by Susan Hatler
“A red convertible Toyota Miata, and a black ’65 Mustang coupe.” Trevor’s tone bellowed through the warm evening air, interrupting my conversation with Melinda. Then he chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in an adorable way. “Yeah, the coupe’s mine. The ’65 is my favorite too.”
I rolled my eyes. Sure, be nice to some stranger on the phone but completely rebuff my flirtatious efforts. Whatever. I may have lost a potential date, but at least Grammy’s bracelet would be mine. I could almost feel the cool metal around my wrist.
“Mary Ann? You still there?” Melinda asked.
“Yes,” I said, moving my lips closer to the mouthpiece as I plugged my other ear to drown out Trevor’s annoying conversation about vintage Mustangs. “Bid on auction number sixty-five for me, okay? This is super important. Number sixty-five. Just offer all I have, five thousand dollars, from the start because I can’t risk losing out.” From the corner of my eye, I saw Trevor pulling his phone away from his ear, and I frowned. He’d really buttered up the cop with that coupe talk, and I hoped I wouldn’t get a ticket. I really couldn’t afford that on top of the bracelet.
“Melinda?”
“Mary Ann, I got it. Sixty-five. I’ll bid five thousand dollars. And, if you win, you can just pay for the auction when you arrive. Gotta run now.”
“Thanks. Bye.” I pressed the OFF button on my phone, then turned back to Trevor. “You are being ridiculous making me stay here, you know. They call it an accident for a reason, and my insurance will take care of the damage.”
“There are also reasons these procedures are in place. I’m late, too, but I’m willing to wait so I can do the right thing.” He adjusted the tie at his neck, and I noticed again how hot he looked in his tux. But he’d already accumulated three strikes, so he clearly wasn’t worth my time.
“How someone so attractive can be so stuffy is beyond me,” I blurted.
Trevor laughed. He actually laughed at my misery.
“I’m tickled to amuse you. Really.” My eyes narrowed and I puckered my lips. What a complete waste of a perfectly gorgeous man. I sighed, and turned away, while he sauntered over to the cars again. I tried not to notice how beautifully he walked. Broad shouldered and powerful.
The police arrived quickly, asked us a few questions, and did their thing. I held my breath the entire time but thankfully wasn’t issued a ticket. Apparently the cops appreciated my smiles more than Trevor Brooks did.
“Well, it would’ve been nice to meet you under more pleasant circumstances,” Trevor said, the corner of his mouth lifting into a sexy half-smile.
My belly did a little flip, which I promptly tried to quash down. Did he really think he could flirt with me after making me miss the auction for his lame report? Dream on. Three strikes and he was so out.
I raised my brow. “Well, Trevor, if you have any other issues, please call my insurance company, not me.”
“Got it.” He chuckled, seeming unperturbed by my rejection. Whatever.
I spun on my heel and felt his eyes burning against my back as I trotted off to my car. I slipped behind the wheel, hoping Melinda had won the auction for me. As I pulled away from the curb, I fought my urge to glance over at Trevor and lost.
He stood in the same spot where I’d left him, with one hand in his pocket, and when my gaze shot to his, the corner of his mouth curved upward.
My cheeks heated, and I hated that he’d caught me checking him out—especially after I’d tried to play it cool with the whole “call my insurance, not me” line. What an excruciatingly annoying man. Why hadn’t I had the self-control not to look back at him?
I sped down the street toward the auction, hoping more than ever that I’d won back
Grammy’s bracelet.
Chapter Two
I gripped the steering wheel tightly as I finished the drive to the charity auction, trying to push the car accident and especially the driver I’d rear-ended out of my mind. How annoying was Trevor Brooks to insist on a police report for a minor fender bender? He was even more annoying for not responding to my flirting.
I mean, he’d be lucky to go out with a woman like me. I was nice, fun, and men always found me adorable. So what was his problem? And why did I care?
After finding a tight parking spot on the street near the Geoffries hotel where the auction was being held, I parallel parked my little Miata, then hopped out of my car. My heels clacked along the sidewalk as I hurried toward the entrance of the hotel, where a doorman greeted me. I smiled back at him, then dialed Melinda’s cell number as I walked into the lobby, but the call went directly to voicemail. Ugh. I wanted her to confirm I’d won the bracelet. Maybe she’d be waiting for me at the redemption table.
