by V. A. Dold
He gave her a pat on the head and adjusted his prosthetic leg, then began dressing in the new tuxedo Simon dropped off earlier that morning. The last time he’d worn one was his brother’s wedding ten years ago. He hadn’t liked it then and he was sure he wasn’t going to like it now. Simon hadn’t had time to get it fitted; the shoulders were slightly too narrow and the seat-of-the-pants was slightly too roomy. The dang things were flat-out uncomfortable. Needless to say, he was looking forward to taking it off as soon as possible.
Stepping to the mirror, he attempted to adjust his bow tie with trembling hands. He hadn’t been on a date since he lost his leg. A wave of insecurity washed over him, an emotion he was unaccustomed to. Point him toward the enemy and he was one hundred percent sure of himself. Leave him alone with a female, at least since the attack, and he was a wreck. The counselor he saw thought this auction would be a great way to ease into the dating world. A nice simple, no strings attached, no expectations dinner. God, he hoped that was how this night went. The last thing he wanted was to make a fool of himself in front of a crowd by demonstrating a full out panic attack. If he were standing next to a very large boulder, he would find a way under it.
Thank God for small favors. At least he wouldn’t have to explain his leg to a stranger. He hated the look of pity he received when someone learned of his injury. He insisted Simon tell the audience about it before he went on stage for the auction. Cowardly? Maybe. But he wanted to be sure the woman involved knew what she was getting into. Any woman who bid on him would know about his leg ahead of time. The way he and Simon set up his presentation as the first bachelor, he would be assured the woman wanted him regardless of his leg. His main concern was intimacy. He prayed the winner expected nothing more than the dinner date outlined in the auction rules. His lower region had been on an extended siesta since the attack, and regardless what the surgeon insisted, there was no sign of life in his pants these days.
*****
Sharon accepted Carlos’ hand and stepped from her limo. Instinctively, she smoothed her dress. This was it. It was time to put her game face on and try to have a little fun. She was excited, but at the same time her nerves were a bit worn from the heightened feelings of expectation. Her intuitive gift didn’t automatically indicate a positive outcome, and that had her radar on alert. Please, Goddess, let whatever you have in store be a pleasant surprise.
She lifted her gown to avoid wrinkling the delicate fabric as she climbed the sweeping staircase that led to the main entrance. The building Simon and Rose rented for the evening was breathtaking. The architecture oozed of old New Orleans French charm and elegance. She looked forward to meeting Simon’s mate, Rose. Rumor was the woman was a miracle worker when it came to event planning. And from the sophisticated decor and tuxedoed staff, it looked as if Rose was indeed everything she’d heard.
A waiter paused to offer her a flute of champagne, which Sharon happily accepted. She sipped as she searched the crowd for Simon. He must be busy behind the scenes. He was nowhere in sight.
“Sharon! I’m so glad you made it,” Emma Le Beau said as she pulled her into a tight hug.
“Good evening, Emma. I’m happy to be here. Your daughter-in-law out did herself. The ballroom looks amazing.”
“Rose is a magician when it comes to events.”
“Has she started an event planning business here in New Orleans or are you keeping her all to yourself,” Sharon teased.
“So far, Simon has kept her busy with the charity, but if she decides to hang a shingle, I’ll let you know.”
“Please do. I have several charity events to plan each year for the children’s hospital and I would love to hire her.”
“Sharon!” Isaac greeted her with as much enthusiasm as his wife had. He wrapped his arm around Emma and held out his hand. “It’s wonderful to see you. It’s been much too long.”
Sharon shook his hand, smiling. “I agree. It has been much too long. I promise, I’ll be at the next pack run and barbecue. I hated missing the last one.”
“Excellent! Enjoy the evening. Many of the local pack members turned out as well as the upper crust of New Orleans. Mingle, and if your dance card isn’t full, please save a dance for me.”
“I’ll do that.” Then Sharon winked and added, “And if I don’t win a bachelor tonight, I might take you up on two dances.”
Isaac winked back. “Deal. I hate to run off, but we’re needed backstage. The auction will begin in a few minutes. Find a seat, and I’ll do my best to ensure you win a bachelor.”
