Dinner was soon followed by dessert and coffee, and Charlotte started to notice a buzz beginning to fill the air that seemed to be fueled by caffeine, sweet Michigan cherry pie, and the fans' excitement.
"So are they starting the charity auction soon?"
"Anything in particular you have your eye on?" Adam asked teasingly.
"Maybe," she replied with a smile. "I promised Jack I would try."
He laughed. "If Jack asked you to bid on something, he's expecting you to really bid. Don't let him down."
"Or us!" Rachel yelled. "We're your seat mates. We share everything."
"Is that the rule?"
"It is now," she replied, raising her glass in Charlotte's direction.
The first item up was a trip for six on a chartered plane followed by a diamond bracelet from a local jeweler.
"Don't even waste your time," Rachel said. "Once you let me borrow it, you won't get it back."
The table laughed, knowing full well that there was quite a bit of truth to Rachel's statement. It was all just as well after the bracelet went to some poor suffering husband in the back. At least his wife looked happy about the bauble that he paid more than its worth for.
And so it continued. Access to a suite for four Detroit Pirates' home games. A river cruise dinner for two. A romantic weekend getaway to Canada.
"Seriously?" Adam asked. "That's a five-minute drive across the river. How is Windsor considered romantic?"
Then the auctioneer cleared his throat. "The next item up for bid is always a fan favorite here. Dinner with your captain, Jordan King!" There were some loud cheers and applause that greeted Jordan as he stepped up on the stage and took a dramatic bow. "Let's start the bidding!"
"This is going to be entertaining," Adam muttered in Charlotte's direction.
"What's so entertaining about this?"
"You see that table of young women over there?" he said, leaning over so Charlotte could hear him better. "They're puck bunnies who pool their daddies' money every year in the hopes that they'll go on a group date with Jordan and he will fall in love with one of them."
Charlotte bristled. "That sounds like it could get pretty messy."
"Good news is they only won once and that was a few years ago. Bad news is that they've lost the auction to the finance guys over there."
Charlotte turned to see a table with three older couples. The women looked bored while the men looked like giddy school children. "Jack mentioned them to me. What's their story?"
Rachel leaned closer to her husband. "They spend their wads of cash on dinner with Jordan where they act like they're his best buddies while the wives make inappropriate comments to each other about Jordan's ass," she explained. "And then sometimes they make inappropriate comments to Jordan's face about his ass. Not that I've noticed, of course."
"Oh, of course not," her husband sarcastically replied.
"But he does have an amazing hockey ass," she whispered loudly.
Charlotte laughed before turning her attention back to the bidding, surprised it wasn't up too high yet. She was starting to get antsy. She didn't want to make a big scene by jumping into the bidding, but she also did enjoy the occasional rush from charity auctions like this. In that sense, she was very similar to the socialites she didn't like. They all wanted to win.
Plus, her parents did tell her that she needed to think about making a name for herself in the rich charitable circles of Detroit. Charlotte thought the request sounded crass. After all, her parents at times cared more about the fund-raising parties and the appearance of charity than the actual charity itself. But she was in Detroit now and really did want to help out some groups in the area. Tonight would be the perfect time to start.
"Hey, would you guys like to come to dinner with me and Jordan King?"
"Seriously?" Adam asked. "That could be fun. How much do you think we should each throw in?"
Charlotte just shook her head. "Dinner is on me."
Rachel looked at her skeptically. "Are you sure? We can at least give you something in return."
"Can Aiden be my date?" she asked.
"We can do that," Adam replied, a sly smile forming on his face.
She turned back to the room, listening to the trickle of bids coming in. The bidders were such amateurs. Only a $300 increase in the offer? Charlotte decided it was time to make things a bit more interesting.
"$4,000!" yelled the puck bunny in charge of table number eight before giving a dirty glance to the rich boys club at the next table over.
"$4,000 from the ladies," the auctioneer announced. "Anyone want to go higher?"
Charlotte smiled, remembering a hockey game earlier this week when young Aiden had explained with awe just how sacred the number 61 was to Jordan. He had apparently chosen it when he played hockey in high school and hadn't changed it since then.
Charlotte raised her hand, officially signaling that she was getting in the game. "I want to bid!" she yelled, getting the attention of the auctioneer. "$6,161!"
Jordan King turned and gave her a little smirk as a buzz started to rise from the crowd.
"Is that Charlotte Stone?"
"Did she use his number in her bid?"
"What the hell?"
She distinctly heard that last comment from around the area of table eight and turned to see the puck bunnies turning their dirty looks to her. She checked on the rich boys, proud to find that she was at least able to get the two groups to see eye-to-eye on one thing: Charlotte was their new target. Leaning back in her chair, she put on her best game face as the two groups plotted their revenge against the interloper from Manhattan.
In the meantime, Charlotte's bid did what she expected it would do. More people started getting into the game now that they were going up against the Charlotte Stone, including some wives who were trying to prove how rich they were by tossing some of their husbands' extra cash around. She just sat and watched them duke it out, waiting for her perfect time to strike.
