by Gina Wilkins
“You were right,” Blair said as the bids topped eight thousand and kept climbing.
The handsome doctor sold for a staggering amount. Blair gasped in surprise—as did a number of others in the audience—when the auctioneer called the name of the winning bidder. Sugar Spinelli was seventy-five years old and had been married for half a century! What did she want with a young stud of a doctor?
Blair was still shaking her head in amazement when the next bachelor was called to the stand. Again, bidding was brisk, though Blair sat this one out. When rodeo star Shane Daniels took the stage, there was a near frenzy of bidding. She didn’t participate in that one, either.
It really had been a dumb idea, she told herself as the auction proceeded. She hadn’t expected the bidders to be so serious about this. It seemed that every winning bidder had a serious agenda motivating her, spurring on high dollars and fierce, though generally good-natured, competition. Blair’s reason for participating was a valid one, but maybe she’d been foolish to even hope she could solve Jeffrey’s problems by buying him a weekend mentor.
By the time a half-dozen bachelors had been auctioned off, Blair was losing interest, her attention caught again by the tantalizing smells drifting over from the barbecue grills. One of those smoked turkey legs sure sounded good. Maybe, now that her stomach had settled a little, she could handle one. Maybe she should buy another batch of raffle tickets for that beautiful quilt. Since it didn’t appear that she was going to be buying a bachelor, she might as well donate to the cause in another way. And she really would love to have that quilt....
“Now, ladies, our next bachelor is Mr. Scott McKay. Scott owns a—”
The latest bachelor’s credentials were drowned out by an outburst from somewhere behind her. Blair turned automatically to see what was going on. It seemed that one of the women had gotten so excited she’d fallen completely off her seat at the end of a row, landing flat on her well-cushioned bottom on the dusty ground below. She wasn’t hurt, Blair noted in relief; in fact, she and her friends were laughing almost hysterically, drawing a lot of shushes from others in the audience who were straining to hear the auctioneer. Blair watched the woman stand with the assistance of a solicitous ranch employee, dust off her too-tight jeans and climb onto her seat, where she and her big-haired friends dissolved into giggles again. Only then did Blair turn, thinking again of that turkey leg. Maybe if she...
Her wandering gaze landed on the bachelor currently on the auction block, and she felt her jaw drop. She closed it quickly, trying to clear her suddenly clouded mind. Must be lack of food, she told herself. Maybe an overload of sound and activity. It couldn’t possibly be that she had just been struck dumb by the sight of an attractive man in a beautifully tailored suit.
The bidding had already climbed to fifteen hundred dollars by the time she could think clearly. She looked at the guy again, trying to be objective. He wasn’t as movie-star gorgeous as the first bachelor, the doctor she had tried to buy earlier. But he was...intriguing. His hair was a rich, glossy brown that glinted in the sun. It was brushed neatly back from a tanned, angular face creased by sexy dimples. From where she sat, his eyes looked very blue, his teeth very white. He held his chin tucked down a bit, so that he seemed to be looking up from beneath his lashes. His brow was creased in an endearingly bemused expression, as if the rowdy attention he was getting from the audience was something he hadn’t expected when he’d signed up for this.
His dark suit fit him to perfection, displaying impressive shoulders, a solid chest and narrow hips. He wore a snowy white shirt and a boldly colored geometric tie. His western boots made her frown a bit, since they didn’t quite fit the image, but then she smiled, deciding he’d probably worn the boots as a tribute to the ranch. Regarded in that respect, it was actually a very sweet gesture.
Someone bid twenty-five hundred dollars.
He certainly looked like a conservative, respectable businessman, Blair mused. And that somewhat befuddled smile could indicate a slight shyness that Jeffrey would identify with. Whatever problems Scott McKay had faced as a boy, he’d apparently put them well behind him. Would he know what to say to a child whose hurt and anger were propelling him down the wrong path?
“Do I hear three thousand dollars?” the auctioneer sang out.
Blair drew a deep breath and lifted her hand, calling once again on the Townsend boldness she so rarely indulged.
