Another win for Mr. Murphy and his stinking law. Cherry dropped into the chair she’d previously been relaxing in to think. They had to find a replacement—this was their one big chance to bring in the money they needed, her one big chance to redeem herself in her community’s eyes, a chance to pay the center back for helping her all those years ago. She shuddered to think what would have happened to her without their help and guidance.
Tapping her pen on the clipboard, Cherry calculated how much money the radio host would have brought in. Tall, leggy, blond, and stacked. Damn, she probably could have funded their entire entertainment system or someone’s salary for a month. “We’ve got some big shots here tonight. Maybe we can talk one of them into volunteering?”
“I’ve been asking. No one is willing or else they’re not available. Cherry, we really need the money. Those kids need the center.” She gave Cherry her big, brown-eyed puppy stare. Slowly a smile spread across her face, sort of like the Grinch as he plotted his evil plan to steal all the presents from Whoville.
A hard rock drumbeat broke out in Cherry’s chest, her palms started to sweat, and cold spread throughout her veins. “Whatever you’re thinking, Tawny Maria-Isabella Torres, you can forget it. Every time you get that look on your face, I regret it.” Cherry stood up and backed away from her friend until her back was against the wall.
Advancing on her like a panther, Tawny got up in her space, grabbed her hands, and begged. “You can take her place.” Cherry started shaking her head before all of the words had left Tawny’s mouth. Her friend had lost it. The stress of planning tonight had apparently zapped all of her brain cells. “Please, we have no other options.”
“No one is going to bid on me. I’m a nobody.” How much humiliation could a person take?
“What? You’re a local celebrity. There are tons of men here who would kill to go out with you.”
“Being on a reality show does not make me a celebrity. It’s been a year and twenty pounds. My fifteen minutes of fame are over. No one remembers me. Besides, if I’m a celebrity, then so are you, because you were on Finding Mr. Right too.” Panic gripped her and she eyed the distance to the front doors. If she took off the heels, she could outrun Tawny.
“First, I left during the third week, so not the same thing. Second, people remember you. Especially since Ari’s second release tanked and he hinted it was because of you. Plus, there’s the recent rumor about him sleeping with his producer’s wife.”
Yes, Ari Johanson, her ex-fiancé of five seconds, thrived on scandals. Especially if he got free publicity from it. At least this time it didn’t look like he’d come out smelling like a rose. His career tanking after he’d used her to jump-start it was karma slapping him back.
“Come on, Cher, think of this as a way to show the world he’s a liar. Think of the kids.”
That’s the problem, she was thinking of the kids and all the programs, equipment, and plans they had for them. Xboxes, computers, books, and so much more, none of which came cheap. Outside they needed rubber ground cover for the playground, and the tennis and basketball courts needed work, as did the soccer and baseball fields. All of it took some serious money, way more than the dinner alone would bring in. They really needed every dollar they could round up.
And yeah, it’d be nice to expose her ex-fiancé for what he truly was. Help rip the Dr. Jekyll mask off and let the world see where Mr. Hyde had been hiding.
“Okay, I’ll do it. But I’m not letting you dress me up.”
Chapter Two
“I look like a hooker ready to crash a high school prom.” She shifted to check out the black strapless dress Tawny had produced for her to wear during the auction. A funhouse mirror reflection couldn’t look worse. Her boobs squished out the top, and breathing was mission impossible. Thankfully the dress had a slit in the back, so Cherry’s not-so-skinny thighs wouldn’t show, but she’d still have to take baby steps as she made the walk of shame down the runway. “Where’d the dress come from? It’s not one of yours.”
“It’s Heather’s. She sent over a spare earlier because she’s notorious for dropping food down the front of her dresses and wanted to have a backup. Kind of like someone else I know.”
Guilty as charged, which was another reason why Cherry hadn’t wanted to eat earlier while wearing white. It was like waving a red flag at her food, daring it to leave a stain smack in the middle of her chest.
