The Mile High Madness

by Anders, Annabelle

  Bing.

  The elevator doors opened behind him. Walking backwards, he stepped away from me. “Thirty-three Oh three,” he mouthed.

  I nodded dumbly and the doors closed with him inside.

  Holy mother…

  My phone vibrated wildly in my pocket. Of course, it was Star. “Yes.” I held it up to my face feeling dazed.

  “Holly! Holly? Are you listening to me?”

  “Uh, yeah. Yeah. I’m heading over to Minnelli’s right now.”

  “This bachelor auction is important. Don’t mess it up. And also, Holly, don’t forget to send the lingerie back. And Dan needs those notes by five.” I seriously wondered how she expected me to be in two places at once.

  “I won’t mess this up, Miss Martin.” I supposed I’d have to take care of the other errands tomorrow. “And, Of course. I fed Barbara at noon. Right, the organic blend. Yes, I’ll pick some up this weekend.”

  I sighed after finally hanging up.

  At least I could dream about Mr. Key West while I got my hair done. I’d find the silver lining in all of this. I hadn’t had my hair done since before I came home.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Hunter

  Shot down in my prime. Damn, must be losing my touch.

  I was tempted to hit the door open button and take another stab at her, but something in her eyes kept me from doing it. She wasn’t my usual type. So instead I jabbed at the number thirty-three and waited to be swept upstairs so I could change.

  Probably wouldn’t have been a good idea anyway.

  I needed to shower, go over some films, dress and then head over to the damn event.

  Not that I minded the charity stuff, hell to be honest it was one of the most satisfying aspects of my job. I just didn’t feel like appearing in public. Not after everything that went down a few weeks ago. We’d come so fucking close.

  One game. One more fucking game and we’d have been playing in October. Rubbing my arm, I could still hear that ping, that perfect ping the ball made when it had connected with the sweet spot of the bat.

  I’d released too early. I’d felt it before the ball had even left my hand.

  Fuck.

  Now I had to live with the sympathetic stares, the pitying remarks. “Next year, man.” Even worse were those who said it wasn’t my fault.

  Like I didn’t know the winning run scored on my pitch.

  The doors slid open and again I paused. Would she still be downstairs in the lobby? She’d practically sprinted out of the elevator… right into me. I chuckled to myself at her expression when she’d caught me staring at the crotchless panties. Big brown eyes with a myriad of emotions behind them.

  When she’d said the panties weren’t very practical, all I could imagine was her wearing them. And how practical they might be for certain activities.

  I couldn’t resist watching her ass while she’d crawled around on the floor.

  She was a walking contradiction. Dark hair, dark eyes… dark thoughts? To see her on all fours in a pile of colorful lingerie… My cock couldn’t help but respond.

  She’d been affected too. I could almost hear her heart pounding when I whispered in her ear. I’d wanted to inch even closer and taste her. She’d smelled clean, fresh… inviting.

  I rubbed my hand across my face to erase the incident.

  Was I bothered because of the girl herself, or because she’d turned me down? Not many women said no to me. I had to think long and hard to remember the last time I’d struck out.

  At first, I thought I knew her from somewhere, but that wasn’t it.

  I’d have remembered. I scratched the side of my neck.

  Long unruly chestnut curls tumbling around her face had framed her almost doll like features. She’d tried hiding those thick lashed, sage brown eyes with the long chestnut curls falling in her face. And those plump cherry lips… My dick twitched. I sure as hell hadn’t minded when she crashed those curves up against me. I’d steadied her longer than necessary, enjoying the unforeseen pleasure.

  After experiencing the softness of that sweet rack, I wasn’t fooled by her heavy sweater and loose cargo pants.

  Took me less than fifteen seconds to know I wanted her.

  And fuck if I didn’t usually get what I wanted.

  The top of her head had barely reached my chin. She’d been bristling, full of energy, until she met my gaze.

  She’d been into me.

  Maybe she had just needed to get back to work.