I gazed around the lobby, which was elegant with polished marble and dark wood. After getting directions from the guy behind the concierge desk, I anxiously walked down the hallway, then into the grand ballroom. Fancy-dressed people milled about, and their voices buzzed throughout the room over the soft classical music playing in the background.
I didn’t see Melinda in the crowd, but I found the redemption table easily. I gave the man my name, and waited while he pulled up my win on the laptop in front of him.
My stomach clenched and I closed my eyes, so ready for him to confirm I’d won Grammy’s bracelet back. Never mind that Ginger would lecture me on charging five grand for a piece of jewelry, because I was moments away from clasping that special bracelet around my wrist—then I’d feel safe and strong like I could handle anything, including that backstabbing liar Elliott Grant.
“Ah, here we are.” The man behind the table tapped on his keyboard, and nodded. “Number sixty-five, a bachelor’s date for the reality TV special of the week, called Romance Revealed.”
My eyes widened. Huh? Sounded like a great hook for a TV series. I’d watch it. . . .
Then I shook my head, realizing I was getting sidetracked. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t bid to be some random guy’s date.” I waved my finger back and forth. “You’ve got me mixed up with someone else. I need to pay for my auction item. Number sixty-four. It’s a ruby and diamond bracelet,” I said, feeling antsier by the minute.
“No, I’ve got your name right here. Mary Ann Nielsen, auction item number sixty- five. You won a week of dates with the bachelor for the couples competition.”
I tilted my head, puckering my lips. “Why in the world would I want to be in a couples competition?”
The man scrunched up his face. “Why wouldn’t you? You’re single, right? And the winning couple gets fifty thousand dollars.”
I threw up my hands in frustration. “I don’t get what’s going on here.”
“Well, you go out on four dates with the bachelor you won. You’ll be filmed over the course of your dates. You and your bachelor will be competing against several other couples, and the winning couple gets fifty thousand dollars as the prize. That’s pretty easy money. And who knows? Maybe you’ll find a love connection,” the man said with a chuckle.
My jaw fell open, because he didn’t appear to be joking. . . .
He cleared his throat. “Your auction item will be five thousand dollars, and we do accept credit cards.” The man glanced over my shoulder, then smiled broadly. “Here comes your bachelor now. Trevor, over here,” he said, waving eagerly. “I need you to sign some papers.”
I twisted around, and my breath caught in my throat. Trevor Brooks was coming toward us, eyeing me with curiosity. My stomach did a funny flip. The guy looked even hotter now than he had on the street after I’d rear-ended him. My head started my flirtatious tilt, and I had to remind myself that he’d already shot me down.
My brain scrambled. Reality TV show couples competition? Trevor Brooks as my date? No way. I’d told Melinda to bid on my grandmother’s bracelet. What had possessed her to bid on a bachelor auction?
I whirled back around toward the table as I sensed Trevor come up beside me, panic rising in my chest. I peered at the nametag of the man behi
nd the table. “Listen, Chuck. May I call you Chuck?” I gave him an impatient look as he handed Trevor some papers, then finally faced me.
“Here’s the thing. My friend must’ve bid on the wrong auction item for me. I can’t pay for a lousy date, especially not with a guy like him.” I jerked my thumb in Trevor’s direction. “I came here to buy a jeweled bracelet. You can help me with this obvious misunderstanding, right?”
Chuck shifted in his seat, and began fidgeting with the papers in front of him. “Well, miss, the thing is, um . . .” He cleared his throat, then inhaled audibly. “I can’t just let you out of your financial commitment. This is a charity auction for Founding Friendships. All of the money goes to help the issue of homelessness here in the city.”
“Right, I get that.” I nodded enthusiastically, and maybe a little drastically since every muscle in my body had tightened to the point that I might pop like a balloon if pricked. “I don’t want to take back my money, I just want to switch it to a different item—the correct item, which is a ruby and diamond bracelet.”