“All right. You’re back in the bidding,” the young woman at her left said with a laugh.
Someone else bid thirty-five hundred, followed by a bid for four thousand.
Once again, Blair’s hand shot into the air, raising the stakes to forty-five hundred.
“He is pretty,” the brunette mused. “And he sure sounds like a fun date.”
A fun date? Was there something Blair had missed that she should know? The bidding rose to five thousand dollars, more than she’d intended to spend. She gulped and upped it to fifty-five hundred.
“Wow. You must really like that sexy smile,” the woman next to her murmured.
Blair almost answered that the man’s sexy smile had nothing to do with this. She was buying him for her nephew, not for herself. Although, if she was buying a man for herself, this was definitely one who...
She shook her head, telling herself to concentrate on what she was doing—and why. She waved her hand again when the bidding rose to sixty-five hundred. Scott McKay looked in her direction and grinned.
“Oh, lordy,” the brunette said with a sigh.
Oh, lordy, Blair echoed silently, her nerve endings all aquiver from the smile he’d sent her way.
“Sold for sixty-five hundred dollars,” the auctioneer called. “The residents of Lost Springs Ranch greatly appreciate your generosity, ma’am. Now, let’s hear a warm welcome for our next bachelor....”
“Way to go!” The woman beside Blair cheered, clapping Blair on the back. “You bought yourself a hunk for a weekend.”
“Oh, but I...” Blair’s words dissolved into a groan as the full impact of what she had done sank in. What on earth was she going to do with a hunk for a weekend?
*
HAVING ALWAYS BEEN the type to want things settled very quickly, Blair wrote out her check to the auction officials, then immediately went looking for Scott McKay. She wanted to let him know exactly why she had purchased his services—just in case he’d gotten the wrong idea.
She didn’t find him among the other bachelors milling in the arena, surrounded by their buyers and other admirers. She finally located an auction volunteer, a young man who nodded in response to her question and led her to one of the cozy one-room, one-bath cottages where overnight guests and visiting directors were occasionally housed. “He’s in here,” he said, and knocked on the door. “Mr. McKay? Your buyer wants to meet you.”
Blair’s cheeks flamed. She didn’t particularly like being referred to as his buyer. It sounded so ridiculous.
The cottage door opened. And Blair discovered that Scott McKay was even more attractive close up than he had been from the risers. So polished and dignified, she thought in approval. Obviously an important businessman. He looked her over as the volunteer hurried away, leaving them alone. “Hi. So you’re the one who bought me?”
“Well, um, yes. I’m Blair Townsend.”
“And I,” he said, giving her a smile that could have melted concrete, “am delighted.”
Oh, heavens. Blair cleared her throat. “Mr. McKay...”
“Scott. Please, come in.”
“Well, I—”
He reached out, took her arm and hauled her into the neatly furnished little cottage, talking the whole time. “I gotta tell you, Blair,” he said, closing the door. “I was a little worried about who would buy me. Did you see the women out there? Some of them looked like they wanted to eat us alive. And that little granny who bought Rob? What do you suppose she wanted, a grandson for a weekend?”
“I’m not—”
He reached for hi
s tie, yanking it loose and over his head, still knotted. The movement mussed his hair from the neatly brushed-back style of before, causing a heavy lock to fall forward on his forehead. “I’ll tell you, I wouldn’t have done this for anyone but Lindsay. I’d rather bungee jump off the Empire State Building or wrestle the meanest bull ever born than stand up on that auction block again.”
Bungee jump? Wrestle bulls? That didn’t sound like something a conservative businessman would say. “Scott, I...”
He tossed his suit jacket over the back of one of the chairs and reached for the top button of his shirt. “Anyway, I hope they made enough money today to keep them afloat—maybe enough positive PR to keep the donations coming in. Too many kids out there would be in a spit-load of trouble without this place.”
“Yes, I know it’s—”
“Thanks to people like you, Lindsay’s got a real chance to make it. Sixty-five hundred dollars...well, that was incredibly generous. I’ll have to make sure,” he added with a grin, “that you get your money’s worth.”
