And the Winner Gets...Married!

by Metsy Hingle

  Tara patted his jaw. “Relax, big brother. You don’t know for sure that Eve will bid on you. After all, you’re the last bachelor to go on the block. Eve’s never been the patient type. She just might decide to go after one of our other bachelor babes.”

  He certainly hoped so, Justin thought.

  “Besides, I have it on good authority that Ashley Powers plans to bid on you tonight. And who knows, maybe Bethany Barlow’s mother will decide to buy you for her daughter.”

  Justin glared at his sister. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  Tara laughed. “Of course I am. Consider it payback for all the times you were mean to me when we were kids.”

  “I was never mean to you.”

  “What about the time you refused to let me go sailing with you and Mindy Hastings?”

  “Mindy and I were on a date,” he returned. “No guy in his right mind lets his kid sister tag along on a date.”

  “See, I told you. You were mean.”

  “Tara,” Justin said, a warning edge to his voice. He took a step toward his sister.

  “Oops. Got to run. It’s almost time for the auction to start,” she said, and after giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, she dashed off.

  “And to think I thought tonight wouldn’t be so bad,” Justin muttered.

  “You say something, Connelly?” Brad Parker, one of the other bachelors on the block, asked.

  “Yeah. Be grateful you don’t have any sisters.”

  Kim moved about the ballroom and did her best not to gawk. The room resembled something out of a fairy tale, she thought, as she took in the splendor that surrounded her. While she had been mesmerized by the sight of the room itself—from the sweep of windows that looked out over the Chicago night sky to the breathtaking crystal centerpieces bursting with lilies, white roses and sprigs of freesia on each table—it was the people in attendance who fascinated her. They were gorgeous. Both the men and the women. And she couldn’t recall ever seeing so many beautiful people in one room at the same time.

  All right, where the men were concerned it probably was the tuxedos, Kim conceded. After all, what fellow didn’t look good in a tux? But as far as the women went, it was a different story. The outfits ran the gamut from fabulous to outrageous. Each one looked more stunning than the next. Surely every yard of silk and lace, not to mention every sequin and bead, in Chicago had gone into the gowns being worn. And despite the large number of people in attendance, she’d yet to see any two dresses alike.

  Kim tightened her gloved fingers around her evening bag and couldn’t help but be glad that she had splurged on her own outfit. She was also glad she’d taken time with her appearance. As she began making her way back to her table, she spied Ashley Powers, the stockbroker that Justin had taken out on several occasions. Kim couldn’t quite help feeling a slight stab of envy as she looked at the statuesque brunette. The woman was breathtaking. When the other woman tipped her head back in laughter, Kim caught the flash of sapphires and diamonds at her neck and ears. Automatically her hand went to her own bare throat and she became keenly aware of the tiny diamond chips in her ears. That old adage about not being able to turn a sow’s ear into a silk purse flashed into her mind. And it sent her stomach plummeting—along with her self-confidence.

  She didn’t belong here.

  It had been ludicrous to think that she would. She shouldn’t have come, Kim told herself, feeling suddenly foolish. How on earth had she ever convinced herself that a fancy dress and high heels would make any difference? She was Kim Lindgren, not some society darling. And she needed to get out of here before Justin or anyone else saw her and she made an even bigger fool of herself. Her mind made up, she turned toward the exit intent on escape.

  “Kim! Kim, wait!”

  Kim wanted to ignore the familiar voice but couldn’t. Stopping, she turned around and spied Tara hurrying toward her. Mentally she began to prepare a speech about having a headache.

  “Thank goodness I found you. I’ve been trying to get over to your table for the past thirty minutes,” she said as she reached her. “And I— Why Kim, you look absolutely stunning.”

  Caught off guard by the compliment, Kim faltered. “I, um, thank you,” she murmured. “It’s the dress. I found it on sale.” No sooner were the words out of her mouth than Kim wanted to snatch them back because they sounded so lame.

  Tara smiled. “That makes it even better, then. But trust me, it’s not the dress. It’s you. Why I had no idea you had such beautiful hair.”