  I threw my keys on the granite countertop and clicked the remote, piping some classic jazz through the entire apartment.

  Not my type anyway, I reminded myself. From her shy laugh to the fact that she actually worked screamed nice girl. I didn’t date nice girls. If my sexual exploits could even be considered dating.

  No, my type fell more along the lines of team groupie. Women who knew the score and wouldn’t expect more than a night… possibly two.

  I rubbed my shoulder and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge when my phone blared out the chorus from Thirty seconds to Mars, Walk on Water.

  I swiped the button to answer. “Hey.”

  It was Cannon, my teammate and the bastard whose ass I’d kicked in Golf that afternoon. He was also partly responsible for getting me to come back and play in Colorado again.

  Of which everybody said was a dumb ass move.

  Playing for the Colorado Rangers as a hitter was golden – but as a pitcher? My agent nearly keeled over.

  “Your stats are never gonna be any better than average… if that.” He’d been less than enthusiastic, despite the hefty contract. I shoved the memory aside to hear what Cannon wanted.

  “We lifting tomorrow?” We were still in off season but that didn’t mean we could slack off.

  I roughed a hand through my hair. “I’ve got that thing tonight…”

  Cannon guffawed. “Dudes for Dogs? Or what’s it called? Men for Mutts? You’re gonna pimp yourself out to some rich ass bitch? Man, I’m glad I didn’t draw the short straw on that one.”

  Colorado Canine Advocates was a great organization. And I Loved dogs. Always had. The other part of all this made my skin crawl though…

  “I’m not sure how late it’s gonna go. But yeah, I’ll be there tomorrow. I need to run at five and then I’ll meet you at the facility after.” The one thing I excelled at was honing myself physically. I may suck at everything else, but I could control what I did with my body. And control it I did.

  Except for when my cock took over.

  “Sure you’ll be able to get away from the cougars?”

  “Screw you man.”

  Cannon laughed again. “Whatever. Have fun pretty boy. I’ll see you around six then.”

  “Yeah.” And then Cannon hung up.

  I rolled my shoulder. Three surgeries hadn’t slowed down my pitching but a day of golf and I needed to ice it.

  Stupid.

  My contract mandated that I didn’t ski, kayak or rock climb – all shit that I’d loved when I grew up here. Damned if I would give up golf too.

  After snagging an ice pack, I threw myself on the couch and opened the email with tonight’s details on my phone. I needed to wear my tux and basically just stand around with one of the rescue dogs while people bid for a date with me. The Rangers’ P.R. office had already set up the date which was… – I scrolled down the email – no fucking way. A weekend?

  Stanley Hotel, two nights, hiking, ghost tour… Holy shit I should have read through this thing earlier.

  All sorts of nightmare scenarios taunted me.

  I didn’t like to spend that much time with anybody, let alone some random crazy woman who’d actually pay for a date.

  It’s for the dogs. I reminded myself. I scrolled down further. At least the weekend for the date was flexible. Maybe I’d get lucky and some corporation would bid on me – I could be a tax write off.

  I moved the icepack to the back of my shoulder and groaned. Lately I hadn’t had that kind
of luck.

  Damn if Cannon wasn’t right. I had drawn the short straw on this one.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Holly

  “Sign here for your bidding placard Miss Mercer. You’re at table four. Right up front!” The volunteer attendant smiled at me conspiratorially. As though I had seriously come here to bid on a date for myself.

  I took the little sign with my number on it and tried not to feel out of place. I’d driven by the Worthington Hotel hundreds of times but never guessed at the opulence within. The building had been a landmark downtown for as long as I can remember and although much of the décor seemed authentic, the pristine details had obviously been restored.

  I’d managed to drop the files off for Dan before my hair appointment but didn’t have enough time to stop at FedEx and ship the lingerie.

  Even carrying around a huge bag of lingerie, I felt like Cinderella.

  Monique had helped me stuff Star’s undergarment returns into a large paper bag before I left her shop. Much easier than toting around boxes.

