A Bid for Love

by Lia London

Her eyebrows floated upwards. “I assume that’s impressive by the way you say it. I wouldn’t know. Must be nice working so little and getting paid so much.”

  Crawford gave her an awkward laugh. Perhaps he exaggerated how often he got calls. Still, he paid the bills easily with plenty of play money left over for a single guy’s needs.

  “Guess I’m in training for your dad’s job, huh? Don’t those exec types work only twenty hours a week and get paid millions?”

  Maris’ skeptical expression surprised him, and it occurred to him that he couldn’t remember her expressing an unkind thought.

  “Am I wrong?”

  She tightened the lid on her water bottle and placed it next to his. “That may be true for some. Dad loves work, though.” She met his eyes with a steady intensity. “Seriously, though. What do you do with yourself between modeling jobs and working out?” Her hand fluttered up and down to indicate his physique. “I mean, I can tell the latter part takes a few hours a day, but … what else?”

  Crawford harbored mixed emotions about the way she complimented his body, as if a veiled insult hid somewhere in there.

  “I guess I’m not as productive as I could be.”

  “Do you have any other interests?”

  Crawford shrugged, feeling the rare burn of self-consciousness. “I love being active.” He grappled with his memories, searching for something meaningful. “I don’t know. Growing up, my parents adored me as their cute little boy. They got me into modeling, and I guess I never really grew out of it.” He frowned. “My sister was the smart one with all the plans. I just kind of went along for the ride.”

  He couldn’t read the look Maris gave him, but it wasn’t critical, which surprised him.

  “Do you want to be a model forever? I mean, what about when you get older?”

  He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “I guess I haven’t thought that far ahead.” Did she need to know now how useless he was, how much he relied on his appearance because he had no other talents?

  Her eyes softened. “It’s all right. You’ve clearly got time before your modeling days are over.”

  Was she flirting? “You could start up a modeling career, too, you know.” He winked.

  “Thanks, but no thanks.” She shook her head with a modest grin. “Sounds as if we’ve both been kind of doing what our parents wanted us to do.”

  Crawford held back a sigh. “The difference is you could probably choose from a million things you’d be good at. Me, not so much.” Why had he confessed that out loud? She’d think he was a total loser.

  “I don’t believe it for a second.”

  “About you, or about me?” asked Crawford.

  “Either. Both.” Her hand reached out and brushed his arm briefly, a simple gesture, but Crawford felt empathy in it, not pity, like she understood his struggle at a deeper level.

  Without realizing it, he tilted his head closer to her.

  Her eyes widened. “We should probably go freshen up and get to dinner.”

  Crawford’s stomach growled right on cue, and Maris laughed.

  His mouth fell open watching the fading sunlight play in her hair and touch her cheeks with gold. “I’m not kidding, Maris. You’re as beautiful as the Columbia Gorge. You could totally be a model.”

  Her smile deepened into a blush. “Aw, you’re so sweet. I’m not half as majestic, though. And I don’t want to live on celery.” She spun in a circle, admiring the view beyond the court. “Come on. Let’s chow down.”

  Maris wanted to believe her pounding heart merely followed their workout, but when a quick, cool shower and the benign process of dressing for dinner failed to calm the thump, she silently admitted her attraction for Crawford overwhelmed her. She tried to find every excuse to look away—tying shoelaces, zipping up bags, brushing her hair—but her traitorous eyes kept flying back to the beautiful lines of his body and his bright smile that always seemed ready to catch her gaze.

  As they made their way down the winding road to the main lodge, she stole sideways glances, glad the high collar of her stylish, belted coat covered her blush every time their eyes met. The soft swishing of his quilted sleeves caught her attention.

  “Forgive my asking, but was the coat some kind of promo gear you got during a job?”

  Crawford’s brows jumped. “How’d you know?”

  “It doesn’t suit you at all,” she said with a smile. “Like the haircut.” He frowned, and she quickly retracted. “Wow, that came out wrong. I mean you seem more…”

  His lips twitched with a suppressed smile, and his eyes held a deliciously inquisitive gleam. “More what?”

