Bachelor Auction (19 page)

decided might make?

Judging by the way she’d looked right through

him, he was the last man she wanted.

****

Double damn him for
not
wanting her.

And damn me for wanting him to.

Charlotte stared at the milky liqueur she had no

intention of drinking, disgusted with herself for

letting him get to her and for losing sight of her

goals and control of the situation.

“Does Marcus know the truth about us?”

She looked at the sleek, sophisticated man

leaning against the bar beside her. In a navy Armani

suit that brought out the blue in his eyes and the

blond streaks in his golden brown hair, Grant Wylie

could have stepped off the pages of GQ. He was by

far the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. She’d

forgotten that about him.

Yet not once in the history of their acquaintance

had he made her yearn for the things she’d vowed to

forgo. Love. Marriage. Family. They came at too high

a price.

Marcus was the only man to make her consider

paying it.

She set her glass down with a thunk, sloshing a

good bit of its contents onto the counter, some

dribbling over her fingers. The bartender handed her

a napkin and began mopping her spill. She sighed

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and wiped her hand. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“It would only complicate matters.”

“I told Robyn.”

Charlotte handed the soiled napkin to the

bartender and waited for him to move on before

facing Grant. “Why?”

“She asked.”

“And just like that you told her?”

His cheeks glowed beneath the tan he’d probably

gotten from too many hours on the slopes. “When

Chad called, I got a little wound up about seeing you

again and she wanted to know if she should be

worried. She’s about to become my wife. I couldn’t lie

to her.”

“Really?” Charlotte laughed. More to cover her

surprise than because of his discomfort. She didn’t

understand that concept of honesty in a marriage.

Her father had built—and eventually destroyed—his

life and her mother’s with lies.

“I won’t start my marriage with secrets.” He

lifted a hand to caress her cheek with the back of his

knuckles. “And if you want this relationship with

Marcus to work out, you shouldn’t keep secrets from

him.”

From the corner of her eye Charlotte saw

Marcus watching them across the bar. His posture

was ridged, his fists clenched, and his eyes held the

same look she’d seen earlier when he searched her

bedroom for signs of a lover. At the time she’d been

too angry to question the gleam in his eyes. She’d

figured it was the same as always. He’d heard she’d

gotten a ride to the hotel, assumed the worst, and

was passing judgment.

But now she understood. The conceited jerk was

jealous. He didn’t want her, but he didn’t want

anyone else to have her either.

She bristled at his audacity. He’d awakened her

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appetite for his touch, made her ache with a need no

other could arouse, then declined to satisfy that

hunger. He had no right to object if she sought to

ease her craving with another man. After all, she

didn’t know who had been on the other end of the

call that interrupted their lovemaking. It could have

been a woman. It could have been Natalie what’s-

her-name, the girl he’d spent most of the evening

with at the bachelor auction.

She pushed that disturbing thought aside but

couldn’t resist one last jab at his super-sized ego

before letting go of her anger. It would serve no

purpose to let her feelings interfere with her goals

for the children’s benefit, not to mention the ones

she had for Marcus this weekend.

Sliding off the stool, she stood in what little

space there was between it and Grant’s tall

muscular frame. She fingered his lapel. “You’re

sweet to be concerned, but things haven’t progressed

quite that far yet. If they ever do, I promise to tell

him the truth.”

She rose on tiptoes and placed a kiss on his

cheek.

****

for Marcus to shower, dress, and find Charlotte. But

he was fifteen minutes too late. She’d found her

quarry.

His chest constricted as she stretched to kiss the

man, her soft body pressed against his entire length.

Her actions were familiar, both to Marcus and to the

guy who bent to return her kiss. Grant Wylie, one of

Chad’s fraternity buddies from college. One of her

former lovers.

Unclenching his fists, Marcus started toward

them and tried to quell the fury rising inside him.

He wanted to smash his fist into the guy’s perfect

white smile. Instead, he would offer his hand,

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knowing Wylie had to release her to return the

gesture. He would then step between them. As plans

went, it sucked, but then so did everything about

this situation.

To Marcus’s surprise he didn’t have to put his

strategy to work. The minute she saw him, Charlotte

stepped out of Wylie’s arms and into his. They

automatically slipped around her, his palms

flattening at the base of her spine. Before he could

correct them, her full red lips met and lingered on

his. He wondered briefly if Wylie’s body had reacted

the same as his.

“You remember Grant, don’t you, baby?” She

rubbed lipstick from his bottom lip with her thumb

in a manner that suggested familiarity.

He couldn’t decide if she was playing her part

for the other man’s benefit or his—to throw him off

track from whatever plans she had with her ex-

lover. By the daggers she sent him, she expected him

to play along.

He nodded and stuck one hand out behind her

while keeping her firmly tucked to his side with the

other. “Wylie.”

“Marcus.” Grant shook his hand easily. If he was

at all perturbed for having his time with Charlotte

interrupted, he didn’t show it. “Sorry I missed you at

Lucky’s.”

Marcus frowned. “Lucky’s?”