“Miss, that’s just not possible. The live auction is over. And besides, according to my records, another person already won that item.” Chuck spoke in a firm voice, but he refused to look at me, so I knew he felt bad for my obvious turmoil. Thoughts raced through my mind as I tried to think of the correct thing to say to get Chuck on my side and make this right.
“Mary Ann, you made it!” a familiar female voice came from behind me.
I spun around to see Melinda striding toward us. She wore a black cocktail dress—one way sexier than mine—and her blond hair pulled up in a twist, and she was sporting a huge smile.
“Congratulations!” She stepped between Trevor, who was signing papers, and me, then wrapped an arm around my shoulders and squeezed. “You got the top bid like you wanted.
Sarah’s bidding on a silent auction, but she’s stoked for you, too.”
My eyes widened. “You’re joking, right? This has to be some kind of joke.”
Melinda’s smile faded. “What do you mean?”
“I asked you to bid five thousand dollars on item sixty-five. But this guy, Chuck, is claiming I won some series of dates with a bachelor.” My gaze darted to Trevor who looked up from the papers he was holding, brows knitted as if assessing the situation. “He says I’m supposed to go on a bunch of dates with that guy right there.”
“Right.” Melinda glanced at Trevor, then her face lit up. “I recognize him from the life-size poster on stage during the live auction. He wasn’t present while I was bidding, some kind of delay the auctioneer said, but now here he is in person.”
I pressed a hand to my forehead. “But I didn’t want a date. I asked you to bid on a diamond bracelet. Auction number sixty-five.”
“Uh, miss?” Chuck’s voice sounded hesitant.
I turned toward him, not even trying to hide my annoyance. “What do you want, Chuck?”
“You did win item sixty-five,” he said in a timid voice. He twisted his computer screen toward me.
I stepped closer, bent down, and read the words on the screen. My heart sank. “H-how can that be?” I stammered. My name was listed beside item sixty-five, which was the date with Trevor, or whatever nonsense I had won. “Sixty-five should be a jeweled bracelet.”
I grabbed the auction brochure lying on the table, and flipped through it frantically. When I got to the page with Grammy’s bracelet, I stopped and stared in horror. “I got it wrong. The bracelet is sixty-four. What in the world made me say sixty-five?” I asked, then the realization hit me like two bumpers colliding in a car accident. My gaze shot to Trevor’s, and our eyes locked. “Your ’65 Mustang coupe. You kept talking about your ’65 Mustang on the phone, while I was giving Melinda my bid so I got mixed up.”
Chuck whistled. “The ’65 Mustang coupe is a sweet car.”
“Thanks, man.” Trevor nodded at him. “Unfortunately, it has a not-so-sweet dent in the rear bumper since someone rear-ended me earlier.”
Trevor’s gaze landed on me, then all the others followed him, making it obvious I was the offending driver. Great.
I blew out an exasperated breath. “Well, I was just trying to get here quickly to buy auction item sixty-four. I certainly didn’t mean to hit your car, and under no circumstances would I intentionally buy dates with you.” I thrust my hand to my hip, ignoring how sexy he looked narrowing his eyes at me. “As if.”
Melinda glanced from Trevor to me, then back to Trevor again. Finally she held her hand out to him. “Hi, I’m Melinda. I guess I’m partially the reason you have some upcoming dates with Mary Ann.”
Trevor shook her hand, but a line appeared between his brows. “How’s that?”
Melinda flushed. “I bid on your auction for my friend here. I thought that five grand was a lot to bid on dates with a bachelor, but figured you must’ve met in person and she really liked you.”
He gave me a side-glance. “Judging by the daggers she’s sending me with her eyes, I’d say your assumption that she likes me is erroneous.”
“I prefer men who aren’t so stuffy,” I shot back, then gaped at Melinda in disbelief, my next credit card statement flashing before my eyes. “You think I’d purposely pay five grand for a series of televised dates?”
“Five grand?” Trevor asked, looking more than a little surprised.
“It was a really generous donation,” Chuck broke in. “The other bachelor only sold for seven hundred dollars.”
I groaned. “Chuck, please stop talking. You are not making anything better here.”
