by Lori Wilde
“Sure thing, Amber.” He signed her autograph book and passed it back.
“Thanks.” Amber cast a sweet, backward glance at him over her shoulder before she moved on to the fireman.
“How about signing something a little more personal for me,” a husky voice oozed.
He glanced up to see Widow Jones sending him a sultry stare. She wore skin-tight short-shorts, a leather-fringed halter top, and matching leather sandals. She puckered her lips, lowered her lashes, and rolled her shoulder forward in a classic Marilyn Monroe gesture.
“Hi, Doreen,” he mumbled.
She touched a patch of bare skin just above her cleavage, handed him an uncapped Sharpie; and leaned in close, smothering him in the cloying smell of her gardenia perfume. “Couldja sign here?”
Taking extra care not to touch her ample breasts, he quickly signed her overly tanned skin with the black marker, and handed it back to her.
“I brought plenty of cash.” She winked, and for the first time he spied the bankroll of hundred-dollar bills peeking out of her cleavage.
Sweat popped out on his brow. Aw shit. He had an unsettling suspicion he was going to end up spending the day fending off the Widow Jones just as Melody had predicted.
“Don’t blow your fortune on me, Doreen. You know Domingo Diaz is up for bidding.” Okay, cheap shot trying to shift her over to Domingo, but the guy was a Dallas Cowboy. He had experience handling overly affectionate fans.
Doreen took a step closer. “He’s too short for me, sweetie. I like my men over six foot.”
“That’s heightist,” he pointed out.
She canted her head, did another shoulder roll. “So sue me. I’ve never been very politically correct. If I let people’s opinion bother me I never would have married Virgil and I wouldn’t have the money to buy you.”
She plucked the cash from her cleavage and wagged it under his nose.
Ah Virgil, why did you have to die? Eighty-nine was far too young.
“Just remember,” came a teasing feminine voice behind him. “The bachelor auction was your idea.”
He yanked his head upright at the feel of warm breath skimming over his ear, swung his head around to see Melody smirking at him. The vixen.
She turned away from him, clapped her hands, and addressed the women crowding the corridor. “Everyone, the auction is about to begin so if you could take your seats we’ll get this party started.”
Dutifully, the women filed out the door.
“I see you and Widow Jones were getting better acquainted,” she said, a twinkle in her eyes.
He tipped up his chin. “Jealous?”
“On the contrary, I’m already counting the money she’s going to pay for you. The animal shelter will be so grateful.”
“Mercenary.”
She lowered her lashes. “That’s what the auction is for, is it not?”
“I didn’t fully think this thing through.”
“Common theme with you.”
He grabbed her arm. “Seriously, Melly, you’re not going to let her win me, are you?”
She shrugged him off. “Face it. You’ve got that animal magnetism women can’t resist.”
“So really, you’re not the least bit jealous?”
“Nope,” she said cheerily.
“Not even a little?” He measured off an inch with his thumb and forefinger.
“Not even a dust mote.” She laughed again, a dismissive sound that cut him to the quick. If her intention was to drop-kick his ego, she was doing a damn good job of it. “Now, let’s get up onstage.”
He couldn’t help raking his gaze over the length of her rocking hot body. In that red sundress, she looked good enough to devour. He wanted her to be jealous. Hell, he wanted her. For keeps. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. Even knowing all the trouble that wanting her could bring into his life, he didn’t care.
Impulsively he reached out and snaked an arm around her trim waist, pulled her to him.
She sucked in an audible breath.
Cradling her in the crook of his arm, he dipped her low, as if they were dancing the tango. He lowered his head, pursed his lips, and went in to seal the deal.
A hand came up, jammed flat against his chest, holding him off.
“I’m warning you, Nielson,” she growled. “You kiss me in public and I swear to God, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
WHEN LUKE LET her go without kissing her, Melody breathed a sigh of disappointment. She wanted him to take a stand. To stop placating their relatives and just go ahead and kiss her in public already. But this wasn’t the time or place, she knew it. Why did she feel so let down?
