by V. A. Dold
He shook off the memories and went back to the damn bow tie. He had to look his best. The last thing he wanted was to spend the night at the bachelor’s table.
Little did his family know, he hadn’t been on an actual date in months, not that he would admit that to his brothers. A shiver went through him at the thought of them learning that tidbit of information. That was never getting out if he could help it–his brothers would have a field day.
*****
El wiggled and pulled. Were you supposed to breakout in a sweat getting into shape wear? She used to believe the inventor of high heels was the number one evil masochist of fashion, but the creator of Spanx® just took top billing. She waffled for days over the purchase of the torture device, which currently held her hips, stomach and breasts in a vice from hell. She was now of the firm belief she’d made the wrong choice.
The night was going to be agonizing enough, the body vice was not a necessary addition. Realization that sitting wouldn’t be an option solidified her decision, the Spanx® were history. Sure, she would expose a tummy roll–or two–to the general public. “Too damn bad, people. Deal with it,” El muttered.
El wiggled her way out of the sadistic undergarment and immediately took a deep breath. It was good to breathe again. Without her watching, the Spanx® landed in the corner with the crumpled shopping bag and receipt. That would be returned tomorrow. Now, to find a bra and panties that wouldn’t show lines under this skintight dress. A thong should do the trick.
“Grand-mère? Can you give me a hand?”
“What do you need, cher?” Mémé asked as she entered the room.
“Could you help me get this dress over my hair? I don’t want to mess it up.”
“Sure, but aren’t you going to put on panties first?”
“I have panties on.” El turned her backside to her grand-mère indicating the tiny strip of fabric disappearing between her cheeks.
“That’s not underwear,” Mémé said scowling at El’s bare behind. “A lady wears proper panties.”
“It’s either these or that.” El pointed at the offending Spanx® that lay in a heap on the floor. “I don’t want panty lines while standing on display for auction.”
Mémé frowned at the Spanx®. “What on earth is that?”
“Exactly.”
“All right. I don’t like it, but I can see your dilemma.”
Minutes later El stood before a mirror in the ball gown and heels.
“You’re beautiful!” Mémé had her hand over her heart and tears in her eyes. “I wish your father could see you.”
“Thank you, Grand-mère. I miss him, too. But, there’s no way I would have worn this in front of him. I would have been doomed to frilly dresses for the rest of my life if he’d seen this.”
Mémé chuckled and nodded. “You’re right, cher, he would have never let you wear jeans and cowboy boots again.”
El tilted her head and studied her reflection. “This gown would probably look really good on a size seven woman. The flesh tone material does little to hide my padding.”
“You can stop that kind of talk right now. You’re gorgeous. A man doesn’t want to cozy up to skin and bone. A man wants soft curves to hold onto. Trust me, I know.”
“Grand-mère Marie!” El clapped her hands over her ears. “I can’t unhear things like that.”
“I was young once, too, you know.”
“Stop. Just stop.” She held her hand up like a stop sign. “I can’t hear this tonight.”
Mémé laughed at her granddaughter’s reaction, and, with a twinkle in her eye, left her to finish getting ready.
It had only been a few minutes and El’s feet were already protesting the ridiculous shoes Emma had given her. She studied her reflection again. Did she look as amazing as Mémé thought?
It was then she noticed the precise placement of the black lace over the skin-toned gown.
Oh, hell no!
It looked like she was naked and wearing pasties.
I might as well be a hooker in this dang gown and heels!
If she got propositioned tonight, Emma was a dead woman.
She didn’t know how, but she would think of an appropriate payback. El sighed. It wasn’t as if she had another dress to wear hanging in her closet. She straightened her shoulders and nodded at her reflection. She would make the most of it and hold her head high.
El teetered on the skyscraper stilettos for a moment as she turned from the mirror. Please let a tall man win the auction, otherwise she would tower over him. Thank God she knew how to walk in heels. It wasn’t that she had never worn them, she simply chose not to. Just a little practice walking and it would be fine. It was like riding a bike, right?