Trying not to cry, I swallowed the bitter pill of reality. I had bid five thousand dollars for something that I really didn’t want, and I had no one to blame but myself. Ginger was going to have a field day lecturing me over this.
“So, you’re saying I have to date Mary Ann on Romance Revealed, even though she bid on me by accident?” Trevor’s tone didn’t exactly scream excitement over this prospect.
Melinda leaned toward me, and whispered, “He’s cute and seems really nice. You could’ve made a worse mistake. Just saying.”
“I don’t want to date him once, let alone for a week,” I whispered back. “I want my bracelet.
Besides he’s already struck out as far as I’m concerned.”
“Ladies, I’m right here.” Trevor’s mouth formed a tight grin. “I can hear everything you’re saying, and your conversation doesn’t improve our chances of winning the couples competition.”
“Look.” I turned toward him. “I appreciate that you’re here as a volunteer bachelor or whatever, and that all the money goes to a great cause. We already know that we aren’t compatible, though, so what would even be the point of going out? On TV, no less?”
“Yeah, Mary Ann does have her two-strikes-and-you’re-out dating policy. What did you do to get your strikes, anyway?” Melinda’s voice was laced with curiosity.
I rolled my eyes. “It’s a one-strike-and-you’re-out policy.”
“That’s harsh,” Trevor said, but the corners of his mouth twitched.
“You would’ve been lucky to get a date with me Mr. Stuffy, but you were only concerned about your police report. So you can date that for all I care.”
Trevor laughed. “Well, that would certainly make an interesting twist for the show. And at least the report wouldn’t give me strikes, or whatever.”
I sighed. My rule protected me from getting hurt, so I wasn’t going to alter it now. Too bad, though, because he was kind of adorable. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me. I really must find the person who snatched my bracelet.”
Before anyone could say anything, I left. I didn’t know where I was going or who I was looking for, but I’d recognize my grandmother’s bracelet if I saw it. I wove through the crowd keeping my mind only on the task at hand. If I thought too much about Trevor, then I’d feel bad for wanting out of my mistaken bid.
I couldn’t afford to feel bad. I was on a mission.
After circling the ballroom twice—and skillfully avoiding the table with Chuck and the gang—I caught a glimpse of a woman holding and staring at what looked like Grammy’s bracelet. Dodging people like I was a quarterback, I hurried toward the woman who stood near the ballroom’s exit.
“Ma’am?” I called, cupping the sides of my mouth like a bullhorn so I’d be heard above the music and chatter. “Excuse me, ma’am?”
The woman twisted around, her mouth drawn into a tight bow of a frown. “Are you talking to me?”
I stopped in front of her and nodded, feeling awkward. “Did you, um, just buy that bracelet here tonight?” I asked, my eyes glued to the gorgeous piece of jewelry.
“As a matter of fact, I did,” the woman replied with the same tight, pinched sound in her voice that she wore on her face. “Why do you ask?”
“Could I see it please? It’s really important.” I held my breath, waiting for her answer.
She looked me up and down, then must have assessed I wasn’t a psycho lunatic because she finally said, “Just for a moment. I really must be going.”
“I understand.” My fingers trembled as she laid the bracelet across my outstretched palm, and I recognized its weight. Staring at the beautiful ruby and diamond heirloom that had belonged to my grandmother, an image of her wearing it appeared in my mind. I remembered her kind and caring expression as she’d taken it off and clasped the cool metal around my wrist when I’d come to her out of breath after a nightmare.
The memory was so real and perfect that I could almost feel her standing next to me.
“Grammy,” I whispered, a feeling of peace washing over me. “It’s as beautiful as I remember.”
“Oh? Have you seen it before?” the woman asked. She seemed to lighten up slightly when she realized that I was genuinely interested in the piece.
“This bracelet used to belong to my grandmother.” Saying the words aloud broke the spell I’d been under, reminding me that I needed to get on with business. “My mother had to sell it when I was a little girl, but I never forgot about it. And I meant to buy it here tonight. That didn’t happen obviously. But I’d like to buy it from you now. For the full five thousand dollars, of course.”
