“I love the picture,” she said, “but I love the one on the front even more.” The one in which Trent wore low-rise jeans and the white dress shirt, but the shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his taut abs and pecs. He had a come-fuck-me look on his face that made anyone with ovaries swoon.
I grinned. “Thanks.”
The girls looked at me like I was crazy. It took me a second to piece together why. “I’m the photographer,” I explained.
The calendar was yanked from the girl’s hand. She scowled at the thief. “Hey, that’s mine!”
The woman studying the cover held up her hand to silence her. “You’re extremely talented, Kelsey. I would love to see your portfolio sometime.”
“I’ve only just started doing this. I don’t have much of a portfolio.”
She removed a business card from her purse and passed it to me. I read it and almost fainted. Jennifer Ashton, CEO of Ashton Crawford Inc.
“You work for an ad agency?” I knew the name. It was a rival agency to where Erin worked, with an impressive clientele.
“Yes. We’re always on the lookout for photographers and good stock photos. I’d love to meet you for lunch sometime to talk more about the opportunities available, if you’re interested.”
“I’d love that, but I also work full-time as a physical therapist at the children’s hospital.”
That seemed to impress her as much as my photo. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”
I thanked her, but didn’t get to say much more. An older woman in a burgundy gown walked over and practically kidnapped her from the group.
“I already know which bachelor I’m bidding on,” a dark-haired woman not much older than me said as she walked past with her friend, reminding me there was a lot more to this event than the calendar and dinner.
The bachelor auction was still to come.
Which meant having to watch another woman win a date with Trent. I wouldn’t be the one spending time with him, something I painfully missed.
The dark-haired woman and her friend stopped close enough to us that I could still hear them.
“Which one?” her friend asked.
“Trent Salway. And I’m prepared to outbid everyone.”
Her friend laughed. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Because you know I always get what I want.” A greedy smile spread across the dark-haired woman’s face. With her long silky hair, light olive skin, and bright green eyes, she was both breathtaking and exotic. “And I definitely want him.” Permanently was what her expression implied.
“I don’t blame you. I’d bid for him too if I knew I had a chance to win against you.”
“Kelsey,” Owen said, dragging my attention away from the two women. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”
“Sure.”
Owen excused us and we left to find a quiet spot down an empty hallway.
“I guess I’ve got some explaining to do,” I said, no longer holding onto his arm. Now that we were away from everyone, we could temporarily drop the act.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Wow, now I’m engaged to a porn star.” His eyes sparkled with amusement, something I hadn’t seen in years.
“Ha, ha! I wouldn’t go that far. But I am sorry I didn’t warn you ahead of time. I didn’t know the picture had made it into the calendar until I saw it back there.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m proud of you for what you’ve accomplished.” He pulled me in for a friendly, heartfelt hug. “Granted, I wish it were me in the photo, but that was my fault for not realizing what I had until it was too late. I just hope the next guy in your life realizes that before it’s too late for him.”
I wished that too.
But wishing was best saved for birthday cakes, water fountains, and shooting stars.
I opened my purse and fished around for a quarter.
“What are you doing?” Owen asked as I pulled one out.
“I’ll meet you back in the ballroom,” I said, already walking away toward the front entrance—and the water fountain.
39
Kelsey
The majestic fountain sat in the courtyard in front of the hotel. At this time of night it was lit up, the coins in the water glinting like lost treasure. In the center, on top of the massive stone base, stood a statue of a young woman dressed in a bed sheet.
Legend claimed that if you threw two coins into the Trevi Fountain in Rome, you would find romance with a Roman. Three coins ensured marriage to him. But since this was San Francisco and not Rome, and I was in love with Trent (who definitely wasn’t Roman), I tossed my single coin in and hoped for the best.
Truthfully I knew nothing would happen—but it was the thought that counted, right?
With a sigh (and a quick check for a random shooting star), I returned to the ballroom.
In time.
To see.
Trent walking onstage.
In a tux.
They say when you’re in a life-and-death situation, your life flashes in front you. I couldn’t say if that was true since I wasn’t dying, but my mind was definitely revisiting my past. Except all of the flashbacks were Trent oriented. The first time he helped me with my math homework, and I thought he was the smartest boy alive. Even smarter than my brother. The first time he helped me with the flat tire on my bike. And the second and third time. The first time he was there for me when I fell off my bike and broke my leg. The first time we went to see a movie together, along with Liam and Erin.
The first time I fell in love with him.
What they fail to mention when it comes to these life-flashing-in-front-of-you situations is that walking during them is never recommended.
Especially when a waiter is standing in your way.
Drinks went flying. Glass shattered. Everyone looked at us.
With heat flooding my face, I bent down to help him. “I’m so sorry.”
“Not a problem,” he said, picking up the broken glass and placing it on his tray. “And don’t worry, I’ve got this. You should go back to your seat. They’re starting the bidding soon.”
At this point I would’ve rather climbed into a hole and hid for the rest of the evening. But since that wasn’t an option, I stood up and my gaze automatically went to the stage.
Big mistake.
