

A sweet, musical laugh filled the air. While the couple in front of him blocked most of his view, he could see the redhead laughing in response to something they’d said. Nice. He’d give two points in her favor: her laugh, and the fact she didn’t dress like a hooker.

Or rather hadn’t.

The couple walked away, giving him an up-close, unobstructed view of the woman his friend had essentially bought for him. Holy crap. Gone was the prim secretary outfit, and in its place was a dress that screamed “sex me up.” Dave’s description of her rack was dead-on, and as most of it was on display, Jason had no problem verifying his friend’s rating. She’d done something different with her hair too, pulled it back, exposing a long neck that begged to be nibbled and creamy flesh that reminded him of peaches.

Dave stepped up to the table and Jason followed. He was pretty sure his mouth hung open. He didn’t care. This was not the woman he’d met earlier, the one who was easy to walk away from and forget. This siren called out to him. She looked up at the two of them, a smile spreading across her face.

“Well, since all the other winners have paid, I’m guessing one of you two is my savior?” He’d never seen eyes quite like hers before. A pale sky blue ring surrounded the iris, with a midnight blue circle around the outside.

Dave raised his hand. “That’d be me, but I have to confess I was a substitute bidder for my friend here.”

“Oh.” So much meaning behind one word. Her smile never faltered, while disappointment flashed in her eyes. Yeah, she had probably hoped Dave was her date. Who could blame her? Dave was a Farber, and there were Farbers with big money in the area. Too bad Dave wasn’t one of
them
. And Valentine wasn’t tied to anything but trash. His parents had spent more time wasted than sober. Not like she’d be the first to point that fact out to him when she learned of his past.

Elbowing Dave aside, Jason stepped forward. “Sorry, you’re stuck with me. Boy Wonder here is taken. Any preferences on where we go?”

Her brows darted down in a sharp V before smoothing back out into a neutral expression. “Preferably not McDonald’s, but anywhere else is fine with me.” She handed him a card with her name and number on it.

“Taco Bell?”

“Works for me,” Cherry responded with a smile, surprising Jason.

“Good to know. Let’s meet at the fountain in Piazza di Amore, Thursday at seven.”

She gave a little nod of agreement.

“Great. I look forward to hearing about your exciting life as a reality star.”

Jason headed down the hallway with Dave toward the front door. What had he let his friend talk him into this time? If a former client who couldn’t attend hadn’t given them the tickets for tonight, he sure as hell wouldn’t have spent the money.

Dave slapped a hand down on Jason’s shoulder. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? Did you see those killer curves? The two of them could stop traffic. Too bad the other girl wasn’t up for auction. We could have double-dated.”

“Stuff it, Fubar.”

“Valentine.”

Shit. He knew before he turned around whom that baritone voice belonged to, and Jason didn’t need this tonight.

“Bronson.” Jason kept his hands at his sides. He wasn’t about to give the man a chance to snub him in public.

To those who didn’t know him, Bronson came across as a dignified philanthropist, everyone’s buddy, and a friend to those in need. Jason knew firsthand how deceitful the old guy could be.

“Isn’t this event a little above you boys’ pay grade?” The man sneered as he looked Jason and Dave up and down. He didn’t introduce his friend, and Jason figured he’d found them lacking. Nothing new there. “This is a ticketed event. Do I need to call security?”

“Careful, Bronson, your adoring public is mere feet away from learning the truth about you.” Dave nodded to the door while mouthing “let’s go.”

“You don’t belong here,” Bronson said.

“Just doing our civic duty and helping out the community. If you’ll excuse us, we were just on our way out.” Jason was not in the mood for a sparring match, so he nodded to Bronson and followed Dave to the exit.

As he reached the door, Jason overheard Bronson’s friend asking about him.

And he also heard Bronson’s response.

“More west side trash.”

The men’s cruel laughter burned through Jason’s soul.

S
lipping into her grandmother’s kitchen early Monday morning, Cherry let the warmth of home chase away the chilly morning air. The smell of strong coffee brewing and cinnamon rolls baking and the sight of her gram sitting at the table waiting for her brought an inner peace to her like nothing else could.

