Bachelor Auction (22 page)

“Perhaps I will.” He wanted to ask why she

hadn’t wanted him to see the part of her home that

would alter his perception of her. For now it would

have to be enough to know she hadn’t. He didn’t

want her to shut down completely. She didn’t seem

to realize everything she said gave a little of herself

away, and in trying to avoid one subject, she

enlightened him in another.

Content to listen, learn, and hopefully peel away

another layer of her well-constructed façade, he said,

“So tell me how you got involved with the auction.”

The light in her eyes faded, and her gaze fell to

her lap. For a moment he thought she wouldn’t

answer, but then she said, “My father wanted an ‘in’

with someone he was trying to land an account with.

I don’t remember who, but the guy was into

charitable events big time. My father convinced my

mother she should become involved. She did. Shortly

after that he took off with his latest mistress, and

she dove into a bottle of bourbon. I stepped in to pick

up the pieces. Once I met the children, I was hooked.

They’re such innocents. I couldn’t let them suffer

because of my dysfunctional family.”

She looked up, blinking back the moisture in her

eyes, and smiled a little too brightly. “That’s why I

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asked Melody to take over as head of the auction this

year. I didn’t want the benefit to suffer from its

association with my family. I should probably give

up my place on the committee altogether, but...”

As much as he had wanted to break down the

barriers of defense she hid behind, witnessing her

anguish and vulnerability as they crumbled knocked

a few dents in his own. With every detail she

revealed, he wanted to know more—a warning

signal if ever there was one. She was sucking him in.

Still, he couldn’t retreat. Not yet.

He slid his hand across the table to squeeze

hers. “I think you should do whatever it is you want

to do. Everyone else be damned.”

She stared at him for a moment in silence. Then

her thumb grazed the back of his knuckles, once,

twice, and a mischievous glint replaced the bleak

despair in her eyes. “Is that an invitation?”

Marcus heard the provocative purr in her voice

and knew he’d gotten all he was going to get out of

her. She’d gone seductive again. Giving her hand

another squeeze, he tugged his free and shook his

head. “Ah, Charlotte, what am I going to do with

you?”

“Anything you want, Marcus. Anything you

want.”

Want? God, if she only knew how much he

wanted. In fact, the
want
beneath the table still

stood at full attention, saluting smartly as if reveille

played. Ready and eager, it waited for him to yell

charge. He bit his tongue to hold back the war cry.

It was time to retreat.

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Pausing in front of the restaurant doors,

Charlotte shivered. The bitter cold from outside

hissed through the cracks, chilling her to the bone.

An old-fashioned lamppost with a triangle of globes

cast a faint glow on the thick blanket of white that

covered the street they had crossed only a few hours

ago. Snow whipped in circles, swirling like a Texas

twister.

Appropriate, since she felt like she’d been

caught in one. Geez, she needed to be fitted for a

muzzle. Marcus had made her so nervous she’d

rambled, saying more to him tonight than she had in

all the years she’d known him. She could only hope

he would forget half the things she said.

“Hmm, fresh powder,” he said, catching up to

her. He leaned close to peer out the window over her

shoulder. “Good for skiing.”

Heat radiated from him, warming her bare back,

and another tremor shook her. She would be a

popsicle by the time they got back to their room.

Served her right for wearing the stupid dress

without at least a wrap. But she hadn’t thought past

trying to invoke both his jealousy and desire.

“Here.” He placed his suit coat around her and

rubbed his hands up and down her arms.

She pulled the coat tighter and closed her eyes

for a moment, reveling in his touch and the piney-

musk scent that emanated from him and the jacket.

Though unspoken, they had reached a plateau in

their relationship, an understanding of sorts that

scared her at the same time it beckoned. It was

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almost comfortable. Perhaps a little too comfortable.

“You want to take the chance?” His breath

whispered against her temple.

She knew he meant against the weather, but his

words expressed what her brain tried to warn her

heart against. She might be lulling him into

dropping his guard, but by lowering her own she had

grown vulnerable. “It’s too late to turn back now.”

His hands ceased their ministrations but stayed

where they were, slightly above her elbows. “Hmm?”

She opened her eyes and flashed a grin over her

shoulder. “I said it’s now or never.”

Smiling, he pushed the door open and grabbed

her hand. Together, they hurried down the sidewalk

in the direction of the hotel, the icy wind at their

backs, pushing them along. He stopped to check

traffic at the intersection, pulling her in front of him

to block the brunt of the gale’s force even though in

shirtsleeves he had to be as cold as she was.

“C’mon,” he said when the coast was clear and

hustled her across the street, his arms around her.

When they reached the curb, he slowed and held her

elbow for support. “Careful, it looks icy.”

At the hotel entrance, he urged her into one of

the revolving door’s little pie-shaped compartments

and wedged in behind her, an arm around her waist,

then pushed them through. Whether his caring

actions were just part of the performance they’d

agreed upon or Marcus being himself, she didn’t

argue because of the cold. It had nothing to do with

how good it felt, how right, or that while his actions

warmed her body, they also warmed her heart.