“I’ll do that. If I don’t hurry, all the good seats will be taken. Good luck tonight. I’ll keep my fingers crossed that Simon and Rose bring in a lot of money for the charity.”
*****
Mark took a deep breath and rubbed his churning stomach. Now that the time had come, his gut wasn’t happy with him. It was too late to change his mind. He crossed himself and prayed he didn’t lose his lunch on stage. That wouldn’t be cool or inspire bidding. Rizzo was working overtime to keep him on an even keel. He stroked her head and rubbed her ears. Petting her always helped.
Simon assured him, any woman who purchased him at the auction would be thrilled to spend time with him and only women of quality would be bidding. There would be no judgmental attitudes or pity involved. He counted on Simon to keep his word as he always had.
Speak of the devil, Simon chose that moment to join him behind the curtain that shielded the backstage from view of the audience.
“Hey, Mark. You’re looking a little green. Are you hanging in there?”
“I’m all right, just a bit nervous.”
Rose joined them and put her arm around Mark’s waist. “Do you mind if I hang out with you, Mark? We can support each other, and I’ll cheer you on when you take the stage.”
Mark chuckled and put his arm around her shoulder. “Thanks, Rose. I’ll take all the support I can get.”
“While you two calm your nerves, let’s review the program schedule.”
He looked from Rose to Mark and back again to make sure he had their full attention.
“I’ll welcome the audience and then call each of you out and introduce you. Rose, you’ll be first and then I’ll have Mark come out. Don’t worry about memorizing anything to say. All you need to do is wave to the crowd at that point. Then I’ll make my speech. After that, I’ll call Mark back on stage to make his speech. When you finish, I’ll return to the stage, thank you for your words of wisdom, and call my dad out to start the auction.”
Mark and Rose nodded along as he reviewed each of their tasks.
“Okay, if both of you are ready, I’ll get the party started.” He waited for them to agree and with the nods of their heads, walked on stage.
“Welcome to the first annual dinner and ball for The Unforgotten Hero Foundation or TUHF (Tuff).” A chuckle rolled across the room. “Please, let me introduce a few key players of the organization. My beautiful Rose is the president of promotions and the driving force behind tonight’s event.”
Rose meant to walk all of the way onto the stage and stand next to Simon, but Mark had a determined grip on her hand. So instead she stepped forward until she was just beyond the curtain and waved to the crowd.
“My old commanding officer, Mark Anderson, has agreed to be my vice president of operations. Mark, come on out here.”
Mark took a couple of deep breaths, fearing he would hyperventilate or faint. He signaled Rizzo to stay, then stepped around Rose, switching hands as he went, to maintain his lifeline. Determined to conquer his fear, he took a single step from behind the curtain and bowed.
“Most of you are aware of my tour of service with the Marines. What you may not know is I had a long road to recovery once I was stateside. The unrelenting love of my family and an incredible woman...” he pried her hand loose from Mark’s and drew her from behind the curtain to hold her at his side. “Brought me back to the land of the living. Not all returning veterans are so lucky. My personal ex
perience and the needs of other veterans is what fueled the creation of this organization.”
He waved Mark onto the stage.
Emma had appeared behind Mark, took Rizzo’s leash, and gave him a little push to get him started. Squaring his shoulders, Mark walked toward Simon, head held proud, refusing to look at the crowd until he was standing still. If you didn’t know he lost his left leg just above the knee, you wouldn’t even notice the slight limp.
As he approached, Simon went rigid, tall and proud, chest out.
Mark chuckled and drew him into a back thumping hug. He knew Simon was being a little silly to ease his tension.
“Before the evening festivities begin, I would like you to know a bit more about what this foundation provides. I’ve asked Mark to explain what your donation dollar will offer. Mark, they’re all yours.”
Chapter 3
Mark took the microphone and quietly scanned the crowd, making eye contact here and there, until he laid eyes on the woman in the eighth row. Hot damn!