  “Chill.” She glanced down at her own form-fitting jeans tucked into heeled ankle boots. “You’re more like a California surfer than a …” She fumbled for the words, trying not to offend.

  “Sweet! You’ve pegged my usual branding. Glad it still shows through.”

  Maris sighed with relief that she hadn’t hurt his feelings. “So why are you here? I mean, in the Northwest. If you’re a California boy, shouldn’t you be in California?”

  “With all the competition?” He shook his head. “No, I need to stay here where I stand out more.”

  “Smart. You understand the supply-demand scale for your … product.” Maris frowned to herself. She needed to stop objectifying his body. He was a person who happened to be drool-inducingly gorgeous, but still a person, and she was determined to get to know him better.

  “Uh-oh.” Crawford stopped at the edge of the parking lot. “Should we have gotten reservations?”

  “Wow, it’s packed!” She stared at all the cars, mostly older luxury sedans. “Who knew it’d be crowded on a Tuesday night in early September?”

  They entered the lobby but saw no sign of Kelby or anyone else guarding the front desk. “The dining area’s down here,” said Crawford, leading them into a hallway lined with paintings, photographs, and artifacts by local Native American tribes.

  Maris stared at the line in front of them. At least two dozen people waited in line, and a harried hostess caught their arrival with visible dismay.

  “What’s the scoop?” asked Crawford, addressing a man holding a baby.

  “Some dumb anniversary party or something. I guess every old raisin in the area came out to celebrate.”

  A large smile of understanding deepened Crawford’s laugh lines. “Axel and Oralee! They’re sweet.”

  The man with the baby harrumphed. “Well, they’re hogging up the whole restaurant, and they eat slower than—”

  “Daddy, I’m bored.” A small boy tugged at the man’s sleeve.

  “Michael, stop whining. I can’t do anything about it.” The man groaned and repositioned the baby in his arms, giving his wife a meaningful frown.

  “My feet hurt,” continued Michael.

  Maris watched with alarm as Crawford dropped into a crouch beside the boy. “Mine, too,” he said. “You know what doesn’t hurt, though? My teeth don’t. Do your teeth hurt?”

  The child gave him a perplexed look and then opened his mouth wide to show off his tongue and teeth.

  “Hey, you’ve got some good-looking teeth. And you’re not missing any.” The praise seemed to charm the boy. “Do you like to draw?” asked Crawford.

  Michael nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “You ever make anything like this stuff?” Crawford jerked his thumb at two eagle heads with the iconic bold lines of Northwest tribal artwork.

  “I can’t draw alligators,” said Michael.

  Maris shook with silent laughter at Crawford’s solemn nod.

  “I bet I can get something to draw on.” He strode forward to the reservation desk, and Maris watched in wonder as he cranked up the charisma. The hostess, obviously bewitched by his dazzling smile, transformed into a giant giddy grin with legs and slipped into a side door. A moment later, she reappeared with a pencil and a few sheets of copy paper.

  Michael’s mother gave Maris an envious look. “You’ve got yourself a ke
eper there.”

  Color bloomed in Maris’ cheeks. “Uh, yeah. He’s a great guy.”

  Crawford returned and handed the drawing materials over to Michael. He then sat down, cross-legged with his back to Michael. “Here, you can use my shoulders for a table. Just don’t stab me, okay?”

  Michael eagerly set to work, and Maris dropped to her knees in order to get eye-level with Crawford. “You are a hero,” she whispered.

  The grin he flashed her almost melted her into the floor. “It’s no biggie. I know what it’s like to be bored,” he answered with a shrug.

  “Hey, don’t move!” Michael tapped the pencil on Crawford’s head.

  “Sorry, dude. I’ll hold still.” He winked at Maris one more time before she rose, her heart pounding as if they’d played another game of tennis.

  Crawford couldn’t tear his eyes away from Maris. The way she looked at him filled him with confused elation, as if she saw something in him he couldn’t identify, and she wanted that something. When the intensity of her searching gaze proved too much for him, he dipped his head and glanced down the hall to see the line’s progress.