  Kim felt the color race up her cheeks. “Yes, well, I thought I’d wear it down for a change,” she told her, and nearly groaned. Could she possibly sound any more inane?

  “And I’m sure every man here—including my brother Justin—will be glad that you did. It looks perfect, Kim. If I didn’t like you so much, I’d be pea-green with envy that you were born with such gorgeous hair and I got stuck with this mop.”

  Kim blinked. “But your hair is beautiful. And it always looks so…so chic.”

  Tara laughed. She ran a hand through her short, dark tresses. “I’m not sure I’d call this chic as much as convenient.”

  “It’s chic. And it suits you,” Kim told her. And it did. Tara Connelly Paige had always reminded her of a young Audrey Hepburn with her dark hair and elegant features, and those violet eyes made her think of Elizabeth Taylor in her youth.

  “You’re very kind,” Tara said, her eyes twinkling with humor. “And I’m going to take shameless advantage of that kindness by asking you to do me that little favor I mentioned earlier.”

  “Tara, I—”

  “Well, if it isn’t my future sister-in-law Tara, and looking absolutely gorgeous as usual.”

  “Hello, Robert,” Tara said coolly. “What can I do for you?”

  “I just wanted to say hello,” he said smoothly, his lips curving into a smile. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your pretty friend?”

  Kim sucked in a breath as she realized Marsh didn’t recognize her, and she couldn’t help wishing that she had been able to make her escape before running into him.

  “You mean you don’t recognize Kim?” Tara countered.

  Marsh whipped his gaze from her bare shoulders up to her face. “Kim Lindgren?”

  “Hello, Robert,” Kim managed.

  “Good Lord, who’d have thought that underneath those prim suits—”

  Tara’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t stop now, Robert. Who’d have thought under those prim suits what?” she prompted.

  “Who’d have thought that our little Kim could look so grown-up. You look lovely,” he told her, and took her hand in a courtly gesture that didn’t match the covetous look in his eyes.

  “Thank you,” she said, and tugged her hand free, grateful that the gloves she’d worn had protected her from his touch. There had always been something about Robert Marsh that set her on edge. Tonight even more so.

  “Where’s Alexandra?” Tara asked.

  “She’s in the ladies’ room,” Robert replied, but his eyes remained fixed on Kim, which only made her feel more uncomfortable.

  “Since Kim and I were just heading there ourselves, I’ll let her know where she can find you.” And without waiting for Marsh to respond, Tara linked her arm with Kim’s and headed across the room.

  “Um, Tara, the ladies’ room is in the opposite direction,” Kim advised when the other woman continued to march them down the hotel corridor away from the ballroom.

  “I know. I didn’t really have to go to the ladies’ room. I just wanted to get away from Marsh. I know I should at least try to be nice to the man since he’s going to marry my sister. But I swear, every time I’m around the guy and he starts laying on the charm, it’s as though a neon sign starts flashing the word phony in my head and I can’t wait to get away from him.”

  Kim could certainly understand, because from the first day she’d met Robert Marsh, he had rubbed her the wrong way. He seemed to have a way of watching her that m
ade her skin crawl.

  Tara paused next to a column that was far enough away that they could observe the comings and goings in the main ballroom but were somewhat removed from the din. She met Kim’s gaze. “What do you think of Marsh?”

  “I…” Kim fumbled for an answer, unwilling to tell Tara the truth. “He’s obviously a good businessman or he wouldn’t be working at Connelly.”

  Tara grinned. “I keep forgetting what a diplomat you are. I know I’m putting you on the spot, but I’d really like you to be honest with me.”

  “Well, I can’t say that I’m particularly fond of him, but I think the only opinion that really matters is your sister Alexandra’s. If she loves him enough to marry him, she obviously sees something in him that you and I don’t.”

  Tara frowned and seemed to consider that. “I guess you’re right. I just can’t help worrying that she’s making a mistake.”