Geez, this
wasn’t
right. She wasn’t supposed to

feel all mushy inside just because he treated her as

if she were something special, someone he cared for.

She certainly couldn’t proceed with her plan feeling

the way she did at this moment. As if she lived for

his touch.

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She had mistakenly believed he was falling into

her trap when just the opposite was true.

Somewhere along the way, control had shifted to

Marcus, and she couldn’t afford to set foot in that

hotel room until she had it back. A little distance

was required. That’s all. Then she would be okay.

The blast of hot air that hit them on the other

side was a welcome relief from the biting cold

outside and the excuse she needed to put some space

between them. In her haste to do so, she twisted out

of his embrace and attempted to step past him only

to stumble over his feet. He caught her and swung

her around, trying to dodge the door’s next panel,

but it struck her left foot and took her shoe with it.

“It’ll come back around,” he said as he righted

her.

She watched the black stiletto tumble with the

door’s circular motion and promptly roll out the

other side to land on its side in the snow. Without a

word Marcus released her and entered the next

opening of the slowing door. On the outside turn, he

bent and grabbed the shoe in one hand without

having to exit or break stride.

Once he was back inside, she reached for her

shoe, but he ignored her and dropped to one knee.

He lifted her stocking-clad foot and placed it on his

thigh. Her toes curled into the hard muscle beneath

his trouser, seeking warmth while he dumped ice

crystals from the shoe’s interior onto the marble

floor.

The gesture made her that much more aware of

his thoughtful actions over the last half hour. Not to

mention her fluttery reaction to them. Irritation

bubbled inside her. She didn’t ask him to retrieve

the damned shoe. She could have gotten it herself.

She didn’t need him playing the hero.

She slid her foot from his thigh onto the icy floor

and grabbed her shoe. “Thanks, but I don’t require

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the Cinderella treatment.”

He looked up at her with a knowing half smile.

“You have a thing about fairy tales don’t you?”

She blushed, remembering that he’d heard her

version of
Beauty and the Beast
. “That doesn’t mean

I believe in them.”

He rose to his feet, his sympathetic smile

suggesting he understood all too well why. Before

she could stick her foot any deeper in her mouth, she

slipped the shoe back on and removed his suit coat.

“Thanks,” she said, thrusting it at him. “You can go

on up to the room. I need to pick up a few things in

the gift shop.”

“What do you need that you can’t call room

service for?”

Her first instinct was to tell him feminine

protection, but that didn’t exactly fit into her plans.

“I wanted to try out the hot tub tonight but forgot to

pack a swimsuit.”

His gaze swept down her body.

She pointed to the gift shop. “I saw a string

bikini in the window earlier.”

His Adam’s apple rose and fell. He literally took

a step back. Charlotte was certain she had him on

his way to the room when loud boisterous laughter

filled the lobby. Three men spilled from the bar and

zigzagged toward the elevators not far from the gift

shop.

Marcus arranged his coat over her shoulders

again but not before the drunken louts aimed

bloodshot eyes and a few wolfish remarks at her.

When they were gone, he sighed. “Maybe I’d better

go with you.”

Great. She needed five minutes to herself, and

he was determined to play Prince Charming. “That’s

not necessary,” she said and started across the

lobby.

He fell into step beside her, his hand at her

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back. “I don’t mind. We probably won’t have time to

shop tomorrow, and I promised Mom and Mel a

souvenir.”

The shop clerk greeted them when they entered

the shop. “Are you looking for anything in

particular?”

“A muzzle,” she muttered under her breath then

smiled at the grey-haired woman. “I’m looking for a

swimsuit.” She tilted a glance at Marcus and added,

“A two-piece, preferably a thong or string bikini.”

The strained look on his face made her feel

somewhat better. Maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult to

get the space she needed. She gave his tie a light

yank when the clerk indicated a rack of suits in the

back of the store. “Come help me pick one out.”

As she’d hoped, he pried her fingers loose and

shook his head. “I’m sure you can manage without

me, and I’ve got some shopping of my own to do.”

A half hour later, Charlotte had managed to

regain control of her body’s betrayal and the silly

notion that Marcus could be different from the rest

of the male species. She was ready to proceed with

her plan. Though three swimsuits lay nestled in her

luggage upstairs, she had gone through the motion

of trying several on.

That alone had gone a long way in her recovery,

especially when she’d asked for his assistance with a

tricky hook to one of the bikini tops. He’d fumbled

for what seemed like hours and finally given up,

blaming his ineptitude on cold fingers. A lie since his

hands had been warm against her skin. He’d since

kept his distance.

That particular suit along with gifts for her

mother, Melody and some of the children at the

hospital waited in a monogrammed bag at the

register while she searched for him.

She grinned when she found him with a

collection of scarves around his neck and draped

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over each arm. “Thinking of doing a veil dance for