Going, Going, Gone_Bid On Love

by Samantha A. Cole

  Once she was certain all was in order, she took the bag and the two towels she’d used for her hair and body, then opened the door. She padded barefoot down the hallway of his three-bedroom ranch toward the kitchen where she could hear him puttering around. Like her, he was now wearing comfortable sweats and a T-shirt, although his molded his tight ass and muscular chest in a way that almost made her drool. She wondered what he did to keep his body in such good shape. Hearing her enter the room, he looked up from seasoning two steaks. “Hi. Oh, you could have left the towels in there, but since you have them, you can toss them in the washer in there.”

  He cocked his head toward a closed door on the other side of the room. Opening the door, she saw it was a very organized looking laundry room, just like the rest of his house, with plenty of space to move around. When she put the towels in the machine, she noticed his dirty clothes were already in there. Nessa poked her head back into the kitchen. “Should I start the washer?”

  “Nope, I’ll do it later, but thanks for asking. A buddy is a plumber and I have to call him to come by to look at it. The other day, it started making a huge racket whenever I ran it. My repair knowledge on large appliances is limited, so it’s good to have someone I can outsource the work to, knowing he won’t charge me an arm and a leg.”

  Closing the door again, she set the plastic bag on the floor under the table. “Can I help with anything?”

  “Well, that depends. Do you want beer, wine, or soda?”

  “Um, wine sounds good.”

  “Great. If you go into the dining room, there’s a wine rack if you want a red, and a wine fridge if you want a white. Pick whatever you’re in the mood for and there’s a wine opener in the drawer of the credenza and glasses in the hutch. You can grab me one too, please. In the meantime, I’ll throw these on the grill. Come outside when you’re ready. I already put the plates and stuff on the table out there.”

  Dylan headed out the door to the patio while Nessa wandered into the dining room and selected a bottle of red with a label she recognized. She found everything where he’d said it would be and, moments later, joined him on the patio, setting both glasses and the half empty bottle on the table that was already set and waiting for them. Dylan lived on a nice, quiet cul-de-sac. The house wasn’t too large or too small—as Goldilocks would say it was “just right.” The backyard had been freshly mowed in the last day or so and was surrounded by trim, stately hedges, which gave him privacy from his neighbors. In the corner of the patio, there was a covered hot tub and Nessa had an image flash in her mind of him lounging in the bubbly water with her while they were both naked. She quickly tore her gaze away from the tub and forced the wayward thoughts from her mind. While Dylan had flirted with her, he hadn’t given her any indication he wanted more from her than just friendship. After their auction date, she hadn’t seen him again until today, but they had spoken on the phone in between, arranging for a time to meet at her Aunt Elise’s. She wouldn’t mind having him as a friend, but the butterflies she felt in her stomach and the yearning in her core would drive her crazy every time she saw him. No, she wanted something more with him, but she’d never been the aggressor in a relationship. How did she let him know she was interested in actually dating him? Wait, what was it he’d said earlier about dinner tonight? Whether they had dinner here or at a restaurant, it would be their second date. Oh, God, this is so confusing! Why can’t guys just have a flashing sign over their heads that say whether they’re interested in a woman?

  “What’s that frown for?” Dylan asked, wearing his own frown as he stared at her from where he stood next to the barbecue a few feet away.

  She was pulled from her musing “Huh? Oh . . . um . . . nothing. Just . . . um . . . going over a bunch of things—for work—in my mind.” His expression said he didn’t believe her. Nessa glanced around the table, looking for a way to change the subject. “Do we have everything we need?”

  His eyes narrowed for a moment, then relaxed. “I think so . . . Whoops. I forgot the butter for the baked potatoes.”

  “I’ll grab it,” she responded far too quickly, before practically running into the house. Breathe, Nessa, damn it. Just breathe.