The only thing left was accessories. As hard as she scowled at her closet, it wasn’t going to just cough up a sweater or shawl to wear with this...nightmare. She hated her upper arms, the problem wasn’t so much flab as it was too much muscle from ranch work. She had man arms, which didn’t pair well with an evening gown. Tapping her chin, she recalled a black shawl hiding in the far reaches of her closet. “That doesn’t look bad at all,” she said as she checked each side and the back view. “Now for earrings and a necklace.”
As she rummaged through her scant options, Grand-mère walked in. “I just remembered a lovely earring and necklace set your grand-père gave me.”
El gasped as Mémé opened the velvet box in her hand. One carat diamond earings and a tiered diamond necklace sparkled from the bed of black velevet. “I can’t wear those, they must mean so much to you. What if I lost one?”
“Oh, poo, of course you can. I planned to give them to you as a wedding gift anyway. Now you simply get them a little early.”
At the mention of her getting married, she began to hyperventalate. Just the thought of letting a man that close both physically and emotionally sent her into a tailspin.
“Breathe, cher. Have you talked with your therapist lately? She needs to know you’re still having these spells.”
“You’re right. I’ll call Pamela on the way. I need a confidence boost from her if I’m going to make it through tonight.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I worry about you, baby. This needs to stop. Now, let me help you put these on.”
El studied Grand-mère’s face. She saw only love and the pure joy of giving a gift from the heart. It would be rude to refuse. “Thank you. I’m honored to wear them.”
Mémé patted her arm with misty eyes, then stepped back and couldn’t hold back the flood of tears any longer. “You’re the loveliest young lady I’ve ever seen. I can only imagine how beautiful you’ll be on your wedding day.”
El hugged her tightly, holding back tears of her own. With a kiss on the cheek, she released her grand-mère. It was time to go.
She took a deep, calming breath, then straightened and ran her palms down the dress to smooth any wrinkles. Then she took a deep breath, grabbed her truck keys, and walked out the door.
Chapter 5
The Auction
El’s heart pounded as she glimpsed the mile-long line of sleek vehicles, each worth more than her house. Patricia, her king cab ¾ ton pickup truck, stuck out like a crawfish on a plate of prime rib.
Craning her neck, she spotted a hidden area at the back of the lot. She hit her blinker and tried to pull out of the line of Bentleys, Mercedes…
Oh, my God is that an Aston Martin?
But, NO! The smiling man wearing a reflective orange traffic vest forced her to follow the cars to the valet at the grand entrance. “He must be a sadist,” she groused.
When the tuxedoed man with white gloves reached for her door she wanted to die.
I’m so going to kill Emma.
Why the heck did she have to use this as payback for curing her stallion? It made no sense at all.
El made her way up the winding grand staircase to the ballroom. The moment she stepped through the doors her radar went on alert. Slowly she scanned the crowd, hoping to fi
nd someone she knew. Oh, she did all right. Her heart nearly stopped when she caught sight of Stefan Le Beau roaming the edge of the room. Before he had the chance to spot her, she ducked into a shadowed corner. Her chest began to squeeze the air from her lungs. She wouldn’t have another panic attack! Closing her eyes, she began to repeat the mantra Pamela had taught her after one of the many hypnosis sessions.
I survived, I won.
Immediate relief began to lessen her reaction.
Come to the ball, it’s for a very worthy cause. It’ll be fun.
“Yeah, like a root canal,” El muttered.
Conveniently Emma had failed to mention Stefan, the ego maniac womanizer, would be there when she blackmailed her into coming.
When she’d first met the Romeo years ago, he’d ignored her completely, never even noticing she was alive. Of course she’d only been sixteen and probably looked like a child to him. To her, he had looked very mature and manly, a teenage girl’s heartthrob.
He still could have at least noticed me, or acknowledged I was in the room.
