Bargaining for the Billionaire (20 page)

Cassie rolled her eyes. “That's pathetic. I can get my own dates.”

He looked over at her, one dark brow lifting in challenge. “Then why aren't you?”

“Point taken.” Six months ago, when she'd stood as his “best woman” at his wedding, she'd come to the realization her life was a sham. Since Tyler's disappearance, she'd been diverting, burying herself in playing the carefree party girl, because she couldn't admit to herself his death had pulled the rug out from beneath her. When she wasn't at the jewelry shop, or designing a piece, she could usually be found in a club, or at a bar picking up the hottie-du-jour. All in the name of desperately trying not to think about Ty.

Watching Gray profess to love, honor, and cherish Maddie for the rest of his life had been an honest moment for her. She couldn't deny she wanted what they'd found. The happily ever after. Except the man she wanted it with was gone and no amount of wishing would bring him back.

She'd decided that day to stop living a lie. Her custom jewelry design had borne the brunt of her insomnia. Creations by Cassie was doing better than ever. A handful of large stores had even commissioned pieces. Some of her best work had taken shape at one in the morning, often fueled by heartache. Apparently, sleepless nights and lack of sex was good for the muse.

Tonight, she needed her carefree side or she wouldn't make it to morning without curling up into a sobbing mess. She was glad Tyler was alive. The knowledge eased a wound in her soul. A world without him in it didn't make sense. Except she now had to face losing him a second time.

She turned her head to search the ballroom, stopping when she'd found her target. “I see the bar. I'm going to get a drink before this starts. A strong one.”

Gray gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “We'll be sitting toward the middle. They should be starting soon.”

She reached back, settling her hand over his in return. “Thanks. I won't be long.”

As she approached the bar, the hunky blond behind the counter flashed a thousand-watter and rested his hands on the surface. She didn't miss the appreciative gleam in his eyes as his gaze swept over her. “What can I get you, sweetheart?”

Momentarily distracted, she smiled in return. His grin could charm the panties off even the coldest woman, and with muscles on top of muscles, he looked like he could be one of Christina's bachelors. He'd no doubt been hired for that reason.

Deciding to grab the evening by its ears, to not let the pain suck her under, she pulled her “bad girl without a conscience” out of her closet. She leaned on the bar, giving Mr. Muscles the once over, along with a view of her cleavage. “Give me a Screaming Orgasm.”

Okay, so she'd rather have two fingers of scotch, but flirting with Mr. Muscles over there was exactly what the doctor prescribed.

Luckily for her, he took her sassy order with good humor. He grinned, one corner of his mouth hitching higher than the other, and pulled out a tumbler. He filled it with ice, added equal parts vodka, Irish cream, and coffee liquor, and winked at her as he pushed the drink across the counter. “I get off at ten. For now, this'll have to do.”

Cassie laughed. Yup. He'd definitely been hired for a purpose. No doubt he sold more liquor on his flirtatious smile alone. “You should be careful with lines like that. A lesser woman might take you up on it.”

He leaned his elbows on the bar, his grin widening. “Who says it was a line?”

She laughed again and dug in her purse, pulled out a hundred-dollar bill, and stuffed it into the tip jar on the counter. “Honey, you just made my night.”

Someone tapped the microphone. “Pardon the interruption, everyone. Can I have the ladies on stage, please? We'll begin in a few minutes.”

“Oops, that's me.” She picked up her drink off the counter and saluted him before tipping the contents into her mouth. It slid smooth and creamy down her throat, hitting her belly and warming her from the inside. It didn't thaw the ice around her heart, but it went a long way. She winked at Mr. Muscles. “Bachelorette number one.”

Somewhat bolstered, she made her way onto the small stage, taking her place at the head of the line of women. Busy finding their seats, the crowd out beyond the stage wove their way through the rows of gray folding chairs. She had to hand it to them. The men were subtle, respectful. A group of women getting ready to outbid each other over hunky bachelors would have been a whole lot more raucous. Maddie, who'd attended the last three, had told her as much.