  Chapter Nine

  Dylan stared after Nessa, wondering what had really been on her mind, and wished he had the right to demand she tell him, but this was only their second date—sort of. The first she’d paid for. This one, he’d taken advantage of the situation—in other words, it hadn’t been planned. Had he backed her into a corner earlier, giving her no chance to turn him down? Especially when his mother had arrived? Shit. It just occurred to him, he never actually came out and asked if she was already dating someone. Did she have a boyfriend? She’d already admitted the only reason she’d come to the auction was to bid on him, specifically, with an ulterior motive. Was she still using him to get what she wanted? Fuck. This was why he didn’t date much, lately. One-night-stands had been great when he was younger, but now in his midthirties, the novelty had worn off. Most of his buddies were married now—some happily, some not—but Dylan had never met a woman who made him even think of having a long-term relationship before. Someone he could picture himself growing old with. Was Nessa that woman? Damned if he knew. Did he want to find out? Hell yeah.

  The door opened, and Nessa stepped back out, the tub of butter in her hand. Her gaze went from him to behind him and back again before she raised her eyebrows. Something clicked in Dylan’s head. Shit! The steaks! Spinning around, he was relieved to see he hadn’t been in la-la-land for too long. The meat should still be medium rare. “How do you like your steak cooked, Nessa?”

  “Rare to medium rare, if that’s okay?”

  “A woman after my own heart. The closer it is to mooing, the better, in my book.”

  To his delight, she laughed as he placed the steaks on the plate he’d brought them out on. He added two baked potatoes that he’d partially cooked in the microwave to save time before placing them on the grill. Instead of a vegetable, he’d gone with a summer slaw he favored from the local market. He’d picked up a large container of it yesterday while food shopping and had put it in a bowl on the table already.

  “Dinner’s ready.” He gestured for her to take a chair in front of one of the place settings before sitting next to her. He made quick work of arranging the steak and potatoes on the two dinner plates, then they spent a few moments in silence, doctoring the food to their liking with salt, pepper, butter, and other condiments.

  “It looks and smells delicious,” Nessa said, picking up her knife and fork and cutting into her ribeye first.

  “Not as good as the chateaubriand the other day, though.”

  She chewed and swallowed a piece of the steak. “But damn close. Mmm, it’s really good. What seasoning did you put on it?”

  “A special blend I get at the same market I got the summer slaw. It’s a little gourmet place called Cornucopia, near my office. I mostly get just my meats, fruits, veggies, and seafood from them—you know, the fresh food. They’re a little more expensive than Kroger or Piggly Wiggly, but I’ve never been disappointed with the quality.”

  “I’ll have to check it out someday.” Nessa took a sip of her wine. “So . . . I never asked—how did you get duped into doing the auction?”

  He snorted as he loaded his fork with slaw. “How’d you know I was duped?”

  “Well, first off, you didn’t look very happy about being up there. You were scowling most of the time until . . .”

  “Until I caught a glimpse of the beautiful woman who’d won,” he finished for her, pleased when her blush returned. Damn, he could work on seeing what made her cheeks turn pink all day long and never tire. “In addition to the library, my mother is the founding member of Wendy’s Place—a women’s shelter and resource facility.”

  “Really? The college just did a clothing drive for them a few weeks ago—we filled a small U-Haul with all the women’s and kid’s clothes we collected.”

  “That’s r
ight. I completely forgot about that.” At her confused expression, he added, “I’ve been on the charity’s board for the past few years. I took my dad’s place when he passed away. Anyway, I’d met Nadine Marx last year at a function and asked her to do a human-interest piece on Wendy’s Place to get a boost in donations. Nadine’s a local newspaper reporter. When she came up with the idea for the charity auction, she apparently called in some markers that were due to her. Mine was one of them. And, yes, I was definitely not thrilled, but I pay my debts. Besides, I had this sure-fire way not to have to actually go through with the date.”

  “Oh, really?” She laughed. “Well, clearly it wasn’t as sure-fire as you’d planned. What happened?”

  He shrugged—confession time. “My cousin, Emma, was supposed to bid on me—I told her I’d pay whatever the winning bid ended up being—but her son broke his arm. She ran out of there to meet her husband at the hospital about three minutes before I took the stage. She sent me a text on her way, which is probably why I was scowling, as you said.”