At the sight of Trent, the heat in my face decided it would be better served rushing to between my legs.
Somewhere in the back of my head a desperate voice urged me to keep walking…to my seat. But I couldn’t. Trent was watching me and both my heart and my legs had stopped functioning.
Just when I was beginning to think they’d have to rush in a crash cart to restart it, my heart got over the initial shock of seeing him and performed a happy dance.
My body joined the party. Both ignored the memo that my brain was attempting to send them—the memo pointing out that I needed to move on, both literally and figuratively.
“Ladies and gentlemen…well, especially the ladies. Are you ready for the auction to begin?” Jodi said into the microphone, and the spell Trent had on me was instantly broken.
As I walked over to where Owen and his colleagues sat, the applause at her announcement was deafening. But no more so than from the table next to us, where the woman who planned to outbid everyone when it came to Trent sat.
I took my seat, relieved no one was paying attention to me anymore.
“Are you okay?” Owen asked. I nodded, unable to pull my gaze away from the stage, where twelve men stood in a line, facing the audience.
Did you see who was third in line? That’s right. The Viking. Too bad the woman who was after Trent didn’t want to jump his bones instead.
I would’ve been fully on board with that.
I was vaguely aware of Owen talking to me, but don’t quiz me on what he said. All I could do was stare at Trent—and try not to imagine my hungry mouth against his, my naked body against his, my tongue tasting everything he had to offer.
&n
bsp; Yes, I was seriously screwed.
But it wasn’t like I could bid on him. Even if I hadn’t been pretending to be Owen’s fiancée, I didn’t have enough money in my bank account to outbid Miss Eager-to-Get-into-Trent’s-Pants, who was currently drooling on the table in front of her.
Plus, there was the part about how Trent had made it clear that he didn’t feel the same way about me as I felt about him.
“Kelsey? Are you okay?” Alice, the grey-haired match maker, asked while Jodi talked about the charity and the event, and what the money would be used for.
I nodded slowly, my eyes still on Trent.
I glanced at Miss Eager-to-Get-into-Trent’s-Pants, and my heart squeezed hard. All I could think about was the photo in the calendar of Trent and myself, but instead of it being me, it was her.
She licked her lips, and my heart beat harder and louder and minus the big girl panties.
Jodi finished explaining the rules of the auction, then introduced the first man. January. Eventually she got to Trent. Needing something else to focus on instead of on him, I sipped my white wine.
“Trent Salway is one of the hottest and brightest up-and-coming mutual fund portfolio managers on the west coast. His latest hobby involves cooking up something sweet for that special woman.”
And my mind instantly landed in the gutter, remembering a few times we’d had sex in his kitchen.
On the counter.
On the floor.
Against the stainless-steel refrigerator.
Damn traitorous mind.
All the men—except for January—walked off stage. January stepped up to the microphone and described what his date would entail. “We’ll go out for dinner and a show at Marrakech Magic Theater.”
A collective sigh came from the tables behind me.
The professional auctioneer who had volunteered to help with the event stepped to the podium. “Let’s start the bidding at a hundred dollars. Do we have a hundred dollars?” he rapidly fired.
About twenty hands went up.
And so began the auction. By the time it got to November (Trent), the winning bids ranged between three to seven hundred dollars, depending on the man and the prize.
October went for six hundred and eighty dollars. Slightly less than the Viking, but way more than I could afford for a date, especially if the guy turned out to be a self-absorbed bore.
“Next up we have November,” Jodi announced. Miss Eager-to-Get-into-Trent’s-Pants was practically panting—and I frowned. Something about her made me uneasy.
“Because you know I always get what I want.”
Trent walked to the microphone. He was typically a man of confidence, which was why he excelled at his job. He had to be confident with his choices or else he might make foolish errors. But as his gaze settled on me, I realized the usually confident man had uncertainty sitting on his shoulder—and I couldn’t figure out why.
“The date will begin with a hike in Muir Woods,” he said, gaze still on me.
With a perplexed frown on her face, Jodi glanced down at her notes, then flipped the index card over.
“We’ll have a picnic at the spot by the stream where I first realized I was falling in love…with the place.” Trent’s gaze remained locked on my face. It was the same spot we had stopped for lunch when we had gone hiking together a month ago.
Oh, God, was I reading too much into this…or did he feel the same way about me as I felt about him? Owen said something but I didn’t hear him past the pounding in my ears, the blood rushing to my heart.
I must have made a noise because Alice turned to look at me. She then looked at Owen and I could tell the wheels were turning in her head, but in the wrong direction. Oh crap! She had no idea that Owen’s and my engagement was fake. To her I was the fiancée who was interested in the wrong man. The man she had posed practically naked with for the calendar. She had no idea about my long history with Trent or how I knew him.
“He’s my brother’s best friend and the brother of my best friend,” I told her, as if that explained everything. Trent was describing the next part of the date, which included dinner at my favorite restaurant and stargazing. There might have also been something about going on a sunset cruise.
She nodded and smiled knowingly. “He’s very good-looking.”