He stripped off his shirt and tossed it toward the same chair that held his jacket. His bare chest was broad, tanned...and made Blair’s heart almost stop. Her fingers curled at her sides—she assured herself it wasn’t an effort for her to keep from reaching out to touch all that lovely expanse of male skin. She lied, of course.
“Mr. McKay!” she sputtered. “What are you doing?”
“I’m changing clothes,” he said with a smile that was suspiciously bland. “I hate wearing suits, but I thought we were supposed to dress up for this thing. Come to think about it, Lindsay was the one who suggested the tie. I’ll have to figure out a way to repay her for that.”
He snatched a duffel bag off the couch and moved toward the bathroom. “I’ll finish changing in here. Help yourself to something to drink, if you like. There are sodas and juice in that little fridge. I’ll be out in a minute.”
The bathroom door closed in her face. Blair stared at it in dismay. What had just happened here? The dignified, conservative businessman she’d spent a large chunk of her savings on had transformed right in front of her eyes into a bare-chested, fast-talking crazy man.
Oh, how she wished she had read one of those auction brochures before she had made such an uncharacteristically impulsive and imprudent gesture!
She should probably leave now, admit defeat and consider her monetary loss a donation to a very worthwhile cause. She wasn’t at all sure Scott McKay would be the right person to get through to Jeffrey. Pushing a picture of his gorgeous bare chest out of her mind, she took a step toward the exit.
“Hey, Blair!” Scott called through the bathroom door. “Would you mind pouring something cold for me, too? After sitting out there in that arena all afternoon, I’m damned near dried out.”
Blair sighed. His words reminded her of what a generous and unselfish gesture he had made on behalf of the ranch. She would have absolutely hated being paraded in front of a hooting, cheering crowd. Maybe Scott was still just a little nervous and hyper after that experience. That would be understandable, she thought, remembering the slightly bemused expression he’d worn during the auction.
Maybe she should give him a second chance.
“Soda or juice?” she called out.
“Whatever you’re having, darlin’.”
Darlin’. She swallowed a groan, tried again to forget how good he had looked a moment ago and poured orange juice into a glass she found in a cabinet beside the mini-refrigerator. She didn’t want anything for herself. She sincerely hoped Scott would reappear with his hair neatly brushed again, maybe wearing a polo shirt and khakis—something suitably conformist and respectable. Something that would convince her he was the right man for the job she had in mind.
The bathroom door opened and she turned, holding out the glass of juice she had poured for him. And then she nearly dropped it on the floor when he stepped out and she got a good look at him.
“Oh, damn,” she said in consternation. “You’re a cowboy.”
CHAPTER TWO
FOR SOME REASON, Scott was getting the idea that Blair Townsend wasn’t overly enthusiastic about the purchase she had made. In response to her comment, he glanced automatically at the clothes he’d just pulled on—a blue-and-white-striped denim shirt, a pair of jeans cinched with a worn leather belt and the boots he’d had on earlier.
Regular-type clothes, he thought with a frown. Why was she looking at him as if he’d just switched heads instead of shirts? “I’ve been called a cowboy a few times,” he acknowledged. Among other things.
She seemed to brace herself. “Rodeo?”
Reaching for the juice glass, he studied her face, reading disapproval in her expression. When he’d first met Blair Townsend, he’d been relieved that his buyer was young and very attractive—he still shuddered when he wondered what that older woman had wanted from a weekend with poor Rob Carter. He thought Blair looked rather prim and uptight in her conservative clothes—a cream-colored short-sleeve sweater set, pearl necklace and tailored slacks. It was a more professional-looking and less casual outfit than most of the ranch guests had been wearing that afternoon, but other than that, his first impression of her had been quite positive. Now he was beginning to wonder if the old lady might have been more fun. “I rodeo sometimes—when I feel like it.”
“What do you do when you don’t feel like it?”