  “Hey, I recognize those shoes!” he cheered. Shifting more upright, he held up a hand to offer a high-five to the approaching elderly gentleman. “Axel! Happy anniversary, man!”

  Axel, clearly stymied by the gesture, took Crawford’s hand awkwardly and shook it in both of his. “Why, it’s the young man from the elevator! Oralee was asking about you. What are you doing on the floor?”

  “I’m being a table for my new buddy, Michael.”

  Michael lifted the paper from his back and now stared at Axel with open-mouthed curiosity.

  Axel tipped his silver-coned party hat at Michael. “Nice to meet you, young man.” He refocused his attention on Crawford. “Are you here all alone?”

  “Oh, no. I’m here with Maris.” He jumped to his feet, dusting himself off and wrapping an arm around Maris’ waist. “Axel, meet my lovely companion, Maris. Maris, this is Axel, the Anniversary Man.”

  Maris’ eyes sparkled, and she shook Axel’s hand. “Congratulations, sir. How wonderful for you and your wife to celebrate here.”

  Axel winked at Crawford. “Your bride’s almost as pretty as mine.”

  Crawford’s stomach flipped at the musical laughe Maris released. He noticed she didn’t correct the old man and wondered if he should.

  Before he could say anything, Axel’s expression changed. “I don’t suppose you know where the little boys’ room is, do you?” He chuckled. “I’ve drunk rather too much champagne, and I don’t want to spill any out of my spout, if you know what I mean.”

  Maris stifled a laugh into Crawford’s shoulder, and Crawford snickered. He hoped he’d be as lively in his senior years. “It’s that way,” he said, and watched Axel shuffle further down the hall. The old man paused after a few steps and turned around.

  “Why don’t you two join us? Just tell the lady at the desk you’re with me and Oralee.”

  Crawford hesitated. “Really?”

  “Lucky!” called Michael. “You gonna go now?”

  “Go!” called Axel. “I’ll go, too.” He laughed at his own joke and pushed open the door to the men’s lavatory.

  “Oh my gosh, he’s adorable,” said Maris, squeezing Crawford’s arm with both hands.

  “Why do beautiful chicks always dig old guys?” he asked, only half teasing.

  “Oh, good grief, it’s not like I want to …” She blushed and indicated they should head to the front of the line. “I just think sweet old guys like that give me something to look forward to. Maybe when I’m old, I could have a cutie who still thinks I’m beautiful.”

  Shaking his head in wonder, Crawford insisted, “But you will be beautiful. You have that shines-from-within quality. It’s …” He shrugged, admiring her. “Timeless. Agents sell their firstborn to represent people with your aura.”

  He could almost feel Maris stop breathing in response, and her smile grew ever wider. “That’s the sweetest, weirdest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

  Crawford tore his eyes from her long enough to address the harried hostess. “Axel and Oralee said we could join them.”

  “Her, too?” asked the hostess, pointing skeptically at Maris.

  Crawford slid his arm over Maris’ shoulder. “Well, I don’t want to go anywhere without Maris, so we can wait if—”

  “No, no. Some of their guests were no-shows, so there should be room.” She pointed to where several tables had been set together in the middle of the room, perpendicular to the large buffet area.

  He thanked the hostess and let his hand slide down into Maris’ as he led her into the dining room. What should have been an every-date gesture almost tripped him up because Maris laced her fingers through his, and her soft, delicate hand fit perfectly. Crawford did a double take at their clasped hands. How could something so simple feel so … right?

  As they rounded the table, he spotted Oralee and made his way over to explain their intrusion. Several of the guests recognized him and waved, and Oralee actually clapped. “Oh, it’s our young man! Hello, there! Is this your beautiful wife?”

  His gut lurched again. “I … uh.”

  Maris rescued the situation by reaching out with her free hand to greet Oralee. “It’s so lovely to meet you. We saw your husband in the hallway, and he offered to let us join you. We don’t want to barge in on your festivities, but—”

  “Oh, by all means!” Oralee’s wide curls bounced as she nodded. “Anything for our knight in puffy armor.” She spoke behind the back of her hand, as if sharing a secret. “That’s what we call your young man. He was so kind to help us.”