Strangely, as he stared at the lady, his fingertips began to itch. Without looking away, he rubbed them on the leg of his dress pants to alleviate the odd sensation. It didn’t help. They continued to tingle and itch. And now he had an intense urge to comb them through her thick mahogany hair. He glanced at his hands, expecting to find a bug of some sort. Ah hell, his palms were tingling too.
His gaze returned to the woman and was immediately captured by her dark brown eyes. From where he stood, they appeared black as night and sparkled like diamonds in a jeweler’s display case. Holy mother, that’s one heck of a gorgeous woman! Damnation, she’s staring at me. Did she notice my leg?
That was when he felt the distinct stirring of life in his pants. God bless America, his manhood still functioned! As a slow smile tugged his lips and he continued to stare, men and women began to stand in a show of respect. Slowly, one by one, the entire audience stood and gave a standing ovation.
Admiring the angel in the eighth row had its drawbacks. His prepared speech was erased from his brain. In an attempt to remember what he needed to say and regain his voice, he tore his eyes away from the enchanting vision. From the pitcher conveniently position on a small table next to the microphone, he poured a glass of water. The act would give him time to take a breath and collect his thoughts. Thank god the speech came back to his jumbled mind. He took a sip to ease the dryness that had joined the party with Mr. Tingle and cleared his throat. If he had a prayer of making it through this, he would have to avoid looking at her again.
Mark set the glass aside and took a breath. “Thank you, thank you. I appreciate the warm welcome. So, why are we asking you to loosen your purse strings tonight? What exactly could a dog possibly do for a serviceperson suffering PTSD?
“We believe the animal-human bond is an absolutely indisputable part of emotional, mental, spiritual, and physical healing. We’re seeking to make this healing available to everyone, regardless of financial or other challenges that might discourage them from seeking this invaluable resource.
“A service, or therapeutic companion dog, as they’re sometimes called, can help a serviceperson’s recovery and make adjustment back into civilian life easier. The dogs are extremely helpful if the serviceperson is experiencing panic attacks, anxiety, depression, nightmares, flashbacks, or agoraphobia.
“So how will the dog help with these things, you ask? The dog travels beside their owner in public places such as restaurants, grocery stores, buses, etcetera, helping to ease any anxiety the owner may experience.
“When in a crowded environment the dog will stay between its owner and any person approaching too close, creating a calm, yet friendly, ‘barrier.’ The dog will awaken its owner from a nightmare and then calm him. Should the dog sense fear or anxiety, it will try to redirect its owner’s thoughts elsewhere.”
*****
Sharon’s breath caught in her chest the moment Mark Anderson stepped from behind the curtain.
Goddess, have mercy. Sharon froze. Unable to draw a breath, her gaze remained glued to the sexiest man she’d ever seen. He was wide shouldered with heavily muscled thighs, and so incredibly hot, her entire body sizzled. His dark brown hair, slightly shaggy chic due to a military cut left to grow unchecked, set off his deep brown eyes. Eyes that held her captive as effectively as shackles and chains.
The tension she held in her shoulders was forgotten as she stared open mouthed at the handsome serviceman. Love at first sight and he hadn’t even uttered a word. For a long moment, she soaked him in. Then he spoke and her heart fluttered in her chest. His rich, deep baritone made her shiver and triggered all kinds of steamy thoughts.
Excitement and heart palpitations dampened her brow with beads of sweat. Her wolf pushed at the walls of her mind. It wanted to bolt onto the stage and rub all over him. Mate! Could she be so lucky?
He looked away and she was able to breathe again. As he spoke, she devoured him with her eyes. In her mind, she stripped him naked. She visualized his taut muscular chest and arms that filled out his tuxedo perfectly, gleaming under candlelight in her bedroom. She licked her lips as her fantasy stretched to imagine his lean hips and thighs bared for her pleasure. Narrowing her eyes, she focused on his white dress shirt. Did he have a mouthwatering smattering of hair on that impressive chest? Goddess, she hoped so. Her fingertips longed to brush over the soft and slightly scratchy hair she was sure he had under all that cotton.