“Why can’t I wear my clothes?” At least she wouldn’t be so exposed. Cherry arranged her hair to cover as much of her skin as possible.
Scrunching up her nose, Tawny shook her head. “We want people to bid on you, not give you their drink order. This is sexy.”
Cherry tried to pull the dress up higher. It wasn’t working. Kind of hard with the material shortage going on. Sexy wasn’t the word she’d use, and she’d bet a gazillion dollars neither would her gram. Although the word her gram would use also started with an S and ended with a Y.
“Stop messing with your dress, you look fab.” Tawny gathered Cherry’s long hair and performed a series of complicated twists and knots, pinning curls and loops in strategic places to expose Cherry’s pale neckline and taking away what little camouflage she had. Next Tawny teased the front up before spraying enough hair spray to kill off another layer of ozone. “You ready?”
Not in a million years would she be ready. Waves rolled and crashed inside her stomach, making her glad she hadn’t eaten. Her heart skipped a beat or two and she wondered if a person really could die of fear. No, she wasn’t ready. She’d thought she was one time before and, well, that hadn’t gone quite as planned. Humiliation in front of millions pretty much took care of your quota for life. But this was for the kids and their community, not her. Steeling her nerves, she pulled her shoulders back to lift the girls and plastered on her most confident look. “Promise you won’t let me go for twenty bucks?”
“Just show them your good side, dearie.”
A few minutes later Cherry found herself backstage, placed between local politician Nick Lawson and Detective Cesar Esposito, who had saved an entire family from a serial killer last fall. At least she wouldn’t be the last one on the chopping, er, auction block. Both men should bring in a nice donation, but they were night and day. Lawson was gym toned, with boy-next-door clean-cut good looks. Esposito was well over six feet, dark and brooding; a sexy bad-boy aura surrounded him. Until he smiled—then all your defenses melted and you saw the teddy bear beneath the cop exterior.
“First time?” Lawson asked.
Nodding, Cherry pressed a hand against her rebellious stomach and peered out at the crowd. The guests were busy eating dessert, blissfully unaware of the staff running around behind the stage lining up the merchandise.
“Relax. The magic combination to open their hearts and wallets is to have a good cause, good food, and good wine. You’ve got all three.” Lawson gave her a reassuring smile.
“Killer legs isn’t going to hurt either, kid,” Esposito chimed in.
They all laughed and agreed between the whole team they should rake in the donations.
Lawson leaned over to her. “I told Tawny to contact my office next week. I’ve got my assistant looking into some state grants to cover some of the programs you want to offer, especially the free lunch.”
“Thank you. I’ll make sure we follow up.”
“It’s important for parents to have an affordable and safe place for their kids to go while they work.”
The spotlight lit up center stage. Tawny climbed the steps, taking her time as she walked to the microphone to allow the dinner conversation to die down. “Ladies and gentlemen, before I turn the mic over to our auctioneer, Mr. Van der Schmidt, we’d like to once again thank you from the bottom of our hearts for your tremendous support. . . .”
Tawny’s voice faded as Cherry concentrated on breathing deep and slow. She hated being the center of attention. Going on Finding Mr. Right had taken every ounce of courage she could muster, an
d after a few days, with all the chaos, it was easy to forget about the cameras. This was different. Each celebrity would be called up one at a time and auctioned off. What if no one bid on her? The media had taken Ari’s side. No one had questioned his story. So, considering she’d been dumped on national TV, branded a cheating, lying harlot, walking off the stage tonight without a single bid wouldn’t top her worst day. Still, she knew some of the attendees tonight, and somewhere out there lurked at least one reporter.
The auctioneer started off with local newscaster Jeanine Miner, Providence’s homegrown sweetheart. Like Cherry and Tawny, Jeanine had grown up in the west end and understood the need for a recreational and educational center and what a difference it could make in the lives of the residents. Twenty-eight and single, she was a rising success in her field, with a natural prettiness everyone admired. The committee had high hopes for the money Jeanine would bring in. So when the first bid came in at two hundred dollars, Cherry’s spirits sank.