When she’d first come to live with her grandparents at the age of eight, the two of them had started this Monday-morning ritual. They’d get up a little earlier than usual, come down to the kitchen, and chat about the week ahead. Of course, back then it was hot chocolate instead of coffee. Gram said the best way to handle life was to tackle it head-on with a plan. So they’d sit there sipping their cocoa, nibbling on mouth-watering pastries and make their plans to take over their little corner of the world. The tradition carried on after Cherry moved out, and she had to admit, it was the best part of her week.

“Morning, Gram.” Pulling a cup from the cabinet, Cherry filled it, added a dash of cream and sugar, and sat at the table. Being the ever-intelligent woman she was, Gram allowed her the first sip uninterrupted.

“How’s my Cherry Bear this morning? Still recovering from all that running around on Saturday, I’d bet. Your grandfather wanted me to call yesterday and get all the details, but I told him you’d probably be sleeping the day away.” Gram’s eyes crinkled with humor when she mentioned her husband. This summer they’d be married for fifty years, and he still made her laugh.

“He just wanted the gossip.”

“That he did.” Gram rose. A puff of steam from the open oven door escaped to fill the room with the scent of cinnamon. It made Cherry’s stomach rumble in anticipation. “We also wanted to see how the gala went. Did you meet your goal?” Her grandmother transferred two of the rolls to plates before smothering them with her homemade icing.

“The dinner sold out, which is fantastic. We also set up a donation box, in case anyone was feeling extra generous, and Tawny’s adding up what was in there. The auction hit a little snag, but in the end it worked out. Didn’t you and Gramps watch the news Saturday night? The local station said they’d carry the story to help us bring in more donations. I thought surely with one of their own in the auction, they’d be all over it.”

A blush spread across her grandma’s cheeks as she took a bite of her roll. “We went to bed early Saturday.”

Cherry looked up sharply at her, inspecting her coloring, looking for any sign of illness. The woman looked as healthy as a twenty-year-old, with more character. She’d never known her grandparents to go to bed early. She’d have to keep a closer eye on them. After all, they were nearing seventy and not spring chicks anymore.

“Relax, Cherry Bear, I’m not going anywhere. I spent all day Saturday playing in my gardens. Too much fresh air and sunshine wiped me out.”

Life didn’t come with guarantees, not on love or how long you got to stick around. Cherry would let it go for now. The lady positively glowed. Instead she filled her grandmother in on the sick radio host and Tawny’s scheme to save the day.

“Sounds like you had quite the night. Good thing that Burt fella didn’t win or I’d have to break out my frying pan.”

The comment brought a fit of giggles to both of them as they remembered the time her gram had gone after one reporter for trying to sneak pictures of Cherry with her grandparents. The funniest sight in the world, a five-foot-nothing little old lady chasing some guy who must have weighed almost two hundred pounds down the street, brandishing her best skillet at him.

Cherry refilled their cups and took her empty plate to the dishwasher before settling back against the counter. “Sorry to disappoint you, but your cast iron is not needed . . . yet. With all the other big names from the community standing up there, the press had much bigger fish to fry than me. As for the date, it’ll only last a few hours. Standing there waiting to see if anyone would bid more than five bucks on me brought back memories of my first time on
Finding Mr. Right
, waiting to see if Edward would ask me to stay or not.” She gave her gram a quick grin. “I survived and helped bring in a little more money for the cause.”

Her grandmother studied her with an analytical eye, looking for any signs of distress. When it came to family, she’d scored the grand prize, at least with her grandparents, who shouldn’t have to worry about her anymore. These were their golden years. As for her parents, since no one knew if they had died or disappeared into a simpler life without parental responsibilities, who could say?

“What’s this guy like, the one who won the bidding?”

“Kitty-Kat,” her grandfather called from the hallway, “I’m going to run to Walgreens and pick up my Viagra and then head over to the bookstore. There are a couple of
hot
new releases I want to pick up.” He appeared in the doorway, eyes lighting up upon seeing Cherry. “Hey, pumpkin, didn’t know you were already here.”