She straightened and walked away. It took everything she had inside her not to look back over her shoulder to see if he was watching. She had an auction to run.
The auditorium was packed with women, a great many of them out-of-towners drawn to Cupid by the Juliet story. She’d done her job, and while it was a little ego-y, she was damn proud of her accomplishment.
Melody pressed her damp palms against her hips, put on her brightest public relations smile, and stepped up to the microphone. “Good morning! Welcome to the first annual Founder’s Day Bachelor Auction. It’s great to see you all. I’m Melody Spencer and I’ll be your auctioneer today. Before we get started, let’s go over the rules.”
Quickly, she covered how the auction would be run, including the fact that the event was opened to online bidding. She was proud of herself for coming up with that idea. “Junie Mae over there will be manning that process.”
She motioned toward the older woman perched at the computer desk situated far stage left. Junie Mae waved at the audience.
“And now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for … those delicious bachelors. Let’s hear it for our handsome hunks.”
On cue, the men lined up behind her onstage and Melody started the applause.
The twenty-four men, most grinning sheepishly in their costumes, took a bow.
Widow Jones stuck her fingers in her mouth and let loose with a long whistle that earned her a stern frown from some of the other women in the crowd.
“Remember, all monies raised goes to benefit Perfect Buddies Animal Shelter. The director, Angi Morgan, wants to tell you about the good work they are doing over there.”
Melody stepped back to allow the shelter director to take her place at the podium. Luke’s gaze caught hers and she had to admit in that tuxedo, he eclipsed every other man on that stage, even the Chippendale’s dancer.
But if she were being honest, it wasn’t just the tux. Even in frayed blue jeans and a T-shirt, he possessed knock-’em-dead charisma. As evidenced by the way Doreen had been falling all over him backstage. Just thinking about the way the sexpot woman looked at him set her teeth on edge.
And from the looks of things, Doreen, who was already waving a stack of bills in the air and winking at Luke, was going to be the one waltzing off with him today.
The muscle in Melody’s left eye spasmed. Her telltale tic. This was craziness. Snap out of it. She resisted the urge to rub her eye, and instead widened her smile, hoping that the affliction was not that obvious.
By the time Angi finished talking about the shelter, the services they provided, and some of the animals they’d rescued, more than a few audience members were misty-eyed.
“Thanks, Angi.” Melody resumed her place at the microphone. “We appreciate all that you and the shelter do for Jeff Davis County homeless animals.”
Angi left the stage and Melody addressed the audience. “Ready to get this party started?”
The audience let out a whoop of approval.
“First up on the auction block, you know him, you love him, Clint Ridgeway.” From the notes she’d made on her cell phone, Melody read off the rancher’s vital statistics. “He owns the Rambling J, the biggest ranch in Alpine. He stands five-foot-eleven, weighs a hundred and seventy pounds of pure muscle. Clint raises Arabian horses, loves
stargazing and mountain biking. Last year he won the Sam Elliott look-alike contest at the Terlingua Chili Cook-off. He’s looking forward to a candlelight dinner with one special lady.”
Clint sauntered up to the big wooden oak auction block set up center stage, and the room burst into fresh applause.
The bids flew and a date with the rancher ended up going for three hundred dollars. A thrilled woman rushed up to the stage to claim her cowboy.
They were off to a great start, even though there hadn’t been any online bids for Clint.
One by one, the bachelors took their places. The Chippendale dancer came out and did a little striptease when it was his turn on the auction block and the crowd went wild. Dozens of women wanted in on him and online bidding lit up the computer. Melody found it a bit of a challenge toggling from the auditorium bids to Junie Mae, who was texting the online bids to Melody’s cell phone.
The local librarian won Chippendale Guy for two thousand dollars. “I’m going to read poetry to him. Just like Susan Sarandon in Bull Durham,” she crowed, and hauled him off the stage. Just like Melody had read Anaïs Nin to Luke.