As it turned out, Gray and Maddie were seated at the end of a row in the center of it all. He caught her eye and gave her a thumbs-up. Cassie smiled in return. Yeah, she could do this.

Christina stepped up to the podium, back straight, hands resting on the wooden surface. “Thank you all for coming tonight. Welcome to the fifth annual auction for breast cancer research. Of course, we're all here for the same reason. To fight this disease. Breast cancer has claimed too many women in my family. I know some of you here tonight are survivors. I say we fight this disease with a little style. Now, every year since its inception, I've gathered Seattle's finest bachelors. This year, I thought the men deserved a little treat. ”

Applause erupted through the ballroom. Several whoops came from various points in the room. Christina laughed and waved her hands to quiet the crowd.

“All right, gentlemen. Allow me to introduce our first bachelorette, Miss Cassandra Stephanopoulos.”

At hearing her name, Cassie drew a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and moved toward the podium. Drawing her inner vixen around her, she plastered on her flirtiest smile and put a little extra swing in her hips. Applause once again erupted around the room. From somewhere in the back, a wolf whistle pierced the air, though the lights pointed at the stage made seeing where it had come from near impossible.

Christina turned to wink at her as she approached the podium. “It appears you already have fans.”

Cassie laughed and took a bow. “Thank you. I'll be here all night.”

“Gentlemen, a little about Cassie. Her father owns and runs the chain of Greek restaurants, Ariana's Greek Café. She paints and designs custom jewelry. Her shop, Creations by Cassie, sits a few blocks from here. In fact, for any ladies in attendance, she designed the necklace I'm wearing. When asked, she said she likens herself to a sorority girl—she's just out to have a little fun.” Christina looked up from her cards, winking at the audience. “But don't get any ideas, guys. Her best friend is the big guy in the fifth row.”

Gray stood, humor lacing his tone as he turned his head, addressing the crowd around him. “Consider me her personal bouncer.”

When he bowed, Cassie playfully rolled her eyes. The crowd laughed.

Christina let out a soft laugh as well. “Actually, Cassie told me she thinks life is too short to be too serious. Isn't that right, Cassie?”

Cassie forced herself to smile and nod, but her heart ached. Tyler's death had taught her something. “I fully intend to enjoy the life I have. Live it to the fullest. Good food, good wine, good friends.”

Christina wrapped an arm around her, giving her a gentle, reassuring squeeze, before turning back to the crowd. Clearly Gray had filled her in. “All right, shall we start the bidding?”

More applause came from the crowd as Christina stepped back and the auctioneer took her place at the podium. “All right, gentlemen, let's start the bidding at ten thousand…”

Several minutes passed as bids ping-ponged around the room, each one higher than the last.

“One hundred thousand.” A man's voice called out from the back of the long room.

Cassie froze.

She knew that voice. She'd know it in the dead of night, in the darkest cave.

The familiar sound of it skittered down her spine, and her playful smile melted. Her hands shook at her sides. Heart hammering, she shielded her eyes, squinting against the bright lights aimed at the stage, and searched the crowd for the face to go with the voice. Even while she searched, rational thought warred with the pain still pounding around in her chest. It couldn't be Tyler. He wouldn't have come to see her. She'd hurt him too much, had looked him right in the eye and told him he meant nothing to her beyond sex. And then sent him off to die.

The room fell silent, tension rising over the space.

Christina's hand slid over her shoulder, her voice warm and low in Cassie's ear. “You're three shades of white, honey. Are you all right?”

Cassie's blood roared in her ears, pounding so hard the room began to spin, but she forced herself to smile and glanced at Christina. “I'm fine. The voice just spooked me. Sounded like someone I know.”

It had to be a trick of the room. The high ceilings made the noise echo. Combined with her grief, her ears clearly played tricks on her. She was hearing things, that's all.

Christina didn't look convinced. “Are you sure?”

Cassie nodded. “I'm fine. Continue, please. I'm sorry for the interruption.”

