Her Best Mistake (Novella) (11 page)

“You don’t even want to tell me his last name,” Sabine said sternly.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that I don’t know it. He wouldn’t tell me. The first step is always hard. Most men coming out are cautious about revealing their identity. He told me about the auction, thinking I’d never attend that kind of function. Maybe I even said as much—but you would have too, if you’d seen how nervous he was.”

“Then how am I going to know the right man to bid on?” Sabine demanded.

“With less than twenty bachelors involved, you might find a couple Davids, Mikes, or Johns—no pun intended. But it is highly doubtful there will be two men named
Todd
,” Joe promised.

“First—why would a rational woman agree to such a weak-ass plan? Because she wouldn’t. Secondly—why do you think you can talk me into this?”

“Because while he didn’t tell me his name, Todd did tell me he worked for Rundgren. He’s a VP there—a VP in charge of
public relations
. This is a golden goose opportunity worth chasing. All I’m asking is for you to save my goose before you pitch your bid to him.”

Sabine blinked. Rundgren was the primo contract her boss had been trying to get for two years. Getting Rundgren as a client would definitely mean the promotion she’d been working toward for ages. The promotion would mean that she could easily replace everything Martin had taken away from her in the divorce.

“Your brother took half my retirement savings and used the money to buy fake boobs bigger than mine for his flat-chested new wife. This Todd guy of yours better not cost me what’s left.”

“It’s not going to cost all that much. Todd’s charm is understated, so bidding will be manageable. He’s a definite diamond in the rough kind of guy. I expect he will go for around six hundred—tops.”

Joe lifted his glass, smiling around it as he took a drink.

“Think of bidding on Todd as buying yourself a contract with Rundgren. That might help you feel better about the initial investment. The fun will be priceless.”

Sabine shook her head and closed her eyes. “Shit, Joe. I can’t believe you’ve managed to talk me into getting on your crazy train for a ride.”

“Sweetie, my crazy train is the most action you’ve seen in ages. You should be thanking me for giving you something productive to do with all that pent-up frustration you’re carting around,” Joe said.

Sabine snorted. “Don’t be blowing your paycheck on anything big this week. I need my money back.”

Joe just laughed as she guzzled her second soda.

***

Koka glared at his show’s producer and shook his head. “Are we really so desperate? The ratings cannot be that bad.”

Edwina Winston sighed as she laid her tablet device down on the polished marble counter. “The ratings are down because you’ve cut back on personal appearances. People want to see you up close.”

He ran a hand through thick black hair that badly needed a cut. “You know I have no choice about that. I don’t want to leave Pekala while she is so ill. My
kupunawahine
raised me.”

Edwina nodded. “I know. Your desire to stay in town so much is precisely why I booked you for our local bachelor auction. This televised event is a lot of bang for the station’s marketing buck, Koka. It’s one date on Saturday and all you have to do is cook a private dinner for the woman. I’m sure it won’t harm your ethics—or Todd Lake’s. You can use the set kitchen to make it even safer for you.”

Koka snorted. “The whole thing is embarrassing. It looks like I can’t get a normal date.”

“Don’t be juvenile,” Edwina said, swiping the air with her hand. “All women want to date you. You’re a walking Polynesian pinup poster with those muscles and all that tanned skin. We’ve had this discussion many times and I’ve seen you mobbed after appearances.”

“No,” Koka said firmly. “The women want to date Todd Lake—not me. But standing there and letting them buy me—I don’t like the idea of it.”

Edwina sighed and promised herself a sane job with only media-hungry clients in the future. She picked up her tablet and gave her most popular, yet resistant, celebrity a hard stare.

“You can argue all you want, but it’s a done deal, Koka. The auction is tomorrow night. It starts at six-thirty and you’re bachelor number five. The execs wanted you to go shirtless and wear just your network apron, but I told them no already. So wear a nice suit, will you? Maybe you could even shave and get a haircut before then, to at least give the impression you care. Just don’t forget to pin the show logo to your suit jacket. And make sure the network cameras get a clear picture of it while you’re standing on stage.”

“I will hate every moment of the pretense,” he promised.

Edwina shrugged. “Maybe you will, but you will also make a lot of money for a great charity. Hopefully, the surge in popularity will boost your ratings enough to keep your primetime slot. That’s our goal.”

Koka nodded tightly. “Fine. I will be a good sport—this once. Please don’t ask me to do this kind of event again.”

“Give my best to your grandmother,” Edwina said, knowing better than to make a promise she could never keep.

“I will tell her you said hello,” Koka said as he walked her to his front door.

When he returned to the modest kitchen he had extensively renovated four years ago, his grandmother was waiting for him.

Pekala Whitman sat in her wheelchair as regally as any queen ever sat on a throne. His grandfather always said she had an ‘old soul’. Koka had thought many times his grandfather was right. The woman who had stood in for his neglectful parents said exactly what she thought to him all the time. What wasn’t uttered in regal commands often was advice too wise to ignore.

“I’m sorry if my argument with Edwina disturbed you,” Koka said regretfully. “Would you like me to fix you a cup of tea?”

“Yes, I’d like that very much,” Pekala answered. “But I do not think what Edwina asks is so bad, Koka. Why does doing something silly for charity bother you so much?”

Koka shrugged as he filled the kettle. “The auction has nothing to do with my cooking and everything to do with me selling something that I do not wish to sell. I have enough problems with that.”

His grandmother’s laugh made him smile. “Yet like most men, you quite happily give it away when it suits you.”

“That is different. That is my choice,” he said. Then he frowned into the tea kettle. “And I can’t even recall the last time I gave it to anyone. There are no good women in this town.”

Pekala clicked her tongue in sympathy. “Where is your faith? Perhaps the woman who pays for your company will be a nice person. Perhaps she will even be your
Ke Aloha
.”

“That would be miraculous,” Koka said stiffly, but then instantly regretted having taken too sharp a tone over her teasing. “I have some fish soup I could warm for you if you’re hungry.”

“No thank you. Just tea,
Ko`u Aloha
. Just tea tonight,” she said. “I need to go pray to the goddess. I will ask her to send someone to whom you can give what you don’t want to sell on Saturday.”

His grandmother meant well with her teasing. She meant to put him at ease. Koka knew that—he did. But thinking of an audience full of screaming women bidding on him, he rolled his eyes to the ceiling making sure his grandmother did not see.

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About the Author

Donna McDonald is a best selling author in Contemporary Romance and Humor, and lately has been climbing the Paranormal Romance lists as well.

Paranormal reviewers are calling McDonald “a literary alchemist effortlessly blending science fiction and romance”. Contemporary and humor reviewers often write to tell her that the books keep them up reading and laughing all night. She likes both compliments and hopes they stay true forever.

Her idea of success is to be sitting next to someone on a plane and find out they are laughing at something in one of her books. She hopes that will be you.