She wasn’t sure of the exact date, but about the time of her eighteenth birthday, she even started dreaming about the infuriating man. Hot dreams–really hot dreams. As a matter of fact, she had one last night about Papa Joe’s and a hookup in the ladies’ room. Those dreams were frustrating and just pissed her off more.
Stefan’s rejection was just one of what would be a lifetime of rejections. Back then she still held out hope that a man would come along and look at her with love and passion in his eyes; that he would love her for the way she was, and who she was. Silly teenage dreams often die hard and hers died a bloody death in college.
*****
Stefan needed a drink, stat. As far as he could tell from the ladies in attendance, this was going to be a very long night. He’d just located a waiter when a shiver ran up his spine. Planting his feet shoulder width apart, he went on instant alert.
A review of the room provided no answer to his strange reaction. But, as his gaze passed over the far corner, the flutter that had started in his stomach a week ago amplified. Who or what was in that corner? Before he had the opportunity to investigate, a group of lovely ladies joined the crowd.
Stefan Le Beau caught the attention of a waiter carrying a tray of champagne and offered the refreshments to the ladies. As he greeted each with a smile and a flute of bubbly, he realized he had dated each of them in the past six months. He made small talk while he tried to extricate himself from his self-made fiasco while secretly scanning the room for any women he hadn’t dated.
*****
El observed Stefan from the shadows, and bit back a few choice comments she was aching to fling at him. Having grown up with only her father and his ranch hands, they would be juicy words, too.
She needed to find someone to talk with so she could take her mind off of that Lothario. It hadn’t been easy, but she’d made her way across the ballroom without being seen and was now safely hidden among a group of attendees.
I’m such a coward.
Even though she was sure he wouldn’t know who she was or notice her for that matter, she didn’t want him to see her in the spray-on gown Emma forced on her. What was she thinking?
I’m not Madonna or Miley Cyrus. People are going to think I’m walking around wearing pasties in this thing.
She still wondered how Emma had gotten a dress the exact color of her skin tone with black lace strategically placed over her nipples and crotch.
With her heart heavy, she watched Stefan flirt with a group of beautiful women across the room.
Sighing she wondered, why do I even care?
*****
Stefan had barely escaped from the clinging mob of estrogen when Marcus joined him.
“Why the scowl?” his brother asked, gray eyes twinkling with mischief. “Poor Stefan, already date all the women here?”
Correction: ex–brother.
“Cute. Go find someone else to annoy.”
“No, he probably got turned down for the first time in his life and can’t handle the shock,” Cade said, coming up behind them. “Lose your mojo, Stefan?”
“Screw you. I could get any woman in the room to go home with me, your wife excluded, of course.”
Marcus grinned at Cade. “Shall we take bets?”
“Hell, yeah! We’ll choose a woman in the room and Stefan has to get her to go home with him.”
“Great idea.” They were both scanning the room when Cade spied El. He tipped his head in her direction. “The woman in the…is that see through?”
Stefan squinted to see who he was referring to. The damn room was too dark and too crowded, all he could see was she wore a flesh tone and black lace dress.
Oh, who cares? I’ll win regardless who she was.
“You’re on. If I win, you give me your house in the Caymans for a week.”
“If we win, you clean the dog kennels for a month at Simon’s compound when it’s finished,” Marcus smirked. He could tell by the gleam in Cade’s eye, he recognized El Jorgenson, too. She had the reputation of avoiding men, especially handsome men like Stefan. This was going to be fun to watch.
Cade and Marcus laughed and slapped him on the back before leaving him to mingle with the crowd. Stefan scowled at their retreating backs, then grumbled, “Bring it on, guys.”
Left to his own devices, he scanned for the woman who would be his lucky date of the night. Where had that gal in the see-through dress gone anyway?
Stefan didn’t notice El as she walked behind him, making her way through the congested room. But, she couldn’t get away so easily, his nose twitched as a heady scent grabbed him by the ears and swung his head around.