“Clearly.”

“How are you doing?”

“Scarred for life, thanks,” she teased.

“As you should be, if I raised you right.” He tweaked her cheek before turning to her grandmother.

The kiss he planted on his wife would have made the best romance writers swoon with envy. The love between her grandparents was the real deal—the type ballads and stories were built on—what Cherry hoped to find for herself one day.

The kiss ended with a playful nose rub before Gramps bounded over to Cherry, giving her a quick peck on the forehead. “Whatever I did to deserve to be surrounded by such beauty, I’ll never know, but I’m thankful for it every day of my life. You two enjoy your morning chat. Cherry Bear, we’re still on for lunch Thursday, right? I want to hear all about the big night.” And he was off and out the door before she could murmur two syllables.

Okay, that was odd behavior, even for her grandfather. A little over-the-top, like someone had been taking too many happy pills perhaps?

“Is Gramps okay?” Cherry rejoined her grandmother at the table.

Her grandmother’s gaze settled on the back door. Deep furrows between her brows marred her beautiful face. “Physically, he’s as fit as a fiddle. Mentally, he’s a man, so they’re all off their rockers a bit, honey. Don’t you worry about your grandpa. He’s going through his midlife crisis. He’ll settle down after a while. Until then, we’ll humor him a bit more than usual.”

Midlife crisis at seventy? Well, if he planned to be around until one hundred and forty, she was fine with that. “Do me a favor, please? Spare me any more of the details. A grandchild can only take so much knowledge of their grandparents’ activities.”

Brilliant pink stole across her gram’s face, followed by a low chuckle. “Now let’s get back to you and this gentleman who bid on you. What’s he like?”

Rude, arrogant, sexy as sin
. “Hard to say. We didn’t actually talk, and Jason’s friend was the one who did the bidding on his behalf. I’m not sure why.”

Sipping her coffee, Kitty Ryan broke off a piece of roll and nibbled away at it. Cherry knew her grandmother well enough to know this was a sign her wheels were spinning away, planning and plotting. “Graaam?” Cherry extended the word, letting her grandmother know she was on to her and her sneaky mind.

“Just thinking, dear. It must be a little exciting to go on a mystery date, not knowing a thing about your man and what the night will hold. I never got that. Had my heart set on your grandpa since I was three years old and he defended my sand castle against a bully on the beach. As our parents were close friends, by the time he’d asked me out on our first date, I pretty much knew everything there was to know about him and was already head over heels in love with the big oaf.”

Once upon a time, Cherry would’ve agreed with her gram, but not anymore. “Trust me, the only thing you missed out on was a few what-was-I-thinking moments and a broken heart.” Walking to the sink, she washed out her dirty cup before gathering up her purse and jacket. Cherry gave her gram a tight hug and a smooch good-bye. “As for Valentine, since his last words to me were that he couldn’t wait to hear about my life on the show, he’s probably like all the others. He did his good deed with the auction. In return he gets bragging rights that he had dinner with a TV star. End of story. Don’t read more into it than it is, Gram. Some of us just weren’t meant to live the fairy tale.” With a quick kiss she was out the door.

She’d love nothing more than to one day be the princess in the fairy tale. Meet her Prince Charming, fall madly in love, have a handful of kids and live happily ever after. One thing she knew for sure— if that day ever came, she wouldn’t make promises she couldn’t keep, and she’d never abandon her family.

Another benefit of her Monday-morning ritual, she beat everyone else to the realty office, giving her peace and tranquility to sip a third cup of coffee and scan through her e-mails before the deluge of office chatter and phone calls swept away the calm. This morning she especially needed her quiet time. Granted, she had spent Sunday vegging out on the couch, napping, reading, and catching up on a few TV shows. The visit with her grandparents this morning left her unsettled.