Christina smiled and the auctioneer started the bidding again. As the bids once again ping-ponged around the room, the man in back, whose voice had spooked her, countered every bid. He didn't say anything else, but raised his bidding number repeatedly. Several more minutes passed, as the bids rose higher, the number of men participating dwindling to two. Finally, when the number reached four hundred thousand, the second bidder bowed out.

“Sold. To the gentleman in the back.”

As the auctioneer's voice rang through the room, the man in the back strode toward the stage. Cassie held her breath. The closer he got, the louder her heartbeat pounded in her ears. He looked like Tyler. He had the same tall build and broad shoulders, the same dark hair, cropped close per army regulation. She couldn't see the color of his eyes from this distance, though. Not to mention he looked thinner than Ty had been the last time she'd seen him. Ty had always been a big, burly guy, tall and thickly muscled. This guy was tall but lean, and he walked with a slight limp Tyler hadn't had.

When he came to a stop in front of the stage, head tipped back to peer up at her, her heart stopped altogether. Closer now, she could clearly see his eyes were blue.

Like Ty's.

Nausea swirled in her stomach, at war with the guilt, the part of her that wanted, needed, this man to be Tyler. She knew better, though…didn't she?

The room swayed as dizziness swept over her. This was wrong. This was all wrong.

She jerked her gaze to Christina. “Is this some sort of a joke?”

Christina shook her head, looking between Cassie to the audience in helpless confusion. “I have no idea what's going on, sweetie, but I assure you I had nothing to do with whatever this is.”

Cassie turned to look out over the audience, her heart hammering in her ears. Marilyn's phone call came rushing back to her.
“Tyler's alive.”

She'd been waiting for this moment right here. She'd heard Marilyn's words that day, a week ago now, but hadn't truly believed them. She needed to see him.

Out in the audience, Gray pushed to his feet and strode toward the stage, his long strides closing the distance in record time. Concern etched his face.

“This isn't real. It can't be.” Cassie shook her head, watching Tyler's eyes, waiting for him to explain, to say…something.

Tyler opened and closed his mouth a few times, but long moments passed in aching silence as he stared up at her with tired eyes rimmed in shadows. Finally, his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I had to see you.”

Before she could think or remember to breathe, Gray came to a stop in front of the stage. He furrowed his brow, turning to glare at Tyler. “It's fucking cruel to show up this way, man.”

Tyler turned his head, glaring back. “Three years. Three fucking years sitting…” He shook his head, his face blanching, and straightened his shoulders. “I saw the commercial on TV an hour ago. So fucking sue me for needing to see her.”

The sound of his voice finally rooted her in reality. The last lingering threads of denial unraveled. Tyler really was alive. As shock receded, the wall she'd put her pain behind three years ago cracked. Three years of grief flooded over her like a tidal wave, and a vise closed around her chest, threatening to pull her knees out from beneath her.

“I can't deal with this.” Cassie stalked from the stage, moving as fast as she dared without resorting to running as she headed out of the ballroom. Head spinning, her stomach churning, she stalked the long hallway and jabbed the button for the elevator, her mind focused on her car in the parking lot. Home. She needed to go home. This whole night had been a bad idea.

She only made it to her car, parked at the back of the quiet lot, before the pain refused to be held back any longer. The sob she'd held back all these years broke free, and she sagged against the driver's side door of her Jag as the tears washed down her cheeks.

How long she stood there sobbing, she didn't know, but footsteps sounded on the pavement somewhere beyond her, echoing around the quiet lot. She sniffled, clutched her keys tightly in her hand, ready to fend off an attacker if need be, and turned her head. Tyler jogged in her direction, the backdrop of the street lights illuminating him from behind. Like a goddamn angel from Heaven. He came to a stop in front of her, his tall, broad form towering over her, his chest heaving.

His warm breaths misted in the cool night air, and one corner of his mouth curled upward. “You're not making this easy, babe.”

His voice was still hauntingly familiar. She reached out a tentative hand, needing to touch him, to know she hadn't imagined him.

Tyler flinched, jerking away from her, his eyes wild and searching, body tensing. He drew a slow, deep breath, blew it out, and squared his shoulders, but he didn't relax. Nor did he pull any farther away.