Annette Blair (26 page)

He was prepping for a journey to hell.

An hour later he walked into Summerton’s silver- and gold-striped ballroom, no less magnificent for the rows of empty chairs between him and a bright stage in the throes of preproduction.

There stood Kira, the object of his search, beside a sleek high-res Plexiglas podium, her copper-fire hair and pearlescent skin kissed by the lights. She was as at home with a state-of-the-art techno production as she was with gay-nineties dresses and Gilded Age mansions.

A sorceress shimmering with power, she gave orders like a pro, making people laugh as they rushed to do her bidding, as if she were wielding her wand to control them.

She’d accented her simple black satin strapless gown with a mint-green scarf, bright with red and black ladybugs. The scarf’s foot of fringe all but swept the floor. Her mint green sandals were high and strappy, a bold ladybug
nesting atop her sexy toes. Black, but not in mourning. Red, but still in hiding. Seductive, but unaware.

Kira the witch, invader of dreams, rejuvenator of the Pickering Foundation, creator of magic, of wishes, and of quilts that inspired forbidden dreams. She was the woman who sang a broken little boy to sleep, the one taking a broken man to places he never expected he’d
want
to go.

Truth be told, she had become the why of his every action and the subject of his every reflection, which just plain spooked him.

He should stay away, but she pulled him into her sphere, and he had no choice but to go.

She came gracefully down the stage steps when she saw him, and met him halfway across the magnificent room. Up close, he saw that, like her skin, her hair held a shimmer this evening, while her ears bore a pair of earrings he’d seen before. He touched a bejeweled ladybug. “Perfect,” he said.

“They were Bessie’s idea. I came down wearing plain rhinestones and she took me into her bedroom saying she had earrings that would match. The ladybugs are garnets and onyx, and the studs are diamonds.” Kira shivered.

“Cold?” Jason asked as he lowered her wide scarf to her shoulders like a shawl and rubbed the fabric over her arms to warm her.

“No, I’m scared to death that I’ll lose one of her earrings.”

He tugged her lazy curl and tweaked her freckled nose. “What can I do to make you bid on me tonight?” he asked, taking her hand, cupping it, and bringing it to his lips to warm.

After kissing her fingers, he looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry for playing to the cameras. I didn’t quite realize I was doing it—while I was doing it—but I hate that I took you to the rutabaga patch. Forgive me? Please?”

She stepped closer, as if seeking more of his warmth, said nothing for a surprised minute, and nodded.

“Bid on me?” he whispered, warming her ear.

“I’ll think about it.” She raised her chin to give him
room for a neck-nibble, and that gave him hope for a good auction outcome.

“I’ll ask again,” he said, stepping back and taking her arm. “Come on, I’d like you to meet my friends.”

They went through a mosaic-tiled sunroom that led to a glassed-in patio, where a buffet was set with hot canapés, a champagne fountain, and priceless crystal.

Jason winced inwardly. The female “cattle-buyers” were beginning to arrive—some he’d dated, some he’d only slept with—all of them big-spenders and ready to throw their money at a night of fun, especially for a good cause. But not one of the women was his friend.

It was toward the men in tuxes at the bar that he led Kira, the first woman he’d wanted to show off since he was fourteen and high on testosterone.

“Kira,” he said, “I’d like you to meet my best friend—”

“Santiago the Stealer,” Kira said, needing no introduction and looking delighted. “Nice to meet you Tiago. Steal anything of interest lately?”

“What, you didn’t watch the World Series?” He flashed a ring as bright as his charm-boy grin.

“Am I supposed to kiss it?”

“She doesn’t like sports or jocks,” Jason said, and his friends groaned as if they’d been shot.

Kira’s eyes crinkled and her lips quirked as she focused on the baseball player known the world over as the Stealer. “Aw, come on, what are you packing tonight? Give me a peek.”

“How come you know so much about him?” Jason muttered. “You didn’t know who
I
was.”

“I dated the Penis, remember?”