  Used to adoring fans, Crawford beamed graciously until he met Maris’ gaze. The twinkle in her eyes made his breath hitch.

  “Seeing the two of them look at each other. Doesn’t it give you chills and thrills?” cooed Oralee to one of the other guests. She patted Crawford’s arm. “I’ll tell you what. You grab a plate and sneak through the buffet on our dime, but you can sit over by the window for some privacy if you want. I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  “Oh, my goodness, you’re very kind!” gushed Maris.

  “You don’t have to do that,” said Crawford, willing her not to argue.

  Oralee gave him a wink and brushed him away with a flick of her gnarled fingers.

  As they huddled over the steaming buffet, plates in hand, Crawford leaned closer to Maris. “Okay, I see what you mean by cute old people. I guess it’d be nice to have an old girl like her when I’m ancient.”

  Maris gave him a wry smile. “I think the trick is to grab her while she’s still young and hold on to her for a long, long time.”

  Warning signals went off in the back of Crawford’s brain. That was girl talk for “Commitment, please”, and he wasn’t having it.

  He glanced over at the table full of old couples and hesitated. Maybe there was something to be said for long-term entanglements, but he didn’t need to investigate that option yet.

  As they slid into the last open table by a window, Crawford flashed an apologetic smile at the waiter and pointed back to Axel and Oralee. “We’re with them, but they banished us over here.”

  “Right.” The waiter didn’t sound convinced. “Usually the buffet diners need to stay in that area.”

  “We won’t go back and forth,” said Maris. “I promise. We’ll stay here.”

  The waiter nodded reluctantly. “All right. But if you order anything special, you’ll get a separate tab.”

  “We understand,” said Crawford. “If we can get some water, we’ll be good for the night.”

  The waiter nodded and brought them a carafe of water which Crawford poured into their glasses. When the ice cubes swirled to a stop, he lifted his gaze to Maris. She’d removed her coat and now tucked her linen napkin onto her lap. The soft blue hues of her patterned blouse made her eyes pop, and when she looked up at him with a shy smile, it took him a second to
realize he should say something.

  “Quite a lucky break,” he offered.

  “Amazing!” Her smile widened. “It worked out just right. This way you got to make things more fun for that little boy.” She sighed, her finger wiping the condensation from her water glass. “You brought us some good karma with all your good deeds today.”

  Crawford gave a sly smile. “You’re a pretty good girl, too. I’m sure something even more wonderful lies ahead.”

  Maris folded her hands in front of her smile and studied him. “Are you always so incredibly obvious when you’re trying to be sexy? Because you don’t have to try. You are. The over-the-top lines kind of make it all cartoonish instead.”

  Shock knocked the air from Crawford’s chest, and he sat back, gaping at her. “I’m not trying to …” The lie died on his lips, and he shook his head, unblinking. “What am I supposed to say?”

  Her knowing smile rearranged his internal organs in a mess of sensuous terror.

  “You don’t have to say anything.” She took a sip of water, then chewed her lip shyly. “Take it for granted I think you’re excessively attractive. Then, if I stare, you’ll understand it’s because I’m a woman with working eyeballs. You don’t have to convince me, so don’t ruin it all with cheesy innuendos.” Her blush acted as an exclamation point.

  Something about her last sentence confused Crawford. He closed his mouth, then let it flop open again. The water did little to soothe his dry throat, but he croaked out a response anyway. “All right. Take it for granted that I also think you’re crazy hot, and it’s because I’m a man.” He gestured between the two of them. “So, where exactly does that leave us?”

  Maris shrugged, picking up her cutlery. “Aware of the attraction, and so hopefully that much more in control of it. Now we can work on getting to know each other and leave the physical stuff on the side table.”

  “Is this something you learned in some weird women’s psychology class, or something?”

  “Why?” She cut into a piece of chicken. “Is it working?”

  “I have no idea.” He fumbled with his napkin. “What more is there to know than we’re both attracted?”