  “Maybe. But it’s her mistake to make.” And none of the well-meaning lectures or pleas would be able to prevent Alexandra from making that mistake, Kim concluded. Heaven knows, they’d never worked any of the times she’d tried to dissuade her mother from leaping into a romance that had heartache written all over it.

  “How did you get so wise?” Tara asked, her voice teasing.

  Kim shrugged. “Probably because I didn’t have any sisters or brothers to worry about me.”

  “Oh, my heavens, speaking of brothers, I nearly forgot. I need you to do me a teensy little favor so that I can get out of the doghouse with Justin.”

  “What’s the favor?” she asked warily.

  “I need you to buy Justin in the auction.”

  “What!”

  “You’ve got to do this for me, Kim. For Justin. He was freaking out backstage when he heard that Eve Novak was here and looking for husband number four. She sort of insinuated to Justin that she intended to bid on him. And now he’s threatening to pull out of the auction because he’s afraid Eve the man-eater will outbid everyone else and he’ll get stuck spending an evening with the woman.”

  Kim knew who Eve Novak was. And man-eater was an accurate description if even half of the stories she’d heard about the woman were true. But as much as she disliked the idea of Justin with Eve Novak, or anyone else for that matter, there was little she could do about it. “I’m sorry, Tara. But I don’t see how I can possibly help you. Maybe you should talk to Ashley Powers or Bethany Barlow. I know they both intend to bid on Justin.”

  Tara shook her head. “Neither one of them is going to be willing to come up with the kind of bid that will make Eve back off.”

  And Tara thought that she could? She didn’t live in the same world that Tara Connelly Paige did. For that matter, she didn’t live in the same world that most of the people attending tonight’s gala did. Deciding she needed to be blunt, Kim said, “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t bid on Justin. I know what kind of money these auctions raise. And I…I simply can’t afford it. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, Kim, sweetie, I could just kick myself,” Tara told her and there was genuine regret in the other woman’s eyes. “I never meant that I wanted you to use your own money to bid on Justin. I want you to use mine.”

  “Yours? But then why—”

  “Because how would it look for me to buy a date with my own brother?”

  While Kim was still digesting that tidbit, Tara caught her hand and pressed a check into her palm. “That’s a cashier’s check made out to the Police Association’s Fund for Widows and Orphans. Use it to buy Justin in the auction.”

  “Tara, I don’t think—”

  “Please,” she pleaded when Kim attempted to refuse the check. “Do this as a favor to me. And to Justin.”

  Still unsure what to do, Kim looked at the check that Tara had closed into her palm. “It’s for fifteen thousand dollars.”

  “I know,” Tara said, a mischievous gleam in her violet eyes. “That should help you give Eve a run for her money, don’t you think?”

  Kim nodded.

  “But what happens if I win?”

  Tara grinned. “Why, you enjoy your date with Justin, of course. Because something tells me he’s certainly going to enjoy his date with you.”

  “You’re wrong,” Kim insisted, but looked away for fear Tara would see the truth in her eyes. “Justin’s my boss. He and I— It’s not that way between us.”

  “Are you sure? I thought I picked up on something the other day.”

  “You’re mistaken,” Kim told her.

  “I’m sorry, Kim. But you really don’t lie worth beans.”

  Giving up, Kim asked, “Am I that obvious?”

  “Only to someone who remembers what it’s like to be in love with someone who doesn’t exactly belong to the same social register as you do.”

  “But you and your family are rich,” Kim blurted out.

  “But Michael wasn’t. I might have been the one with money but that doesn’t mean it was easier.”

  “I guess I never thought of it that way,” Kim murmured, knowing that the other woman was referring to her brief marriage to Michael Paige. She thought of how Tara had been declared a widow when her husband’s body had failed to turn up following a train derailment two years earlier. “I’m sorry,” Kim said, and touched the other woman’s arm. “I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you these past two years.”

  Tara shrugged. “At least I have my son.”

  “Yes,” Kim replied, recalling the little boy she’d seen with Tara on occasion.