Within seconds a counteroffer came in, jacking the amount up to five hundred, and the excitement of the crowd filled the air. A third offer came in, which launched a bidding war. Dollar amounts were thrown at the speed of lightning, egged on by the enthusiasm of the attendees and the suave sophistication of the auctioneer’s comments. With each new offer Cherry’s excitement for the success of the night grew. Several times she caught herself chanting out loud with the auctioneer for the next bid or clapping along with the audience when a higher amount was pledged.
Cherry pressed her hand to her stomach.
“You okay, kid?” Esposito asked.
She had to swallow several times before she could speak. “I think the butterflies are holding a rave in my stomach.”
“Don’t worry. They’ll love you.”
A pounding of wood on wood made Cherry jump and she had to grab onto Esposito or fall into Lawson. The auctioneer called the bidding to a close with the final amount of twenty-five hundred dollars and congratulated a man Cherry recognized as a newscaster at a rival station. A shy blush stole across Jeanine’s face, hinting at a possible crush. As far as inventive ways to ask a woman out, it was up there and guaranteed him a yes. Judging by Jeanine’s happy smile, a simpler method would have netted him the same result.
Did all men think women needed grand gestures? Admittedly, they were hard to ignore. Cherry remembered a year ago when another man made a bold move to gain her attention and stand out in a crowd of interesting and good-looking men. With all of her heart, Cherry hoped Jeanine’s story turned out with a happier ending. As for her, she’d learned to stay away from grandstanders.
The auction proceeded, moving on to a restaurateur, a lawyer, a fireman, and a pastry maker, along with others from their community who’d generously given of themselves to help their cause and see the center rebuilt. Numbers flew around the room, as well as a few good jabs from the participants’ friends and family members. With the bright lights it was hard to see the people in the audience, which was okay, because it meant when it was her turn she might not see who was or was not bidding. She’d just have to be careful not to trip. The reporter was here for Lawson, but he wouldn’t pass up a chance for a good laugh or anything front-page-worthy.
Ratings. It was always about the ratings. Thanks, but no thanks. They could look elsewhere. She was done making a fool of herself for America’s entertainment.
She hadn’t realized how much time had passed until she heard the auctioneer call for Nick Lawson, the politician to her right. Rumor had it Lawson had designs on the Oval Office someday. The auctioneer called out for the opening bid, and as with the others, the audience hesitated, waiting to see who would be first.
“I’ll give you fifty.” The spotlight swept around the room to land on a guy in his mid-forties, a giant smile on his face, waving his paddle.
“I’ll see your fifty and raise you four hundred.” The light moved to a stately brunette across the room.
“I have four-fifty, do I hear five hundred? Come on, ladies. Remember, all the money raised tonight goes to help rebuild the West End Community Center and the families who need their services. I’m asking you to dig deep and give from your heart. As a bonus for helping these kids, you also get a date with the very eligible Nick Lawson.”
“Five hundred.”
If the auctioneer hadn’t donated his services for the evening, Cherry would have said Mr. Van der Schmidt was worth every penny as he ended the bidding a few minutes later, declaring the first female bidder the winner at twenty thousand dollars. Cherry’s heart about burst with happiness as she quickly calculated the amount the auction had brought in—a little over sixty-two thousand dollars, and they weren’t done yet. The West End Community Center was going to rock.
A tap on her shoulder caught her attention. “What?” She looked at Cesar Esposito in confusion.
“Your turn, gorgeous. Knock ’em dead.”
Knock who, what? Ohhh. Lost in thought, she’d actually forgotten where she was for the moment and hadn’t heard the auctioneer call her to the stage. Cherry glided to center court with a pageant-worthy smile, listening to the auctioneer read her bio.
“Ladies and gentlemen, up next is none other than our co-chair Cherry Ryan, former star of the reality show Finding Mr. Right. A year ago, twenty-five men went head-to-head to win this redheaded beauty’s heart. But alas, in the end, her Prince Charming was not among those brave men. Gentlemen, if you missed your chance the first time around, dig deep into those wallets and show this lady how big your heart really is. Who will open our bidding?”