His friends looked at Jason questioningly and he shrugged. “Tillinghast,” he said. “Pawtucket. She dumped him.”

Their thumbs-up approval was genuine.

Kira turned back to Tiago. “Show me,” she said, and the guys at the bar whistled.

Tiago winked. “I’d show
you
anything any day, Juguete.” He pulled the corner of a red lace wet dream from his pocket.

Jason groaned, but Kira didn’t seem to be the least offended.

“Do you really charm the pants off them,” she asked with an eye-twinkle Jason would like turned
his
way, “or do women mail you their underwear by the truckload?”

Tiago tucked his badge of honor back into his pocket and scratched his head as if he’d been caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

“The truth is,” Jason said, “women make it too damned easy for him. Find Tiago a girl he can’t charm the pants off, and she won’t be able to get rid of him.”

Tiago slapped Jason on the back in a half hug. “Ah no, my friend. I couldn’t let the ladies down and tie myself to only one.” And then he slipped his other arm around Kira’s waist and marched her possessively away. “Come, Juguete, there’s somebody I want you to meet.”

Jason watched Kira throw her shawl over her shoulder and look up at Tiago as if he were . . . charming the pants off her.

“Damn it, Tiago,” Jason growled. “She’s
my
date.”

“Watch out,” Billy heckled from the bar. “If he’s got a hot car, you’re toast.”

“You wish,” Jason said as he watched Kira and Tiago approach Tiago’s grandfather.

FROM
the audience Kira watched Jason begin the evening with a formal welcome from the Pickering Foundation, then Melody started the first bachelor intro from her podium across the stage. “Our bidding starts this evening with the one and only Seth Arkwright, owner of the infamous Company of Rogues. Seth wants you to know that he and several of his rogues are
donating
their time to this event.”

Vickie escorted Seth onstage, and Jason read Seth’s bio. “When not renting high-profile bachelors for fun and profit, Seth likes to sail his ninety-foot schooner around the world. He has a house in Malibu, a castle in Wales, and a hideaway in Colorado.”

Melody picked it up from there. “For his dream date, ladies, Seth will fly you to Los Angeles and take you for a leisurely sail on the Pacific, during which you’ll share an intimate gourmet dinner aboard ship while you watch the sun set.”

Jason gave his podium over to the professional auctioneer.

The bidding started at five hundred dollars and rose to ten thousand before it ended with Seth escorting a happy blonde off the stage.

“Santiago the Stealer, millionaire baseball legend, and owner of his own railroad train, hardly needs an introduction,” Melody said as Tiago appeared, decked out in a tux, a baseball bat over his shoulder, and a pair of red lace bikini panties dangling from the bat like a victory flag.

Melody giggled. “Tiago’s dream date consists of a private train ride from Boston to New York City for dinner, your choice of Broadway show, and a cast party into the wee hours of the morning.”

After some hot bidding, Tiago went for twelve thousand five hundred.

No bachelor went for less than ten grand, and every hunk was enthusiastically bid upon. Kira bid on every one, to raise the foundation’s profit, and the women bidding took to laughing, or booing, every time she raised her paddle.

“Hey, girl, you can’t want them all!” one woman yelled.

“Oh, but I do,” Kira said.

Jason was last up, or so
he
thought. She’d tricked him, because she’d been pissed about the rutabaga kiss when she made up the program, so she’d added a surprise at the end, for which Jason might want to fire her.

Kira was glad she did. An extra bachelor would mean more money for the foundation, but she was sorry now that she’d made Jason work so hard all evening, because she had
wanted
him to sweat, before he had to strut his stuff.

Melody whistled when Vickie escorted Jason onstage, so he took Melody into his arms and bent her back for a kiss, again for the cameras, in the way he’d kissed her on her show.

The crowd had been waiting for it, and they applauded it.

Melody grinned and winked afterward. “The Best Kisser in America,” she said, “our own Jason Pickering Goddard, hardly needs an intro, but I can personally attest
to the fact that he kisses as well as he plays hockey.” She winked at Logan and looked at the auctioneer.

