Still, the legends didn’t stop Sal from gathering a slobbering, masochistic pool of admirers. Plenty of men were confident that they would finally be the one to please the multi-millionaire with an evil grin if only given half a chance.
While Justin and his assistant at the check-in table fussed over Sal, Maeve dashed up to me with her long black hair flowing out behind. An attractive woman I didn’t recognize stood by her side. She looked as lost as me. I stared at Maeve’s ravishing form-fitting red dress and her oversized Christmas wreath brooch.
“Desmond! It’s so good to see you! Please accept my apologies, and please say hello to my partner, Dot. I’m not part of the official staff this year, but they seem to have a slight problem with late registrants. You’re not the only one. I’ll get a name tag here from Justin’s table, and I’ll fill it out for you myself.”
Frustration still reigned inside my head, but Maeve was so friendly and breezy, I had to let it go. I shook hands with Dot and said, “Maeve is an old friend from my days on the Center’s board.” I watched as Maeve wrote my name with a big black marker in letters that could be read halfway across the room.
“Here, let me pin it on myself, and I must say, you look stunning in that suit. We should have put you in the auction tonight.”
My self-esteem was enjoying a stellar night so far. If it continued, I’d strut through the doors to the ballroom commanding the attention of every eligible man in the room. I could practically hear the gasps already. The air would vibrate with not-so-subtle whispers. His name is Desmond. Viola, I think.
I pulled my head out of the puffy silver-lined clouds and asked, “How are things in the legal profession?”
Maeve nodded as she attached the name tag to my suit. “It’s going well. I never say that it’s good because many of the stories from my casework are incredibly sad, but we’re winning the most important trials. And the symphony?”
I grinned. “Do you trust viola players to give you the honest story? Our fellow orchestra members sometimes think we’re a little on the shady side.”
With a thoroughly charming laugh, Maeve slipped her hand into my elbow while Dot followed dutifully at her opposite side. She led me to the table with complimentary glasses of wine. Maeve said, “I’m confident that you’re much better than a shady operator. I must attend to other matters, but please have a glass of wine and mingle. It’s a great crowd here tonight. I’m sensing magic in the air.”
From the ballroom, I heard the strains of “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” played by a live band. The singer was on point and in tune. After stepping through the doors, I couldn’t help swaying slightly to the rhythm while I sipped a glass of merlot.
Most of the guests were not yet seated. They were busy mingling to try and punch up their professional networks or look for a companion at the bar later in the evening. Twenty-five large round tables with eight seats apiece furnished the space. A small group with assigned seating clustered around the makeshift bandstand and podium. For the seating at the rest of the tables, it was first come first served.
I suddenly rose on my tiptoes. I was startled by the tapping of a fingertip on my shoulder. Turning my head, I saw the smiling face of Hank, the symphony’s lead percussionist. He was a recent transplant from Texas, and when I heard him speak, I always thought that he should be wearing a cowboy hat and dusty jeans instead of suit and tie.
His voice was twice as loud as necessary. “Desmond! Didn’t expect to see y’all here. Are you gonna bid on the silent auctions? Or maybe you’re waiting for the big one with the guys up for sale. I’ve got my eye on one already. He’s a slim feller, but just enough beef for me. With any luck, I’ll rope him up before the evening’s over and take the colt home with me.”
I did my best to smile at his comments. I saw at least five eye rolls targeted at us. I often wondered if Hank realized that he’d moved to the upper Midwest and we didn’t all live in bunkhouses. I said, “I hope you get your Christmas wish. I might bid on a silent auction, too. I’ve not found them yet.”
Hank sipped his chardonnay and pointed with his opposite hand behind me. “I think you should try to rope a good catch tonight. No quality stallion should be without someone special at his side at Christmastime.”
“Thank you. I’ll check them out.” I pivoted quickly on my right foot to bolt from Hank without making it blatantly obvious. Unfortunately, I didn’t know a man was standing directly behind me less than twelve inches away.