He shrugged. “I’ve raced cars, motorcycles and speedboats, and I have a few other hobbies that keep me entertained. What do you do?”
She sighed, her expression changing from consternation to resignation. Pulling a roll of antacids out of the pocket of her cardigan, she popped one into her mouth. “I eat a lot of these,” she murmured.
He couldn’t help smiling at her rueful tone. He wondered if she was some sort of high-powered executive. She sure had the look. Her honey-blond hair was cut for practicality in a chin-length bob she kept tucked behind her ears. No wispy bangs to soften the look. Understated makeup—not that her fair, clear complexion needed artificial enhancement, he mused, studying her dark blue eyes, naturally rosy, rounded cheeks and soft, full lips. She was of medium height and slender. Pretty, he thought, but practical.
He hazarded a guess. “Accountant?”
“Lawyer.”
He nodded. Close enough.
“So, Counselor, you looking for some relaxation? Trust me, you’ve bought the right guy. By the time our weekend is over, you’re going to throw the rest of those antacids in the trash. We’re going to have a great time.”
She shook her head. He might have liked her to look a bit more intrigued by his promises. “That wasn’t the reason I bid on you, Mr. McKay. Actually, I think I’ve made a mistake. Maybe it would be best if I just consider my check a donation to the ranch and we’ll both forget about arranging a weekend. I’m sure you’re very busy. I know Lindsay and Rex and the others greatly appreciate the time you gave them today. It was extremely generous of you.”
“Now, just hold on a minute,” he said, holding up a hand. “You spent more than six thousand dollars for a weekend in my company. You must have had some reason for doing so.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“So, what did you have in mind? And what have I done to cause you concern?”
She cleared her throat and started to speak. He interrupted her, motioning toward the tweedy couch pushed against one wall. “Why don’t we sit down and get comfortable, and then you can tell me all about it.”
“That won’t be necessary. This won’t take long.”
Scott wasn’t the easily riled type, but Blair Townsend was starting to irk him a bit. What the hell had she bought him for if she didn’t want anything to do with him? Had she been so offended by the sight of his bare chest? Or—his pride stung a bit—so disillusioned?
“I’d like to sit for a few minutes,” he said, keeping his tone mild.
She looked momentarily abashed. “Of course. Please, feel free to take a seat.”
Staying where he was, he motioned toward the couch again, indicating that he would be seated when she was. Given little choice, Blair moved to the couch and perched on the edge, her back very straight, her chin high. Scott sank into the chair opposite the one that held his jacket and shirt. He slouched comfortably, stretched his legs in front of him and crossed his booted feet. He set his empty juice glass on the floor beside him, then laced his hands over his stomach. “Okay, what was your plan? And why’d you change your mind?”
“It was an impulse, really,” she answered, suddenly looking flustered. “I don’t act impulsively very often, and I really shouldn’t have.... Anyway, I only came to watch the events today, not to participate. Buying a bachelor was the last thing on my mind when I left home this morning.”
He nodded, growing increasingly curious. “So, what made you decide to bid on me? Was it my big blue eyes? My irresistible smile? My charming personality?”
“It was the tie, I think,” she murmured, sticking a pin directly into his ego.
“The tie?”
She nodded rather glumly. “I had this sudden, crazy idea that I could buy a role model for my nephew, Jeffrey. He’s living with me, and he’s going through a difficult time. He’s angry and rebellious, he doesn’t care about his grades, he isn’t making friends. He seems to have no interest in planning for his future. So, I thought maybe one of you men who have been through rough times and still managed to turn out successfully would have some influence on him. You know, maybe have a good talk with him and convince him of how important it is to follow the rules and focus on the future.”
He felt his eyebrows rising as he digested her unexpected explanation. She had bought him for her nephew? Remembering all the wolf-whistling women who had cheered him from the stands, he wondered how he’d ended up with this one. Not that he was complaining, exactly, he thought, studying her flushed face. “So you want me to have a bracing man-to-man talk with your nephew.”
She cleared her throat. “That was my original idea. But now I think maybe...”