“Thank you, bidder! You’ve won a date with the handsome Dylan McBride of McBride Properties, Inc. Congratulations! Please come up to the payment table to the left of the stage. And thank you, Dylan, for donating your fun-filled date. All right, ladies! Here comes Bachelor #3 . . .”
Vanessa didn’t hear anything else that was said, because, holy shit, Dylan McBride just winked at her, and then exited stage left. Why her heart was pounding in her chest and she felt aroused she didn’t know. All the man had done was smile and wink at her. It wasn’t as if she’d never had a good-looking guy flirt with her from across the room before, but this had felt more than that. It was almost as if he’d issued a promise—one that would have her curling her toes and screaming his name in ecstasy.
“Holy shit, he’s hot,” Faith whispered a little too loudly. “After you convince him not to sell the farm, you should definitely tap that.”
Incredulously, her eyes went wide as she turned her attention to her friend. “Tap that? It’s a charity date, Faith, not a gigolo auction.”
Faith shrugged and grinned salaciously. “So, make sure there’s a second date, and then tap that.”
“You’re too much.” Rolling her eyes, she stood and then leaned down, so she could be heard over the current bidding. “Besides, I highly doubt I’m his type. And after he finds out why I bid on him, he’s probably going to make a run for it somewhere between the balloon ride and picnic. Now, let me go and empty out my checking account.”
Chapter Three
“Dylan, put your mask on and get ready to walk on stage,” Nadine’s assistant instructed. “You’re about to be introduced.”
Feeling like an idiot, he donned his mask, then rolled his eyes at the other bachelors milling about before he stepped to the edge of the curtain. Nadine was making some announcements, so he waited for his cue. In the inside breast pocket of his Boss tuxedo, his cell phone vibrated once indicating a text. It wasn’t a good time to look at it, but he’d been expecting a message from a lawyer concerning a potential sale, so he quickly pulled out the device and brought up the text. His stomach plummeted when he read the message Emma had sent him.
Sorry but I couldn’t stay and bid Josh fell off his bike and broke his arm Mark is on the way to the hospital with him I’m on my way to meet him good luck
The lack of abbreviations and punctuations told him she’d used the voice to text feature on her phone, as she usually did while driving. Shit. How could she abandon him like this? Well, that was an easy answer—her kid was hurt. Dylan should have had a backup plan just in case something like this happened. Not that he could’ve foreseen Emma’s seven-year-old would break his arm tonight of all nights. Now what was he going to do? He was so screwed. Maybe he could fake an illness or something?”
“Put your hands together for Bachelor #2!”
So much for that idea. The assistant gave him a nudge toward the stage. Knowing he was cornered, Dylan pocketed his phone and strode to where Nadine was waiting for him.
“Here he is, looking very suave in his tuxedo, don’tcha think, ladies?” There was an embarrassing amount of applause, shouts, and wolf-whistles from the mostly female audience. There were a few men in attendance, but he’d been told the women were the only ones allowed to win the dates, to avoid any embarrassing situations. Regardless, Dylan felt like a slab of meat. “Bachelor #2 has donated a fantastic date that includes a one-hour ride in a hot-air balloon followed by a delicious four-course picnic in the countryside. I love the sound of that! Too bad I can’t bid, but you all can! Let’s get started!”
The women in the audience cheered then started thrusting their numbered paddles in the air as the auctioneer worked the bidding into a frenzy. Holy shit! He hadn’t been paying attention to the first auction, so he had no idea how high the bidding had gone, but as the bid amounts climbed over $1000 he was astounded. Were there really this many desperate women out there who had to buy a date? Well, technically that wasn’t fair. He hoped most of them were here because it was for charity, but still, he was getting a little creeped out. The bidding slowed down until just three women were competing for the win. One woman in the back of the room, he couldn’t really see. Another was a little closer and more toward the left side of the room. She was dressed like she was going to a night club, with lots of makeup and her bleached-blonde hair teased in a style he could’ve sworn had gone out in the 1980s. A cougar on the prowl. If he had to guess, she was looking for a sugar daddy—someone who could handle her champagne tastes, so she could shed her beer can budget. The third bidder was even closer to the stage and to Dylan’s right. Now, her? Yeah, he could definitely get into the chick with the auburn hair. She appeared to be in her midthirties. It was hard to tell because she was sitting, and the table obstructed his view, but he’d bet she was a size 12 or 14—just the way he liked his women. He’d even be okay with her being a size or two larger. He hated skinny women, like the blonde on the other side of the room, who was still in the bidding—the woman at the back had withdrawn from the action. He preferred curves that he could run his hands over or grab onto while bringing his lover to a screaming orgasm.