“The stable,” Charlotte said, wriggling out of his

grasp to perch on the bar stool. Her knees grazed

Wylie’s thighs when she twisted to beckon the

bartender. “I told Grant we’d buy him a drink since

he was nice enough to give me a lift to the hotel. I

didn’t want to be late for our next promo, and I

wasn’t sure how long you’d be with your business

call.”

So Wylie had been the man in the Porsche. And

she’d explained their separation as a matter of

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business. She hadn’t used their altercation as an

excuse to cry on Wylie’s shoulder in order to seduce

him. At least not yet.

She picked up her drink and stabbed the ice at

the bottom of the glass then smiled, all daggers

sheathed for the time being. Tugging Wylie’s tie, she

brought him closer and whispered, “Marcus works

too much, but I’m trying to break him of the bad

habit.”

“Well, if anyone can do it, you can.” Wylie gave

her a soft smile. “You sure broke me of mine.”

The moment reeked of intimacy, and Marcus

ground his teeth against the feeling of being on the

outside looking in. Again he couldn’t stop himself

when he moved behind her and laid a hand on the

back of her neck. The move was possessive, pathetic

really. Wylie would think he felt threatened. He

didn’t. He just couldn’t let the guy believe he would

step aside so easily.

She let go of Wylie’s tie and straightened.

Marcus pretended her movement caused his fingers

to trail down her spine to just between her shoulder

blades and then slid them back up to reclaim his

original hold. God, her skin felt good. Smooth and

silky. Cool yet burning his fingertips. It certainly

started a fire in his blood.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

Wylie pushed his glass forward. “Scotch, neat.”

Charlotte shifted, crossing her legs, and held up

her glass. Ice tinkled as she jiggled it. “I’ll have

another, please.”

“And you, sir?”

Marcus glanced at the half empty tumbler in

Charlotte’s hand and remembered she’d told him she

didn’t drink. He hadn’t believed her at first but later

decided, out of courtesy, to refrain from alcohol in

her presence. “Give me a beer. Whatever you have in

a bottle will do.” He turned to Wylie. “I’m curious.

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How exactly did you get mixed up in this dog and

pony show?”

“Grant runs the resort,” Charlotte answered for

him. “He’s also engaged to the owner’s daughter,

lucky girl.”

Marcus wondered where the lucky girl was and

if she had any idea her fiancée might have more

interest in one of the auction’s participants than the

resort’s promotion.

Wylie hooked the heel of his shoe on the rung of

his stool and propped himself against it. “I couldn’t

believe it when Chad called last week to tell me you

were the ones coming. I told Robyn all about you,

and she was just as excited as I was to meet you at

the airport, but something came up and neither of us

could get away.”

Marcus

doubted

Wylie

told

his

fiancé

everything. Or maybe he had and that’s what had

come up.

“Anyway,” the other man continued. “I feel like

I’ve fallen down on the job.”

“We managed.” Marcus hugged Charlotte close.

“Didn’t we darlin’?”

“Mmm, yes, I’d say the shoot went very well.”

She uncrossed her legs and recrossed them, shifting

slightly

away

from

him.

Either

she

was

uncomfortable with the conversation or she wasn’t

as immune to his touch as she’d like him to believe.

“That’s what Rick said.”

“Rick?” Forced to give up his hold on her,

Marcus ran his hand down the length of her velvet-

covered arm and tried to link his fingers with hers.

She dodged him by reaching to brush an imaginary

speck of lint from his sleeve.

“Rick was the photographer,” she said with a

teasing smile. “Didn’t you pay attention to anything

today?”

He caught her fingers and brought them to his

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lips for a quick kiss, and he delighted in seeing her

eyes widen. He grinned. “You know I can’t

concentrate whenever you’re around.”

It was the absolute truth. She never failed to

turn his brain to mush.

“She has that effect on a lot of people.”

Wylie’s words wiped the smile off Marcus’s face,

and he searched the man’s expression for hidden

meaning

but

found

nothing

except

friendly

observation. Had he been wrong to assume the guy

had lustful intentions toward Charlotte? Or was he a

total player and wanted her to read between the

lines? It was hard to tell.

The bartender placed Wylie’s drink in front of

him. “One Scotch, neat.” He handed Marcus a

longneck. “One beer.”

“Thanks.” Marcus raised the bottle to his lips

and let the cold brew cascade over his dry throat.

She had that effect on him, too. When she wasn’t

making him salivate.

Holding Charlotte’s glass out of reach, the

bartender winked. “Promise not to spill this one?”

Marcus glared at the guy over the bottom of his

beer bottle, but it didn’t faze him. Especially when

she winked back and nodded then held out her hand

and waited for him to deliver her drink. He did so

with flare. “Then here you go. One Buttery Nipple.”

Beer lodged in Marcus’s windpipe then shot up

his nose, and for just a moment he thought he

wouldn’t mind at all if he choked to death. At least

he’d die with an image of Charlotte’s golden breasts

slathered with melted butter, pink nipples beaded

and glistening.

Not a bad way to die.

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