Shaking her head, she agreed with her gram; most men, especially her gramps, were a little crazy. Kicking her sensible pumps to the corner of her office, she wandered out to the receptionist desk in the main lobby to gather her snail mail. She loved her job as a property manager, mostly because it allowed her the flexibility to set her own hours so she could volunteer her time to the community and the center.

Speaking of, now that the auction was done she should think about what to do next. Like maybe go back to school. Things were good now—between work and the committee, she kept the blues away—but come fall she’d have lots of free time again to stare at the walls and gorge on cookie dough.

Besides being able to work when she wanted, she could work from where she wanted to, be it her cozy little office or even a beachside café. Not that she spent many days sitting in the sun with her fair skin, but the thought was liberating on its own.

Right now, she wouldn’t mind kicking back under a giant umbrella to celebrate Saturday night’s success. Or what she’d thought was a success until she’d opened up the contractor’s bid waiting in her mail this morning. Sitting on the edge of her chair, she stared at the numbers.

“Holy crud. Are they kidding?” She flipped a page and perused the list and dollar amounts. “Six hundred dollars for one toilet? Does it come with an entertainment system and self-clean? Because for the quoted price, it should.”

To check off all the items on their dream list would take millions of dollars. They knew that, knew that the gala wouldn’t cover all of the costs. Secretly, she had hoped to be wrong. Dang reality, it loved nothing more than reaching up and smacking you in the face. The half mil the tickets had brought in—minus the costs—would still go a long way toward repairing the building, bringing it back up to code so that next time it would be able to withstand a category 5 hurricane. The auction brought in another sixty-five thousand, and the committee would have to determine where to best spend it between the indoor equipment, the outdoor fields, and the programs they wanted to offer. At least they could start now.

Or could they? This particular contractor, the one the majority of the committee had been leaning toward, had quoted three times the amount she had calculated. Granted, she was no math whiz, but jeez Louise, she’d done her homework. Maybe she’d subtracted when she should have carried.

The bell over the front door jingled and Cherry looked up to find Tawny, with a happy grin and her arms filled with papers.

“Aren’t you Miss Mary Sunshine this morning?” Cherry asked. Her friend’s eyes filled with delight and Cherry added, “I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to be so cheerful on a Monday morning. What’s up?”

Dropping down in the faux-leather visitor chair, Tawny pulled its match closer and dropped her load—papers, files, and purse—onto it. “Good morning to you too. What’s wrong with you? Switch to decaf or something? Speaking of, I’d love a cup of joe, but the real stuff, none of the fake junk for me.”

Cherry walked over to the coffeepot, filled the cup three-fourths with hot liquid, and diluted it with cream and sugar until it turned light beige in color before handing it over to her friend. Just looking at the sweet stuff made her teeth ache. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Ever hear of banker’s hours?” She waved a hand to shush Cherry, laughing at her own joke. “Kidding. Mr. North was thrilled with how well Saturday went. He’s such a great boss. I’m really glad he got involved in this project by getting the bank to support the auction. Anyway, he told me to take the day off.” She took a sip of her coffee, giving Cherry a chance to sit.

“North also said the higher-ups were quite satisfied with the results and pleased with the PR this event has brought the bank and that my volunteering will look good on my evaluation. The big shots love it when we do community projects. Whatever, what’s more important is my parents are proud of us.”

Cherry nudged the sheet with the gala’s income and expenses toward Tawny, keeping the bid in front of her. “According to the spreadsheet, the night was a hit. Wish we had brought in more with the auction. I’m sure if Heather Judson had made it, we could have, but it is what it is.” Letting her friend scan the rows of numbers, Cherry reviewed the bid again. “When is the deadline for submitting proposals?”

“Friday, but I think most of the members are set on going with RI Builders. They’ve been around a long time and Stan knows the owner, vouches for their work. Why?”

Handing over the proposal, Cherry let the numbers speak for themselves.

“
Dios
. You’re kidding me, right? This seems a little steep. Stan assured us they would give us a discounted rate.” She kept flipping back and forth through the pages of the proposal, shaking her head. Cherry understood the feeling.