Who’s that?
The woman held her head high, confidence emanated from every pore. He couldn’t see her face, she’d already passed him and all he could see was her backside. And what a sweet backside it was. Stefan’s mouth watered as her hips swayed. Whoever she was, she didn’t just walk, she definitely swayed.
If her scent hadn’t been enough to cause an immediate, raging hard-on, one look at her curvaceous body would have done the trick. Shifting his stance, he tried to find some relief. In this condition he just might burst the seams of his tuxedo.
The woman was sexy as hell. His wolf’s head rose, instantly becoming aware of the other males in the room. It didn’t like the way their gazes ran over her body. As she moved through the crowd, he followed her progress simply by the male heads turning. She was sexy all right, too sexy.
He and his wolf didn’t like this situation at all. Her damn dress was practically sprayed on, and as far as he could tell she wasn’t wearing panties. A low growl began in his chest before he could stop it.
Stefan’s breath caught in his throat as his brain registered the dress she was wearing. It’s her, the woman his brothers had wagered he couldn’t seduce. As the new-car scented woman turned slightly, he caught a glimpse of her face. His heart accelerated. It was the woman from his visions.
All this time he’d been chasing her, always one step behind, only to spot her at a charity auction? How bizarre was that? He almost didn’t believe it. Could he be that lucky? Cade and Simon had both dreamt of their mates before they met them. Now here she was, standing across the room, his vision lover.
My MATE.
He set his scotch on the cocktail table next to his elbow and began making his way toward her.
She leaned down in order to hear the woman speaking to her, the movement caused the wisps of her thick, curly chestnut hair to slide over her shoulder. They caught the light cast by the chandeliers in the room and shimmered. Ah, hell, there went his pants again.
As he neared her, he was enveloped in the warm, soft cloud of her scent. His steps slowed and eyes closed, heart pounding so hard he expected to see it hanging from his chest.
Slowly, she straightened, turned, and frowned into the crowd. It looked as if she was searching for someone. She was exquisite
&
nbsp; *****
El looked around, hoping to locate a waiter for a soda. It wasn’t a waiter who filled her eyes and every other sense she possessed.
I survived, I won.
Her mantra repeated rapidly in her mind. Wide shoulders and sculpted chest, molded under his designer tuxedo. Gorgeous blond hair, amazing honey-colored eyes, and dimples combined to create a masterpiece. She was a sucker for dimples. Six-foot-four inches of hot bayou boy. Stefan.
The aroma of fresh leather, like a brand new saddle or maybe new boots, filled her nose. El quickly looked about for what was creating her favorite scent. Nothing.
Crud, do I smell like a saddle?
She had taken a shower right before dressing for the ball. It was highly unlikely it was coming from her.
And why was her mouth watering like a platter of pralines had just been set before her? Worse yet, her fingertips longed to trace a path from his right dimple to his rock hard chest. Most of all, why did she just hear a strange voice in her head and what the heck did “mate” mean?
She had hoped to avoid suffering the humiliation of having Stefan see her in this ridiculous frock. Okay, maybe she had wanted to get a glimpse of him. But, she wasn’t admitting that to anyone, least of all herself. Stupid libido. She needed to put a gag on it and make herself scarce.
The last thing she wanted was to start having feelings for the Bayou Romeo, or “BR,” as she referred to him. That was a recipe for heartbreak and disaster. And hell, he made her have feelings in all kinds of places that hadn’t felt in a long time. It didn’t matter, her irrational fears would never allow her to go near–‘that’.
Regardless, she was a successful veterinarian; she had a medical degree, for cripes sake. There was no way she would allow herself to be so stupid as to let herself fall for Stefan Le Beau.
I’m going to have to keep my guard up around BR.
He was just too potent, too manly, too everything. Heat shot through her body, settling in her core.
Shit, this wasn’t good.