  I’d thank her again on Monday.

  I’d told her I didn’t want anything fancy, but she refused to listen. She declared that it was her job to dress me as she saw fit. After one glance in the mirror I realized why Star paid this woman to choose her clothing.

  Because, oh Mercy! The dress she’d chosen knocked my socks off. Held in place with flesh colored netting, the bodice consisted of deep green embroidered vines winding around me, emphasizing my boobs and butt, but also somehow making my waist look tiny.

  So not me… even though I loved it! The soft lace material, which made up most of the dress, ended at my fingertips where the asymmetrical hem was its shortest. The other side dropped to just below my knee cap. Since the dress was so intricate, Monique insisted we keep everything else simple. She chose me a pair of five inch evergreen pumps and a teardrop emerald necklace.

  Not three inch, not four inch, but freaking five inches of heel! I needed the taller pumps since I was so short. Your legs, she’d insisted, we need to lengthen your legs.

  With my hair pinned up and makeup I could never replicate, I barely recognized myself. I felt like a different person. I guess that’s what happens when you put on a three thousand dollar cocktail dress.

  I looked over my shoulder to examine myself in one of the mirrors hanging in the foyer. I’d never worn anything half as sexy. The embroidered leaves set perfectly against my skin, showing off most of my back without looking slutty.

  Three freaking thousand dollars for one dress! No wonder Star said wanted to return it Monday. When I signed the receipt, I’d decided then and there I wouldn’t eat anything while wearing the gown. The risk wasn’t worth it.

  And now this place!

  I looked up at the high ceiling and counted the sparkling chandeliers. Three one way and four the other… Twelve of them illuminated the ballroom with a soft golden glow. And so many people!

  Of course, Star’s seat would be front and center. I shivered at the thought of who else might be sitting at Table four. Famous people. Or rich ones. I wished I hadn’t had to come alone. Bernadette would have loved this. At the thought of her that cold fist squeezed my heart.

  The room was nearly full, but at least I wasn’t late. A buzz of excitement hung over the elegant crowd. Fear sliced through me at the thought of actually bidding.

  Just then I spied the closest bar. Wine. Yes, that’s what I needed. Anything to chase away the attack of jitters growing inside me.

  The cute bartender handed a drink to a blonde woman wearing the coolest glasses ever. She oozed confidence and efficiency but appeared even less enthusiastic about being here than I did.

  “Nice dress.” She flicked her gaze up and down my gown before taking a sip of whatever she was drinking. I’d been thinking wine, but seeing vodka on the rocks in this woman’s hand, I decided to go all in.

  “Lemon drop martini, Ketal One.” Drink of choice when me and Bernadette used to go out. She’d always said it would get us started. God, I missed her. I forced my thoughts away from my ex-roommate.

  “I love your glasses.” I couldn’t help myself. This day had become surreal. “I’ve never been to one of these before.”

  The other woman shook her head. “My first and so help me God, it had better be my last.”

  Cute bartender handed me my drink. When I went to pay he shook his head and winked. “Hosted.” I dropped my money into his tip jar.

  Sweet, tart, icy cold. I forgot how good these could be. He’d made it with fresh lemons… I could always tell the difference. I immediately felt the warmth of the vodka in my veins.

  “It’s a good cause though.” I shrugged and took another sip.

  “True.” The other woman nodded and then as the announcer’s voice sounded over the speakers saying the event would begin shortly, she winked. “Good luck.”

  I laughed and drifted away. “You too.” I didn’t want to sit down yet but my time was running out. I finished my drink and handed the empty glass to a passing waiter. My favorite bartender caught my eye and raised a brow questioningly. Another? Sure, why not. I nodded.

  By the time I made it to table four, my smile came more naturally. An elderly couple welcomed me but the others seated were caught up in their own conversation. I recognized a few of them as local newscasters.

  “Are you bidding?” I smiled at the older woman.

