Winning Streak (14 page)

“Okay, okay,” she wheezed and tapped his arm. “Lungs deflating.”

He eased up and kissed the top of her head. “Love you.”

“And I love you. Knuckle-dragger.”

He winked and left, closing the door behind him. As soon as she was alone, she folded her arms on top of her desk and dropped her face into them. Keeping things under wraps was the best thing for now, wasn't it? Assuming there still
was
something to keep under wraps and Madden wouldn't break up with her. Had they broken up? One thing was for sure. He wouldn't be happy seeing her with some random guy at the auction.

At least she'd never had trouble finding random guys.

Saturday, March 22nd

Okay, so maybe finding her date at a local improv class wasn't the best idea, but it seemed better than picking someone up in a bar. At least in an improv class, you found people who wanted to masquerade as someone else. And all it had cost her was ten dollars, a half hour of her life, and some dignity. All right, a lot of dignity.

The tables were set, centerpieces artfully arranged, the sound system checked. When she finished marking off everything on her list, she stowed it behind the DJ's table and took a minute to convince herself the whole night wouldn't blow up in her face. That was a tall order, so she settled for hoping her fake date could stay in character for the next two hours. Speaking of, he'd be in the hotel lobby any minute.

Time to face her fate.

The lobby was already full of early guests mingling and eyeing the ballroom doors. It would have been hard to find her escort if he weren't wearing a cobalt blue satin suit. With matching hair.
Why me?
She kept a public-pretty smile in place as she approached him, took his elbow, and kissed his cheek so she could talk in his ear. “You didn't look like this on Thursday.”

“I made a character choice. It totally fits the vibe of a radio station dude, don't you think? Edgy.”

“Blake. You look like the Cookie Monster. Look, it's fine. It's just one night of mingling and dancing. You remember the details I gave you?”

“Your brother is Shane Reese. Way cool by the way. I'm a big fan. Maybe if this night goes well, we can—”

“Blake.”

“Right, sorry. I work as an assistant at Mix 94.1 and met you when you had players at the station for interviews. We've been dating for a little more than a month, and I sent you two dozen white roses.”

“Good. Now just smile and let me do most of the talking.”

“A woman who takes charge. I like it.”

Just make it through the night. Just make it through the night.
“Let's find my brother so we can get that over with. Hold on.” She crossed back to the ballroom doors to open and secure them before lifting her voice over the din. “Thank you, everyone, for coming. You're welcome to go in and find your table then pick up a cocktail at the bar.”

The glitzy crowd flowed past her, and, for a second, she hoped Blake would get sucked into it and disappear, but no. He hung back and offered her his arm when everyone had gone inside. She accepted and scanned the room for Reese. He and Allie weren't in the initial influx.

“Why don't we get a drink?”

Alcohol. Yes.
“Good idea.” She steered them toward the bar, and ten minutes and two cosmopolitans later, her nerves were coated.

“Hey, Sare. This must be your guy.”

Holy mother of mercy. Apparently her nerves weren't as coated as she thought. Reese's voice over her shoulder almost made her drop her glass. She recovered before she faced him with the best smile in her depleted arsenal. “Yes, Blake, this is my brother Shane—boy, does that sound wrong. Just call him Reese. That vision behind him is my sister-in-law, Allie. Guys, this is my … this is Blake. From the radio station.”

“Glad to meetcha. I'm actually just working at the station until I can break onto the Strip. My real passion is magic.” Blake shook their hands with enthusiasm. For a split second, Saralynn felt her eyes bulge like they might pop out of her skull. That was
not
in the script. Her own fault. Find a guy at improv, expect him to improvise. If Reese was surprised, he hid it well. Allie, not so much, which was saying a lot for a psychologist. She stared, her mouth hanging open slightly with pure bewilderment.

“Well, hey. We're all at the same table, so why don't we find our seats and get acquainted before the shindig starts?” Reese lifted his brows amiably. To his credit, he was taking all this shockingly well. He must have really meant what he said in her office. Still, how cool would he be if Blake happened to be Madden? Odds were, that scenario would play out entirely differently.