  “Oh no!” Her eyes rounded. “Oh, my gosh! I think your cousin was sitting next to me. She got a phone call, and it sounded like an emergency. I really didn’t pay attention since she left in a hurry and then you were introduced. Is her son okay?”

  “Yeah, but he’s stuck in a cast for the next few weeks.” Dylan picked up his wine and took a drink. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him, and his brow furrowed. He set the glass back down and leaned forward. “By the way . . . how did you know I was going to be in the auction and which date I was? Our identities were kept under wraps until after the bidding was over. Nadine wanted to make sure everyone was bidding on the dates and not someone they wanted to stalk.”

  Nessa’s lips rolled inward as her gaze dropped to her plate. “Um . . . it was a fluke, sort of, I guess. I was at your office, trying to get in to see you, but Attila the Hun, a.k.a. your secretary, wouldn’t let me pass. The reporter—Nadine, was it?” When she looked back up at Dylan, and he nodded, she continued. “She came in to drop off some paperwork that had to be filled out about the date. I caught enough of their conversation to realize if I couldn’t get an appointment with you that I could try to get a date with you.” Her shoulders sagged as remorse filled her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  Confusion flushed through him. “Sorry? Why? For being passionate about something that matters a great deal to you and being smart enough to know an opportunity when you see it? Don’t be sorry, Nessa. Yes, I was a little annoyed when I first figured out why you bid on me, but the way I look at it now, I’m the one who lucked out.”

  It was her turn to look perplexed. “I don’t understand.”

  They’d both finished their meal in between the conversation and had put down their utensils. Reaching over, Dylan took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “Because the woman who won me has me completely fascinated. I’ve never met a woman like you, Nessa, and I’d like to get to know you better. Much, much better.”

  When her jaw dropped, Dylan stood and tugged on her hand until she was standing in front of him. Leaning down, he brushed his lips across hers. He felt her freeze, so he took it slow, placing soft kisses against her mouth, until her body gradually relaxed. Her arms went around his neck. Thanking his lucky stars, and with one hand at her lower back, he pressed her against him, as his other hand went into her hair. Making a fist, he used his grip on the silky strands to move her head to the angle he wanted, so he could take deeper possession of her mouth. Her lips parted, granting him entry, and he swept his tongue between them without hesitation. He could taste their dinner and wine, but he was also savoring Nessa’s own unique flavor. He couldn’t describe it if he had to, but he definitely wanted more of it.

  A moan emanated from Nessa’s throat, and it made Dylan’s cock grow harder than it already was. After kissing his way along her jawline, he lightly nipped her earlobe. “You have no idea how much I want to pick you up, carry you to my bed, and not let you go until we’re both thoroughly sated.” Even before she stiffened again, his next words were already flowing from his mouth. “But you’re not ready for that. We’re not ready for that.”

  He lifted his head, placed a peck on her nose then relaxed his grip on her, thrilled to see her breathing and pulse at her neck were working double time. “You’ve grown on me, Nessa, faster than any woman I’ve ever known. I don’t want to rush this between us—my libido can’t believe I just said that—because this—you and I—feels different from anything I’ve felt before. I don’t want to screw it up before we have a chance to explore it.” Grasping her upper arms, he gently pushed her back, creating a respectable space between them. “So, here’s my plan, and I hope you’ll agree to it. We’ll sit here, enjoy the sunset, the wine, and each other’s company. Then I’ll escort you to your car and kiss you goodnight. You’ll call me when you get home, so I know you arrived safely. Then we’ll plan our next date and see where this thing between us goes. Sound good to you?”

  Desire swam in her eyes, along with gratitude, and he knew he’d made the right decision to take things slower than his usual pace. The corners of her mouth ticked upward. “That sounds very good to me.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Damn it.” Nessa huffed out an exasperated breath, as she sat at the desk in her office on campus, staring at her computer. She’d received three more emails from museums and historical groups stating none of them had found the diary in their possession. It was the same response she’d gotten the day before in four other emails, and in another two the day before that. Dylan’s mother must have pulled some serious strings because in the two weeks since Nessa had met her, emails and phone calls, from the different places she’d originally sent inquiries to, had been flowing in at a steady pace. She just prayed that one of the outstanding inquiries would garner the response she needed.