  “Oh, heaven’s no! I’m Gert, by the way. My grandson is one of the bachelors. And this is a wonderful cause.” She patted the hand of the older gentleman beside her. “I doubt Ralph would want me bidding on any of these rogues, anyhow.”

  Ralph, whom I guessed to be her husband, shook his head and smiled affectionately. They seemed like a sweet couple. Maybe this evening wouldn’t be so painful after all. The others at the table settled into small talk when the salads and then prime rib dinner was served. I’d apparently made an impression on the bartender. Every time my glass got close to empty, he sent another one over for me.

  Thankfully nobody asked me about myself: why I was there, or who I was. Gert kept me entertained with stories of her courtship with Ralph. I loved talking with older people and Gert was priceless.

  When the lighting dimmed and a spotlight landed on the stage, I realized I hadn’t even looked at Star’s instructions.

  Fumbling a little, I opened the envelope and pulled out the paper. I recognized her scrawl immediately. Her handwriting was worse than a doctor’s, but I’d seen it often enough to decipher her words.

  Win, don’t just bid on, but WIN (Underlined three times) bachelor #5. Or was that a six? Oh, a six. Definitely a six.

  I located my paddle sign and sat it in front of me. Gert smiled conspiratorially as the lights dimmed. She leaned forward. “Wouldn’t it be romantic if you found the love of your life tonight?”

  “If I do, I’ll invite you to the wedding.” I smiled at her whimsy. Now that would make a good story for the grandkids.

  We both settled down as the master of ceremonies stepped to the front of the stage with her microphone.

  This event was thrown to raise money for local animal shelters and increase awareness of the atrocities of puppy mills and breeding practices. Various dignitaries made a few speeches and then a woman auctioneer explained the rules for bidding. In no uncertain terms, she emphasized, all sales are final. I sipped my drink and thought back to my run in with Mister Key West earlier that day. I doubted any of these men would hold a torch to him. He’d just been…so huminahumina.

  What if I had taken him up on his offer? Was it even possible such a man could live up to those kinds of looks? Confidence oozed off him. Even after I’d turned him down, he’d seemed to know I regretted it. Why hadn’t I spoken up? Asked for that rain check? Except really, what would he do if I turned up at his apartment?

  I took another sip of my martini and pictured his eyes again. I’d never seen a man with such beautiful eyes.

  He’d probably already forgotten
about me.

  But if he hadn’t… What would a night be like with such a man? At such insane thoughts, I pressed my thighs together. I needed to pay attention to what was happening on stage. Already they were on bachelor number four. I had to admit these guys were pretty hot – most would catch my eye even if they weren’t paired with adorable shelter dogs.

  The bachelor up there now paraded across the stage with a precious yellow lab. How could anybody give up such a sweetheart? He knelt down and rubbed the dog’s head and back. A number of women frantically waved their bidding signs. The auctioneer assisted them in driving the price to over five thousand dollars.

  I glanced at Star’s instructions again and squinted in the dark. Number five. Six? No, five. My bachelor was next. Before I had time to come up with a plan he stepped onto the stage.

  My breath caught.

  It was him.

  Earlier he’d been dressed in a golf shirt and khakis.

  Tonight, he wore an elegant tuxedo.

  But those eyes. There was no way I could ever forget those eyes.

  His hair had been windblown earlier, but it looked just as yummy slicked back tonight. I glanced at his hands. He casually clasped the leash for his rescue dog – a miniature dachshund, black and brown with white peppered spots. The poor thing looked like somebody had sprinkled cooking flour on him.

  My mind felt fuzzy and I wasn’t’ sure if the alcohol caused it or my repressed sexual frustrations.

  And then Bachelor Number five held my gaze.

  I’d thought the vodka had warmed my veins; this man sent fire coursing through them. Roaring filled my ears and I could barely hear the auctioneer over my own heartbeat.

  The auctioneer! Women were jumping up and bidding like crazy. “Three thousand, three thousand, five hundred.”