  The sound of drum rolls from the ballroom spilled out into the corridor. “Sounds like the auction’s about to start. We’d better get inside.”

  Suddenly nervous again, Kim said, “Tara, about the auction. I’ll make the bid, but as for the date, I’d rather you’d let Justin give the package to one of his lady friends.”

  “But why?”

  “Because it would be awkward. We work together and he…doesn’t see me that way.”

  “How do you know, when you’re so busy trying to make sure he never sees the real you?”

  Five

  “All right, ladies, I have thirty-eight hundred dollars for Mr. David Brighton and his gourmet dinner for two, followed by an evening of dancing. Do I hear thirty-nine hundred dollars?” the auctioneer prompted from her position behind the dais on the stage where the bachelors had been marched out like prize cattle for the past forty-five minutes.

  “Thirty-eight fifty,” a redhead with fawn-colored eyes called out, and waved her numbered paddle enthusiastically.

  “I have thirty-eight hundred and fifty dollars. Do I hear thirty-nine hundred?” When no one responded, the auctioneer, milking the crowd for more, said, “Come on, ladies. Remember this is for charity. And Mr. Brighton here is offering a five-course gourmet meal and an evening of dancing at one of Chicago’s hot new nightspots for the lucky lady with the winning bid.”

  “All right, thirty-nine hundred dollars,” a sulky-mouthed brunette declared and immediately shot a menacing glance to the redhead at the next table who had started to raise her paddle. “And don’t you dare top my bid, Sarah Hartley.”

  “I wasn’t going to,” Sarah replied, and tipped her nose up.

  The auctioneer, evidently realizing the bidding war was over said, “Going once. Going twice. Going three times. Sold,” she pronounced with a bang of her gavel. “To Ms. Candace Larson for thirty-nine hundred dollars.”

  From his position backstage, Justin watched Brighton strut offstage to be claimed. Turning away, he tuned out the next bachelor being put on the block and resigned himself to the fact that he was next. He reminded himself that it was for a good cause and tried not to think that he would much rather have gone to the office and tackled some paperwork.

  Thinking of the office made him think of Kim again. He hadn’t seen her as yet—at least, she hadn’t been seated at Tara’s table. Nor had he spotted her when he’d scanned the crowd. Had she changed her mind about coming? he wondered. Surprised at how disappointed
that idea made him, Justin assured himself he was simply anxious to tell Kim about the Schaeffer meeting. After all, he reasoned, she’d worked as hard as he had to put it back together.

  Lost in thought, he didn’t even realize the emcee had given the signal for him to come out onstage until the hotel liaison assigned backstage for the event cleared his throat and said, “Mr. Connelly, sir, that’s your cue.”

  Justin jerked his gaze to the young man. “Um, thanks,” he said, and bracing himself, he walked out on stage.

  “Our final bachelor up for bid tonight is Mr. Justin Connelly.”

  Justin walked out onto the stage and managed what he hoped would pass as a happy-to-be-there smile while cameras flashed, party-goers clapped and one or two unladylike whistles rang out. Between the stage lights and camera flashes, it took Justin a moment to adjust his eyes. Once he did, he began to scan the sea of faces as he moved down the length of the stage.

  “The vice president of marketing for the Connelly Corporation, Justin is a member of one of Chicago’s finest families and the brother of the recently crowned king of Altaria. A familiar face on the business, civic and social scene, he was recently voted one of the most eligible bachelors in Chicago.”

  Ignoring the catcalls that followed that little tidbit, Justin shoved his hand into his pocket and started back toward the center of the stage. As he did so, he couldn’t help feeling a whole new level of respect for the women who participated in beauty pageants. He knew many of them did so for scholarship money or a break in show biz. And all he could think now was how on earth did they handle this sort of thing?

  “Now, let’s see what special date Justin is offering our bidders.” Smiling, the emcee untied the ribbon around the envelope that held a certificate describing his date package. After adjusting her spectacles, the woman practically beamed when she said, “Ladies, all I can say is get out your checkbooks.”