He studied the woman holding bidding paddle #207—now that he had to go through with the damn date, he should at least be able to enjoy himself, right? He wondered if she was wearing a skirt or pants beneath the green, V-neck top, which was a great color and fit on her. He couldn’t make out her eye color, but she had a dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks. Her posture said she was in for the long haul and wasn’t giving up as she raised her paddle again. She was determined to win. He wanted her to win.
“Eighteen-hundred is bid, looking for nineteen. Eighteen-hundred going once. Eighteen-hundred going twice. Eighteen-hundred gone!” The gavel came down with a resounding thwack. “Sold to bidder #207 for $1800. Congratulations, little lady! That’ll help one of our veterans get a service dog.”
Applause filled the room, but Dylan didn’t take his gaze off the winner. When she appeared to gulp, the corners of his mouth turned upward. This date might not be too bad after all. He might even ask her out on a second date since it would probably be against the rules or something to try to get her into his bed during the auctioned date.
Beside him, Nadine whispered, “Take off the mask.”
He nodded once that he’d heard her, then reached up and removed the disguise.
“Thank you, bidder! You’ve won a date with the handsome Dylan McBride of McBride Properties, Incorporated. Congratulations! Please come up to the payment table to the left of the stage. And thank you, Dylan, for donating your fun-filled date. All right . . .”
Making sure he had eye contact with the winning bidder, he winked at her, thrilled to see a look of surprise cross her face, before walking backstage again. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. It could’ve been a lot worse, right?
“How’d it go?” one of the other bachelors asked him.
“Better than I thought it would.”
Chapter Four
Parking his convertible in the lot of Blue Skies Hot-Air Balloon Rides, located a half hour north of Norfolk, Dylan couldn’t believe he was actually looking forward to the date. Well, technically, it was a blind date—sort of—since he hadn’t even met her yet. He’d only seen her from a distance. All he knew about his date was her first name was Nessa, she was a college professor in her midthirties, and she had no criminal history or stalking complaints against her. It’d been one of the requirements of the auction—the winning bidders had been subject to basic background checks. Nadine hadn’t wanted to put any of the bachelors in danger, which he’d actually thanked her for.
After putting the top up, he climbed out of the car, then locked it. He didn’t need to bring anything as Tara had arranged for everything. She’d been his secretary for three years now and he trusted her completely. She usually kept her nose out of his private life—and vice versa—but he was grateful she’d planned the date and took care of all the specifics for
him. All he had to do was show up and have a good time. It was a beautiful Saturday morning, with only a few bright, white clouds in the sky, and a gentle breeze tickling the leaves on the trees. The perfect day to float through the air, high above the green hills and dales below.
Striding into the small building that housed the office, Dylan glanced around, finding his date sitting on a plastic chair in the reception area, waiting for him. She lifted her head, and her eyes rounded when she spotted him. Dylan wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but Nessa appeared nervous—very nervous. She was a little pale as she twisted her hands together. Was she afraid of going up in the balloon or was being on a date with him the cause of her worry? Either way, he smiled, broadly, trying to put her at ease as he stepped toward her, holding out his hand. “Hi, Nessa. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Dylan had been surprised and a bit disappointed to find Nessa had left immediately after paying for her winning bid the other night. He’d hoped to introduce himself to her to find out what color her eyes were and if she was even prettier up close—hazel and she definitely was.
She stood and accepted his handshake, her palm slightly sweaty as he felt a small tremor course through her hand. Her gaze didn’t quite meet his. “It’s . . . um . . . it’s nice to finally meet you too.”
Glancing at their joined hands, she tugged hers away. Her apprehension was suddenly contagious, and Dylan found himself unsure what to say next—a problem he’d never had with women before. Thankfully, a man in his midfifties approached them. “Mr. McBride? I’m Ross Upton, your pilot for the day.”
Shaking the man’s outstretched hand, Dylan responded, “Hi, nice to meet you. Please, feel free to call me Dylan.”
“Dylan it is. If you and Nessa here are ready, we can head outside, and I’ll go over the safety rules with you.”