"It's OK, Charlotte," Adam said teasingly at one point. "If you want, you can still take Aiden out for ice cream or something."
She just smirked. "Don't worry. I'm not done yet."
Bidding finally slowed down as the finance guys were close to claiming victory with a bid of $13,000. The auctioneer started to look around, trying to spur on the crowd for one last shot at dinner with the captain.
"This is going to be a new record bid for dinner with Jordan, but I think we can get it a little higher for the Community Garden Project. Miss, do you want back in?" A woman in the back shook his head. "Ladies?" The puck bunnies simply looked down, knowing they had been defeated. "Miss Stone?"
All eyes turned to Charlotte, waiting for her decision before they had to swallow that bitter pill for another year. They all knew the old guys in the back would win. But while all of them watched Charlotte, she could only look at one person: Jordan King. His blue eyes seemed to shimmer mischievously, coaxing her to make a move.
"You know, I will make another bid."
She heard the murmur beginning to spread through the crowd and could only imagine the faces of the men who were about to go home empty handed. But still, she was transfixed on Jordan. Charlotte could tell he was intrigued by what she was about to do. It was only fair that she give him what he wanted.
"I bid $61,000."
There was a gasp in the crowd followed by a loud "Dammit!" that she assumed came from one of the old guys. Some nervous laughter was soon covered up by a smattering of applause that began to spread to the entire crowd, becoming more raucous. It was as if the fans were beginning to rally late in the third period to cheer their beloved Pirates to victory.
And yet still, Charlotte couldn't take her eyes off of Jordan, whose jaw had gone slack when she announced her bid. He shook his head in disbelief and then gave her a huge genuine smile, one she hadn't received from a man in years. It was one of those smiles that went right to her core and she could feel her heart skip. She wasn't nervous a
bout bidding that much money. She had done it before at other auctions. And yet one look from Jordan King was forcing her to breathe deeply and calm herself down.
The gavel began to bang on the lectern as the auctioneer tried to regain order from the rowdy crowd. "Alright, alright!" he yelled. "We have to finish this."
The crowd began to calm down and Charlotte finally had a chance to look around the room. There were quite a few smiles in her direction — except for the rich guys' table and the puck bunnies.
"We have a bid of $61,000 from the lovely lady over here," the auctioneer said, pointing his gavel in Charlotte's direction. The crowd started clapping again with some yelling coming from the back of the room.
"$61,000 going once!" Cheering filled the room. "$61,000 going twice!" More cheers engulfed the space as Charlotte looked up to see the captain clapping along. "Dinner with Jordan King is sold for a record $61,000!"
The gavel banged to confirm her bid but if there was any noise after that, Charlotte couldn't tell. Instead, her focus was on Jordan, who had jumped down from the stage, making a beeline for her table. His eyes were fixed on her as he jogged over, his button-down shirt straining against his chest and his tuxedo jacket swaying around him as he moved his arms enthusiastically. He came over and knelt next to Charlotte's chair, taking her hand in his to give it a warm and gentle kiss.
"M'lady," he said sweetly. "I'm looking forward to our dinner."
Then he stood and winked at her before heading back to the stage while Charlotte's smile stayed plastered on her face. She was smitten with him. In that moment, she refused to remind herself that the whole reason she fell in love with hockey was because she had fallen in love with a hockey player who ended up breaking her heart. Falling for a professional player was surely not the way she wanted to start over in a new town, but right now she didn't care.
She broke out of her haze to look at the friends sitting with her. Rachel had a huge smile on her face while Adam looked completely stunned.
"So," Charlotte said, nervously clearing her throat to get their attention. "Are you guys up for dinner?"
Adam turned to her, the stunned expression frozen on his face. "This is going to be the most amazing meal I will ever eat."
Chapter 3
Charlotte hung up with the Pirates' representative after ironing out details for dinner with Jordan King, wondering what she had really gotten herself into. This wasn't just her dinner. Other people would be there so it wasn't like it was a date or anything. And by there, she meant here. As in her penthouse, the place she lived that was still only half unpacked.
She was actually excited about having everyone over. Her mother was a bit too fancy and formal at times, but even Charlotte loved a good dinner party. When she first moved out of her parents' place, her mother made sure to send her daughter away with a set of china, silver and crystal. Sure, it was ostentatious, but she still found it fun to set the table in her small condo in Manhattan with all the decorative pieces, even for a quiet dinner with friends. Her place now had much more space, which allowed her to have a huge kitchen and a big table. It was just another reason why moving to a city with a much lower cost of living was actually a good choice for her.
Of course, that also meant Charlotte was going to have to unpack her fancy dishes along with everything else still in boxes. Despite the fact that she had lived there for almost a month already, she was still trying to figure out exactly where she wanted things to go before unpacking them.
There were also boxes that Charlotte was dreading, boxes she had pushed into one of the guest bedrooms, knowing she would have to sort through them at some point. This wasn't just a small move for her. She left absolutely nothing behind in New York. The extra space had allowed her to pull things out of a storage unit she had rented in Brooklyn like old report cards from school, souvenirs she had picked up from trips over the years, photos of friends and family.