“You know what? I need to make a quick stop by the ladies' room. Sare, why don't you come with me?” Allie tilted her head toward the restrooms with a pointed look.

And leave Reese and Blake alone? That did
not
sound like a good idea. “Oh, I'm okay. I think I'll head over with the guys—”

“Please? Do a girl a favor. I'm afraid there won't be a place to hang my wrap and purse, and I don't want to put them on the floor. I'd leave them with Shane, but I want to freshen up while I'm in there. Powder my nose.” She was playing dirty. Saralynn couldn't say no now, and they both knew it.

“Okay. Sure. We'll just be a minute.” She smiled at her brother then met Blake's gaze and tried to send a telepathic threat.
Do not say anything stupid. Stick to the plan.
Blake winked and waved. Why wasn't that reassuring?

Allie took her elbow, and when they were far enough away, yelled as quietly as a person could yell, “Are you out of your mind? What are you doing? Who is that?”

“That's Blake.”

“Want to try again?”

“Okay.” Saralynn sighed and glanced back. The two men were talking at the table. Blake with expressive arms. Jesus. “Madden sent me flowers on Monday. Reese came in and saw them. As far as he knows, I've been dating a guy from the radio station. A nonexistent guy. He kept on about how he wanted to meet this man, and I knew he wouldn't get off my back unless I let him.”

“So you … ”

“Went fishing in an improv class. Hooked Blake. For the record, he did
not
look like that when I met him.”

“Oh okay. Because that makes it all copasetic. What does Madden think about this?”

“That's the other thing. Before Reese came in, Madden said he wanted to tell everybody about us. I said I wasn't ready. He asked when I would be, and I didn't have an answer. He left pretty upset.”

“I'll bet he did. Have you talked to him since then?”

Saralynn pinched her lips together and shook her head.

“So he doesn't know about Papa Smurf over there.” Allie's face contorted as she tried not to laugh but ended up snorting. “I'm sorry. It's really not funny. This could end very, very badly.”

“Your job is to make people feel better about themselves, right?”

“Not really. I shed light on situations. Get people to see what they can't or won't on their own so they can do the right thing and improve their lives. Happy ending, painful process.”

“Awesome.”

Allie nudged her out of the flow of traffic and found them a shadowed spot against the wall. “Your process is turning out more painful than most because you keep creating hurdles. Like Little Boy Blue.”

“He was
normal-colored
when I met him.”

“Again. Not the point. This is Vegas. These people have seen weirder. If Shane can accept a freak like Blaze—”

“Blake.”

“Blake. If Shane can accept
him
, why do you think he'd lose it over Madden?”

Saralynn glanced back to their table, where her brother appeared a thoughtful listener as Blake told a story and mimed pulling a rabbit out of a hat. Dear God. It
would
have been different with Madden, right? He'd been included in the talk Reese had given to every man in Las Vegas Arena about staying away from her.

“Madden was a groomsman because Shane
likes
him. You're not giving your brother enough credit. He's watched you evolve, and he's changed. He's proud of you.”

“But Jacey—”

“Isn't going to fire you. Not for that. You've single-handedly raised team awareness by at least fifty percent in the year you've been here. The Sinners mobile app you developed will buy you at least one more season as long as you don't do something like pose for
Playboy
or hit someone with your car. There's one very obvious reason for the hurdles. I'll let you think about that. I really do have to use the restroom, and it looks like you need to start the show.”

Players were filing backstage, ready to be auctioned. Even Reese had excused himself from Blake, who was now talking to …
oh no.
What was Madden doing at their table? His expression went from amiable and curious to dark and brooding the more Blake talked. He nodded, said something, then disappeared into the crowd. She took two steps before someone caught her wrist, and then Allie's voice was in her ear.

“Later. They're waiting on you.”