I found myself plowing right into a mountain of a man. My face planted hard against his bicep. In a reflexive move, I reached up to steady myself and gripped a handful of rock-hard flesh crushing the expensive wool fabric of a suit jacket between my fingertips and an expertly toned pectoral muscle.
The object of my collision yelped as he felt the impact. He staggered backward to escape my probing fingers. “Oh, fuck. Please excuse me. I didn’t even see you coming.”
Slightly stunned, I took a step backward and removed my glasses. Squinting at them, I saw that the frame was damaged and twisted by the unyielding bicep.
I blinked my eyes at the blurred image of the stranger as he said, “Oh, man, I broke your glasses, too. Let me pay for those. Honestly, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.” He quickly dismissed the other two people in his entourage and focused entirely on me.
I tried to brush it off. “I have a spare in the inside pocket of my jacket. I always try to be prepared.” As I donned my old pair of glasses and gazed up at the stranger, I gasped. He was striking in a raw, carnal kind of way.
I couldn’t explain what happened next, but I knew that something passed between us. I couldn’t see it, but I certainly felt it. It was like an electrical spark or a tiny gamma particle.
As I stuffed the broken pair of glasses in my pocket, the man-mountain reached out a large, beefy hand, “I’m Vincent. I don’t think we’ve met. I run a private gym here in the city. I suppose I lost any opportunity I might have at earning your business.”
I tried to share the most pleasing smile possible. “Desmond here. I play viola.” I gritted my teeth. In the past few years, I’d tried to stop mentioning my instrument to new acquaintances. Half of them didn’t even know what a viola was. Instead, I usually introduced myself as a symphony member. For many, that was enough to detail to satisfy their interest.
Vincent’s eyes brightened. “Really? My sister Ciel played the viola in high school. Do you play for the symphony?”
I nodded yes. “Principal viola.” It’s always the awkward accidents that bring the most fascinating people into your life. I met Jerry when he tripped over my foot at the university reception to welcome new faculty.
Vincent anxiously pointed toward the stage. “Well, I’m sorry to make this too quick, but they’re rushing me along. I have to be ready for the lineup in a few minutes. I hear we’re kicking off the evening. They auction us off before dinner so that we can be good guests for the guys with the big checks.” He inclined his head and whispered in my ear. “Between you and me, Desmond, I’m terrified.”
My heart pounded in my chest. If I were a foot taller and weighed a hundred more pounds, I would have wrapped Vincent up close to my chest and spirited him away. Unfortunately, I could only gently pat the powerful bicep and say, “You’ll do fine. I’m on your side.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant by lineup until I watched Vincent join a short parade of some of the most handsome men and beautiful women in the room. He was part of the ballyhooed Bachelor / Bachelorette Auction. I shook my head. I’d meant to give Maeve a piece of my mind about a legitimate organization hosting such a ridiculous event.
I tried to turn away in disgust. Unfortunately, there was something perversely attractive about beautiful people forced to be vulnerable while dressed to the nines celebrating Christmas. I hummed, “Jingle Bells” in my head.
The band closed their final song, and a man named Clive appeared at the microphone as the Master of Ceremonies for the evening. He sai
d, “You can all remain standing if you wish. As per tradition, we’re kicking the evening off with the date auction.” He wasn’t allowed to finish his comments. The assembled crowd buried Clive’s voice under loud whistles and applause.
With the formalities dismissed, the first man took the stage. I surprised myself by how seriously I perused the offering. He was perhaps a little young for me. I’d celebrated my thirtieth birthday the year before, and he looked like he might not be out of college. Still, he was quite attractive. He had dimples I could see those from the rear of the room when he smiled.
My mouth dropped at the steep price, but it stirred some excitement inside me. The auction was an old enough event that most of those bidding knew what they were likely to get. A thought slipped into my head. Perhaps these men are worth a healthy contribution.
Like a helpless teenager swept up in the maelstrom of enthusiasm surrounding a rock star, I found myself offering a bid for the next man in the spotlight. He had a wise look in his gaze, and he was closer to my age. It didn’t hurt that he wore a perfectly tailored suit on his broad-shouldered body.
