Bachelor Auction (18 page)

Leaving him stranded would be just what he

deserved. But returning to the stable alone would be

hard enough to explain. She couldn’t take the chance

of ruining the appearance they’d created. Revenge

would have to wait.

But not long. Then Marcus would pay.

And boy would he ever.

****

his mottled cheeks and strongly favoring the owner

of the boutique slash stable ran out to greet Marcus.

“Name’s Lenny. Let me know if I can do anything for

you.”

Marcus handed the reins to the eager

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stablehand and scanned the corral for the little mare

Charlotte had ridden. He found it already amongst

the others, still slightly wet after a rub down. She

must have ridden hard. He’d started back within

minutes of her departure not so eager to catch up

but to make sure she made it back safely.

Stupid. Damned stupid. He followed Lenny

inside the barn, cursing himself again for almost

losing control. Hell, he had lost control. If not for

Chad’s interruption, he would have made love to her

on the cold, wet ground and destroyed any chance of

convincing her that sex wasn’t the only way to

attract a man.

That fact had been established during their

snowball fight. Her natural exuberance for the

moment had done more to draw him in than any

sexual byplay she could have used. Her laughter had

been genuine, not forced or designed to seduce.

Feline blue eyes had sparkled with excitement and

mischief instead of sultry invitation. Her body had

writhed to escape retribution, not with desire. She

had been perfect in her innocence, as pristine as the

snow surrounding them.

Then he’d gone and screwed up. He’d kissed her.

Awakened the side of Charlotte he condemned and

tried to avoid. And kissing her hadn’t been nearly

enough. Didn’t come close to what he’d desperately

wanted to do.

He’d let her down, and she didn’t even know it.

The large blue sack with gold letters scribbled

on the side and containing his old clothes and the

rest of the new ones he’d been gifted with sat where

he’d left them. The bag with Charlotte’s things was

gone. No doubt she had already changed clothes and

was waiting in the limo.

Marcus thought about changing out of his wet

clothing, almost stiff from the cold, into something

dry. His thighs and ass stung where the air from the

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barn’s heating system seeped through his jeans; his

feet were like blocks of ice. But the two other times

he’d lost control with her had proven difficult to face

her afterward. Best to get it over with if they were to

get past the situation he’d caused and continue the

pretense they’d agreed upon. For the sake of the

children and Preston Enterprises.

“Mr. Preston?” The boy stood in the doorway. “I

almost forgot. Mom wanted me to let you know Miss

Reese caught a ride to the hotel. She left you the

limo.”

So she was mad enough she didn’t want to be

within breathing distance of him. Not that he

blamed her. Most women didn’t achieve a high level

of desire easily, and to bring one to the brink of

climax then suddenly stop was cruel not to mention

inconsiderate.

Charlotte seemed able to attain that level more

easily than any woman he’d known. Her reaction to

his touch had been explosive. Likely her temper

would be, too.

Maybe he would change clothes after all.

He handed Lenny a tip. “Thanks for relaying the

message. Mind if I use the tack room to change

clothes? I hate to track mud into your mother’s

shop.”

The boy looked at the bill, smiled a mouth-full of

braces, and stuffed the money in his front pocket.

“Go ahead. And I’ll make sure no one walks in on

you.”

Marcus dug in the sack as Lenny started to close

the door. “Thank your mother for me would you? For

taking Ms. Reese to the hotel.”

“Mom didn’t take her. She was too busy,” the

boy said through the crack. “Miss Reese left with

some dude.”

Marcus dropped his sweater back in the sack

and grabbed the door just before it shut. He yanked

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it wide. “What du—?” He shook his head. “Who did

she leave with?”

Lenny’s eyes rounded, and both his bony

shoulders lifted. “I don’t know, but he had a cool

car.”

Marcus’s first thought was the photographer.

He’d given Charlotte the once over—more than once.

Had he hung around, hoping for a chance to pick her

up? The guy had unloaded his equipment from the

back of a silver BMW. Did that qualify as a cool car

to a boy Lenny’s age? “What kind of car?”

“Ah, man, it was awesome. A black Porsche with

custom...”

Marcus didn’t hear anything after “black

Porsche”. He reached for the sack, crumpling its

decorative handle in his fist, and stalked past

Lenny. He stepped outside into the cold, too worried

to care about its bite or feel any relief that she

hadn’t left with the photographer.

If not him, then who? A complete stranger?

He chucked the bag across the backseat of the

limo and climbed inside, knowing that in her current

state of mind and body, she would be easy prey.

And he had no one to blame but himself.

****

he left the stables, Marcus tossed his key on the side

table in the entryway of the hotel suite he would

share with Charlotte. He searched the living room,

his gut clenched with dread that he would find her

in another man’s embrace. He took in the hot tub,

the sofa and fur rug in front of the gas fireplace, and

the pool table near the wet bar—all hot spots for an

illicit interlude—and came up empty.