Charlotte finally decided it was time to dig in and see what she had. After pouring herself a glass of wine, she sat down and started sorting. Books were set aside to go on the shelves she had installed in her office, thankful that she now had a place to actually display them. Some trinkets from college would have to remain in a box for now.
Then there was the box simply labeled "Stuff" in Charlotte's handwriting. But it wasn't just any stuff. The label had been her vanilla description for the Boyfriend Box.
Starting with her freshman year in college, she had spent a decade tossing random items into the box as she finished one relationship after another. Right on top was the bracelet Marcus had given her. She remembered throwing it in the box when she did an inventory of the storage unit a month before moving. It had been sitting on her dresser taunting her, a reminder of her latest relationship with a man she thought she could marry someday, only to have him dump her with the generic "It's not you, it's me," and no other explanation. It had been one of the reasons she had finally decided it was time to get the hell out of the city and for that, at least, she was thankful.
Charlotte kept digging through old t-shirts and postcards, love poems and... Her hand brushed against something plastic, sending shivers down her spine. Her fingers curled around the cage mask and she tugged, pulling out an old helmet from Declan. "This is for you," he explained causally when he gave it to her. "You don't want to lose any teeth and get ugly if you go skating with me."
She stared at it in her unsteady hands. It had been more than two years and Declan still had this kind of effect on her. Clammy hands, shaky arms, erratic stressed-out heartbeat.
She remembered the first time they met when she was at a party hosted by the New York Admirals' owner, who happened to be a family friend. The hockey star quietly got her number, then called the next day and asked her out.
But they never actually went "out" somewhere. Declan seemed skittish about Charlotte's fame and the reality show cameras that would occasionally follow her around. She couldn't blame him. There were times when she didn't want to be recognized either. And frankly, keeping their relationship secret was a bit of a turn on. She would sneak into his apartment building by the back stairs. He would tell her doorman that he was seeing a woman in the building but never said who. Considering the building's glitzy residents, it could've been any number of women desperate to date one of the city's most eligible athletes.
And so it went for a few months. Take-out Chinese food at his place followed by a home-cooked meal at hers. The sex was good, nothing great, but Declan's athletic body made up for his lack of focus on Charlotte in the bedroom.
Then there was that playoff game. New York suffered a heart-breaking loss in the final seconds against Chicago, ending their season, and she had gone wandering in the arena to find Declan and comfort him. Charlotte finally found him in the equipment room, his back to her as he groaned due to the pain of the loss — or at least that's what Charlotte had first assumed. But as she got closer, she realized he wasn't in pain. No, he was screwing some model against the wall by a rack of hockey sticks.
"Declan?" His name came out of her mouth half in anger, half in pain.
He turned to look over his shoulder, a sneer teasing his lips as the leggy redhead angled herself to look at Charlotte standing there, surprised to see her boyfriend doing what he was doing.
"I'm sure you can tell that you don't belong here," he told her, his voice cold and patronizing. "Unless, of course, you'd like to join us."
Charlotte stood there staring at him. She wasn't going to let him see the effect he had on her. "I'd rather not," she replied bitterly before turning and walking out as fast as she could without letting him see how much he had damaged her.
She thought he wanted to keep their relationship secret to protect it from prying eyes. She thought it was something too special to be splashed on the gossip pages of the city. Instead, she realized he just wanted to stay quiet so other women wouldn't know he had a girlfriend.
She shook her head, breaking herself out of her flash with
her past and took a long drink from her wine glass. Two years and Declan still had that effect on her. When she first met Jordan King a few weeks ago, she thought about what it would be like to have his strong hands on her, his blue eyes taking her in, his muscles rippling under her touch. What could it be like to be with a hockey player who actually cared about her and treated her right? And then her memories of Declan had shoved their way back into her brain, rendering any idea of dating another hockey player completely moot.
Charlotte took the stupid helmet in her hand and stuffed it as far back down into the box as it would go, making a mental note to shove that whole thing in the darkest corner of her storage closet or, if she could find the courage, the darkest corner of her building's dumpster.
The lights were already on as Jordan made his way into the house with his suitcase in tow. A warm and inviting house to return to was one of the advantages of living with his brother.
Sure, they were both single men and living with a roommate wasn't the coolest idea, especially considering Jordan was one of the highest paid hockey players in the league and could afford this on his own. But it was something he found comfort in.
Ethan was the one who had done all he could to support Jordan when their parents were gone — one by bad chance, one by bad choice — and Jordan felt the need to return the favor now that he was a success. It seemed ridiculous to buy a big house in the suburbs with no one to share it with so he made sure to find one with two master bedrooms: one for him and one for Ethan. It wasn't easy since there weren't many homes like that around, but it was worth it.
So far, the arrangement was going well. Jordan paid the mortgage, Ethan picked up the bills and the grocery shopping, and they both chipped in for the maid service. Seriously, there was no other way the house would stay clean with two bachelors in it, and they wanted to have it looking its best when they brought women home.
For the Captain (The Detroit Pirates Book 1) Page 3