5
Vincent
There was an electric buzz in the crowd. I could feel it. My heart pounded in my chest like a runaway freight train. It took all my strength and fortitude to tamp down my instinct to flee. I’d already crushed a man’s glasses, and I nearly knocked another off the back of the makeshift stage while we jostled around to complete the lineup display for the crowd.
The flight reflex surged up again, and I considered my escape options. I decided that the quickest route to the exit was around the eastern wall of the ballroom. The narrow path would require the least amount of zigging and zagging through the crowd. I mentally calculated the number of steps and how quickly I could cover ground before someone would realize they needed to stop me.
A hand patted me on the back and then adjusted my jacket on my shoulders. A masculine voice said, “Look at this one. He’s magnificent. We might have a record-setter tonight.” I heard a whisper in my ear by the same voice saying, “Unfortunately, I have to pay for my Kenyan safari in the spring. Otherwise, I’d be taking you home tonight, big man.”
I looked around trying to identify the magnificent man. A moment later I realized that it was me. Though fully dressed, I felt naked as a newborn baby. All of my natural defenses were gone.
It was too late to escape. I stumbled forward with gentle pressure applied between my shoulder blades. I was the final slab of beef targeted for a grand finale. I feared the crowd wouldn’t be as enthusiastic about parting with cash as the organizers assumed. I locked my knees to stop them from knocking.
The group up for sale was a total of ten men and five women. They placed us in a lineup similar to potential criminals at the police station. They positioned me at the far end as the finale for the entire event.
Clive, the Master of Ceremonies, gestured at us each one by one reading off our first names—Bernard, Elisa, Gardner, Philip, Lucy. The crowd dutifully applauded for each eligible bachelor or bachelorette. As Ciive pointed at me and read the name Vincent, I was startled by the volume of cheers, whistles, and shouts of “Hawt!”
I whispered to Nick, the man directly ahead of me in line. “You look cool as a cucumber. I’m nervous as hell. How do you do it?”
“This is my third time around. With luck, you’ll get a great expensive dinner and a guy who can speak in complete sentences. Don’t expect too much, but it’s for a good cause. That is why you’re up here, isn’t it?”
Before the bidding commenced, the band launched into a spirited version of “All I Want for Christmas Is You,” and the crowd sang along in a deafening roar. They pointed at the lineup each time they all sang the word “you.”
I spotted Maeve in the crowd, and she saw me staring in her direction. I watched her flash me a thumbs up while I did my best to look helpless and vulnerable. It didn’t help. I knew that she was drinking deep her revenge for all of the tortuous hours in the gym. Her smile only grew in response to my pained expression. I tried to mouth, “Help!” but she ignored my plea.
Bernard was a good-looking young guy. He had tousled blonde hair and was the kind of young and hungry man you might encounter late at night on a sweaty dance floor. The MC announced that he was an up and coming young professional in the banking business. The lead bids bounced around the room, and he was quickly earning the Center hundreds of dollars. The crowd applauded when a man who looked to be about thirty wearing an Italian cut suit won Bernard for a date.
Judging by the bounce in their steps, they were both happy about the arrangement, and I watched Bernard follow his buyer off into the crowd to share their first dinner together. The MC moved quickly to petite, small-boned Elisa, and several women in stylish, professional gowns tossed out healthy bids.
The line was shrinking much faster than I’d hoped. Initially, I thought I might have a full ninety minutes or more to try to relax and accept my fate, but it looked like that estimate might be cut short by at least fifteen minutes. I groaned to myself, and the crowd gasped when Sal Whetstone placed a bid on Philip, but he refused to top the highest bid in the end, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
As my moment on the auction block drew closer and closer, I concentrated my gaze on a handful of men who placed multiple bids but failed to win any of the auctions. One was the nerdish little guy who stumbled into me shortly before the sale began. I had a difficult time keeping my eyes off him. He looked like the Math Team captain I lusted after when I was a senior in high school. I always wondered how he would have reacted if I found him in one of the school’s corridors late on an evening when no one else was around and pinned him against a locker with my lips.
