And now she was at the ball, alone, and wishing she was curled up in her apartment with the one person she’d been certain was all wrong for her.
Yep, she thought as she downed the last of her drink. Her life was now the very definition of irony.
“Last but not least we have a wonderful young lady who stepped in at the last minute when Stacy fell ill, Miss Lucinda Miller. Come on up, dear.”
The crowd applauded the calling of their final victim. Lucie pinned a glare on Eric and Kyle and poked each of them in the chest discreetly. With a fake smile plastered on her face she said, “If one of you aren’t the highest bidders, I will personally see that you’re both eunuchs by the end of the night.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they answered together, glasses raised and all smiles.
She mentally scoffed as she made her way to the stage. They weren’t taking her seriously, but they’d better come through. They’d promised they’d make sure no one else won her. That way she did her part, the hospital got money, and she didn’t have to go on a date with anyone creepy, crotchety, or any other bad words that started with a “cr” blend.
Several minutes later, she stood next to Sandy as she finished reading a bio Lucie couldn’t even remember writing. And then it began.
“Okay,” Sandy said into the mic, “let’s start the bids at five hundred dollars.”
“Five hundred,” Kyle said from over by the bar.
Sandy gestured in his direction. “Excellent! Can I get seven fifty? Seven fifty?
From the left corner of her eye Lucie saw a man raise his hand. “Seven fifty.”
Stephen. “Ah fuck.” Lucie froze and barely refrained from slapping a hand over her mouth. She couldn’t believe she’d said that out loud! Damn alcohol loosed her bar tongue at a fancy event. Wonderful.
Sandy moved the microphone away from her mouth and whispered, “I’m sorry, dear, did you say something?”
“Um, I said ‘what luck.’” Lucie gave her what she hoped was a sheepish grin. “I was afraid I wouldn’t get any takers.”
“Nonsense, honey, you’re a beautiful young woman.” Then she returned to her role as auctioneer and raised the price to a cool grand.
For the next several minutes she watched anxiously as her price kept getting higher and higher, driven up by Stephen’s bottomless checkbook. Lucie had assured the guys she’d pay anything over their budget, but in her wildest imagination she hadn’t thought Stephen would hang on this long.
The bid was now up to twenty grand, and it was Stephen’s. Lucie made eye contact with Kyle and gave a slight shake of her head as Sandy asked for another five hundred from him. Going on another date with the man wasn’t the end of the world. It certainly wasn’t worth putting herself and her friends in the poorhouse over.
But if she were being completely honest with herself, it was less about going on a third pointless date with Stephen, and more about the date being a painful reminder of what she would never have with Reid.
Sandy perked up beside her, “Okay then, twenty thousand going once…twenty thousand going—”
“One hundred thousand,” called a deep voice from the back of the room. A voice Lucie knew as intimately as her own.
Gasps and whispers filled the hall and the crowd twisted in their chairs in almost perfect unison. Reid stepped farther into the room until he came to stand in the center of the tables. All eyes were on him, and yet his were trained fully on hers and never once waivered.
On some subconscious level, Lucie knew she was staring wide-eyed and stunned like a deer in headlights, but she’d never seen anyone so sexy before in her life. Reid stood out like a giant among men. The tuxedo hugged his large frame perfectly, no doubt because it had been tailored to do so, unlike most of the men who probably rented their ill-fitting outfits.
He was perfection personified. She drank in the sight of his bad boy looks that set him even further apart from the sea of average males surrounding him. Suntanned skin and the pointed tips of his tribal tattoo snaking up his neck stood out against the stark white of his shirt. A shirt that lay open at the throat, his bow tie hanging loose around the collar like he’d been in too much of a hurry to do himself up properly.
His hair was styled in the barely there faux-hawk she loved and the trimmed growth of his beard made her miss having whisker rash in delicate places. His bottom lip sported a healing cut and an angry red abrasion highlighted one of his cheekbones giving his refined look a feral edge.
But it was the way his hazel eyes bore straight through to her soul that awakened the butterflies in her stomach to fan the embers of her desire that had her knees weakening.
Sandy cleared her throat and practically squeaked, “I beg your pardon?”