The pull was so strong it felt like she might split right down the middle so each half could go in a separate direction. But Allie was right. Against every one of her instincts, Madden would have to wait.
I did this. I'm the hurdle-maker
. Now was so not the time for self-revelation—or flagellation for that matter—there'd be plenty of opportunity for that later. She closed her eyes and cleared her mind before grabbing a microphone and jogging up on stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I'm the master of ceremonies, Saralynn Reese, and I'd like to welcome you to the third annual Sinners' bachelor auction! I hope you're enjoying your drinks and the hors d'oeuvres floating around. Once we divvy up these gorgeous men, we can get to dinner!”

The female portion of the audience broke into cheers, applause, and even whistles as they picked up their paddles.

“All right, ladies, I'd like to remind you we've got some married men up here, so this isn't necessarily to make a love connection. They've generously donated their time, company, and conversation for the evening in return for your generous donation to the Sinners' favorite charity, the children's hospital.”

Applause from the whole room now, but not as wild.

“However, if you happen to get one of our true bachelors and hit it off, what you do after dinner is officially none of my business.” She threw in a wink, and the whistles and cheers returned with a few catcalls. She scanned the crowd, trying to find Madden, but no luck. “Let's get started then. First up … ” She glanced offstage to the bachelor waiting in the wings. “I don't think this guy needs any introduction. It's our captain, Dylan Cole!”

Cole walked out to a deafening reception. One hundred women between the ages of eighteen and sixty lost their minds like tweenagers at a boy band concert. He smiled but kept glancing away from the audience, and sweat beaded on his forehead. The stage lights were hot, but that wasn't it.

Saralynn lifted a hand to quiet the room. “Okay. I know you're excited, but let's not scare the poor guy. He's from a small town in Nova Scotia, so let's be gentle with him.”

Some tension drained from his body, and he smiled his gratitude at her then turned that charm on the crowd. He lunged into some weightlifting poses, stretching his tux to its limits. He was barely containing his laughter, but it sent every woman in the room into frenzy. So much for controlling the crowd.

“All right. Okay. That's enough, Arnold.” She tugged on his sleeve until he stood straight beside her and the roar in the room died down. Where was Madden? Did he leave? “I'm going to start the bidding at $1,000 because I feel like that's a safe—” Every paddle in the crowd went up. “That's what I thought. Show me $1,500.” Most stayed. “How about $2,000?” A third of the remaining dropped out. “What about $2,500?” Only a handful of paddles left. “Anyone for $3,000? Remember, this isn't just for the player but the children's hospital.” Two paddles stayed in the air. “Thank you, ladies. Well, $3,500?”

One paddle lowered. The winner jumped out of her seat and did a touchdown dance, spiking an imaginary football with butterfly knees all in a very expensive-looking evening gown and high heels. The crowd applauded and laughed, and Cole bowed his thanks for the woman's donation.

As he strode off the stage to his excited date, Saralynn searched the sea of people again for Madden.
Please tell me he didn't leave. Please.
And then she saw him. Arms folded across his chest in the back of the room by the bar. Hard to tell for sure from this distance, but he looked pissed. That was okay. Pissed she could deal with. As long as he didn't leave.

• • •

Where the hell had she found
Blake
? The guy was so not her type. Or anyone's type on Earth. If she was trying to send Madden a message, it was damn well received. A whole week without hearing from her had been hard, but he'd given her space. Time to think. But apparently she'd never been serious about him at all if she'd been seeing Blake the whole time. Over a month he'd said.

Well, that was it. He was done. No more dating for the foreseeable future. He loosened his bow tie and unbuttoned his suit jacket. If he left early, Jacey would assume he met someone, and the future Mrs. Blake the Great wouldn't notice at all. He reached in his pocket for car keys then stopped. Saralynn wrapped up the auction, and as she walked down the stage steps, the long skirt of her dress parted in the middle to reveal long, slender legs that he had carnal memories of.

He couldn't help staring as she wound through the crowd to her table, looking like Miss America minus the crown, and he wasn't the only one who noticed. Heads turned in her wake, but she seemed oblivious. The DJ called all bachelors and their dates to the dance floor as well as anyone else who might be interested. Blake stood and held out his hand. Saralynn hesitated, looked around, then took it and followed him to the middle of the room.