Doreen Jones didn’t even bid on Mr. Chippendale. In fact, the woman hadn’t bid on any of the other bachelors. She only had eyes for Luke.
By the time it was Luke’s turn on the auction block, the tic in Melody’s eye was jumping so hard that she had to keep her head ducked to camouflage it from the audience. He might hate wearing a tuxedo, but he rocked it like a movie star.
“Next up we have Luke Nielson,” Melody said, struggling to keep her breathing even and her voice neutral. Oh, this was ridiculous. Why was she so shook up?
“He’s six-foot-two, tips the scales at a hundred and eighty-five pounds,” she read from the bio he’d supplied. “He got a business degree from the University of Texas, owns the Rocking N Ranch right here in Cupid, and is the mayor of our little burg. He likes prime filet mignon cooked medium, Kentucky bourbon, ATV racing, quick-moving cutting horses, broken-in cowboy boots, and giving foot massages to lovely ladies. Let’s start the bidding at—”
Doreen shot to her feet. “Three thousand dollars!”
Alrighty, then. Melody blinked. It was the highest starting bid—in fact the highest bid, period—all morning. “We have three thousand. Do I hear three-thousand and twenty-five?”
Doreen swung her gaze around the auditorium and glared hard as if daring anyone to bid against her.
Melody met Luke’s eyes and he flashed her a silent message. Help me.
Hey, since he liked massaging lovely ladies’ feet—and she knew firsthand how good he was at it—he should be in hog heaven with Doreen. From the looks of things, she wore at least a size eleven shoe. Lots more foot to rub.
But it was her job to get as much for him as possible. “Do I hear three thousand and twenty-five,” she repeated.
“No one else is bidding. He’s mine.” Doreen moved from her seat, headed for the stage.
“Wait, we’re a little slow with this online bidding. Do you have any bids, Junie Mae?” Melody asked.
Junie Mae shook her head.
“No one else wants to bid on this very eligible bachelor? I mean, look how gorgeous he is.”
“That’s a lot of money,” someone in the audience threw out. “If Doreen wants him that badly …”
Melody walked over to Luke and swept a hand. She didn’t make eye contact with him, but she could feel the tension rolling off his body. “C’mon ladies, you can’t tell me he’s not worth every penny, and I have it on good authority he’s cooking his famous homemade chicken enchiladas for the woman who wins him today.”
“Three thousand and twenty-five,” a woman from the top of the auditorium called out.
“Three thousand and fifty,” another woman yelled.
Doreen’s face flushed. “Four thousand!”
Melody glanced at the other women in the stands. They both shook their heads. “It’s for charity,” she cajoled. “Help us save the animals and get a private dinner with the mayor.”
“Hands off! He’s mine,” Doreen said, and held up her wad of cleavage cash. “I can keep bidding all day.”
Everyone looked cowed.
“You’ve jacked the price up enough. It’s time,” Doreen wriggled a finger at her. “Do that going, going, gone thing.”
She thought about Doreen chasing Luke around his condo. It was funny, really, and it would be great fun to tease him about it afterward, but a rush of acrid bile burned up her throat. As discreetly as she could, she slipped a text to Junie Mae: 4.5K.
“Okay,” Melody said. “It looks like Doreen—”
“Wait.” Junie Mae held up her hand. “A bid for forty-five hundred just came through from an online bidder.
“What?” Doreen said. “Who is it?”
“Going, going, gone,” Melody hollered, and raised the gavel.
“Oh no, you don’t. You ain’t shuttin’ me out. Five thousand.”
“Five thousand,” Melody said weakly, “do I hear five thousand and twenty-five?”
No one said anything. Melody had fifty-two hundred left in her savings account. Throwing caution to the wind, she texted Junie Mae.
“We’ve got another online bid,” Junie Mae called out. “Five thousand and two hundred dollars.”
“Six thousand,” Doreen said. “Seriously, I can do this all day, people. Virgil left me ten million dollars.”