“His date?” the auctioneer said.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Melody said. “I got so flustered by Jason’s kiss, I forgot tell you where he’s taking his winning bidder.”

Melody looked straight at Kira. “Tomorrow morning Jason will be taking his date on a sunrise balloon ride over the Newport coast, then for an attic picnic at his very own Cloud Kiss.”

Kira sat straighter.

One of Jason’s leggy airhead model friends bid three thousand on the spot. Kira had disliked her on the spot, and now she knew why. She was pushy. And before Kira could digest the fact that Jason had planned his date especially for
her,
the airhead, and several other women, got into a bidding war.

It probably wasn’t good that Jason had known how to lure her into bidding, Kira thought. Then again, that meant he knew her, cared what she liked. He’d
listened
to her. So that was good, right?

As Kira questioned her judgment and her sanity in bidding, Jason caught her eye and gave her the connection she needed. He gave her a peek inside himself, where yearning, and the promise of adventure, pleasure, and intimacy, were hers for the taking.

Take me,
his gaze said.
Come into
my
rabbit hole. I want you
.

Kira about melted. “Ten thousand,” she said.

The auctioneer laughed. “Missy, you gotta keep up here. It’s eleven to you.”

“Eleven,” she said, feeling a warmth climb her face.

Jason’s shoulders relaxed. He grinned and crooked his finger her way. She’d won?

“Twelve thousand. He’s mine!” the airhead shouted, outbidding her with no class.

Kira sat back down.

Jason scowled.

“Fifteen,” came a bid from the back of the room . . . a male bid.

A female gasp rose from the audience, and Jason’s expression could only be termed furious.

Kira stood and looked toward the back. Good grief, she thought, what did the rule book say about a man bidding on a man?

The bidder stood in the shadows. His voice had sounded familiar, but disguised. She wished she could identify him.

Jason went to the mike. “Give it up, Billy. I wouldn’t go on a date with you for twenty grand. Hell, I’ll outbid you myself.”

Billy Castleton, Jason’s rival since the sandbox, bid twenty thousand dollars.

“Twenty-one,” airhead said.

“Twenty-five,” Kira said, raising her paddle in panic.

Billy moved up the aisle into the light, winking first at her, then at Jason, and he bid thirty thousand dollars.

A shriek rent the air. The airhead in high pout was a sight to behold.

Kira turned toward Gram, who nodded for her to continue.

“Thirty-five thousand,” Kira said. “Keep bidding, Billy,” she added. “The foundation needs the money.”

Billy stepped back as if he’d robbed a bank and faced the sheriff, hands up.

“Sold!” Melody crowed. “For thirty-five thousand dollars!”

The auctioneer turned to Melody gape-mouthed and she laughed. “Oops. Sorry. But the Best Kisser in America goes to the Best Event Coordinator in America for thirty-five grand.”

Kira went toward the stage to claim her prize, forgetting to be sorry she’d caved. He’d seduced her with a look, the silver-eyed wolf. What a surprise. What a relief.

“Thank God it’s you,” Jason said as he took her hand to escort her up the stage steps. There he presented her with a single red rose, placed a possessive arm around her waist, and nuzzled her neck to catcalls and hisses from the audience. “And thank God this damned auction is over,” he added.

“Not quite,” Kira said.

Melody introduced Billy Castleton as the last bachelor up for bid.

“You rat,” Jason said, abandoning Kira’s neck to look her in the eye.

She tugged him offstage. “If I were a rat, I’d have let Billy win you. He’s too ripe a plum to lose,” she said. “For the sake of the boys at St. Anthony’s, we need him. Watch him sucker those women into throwing their money at him. Besides, you should thank him for raising your price. I’m not sure you’re worth it.”

“You’re great for my ego, you know that?” Jason held up a hand to stop the auctioneer and gave him a one-minute signal to wait. Then he walked away.

Kira wondered how angry she’d made him, wondered if he would make a spectacle of his dislike for Billy.