  The team from the Archaeological Society of Virginia had done a thorough survey of the hidden room below the kitchen at the Coldrick farm. They’d uncovered a few other items, including pieces of pottery that’d once been bowls, part of a wrought-iron chain that’d probably belonged to another shackle, and what appeared to be a crudely made, wood, beaded necklace. The archaeologist had said all the artifacts appeared to be from the same era coinciding with the Underground Railroad. They were going to do DNA testing on the items, hoping to recover any dead skin cells or dried blood. She’d know in another day or two if they were successful. If they were, new technology would help them trace the person’s ancestry. But if they weren’t, they’d need further proof to connect the items to actual slaves. Hence, she still needed the damn diary.

  A knock on her open door startled her, and she was surprised to see Dylan standing there, grinning at her. “Hi.”

  Her own smile spread. He was wearing khakis and a golf shirt, which showed off his sculpted arms. Yum. The man was gorgeous and drew appreciative stares from women no matter what clothes he had on. “Hi, yourself. What are you doing here?”

  Since Dylan had had to travel to New York for business for nearly a week, they’d only been on two other dates, both of which had been in public, far away from the temptation of either of their bedrooms. That knowledge had the opposite effect on her. Nessa wanted him, her desire growing as each day passed. Although she was far from a virgin, and had had several boyfriends over the years, she’d actually been grateful Dylan wanted to take things slowly with her. One-night stands had never been her thing, and she’d dated all her lovers for a respectable amount of time before she’d gone to bed with them. Her self-imposed policy had chased off more than one guy whose only interest in her had been a roll in the sack. She’d almost panicked the other night when Dylan had whispered how much he wanted to carry her to his bed, but then he’d immediately calmed her fears. Nessa knew some of her friends would think she was crazy to make a guy wait—especially one as hot as Dylan—but she didn’t care. When she went to bed with a man, it was knowing her heart, mind, body, and soul were all in agreement that this w
as what she wanted. Sex for the sake of sex was a turnoff for her. Meaningful sex made it all the better.

  Their next date—which’d been technically their third—had been at a local park where Marley & Me had been shown on a huge screen while viewers sat on lawn chairs and blankets. Dylan had surprised her with a picnic basket filled with wine, cheese, crackers, and fruit, including chocolate covered strawberries. He’d also supplied the bug spray, so they hadn’t been eaten alive by mosquitos. When he’d dropped her off at her condo that night, he’d walked her to the door where they made out for a few minutes. With reluctance in his eyes, he’d then told her to sleep well and waited for her to lock the door behind her before heading home. He wanted her—that was clear—but he was willing to put her needs first until she was ready to take their relationship to the next step. And that willingness turned her on—big time.

  Last night, he’d taken her to a local Irish pub, where friends of his from high school had gone for an impromptu get-together. When he’d first asked her to join him, she’d declined, thinking he’d spend the night catching up with everyone, and she would be left on the outside, but he’d finally talked her into going. She shouldn’t have been worried because Dylan had stayed by her side the whole time, introducing her to everyone, and making sure she was included in every conversation. If someone brought up an inside joke, Dylan had explained it to her. When a recent divorcée had started hitting on him when he’d gone to the bar to refresh Nessa’s drink, without a backward glance to see if she’d been watching, Dylan had indicated he was there with someone and had no interest in straying. Nessa knew this because he’d filled her in when he’d returned with her drink. He’d then leaned down and kissed the hell out of her in front of everyone, garnering a bunch of catcalls and whistles and causing Nessa to blush like crazy. A few of his female friends had pulled her aside at one point and told her Dylan was a keeper. Apparently, they’d been trying to set him up for years because they’d wanted him to find someone he could settle down with. They’d also said they’d never seen him look at a woman the way he’d been looking at Nessa. While she’d been surprised at their girlie chat, it’d warmed her to know they thought Dylan was special and she was making him happy, even though they’d just started seeing each other.