“I’ll give you a hundred,” a man slurred from the front row. Before the auctioneer finished his spiel and Cherry could take her first step down the runway, the man repeated his opening bid. The spotlight swept across the room and landed on her buddy, Burt Bennett.
Dear Karma, whatever I did, I’m sorry, truly sorry. Please don’t let him win.
Slowly Cherry made her way down the stage, praying for a counteroffer. The auctioneer asked again if anyone gave him one-twenty. Please, Cherry prayed.
“Two hundred.”
Relief washed through her as she turned and made her way back, until Burt called out the next amount. She stood next to Mr. Van der Schmidt to see who the counter-bidder was, but the bright spotlight blinded her. She could hear the crowd murmuring, calling out to the men to bid higher. Looking to the side of the stage, Cherry caught Tawny’s look of concern.
“Three hundred” came from the middle of the room.
Call it, call it, she silently begged the auctioneer. She didn’t care if she went down in history as a bargain basement date. There was no way she was going anywhere with Good Ole Burt. The guy seriously creeped her out.
“Five hundred,” Burt called out.
Tears burned the backs of Cherry’s eyes. Talk about mortifying. She didn’t want to know why Burt was bidding on her, after his comments out front it couldn’t be honorable. She really prayed the counteroffer wasn’t coming from his friend. Why had they thought this was a good idea?
“Seven-fifty,” called the unknown bidder.
“One thousand.” Damn Burt. Didn’t he have anything better to spend his money on?
By now they had placed two spotlights on the bidders, one on Burt, and the other on a man Cherry didn’t recognize. She didn’t care; anyone would be better, and while her goal tonight was to raise as much money as she could, she wasn’t willing to sacrifice her dignity, morals, or safety. Well, maybe the first two.
The auctioneer looked to the other bidder, waiting for his counter. As the seconds dragged out, Cherry caught herself right before she raised her hand and bid on herself. Burt was probably a nice guy, some kid’s grandpa, just your average guy next door. Ha, so was Ted Bundy. There was no way she was going out with some man her grandpa’s age, who talked about her bodacious ta-tas. The thought made the acids churn faster in her stomach.
“I have one thousand. Do I hear eleven hundred?”
Come
on, come on. Someone please save me. If I bolted now, would Burt win by default? Maybe Tawny will bid on me?
The voices faded as she planned her escape. They’d talk, the good people of Providence, but who cared. What was another smear on her reputation?
The auctioneer pounded his gravel and yelled, “Sold to the gentleman with paddle number four hundred and ninety-nine.”
Burt’s eyes locked with Cherry’s, nailing her to the stage. Arms crossed in front of him, cheeks stained red. Not the look of a man who won, which begged the question: Who did?
Jason Valentine wanted to kick himself when he strolled back into the ballroom as the auctioneer gave the winners instructions on paying and opened the dance floor. After sitting through the worst dinner ever and witnessing women fight over Nick Lawson, he’d stepped out for some fresh air, only to learn the people he needed to speak with were the women who had checked him in. Now that the festivities were over, they could finally get down to the business portion of this evening. They say more deals are sealed in a bar than a boardroom. Well, he planned to do whatever he could tonight to seal the deal of his life.
First, he needed to find Dave—as usual he was never where Jason left him—then they could divide and conquer. Working his way through the crowd, he spotted Dave surrounded by several men, slapping him on the back and congratulating him.
“. . . most thrilling auction I’ve ever attended,” gushed an elderly lady he’d never seen before.
“Man, you missed it.” Dave shook another guy’s hand while nodding his thanks to a couple more. He was suddenly the freaking life of the party.
A guy takes a leak and all hell breaks loose. “What have you been up to?” Jason scanned the room looking for the pretty dark-haired woman and the redhead they’d seen at check-in.
“Getting you a date.”
“What?”
Bachelorette for Sale Page 2