Stepping further into the room, he set his bag

aside and shrugged out of his coat. The bedroom

door to his left stood open. His luggage had been

delivered and sat near the foot of the bed. He turned

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slowly toward the door on his right. It was closed.

Were they in there? Would she really bring someone

here? If only to punish him?

He rubbed a hand over his face and once more

cursed his stupidity. He should have called her bluff

instead of going riding. None of this would have

happened.

But he’d been a coward.

Since coming to terms with this trip, just the

idea of her sleeping in the room across from his got

him hard. Then he’d read the hotel brochure. The

suite’s features had inspired forbidden fantasies,

and he’d figured the less time spent alone with her

here the less temptation he would have to overcome.

He hadn’t wanted to test his resolve against

Charlotte in such intimate surroundings.

He went to stand in front of her door. Should he

knock or just walk right in and proceed to beat the

hell out the guy? Or should he mind his own

business? He leaned forward to listen. Nothing. He

pressed his ear to the wood panel.

The door swung open, and he barely caught

himself from falling forward. Blue eyes met his and

flared with surprise. Heat rushed up his neck and

burned his ears. He backed up and couldn’t resist

darting a glance over her shoulder. The bed was

rumpled but still made. And vacant. The tightly

coiled knot in his belly began to unwind.

Until he looked at her again and realized she

had followed his gaze and no doubt guessed what he

suspected.

He waited for her to face him, gearing himself

for her anger. He could handle that. Hell, he

welcomed it, preferred it over the alternative—the

provocative performance he now suspected she

would use to distract him.

Instead, she looked at him with that familiar

mask of indifference he’d come to resent, and asked,

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“Did you need something?”

He cleared his throat and tried to shove his

hands in his pockets, but the damp denim made it

difficult so he let them hang limp at his sides. “They

said you caught a ride.”

“Mmm.” She cocked her head to one side to

fiddle with her earring as if bored and eager to get

on her way. Obviously, the information he desired

wasn’t forthcoming.

Feeling clumsy, he hooked his thumbs in his belt

loops. “Just wanted to make sure you got back okay.”

Brushing past him, she stopped in front of the

mirror in the entryway to fluff the wisps of hair

dangling free around her face. “As you can see, I’m

fine.”

He’d have to be blind not to notice how
fine
she

was. Black velvet emphasized her slender frame

from mid thigh to the base of her throat and every

curve in between. From the front, the dress stated

modesty and elegance. It was the dress’s back—or

lack thereof—that caused a reaction so primitive it

startled him.

He stared at the smooth skin between her

shoulder blades and the dimple at the base of her

spine and tried to convince himself his response was

one of protection, not possession. But there was

nothing protective in what the sight of her bare back

encouraged him to do.

She gave her upswept hair one last pat, then

turned, cutting off his view, and picked up the small

black purse beside the key he’d thrown down. Had it

been there earlier or had she carried it with her? He

hadn’t noticed.

“I’ll be in the hotel bar when you’re ready.”

“Ready?” God, he sounded like a moron. But

then, she did that to him.

“The restaurant promotion,” she said over her

shoulder as she sashayed to the door, her hips

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enticing him to follow.

He stopped and folded his arms across his chest,

tucking his hands under his armpits, afraid they’d

reach for her without his permission. Then her

words registered. “That’s not for another hour.”

She paused in the threshold, and her eyes locked

with his for the first time since she opened her door.

Her blood-red lips tilted upward. “That gives me

plenty of time.”

Marcus didn’t have to ask what for. The woman

disappearing behind the closing door was a woman

clearly bent on seduction.

He closed his eyes against the rising number of

emotions that thought caused. So many he couldn’t

sort them. She’d sought pleasure with other men

before, and he couldn’t deny it had bothered him.

But for some reason this time was different. Maybe

it was the guilt he felt for turning her on and leaving

her wanting that had him tied in knots. Or perhaps

he just didn’t like the idea of another man finishing

what he’d started.

The question was, what man would have that

pleasure? The guy who had given her a ride to the

hotel? Someone else she’d met along the way? Or

would anyone do? Would he?

He groaned and turned toward his bedroom. He

couldn’t believe he was even considering the

possibility of initiating sex with Charlotte. He’d

come on this trip with altogether different plans.

Noble plans.

He emptied his pockets on the dresser and

glared at his reflection in the mirror. “Not feeling so

noble now, are you?”

And he’d feel worse if he gave in. Not just for

taking advantage of her condition. Doing so would

let her within reach of that part of him he guarded

so closely. He’d always known making love to

Charlotte meant relinquishing his soul.

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He straightened. Who said he had to make love

to her? He’d given her pleasure before without

taking his own. If he had to, he could do it again.

Couldn’t he? Maybe. Maybe not. But wasn’t he a

better option than someone who wouldn’t at least try

to resist?

Marcus rubbed a hand over his face, scratching

the stubble on his jaw. He didn’t know what he was

worried about or what difference anything he