Melody was out of options. Luke was on his own. She raised the gavel again. “Going, going, gone, a date with Mayor Luke Nielson sold to Doreen Jones for six thousand dollars.”
Gleefully, Doreen raced up to the stage to collect her prize. She took his hand and led him off.
Melody was so busy feeling sick to her stomach and glaring after Doreen that she hadn’t realized the next bachelor had stepped up onto the auction block until Junie Mae texted her. Honey, envy is such a tacky color of green.
Chapter 21
“YOU took that on the chin,” Eloise told Melody after the auction was over.
“Excuse me?”
“Letting Doreen get away with your man.”
“Luke’s not my man,” Melody said.
“Honey.” Eloise laid a hand on her forearm. “I’ve known that man since he was five years old. I can tell when he’s in love.”
Was Luke in love with her? She blinked at Eloise.
“I have to say I was skeptical when he told me he was bringing you to town to work under him. That family feud thing can cause a big mess and when he reached into his own pockets to pay your salary and fund these events, that’s when I had my first inkling just how deep his feelings for you ran.”
“Fund my salary? What are you talking about?”
Eloise put a hand to her mouth. “You didn’t know?”
“But the money comes from the Chamber of Commerce.”
“The Cupid Chamber of Commerce barely has two quarters to rub together. The board members are all volunteers. You and Emma Lee are the only ones getting paid over there. Luke is the one who fills the coffers.”
Melody put a hand to her throat. Why had Luke hidden this from her? Would you have taken the job if you’d known he was footing the bill for your upkeep? No, no she would not. Her cheeks heated. “I had no idea.”
“I’m sorry if I spilled the beans. Please don’t say anything to him. I just meant to tell you that although in the beginning I was against bringing you here, I’m glad he did it. You’ve been good for him and good for the town too.”
“Thank you, Eloise.”
“There’s just one more thing, honey.”
“What’s that?”
“You break that boy’s heart and I’m going to hunt you down and break your face.”
“I’M DISAPPOINTED,” DOREEN said as Luke eased chicken enchiladas onto her plate with a spatula. “I thought we were going to be eating at your place.”
“My mayoral duties require me to be at the Founder’s Day
picnic,” he fibbed. There was no way on God’s green earth he was going to allow Doreen into his condo.
“Well, that’s a shame.”
They were sitting under the big, open-air tent set up in the botanical gardens. Swamp coolers had been brought in to make the noonday picnic more comfortable. Picnic tables were lined up end to end, and they were all full of families. Kids played tag around the tables. Manned barbecue grills gave off the delicious smell of mesquite wood. A local band played at the back of the tent.
“I was hoping for some privacy.” Doreen sighed.
I was hoping not.
“Doreen, I do want to thank you for your generous bid. I know Perfect Buddies will put your money to good use. Think of all the animals you’re saving.”
“I’m thinking about how delicious you look in that tuxedo.” She licked her lips. “Thank you for not changing out of it.”
“Anything to please you.”
“Do you mean it?” She leered.
“How are the enchiladas?” he asked. “Did I use too much chili powder?”
“They’re fine. Could we take a walk after lunch?”
“In the noonday sun?”
“I just want to get away from the crowds a bit.”
I don’t. “Sure,” he said. What’s the worst that could happen? Doreen would try and kiss him? Ugh.
He dawdled as long over the food as he could, but finally, she got up and held her hand out to him. Not much else to do but get it over with. He had to spend the whole day with her.
They left the gardens and walked down Main Street, the same path he’d traveled with Melody the night he’d found her mailing a letter to Cupid. She’d tried to deny it, but he’d seen her mail that letter with his own eyes and he wondered if she’d gotten the answer she wanted. He couldn’t recall any letter in the greensheet that could have been hers. Then again, he didn’t know everything there was to know about her and he didn’t read every letter to Cupid. Or maybe she intercepted the letter at the committee meeting after he caught her so that it wouldn’t get answered.