Rolling my head back slightly, I tried to remember the name of the man in the crowd. It was a “D” one. Derek, Daniel, Dusty—I couldn’t place it and gave up. A shout of “Sold” from Clive pulled my attention back to the current activities. I positioned myself at parade rest like a dedicated soldier for the cause.
Nick practically strutted to the front of the stage and to the right of the MC. He looked cool and relaxed like he’d been bought and sold a dozen times over. The confidence had an edge of arrogance, too. One fan shouted, “Nick!” from the rear of the ballroom and he grinned before sweeping fingers up and back through his pomade-slicked hair.
A couple of silent moments passed before the first bid, and I saw a slight frown on Nick’s face. That was his payment for his self-important approach to the stage. I didn’t want him punished with full humiliation, so I applauded when the first three bids erupted from the crowd.
Clive, the MC, announced, “And now the man you’ve all been waiting for. He’s our grand finale for the Annual Bachelor / Bachelorette Auction, and it’s his first time on the auction block! Please give it up for Vincent!”
The sheer volume of the applause startled me. I tried to stop my face from turning red, but I knew that the rosy cheek broke through anyway. At the last minute, I remembered Grandpa’s Santa hat tucked inside my jacket. A new round of applause erupted when I placed it on my head and smiled.
Clive asked, “Isn’t that perfect? He looks just like Santa, Jr. I’m sure those muscles would be perfect for lending Santa a hand hefting the bags of gifts for the little ones all night long.” Clive rubbed his chin. “Or think about a hug in those guns? By the way, Vincent is an accomplished fitness instructor and operates Fit For You, one of the top private gyms in the city. Maybe after the date, the lucky winner can sign up for a serious personal training session.”
I gave up, and the red crept from my cheeks clear up to my forehead. Maeve clapped wildly with her hands over her head. I bit my lip and hoped that the actual bids would justify the raucous activity of the crowd.
I winced when Clive said, “Why don’t you do a slow turn for us, Vincent? I want the bidders to get the full 360-degree view.”
Suppressing a groan, I slowly rotated in a circle to the sustained sound of clapping. I
knew what they were watching, and I willed my body to hide the evidence of my physical response.”
It didn’t take long for the first bid to rise from the crowd, and the price rose at an alarming speed. It was already in the thousands to my shock when Clive paused momentarily. He said, “I think Vincent here is deserving of a very healthy contribution. Let’s see if we can break the auction record tonight. Vincent, would you give us a nice flex and see if we can boost the enthusiasm of our bidders?”
I turned my head toward Clive with confusion on my face. I didn’t know how successful a flex would be with it hiding beneath my suit jacket.
Like he had a direct conduit to my private thoughts, Clive said, “Oh, you’re right. Take the jacket off so we all can see that five-star physique. Let’s all let Vincent know how much we’d like to see more.”
My eyes darted frantically back and forth. I didn’t expect to show anything off beyond my expensive, slightly-too-tight-fitting suit. Then I saw Sal Whetstone. He’d pushed to the head of the crowd front-and-center by the stage. I saw a slight nod yes after Clive spoke.
I didn’t have a choice. I knew who I wanted to win the bid, and I slowly let the jacket fall from my shoulders before draping it over my left arm. The crowd roared. One joker yelled, “Take it all off,” but the men standing nearby quickly encouraged him to pipe down.
Clive nodded in approval and said, “Now, let’s see the flex.”
I hefted my right arm and pumped the muscle. It was visible stretching the cotton dress shirt. I smiled at the crowd’s response. I was always proud of what I’d achieved with so many long hours of hard work at my gym.
“Let’s get back to the bids!” shouted Clive. Another flurry pushed the total up higher, and then Sal chimed in for the first time topping all the previous amounts. A shiver raced up my spine as I looked down and our eyes connected.
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