Sharon cocked her head and assessed his height. How would he fit with her five-foot-eight stature? She started at his dress shoes and worked her way to the top of his head. She knew Simon was over six feet and when Mark stood next to him he was only about an inch shorter. She nodded to herself, perfect. Even in her heels he would be taller than her. She could hardly wait for the ball to begin. The first thing she would do was ask him to dance.
Vaguely, through her fantasizing, she heard his voice as he continued his speech.
When his voice went silent, she glanced around. A dog in a service vest caught her attention as it calmly walked onto the stage and stood next to Mark. The dog nudged his hand to get his attention. What was going on?
*****
Mark made the mistake of glancing at the woman just as she slowly looked him up and down. When she licked her lips, she hammered the last nail in his PTSD coffin. He hadn’t allowed a woman to see him naked since he left the hospital, and here he was in front of hundreds of people, and she was stripping him bare with her thoughts.
His brain stuttered to a halt and went completely blank. A full on panic attack overtook him. Through the surge of overwhelming anxiety and struggling to breathe, the sensation of Rizzo nudging his palm began to bring him back to reality. The touch of her muzzle triggered a breath of air to fill his lungs and lessened the attack. Able to breathe again, he tried to collect his thoughts. Shit, why hadn’t he made note cards? He had no idea what the rest of the speech was.
“Pardon me, this is my service dog, Rizzo.”
The crowd gave a rousing round of applause for the dog. With his brain functioning again, his memorized speech miraculously returned along with Mr. Tingles. A relieved smile teased the tense expression he knew he wore. Regardless of the attack, his manhood was still interested. That was good. Very, very good. Then he noticed Rizzo’s cocked head, gazing at him as if she were intrigued by his fluctuating emotions.
Taking a breath, he cleared his throat and continued. “What I’ve described is just the tip of the iceberg of what a service animal can do for the victims of PTSD. Studies show that up to eighty percent of patients show marked improvement once they receive a dog.”
He paused for a moment to take a sip of water. “So, how long does it take to train a dog to do incredible things like I’ve laid out? And Rizzo thankfully, just demonstrated. Generally, nine months. This includes twice-a-week training for six months, followed by supplemental mentoring sessions. Both dog and man will need a bit of training.
“I was going to recount
a success story of a friend of mine, but perhaps I’ll save that for another day. I’d like to leave you with the knowledge that for every forty thousand dollars raised tonight, we can provide one serviceperson with a quality of life they would otherwise never have.
“Those men and women sacrificed for freedoms we take for granted every day. This is your chance to show them your appreciation. Thank you.”
Mark raised a hand to the crowd, glanced one last time at the gorgeous woman who stirred his body back to life, gave her a tentative smile, and walked off the stage with Rizzo.
*****
Simon returned to the stage clapping along with the audience. “Thank you, Mark. And how about his awesome dog, Rizzo?”
The crowd cheered their appreciation for the incredible dog.
“Now, it’s time for the auction. Open your wallets and get ready to outbid the others in the room. Twenty-one local professionals and celebrities have volunteered to be our auction items tonight. If you are a lucky bidder, you’ll win a dinner date with your prize. You’ll also have a dance partner for the ball if you so desire.”
“Before I bring out the first bachelor, let me be very clear, there is no les rapports sexuels, or in laymen’s terms, hanky panky involved if you win one of the singles.”
A chuckle rose from the audience.
“My father, Isaac Le Beau, has been given the honor of acting as our auctioneer tonight, and Mark Anderson has consented to be the first bachelor up for auction.”
The crowd cheered again and a few women let their excitement over a chance at a date with Mark be known.
“Before we begin taking your bids, I would like to say a few words on behalf of Mark. One of the reason’s he is the perfect man to help head the charity is his firsthand experience with the services we will offer. Mark lost his right leg above the knee during his time with the Marines. He’s proud of his hi-tech prosthesis and his PTSD dog. Both have allowed him to live a fairly normal life. After having heard him speak, I’m sure you will understand when I say he prefers to be treated like any other man. Mark is not the kind of person to thank you for special treatment or considerations. Without further ado, I give you our auctioneer, Isaac Le Beau.”