“He is. But he’s also an amazing friend and brother. He’ll do anything for the people he loves.”
Note to self: No more dreamy sighs. Best leave that for the women who are allowed to bid on him.
Even if the date was supposed to be mine.
I knew this from the way Trent looked at me and from the way he had planned the date to play out. The hike, the picnic, my favorite restaurant—they were special to me and only me. On top of that, he remembered what I’d told him about stargazing the day we’d hiked in Muir Woods.
The auctioneer took the microphone from Trent. “Let’s start the bidding at—”
“A thousand dollars,” Miss Eager yelled out. “I bid a thousand dollars.” She gave a smug look, expecting no one to outbid her.
Murmurs from the neighboring tables filled the space, along with groans from the women who had planned to bid. A thousand dollars was already higher than they wanted to go.
“I have a bid of one thousand dollars,” the auctioneer said. “Do we have one thousand and ten dollars?”
Silence sat heavy in the room, and I willed someone, anyone, to meet the bid. If there had been enough time to run out and throw all my coins into the fountain, I would have.
“Do we have one thousand and ten dollars?…Going once. Going twice.”
Before I realized what I was doing, I raised my hand.
“We have one thousand and ten dollars.” He indicated toward our table—and everyone sitting at it looked at me with wide eyes. Brilliant going, Kels. How was I going to explain this to them when I was supposed to be engaged to Owen? “Do we have one thousand and twenty dollars?”
Miss Eager’s hand shot up. I groaned.
“We have one thousand and twenty dollars. Do we have one thousand and thirty dollars?”
Who needed to eat anyway?
Besides the money was going to a great cause. I raised my hand, and almost fell off my chair at the vicious glare Miss Eager leveled at me.
“We have one thousand and thirty dollars. Do we have one thousand and forty dollars?”
“That man,” Alice said to me, her voice easily heard by everyone at our table, “he’s in love with you…and you’re in love with him, am I right?”
I bit the inside of my mouth, keeping the truth from tumbling out.
Was Trent in love with me?
Everything inside me screamed an emphatic “Yes!”
“We have one thousand and forty dollars,” the auctioneer continued, which meant Miss Eager had bid again. “Do we have one thousand and fifty dollars?”
A thousand and thirty dollars had been beyond what I could reasonably manage. The new bid was enough to sink the Titanic—if it hadn’t already been sunk.
“Do we have one thousand and fifty dollars?” the auctioneer repeated. “Going once. Going twice.”
My heart stopped as I waited for him to yell “gone” and slam the gavel down.
“We have a bid for a thousand and fifty dollars.” The auctioneer indicated at our table. Huh?
I peered down at my lap. Yep, my hands were still there.
Everyone at our table was gaping at Owen. I looked at him, confusion no doubt plastered on my face.
He gave a quick shrug of his shoulders. “The money goes to a good cause.”
“Wait, did you just bid on him?” I said, loud enough that everyone at the table heard me.
“You love him, don’t you?” he asked. Everyone at the table continued watching us, their interest at the new turn of events unmistakable.
“I’ve loved him since high school, but things were too complicated and I didn’t think he felt that way about me. But just so you know, I did love you whe
n we were together. At least I did until we grew apart.”
Owen smiled. “I know.” To the rest of the table, he said, “Kelsey and I were engaged, but she broke up with me last year when she realized we weren’t right for each other. I was too much of an idiot to admit the truth to you, and I didn’t want you to think I was unable to adequately perform my job because of the breakup.”
No one had a chance to respond to his confession. “Sir,” the auctioneer said to Owen, “you do understand that Mr. Salway is straight, right?”
Trent looked ready to scratch his head in bewilderment, knowing that Owen was here with me and that he wasn’t gay. I nibbled on my lip to keep from laughing at his reaction.
Owen chuckled. “So am I,” he called out. “I guess I got caught up in my friend’s excitement. But the bid still stands at one thousand and fifty dollars.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I told him.
“Yes, I do. Besides, you don’t want her”—he indicated to Miss Eager with a brief nod—“to end up on a date with him, do you?”
His boss laughed. “I think the poor man onstage feels the same way.” Everyone else at the table chuckled in agreement.
“Okay, we have one thousand and fifty dollars,” the auctioneer said. “Do we have one thousand and sixty dollars?”
Again, Miss Eager’s hand shot up.
“Does someone have a belt we can tie her hands to the chair with, so she’ll quit bidding?” Alice joked. Or at least I thought she was joking.
“Do we have one thousand and seventy dollars?”
Trent’s gaze remained locked on me, as if to tell me how he felt about me. As if willing me to keep bidding and win the prize—him.
“We have one thousand and seventy dollars.”
This time it was Owen’s boss who had raised his hand. Everyone at the table discreetly pulled money out of their wallets, ready to chip in if the bidding continued.
“Do we have one thousand and eighty?”
Miss Eager was busy conferring with her friends, but none appeared as willing to help her.
“Do we have one thousand and eighty dollars?” the auctioneer asked. “Going once. Going twice. Gone to the…well, gone to table number twenty. Would someone like to come up and claim the prize?”
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