Obviously, the older man had already introduced himself to Dylan’s date, and he wondered how long she’d been waiting for him since he’d gotten there about ten minutes early himself. “Sounds good.”
Forty-five minutes later, Dylan helped Nessa clamber up into the large wicker basket, otherwise known as a gondola, being held down by sandbags and crew members in the middle of a field a short distance behind the company’s office. Once she was in, he followed, climbing over the edge of the basket. The massive balloon above them had a geometric design with every color of the rainbow on it. After verifying his passengers were settled, Ross gave the okay to his crew to set them free. With several bursts, the liquid propane in the onboard tanks turned into gas, fueling the flame which heated the air under the “envelope” of the balloon, inflating it further and lifting them up into the air.
The moment the gondola shook as it left the ground, Nessa gasped and grabbed Dylan’s arm as if her life depended on it. Smiling, he put his arm around her waist to steady her. “Take it easy. Everything’s fine.”
While the flash of terror he’d seen on her face a moment earlier had eased a bit, she still shook in his embrace. Her eyes widened as she watched the distance between them and the ground grow with every new brief surge of gas. “Y-You’ve done this before?”
“Nope, but I’ve always wanted to. It’s another thing I can check off on my bucket list.”
“As long as it’s not the last thing you check off on your list, then I’ll be fine.”
His grin grew at her small joke. “I was starting to think you didn’t have a sense of humor.”
They hadn’t had any time alone since he’d walked up and introduced himself to her. Nessa also hadn’t said much beyond answering a few of Ross’s questions as the man had given his pre-flight spiel to them on how the balloon worked and what to do in an emergency. That had put some fear in her eyes, at the time. She’d relaxed again, though, after the pilot explained that Blue Skies had never had an accident resulting in injury or death in the eighteen years they’d been giving hot-air balloon rides.
As they soared higher into the sky, Dylan enjoyed the view and the fact that Nessa hadn’t moved from his arms. Shifting, he moved her, so she was standing in front of him, her back to his chest. He spread his feet wide enough to brace himself as he held onto her waist, keeping enough space between them so he wouldn’t get a hard-on that would brush against her ass. And what a fine ass it was. Her body had curves in all the right places to entice a man. If all went well on their date, Dylan would be more than tempted to ask her for a second one. Nessa was the type of woman who could garner his attention from across the room, compelling him to get to her first before any other man swooped in to claim her.
Nessa grasped the edge of the basket, her knuckles going white. He tried to reassure her. “You’re doing fine. Look over there.”
Her gaze followed where he was pointing at a group of children in a park. The balloon was still low enough Dylan could see they were waving up at them, and he waved back. It took a few moments before Nessa bravely lifted one hand and did the same.
He leaned down, so his mouth was next to her ear. “See? There’s nothing to worry about. Ross will take good care of us, and I’ll hold on to you until you’re more comfortable, okay?” A tremor went through her, and he hoped it was an erotic response due to his nearness.
“O-Okay.”
A thought struck him. “Are you afraid of heights?”
She turned her head slightly and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Uh . . . a . . . a little bit.”
That sounded like an understatement if he’d ever heard one. “If you’re afraid of heights, why did you bid on a balloon ride?”
Her gaze returned to the horizon in front of them. “Maybe it was on my bucket list too.”
He doubted it, but let it pass. “So, I understand you’re a college professor. What do you teach?” he asked, changing the subject and trying to get her to relax a little more and enjoy the ride.
“Um . . . history. Mostly American History, but I also teach World History 101.”
“That’s great. I’m a history buff myself.”
“Really?” Her tone said she didn’t believe him.
“Absolutely. My folks were big history lovers, and while growing up, a lot of our vacations were to places like Williamsburg, D.C., Philadelphia, and the Alamo. My brothers and I enjoyed those trips more than just sitting on a beach somewhere. Well, at least until we started noticing how hot girls looked in bikinis.”
He felt rather than heard her chuckle. “Yeah, my brother was the same way. My sister, however, was the complete opposite. History bored her to tears—still does.”
Dylan found himself wanting to hear all about Vanessa, her family, and whatever else she wanted to talk about. “What does she do?”
“Nicki had gotten the looks in our family and is a fashion model living in New York City. She’s super skinny, and has long legs that go on forever, gorgeous blonde hair and blue eyes, and a face that could stop traffic. Men drool over her all-day long.”
He didn’t care for her tone of voice. It didn’t sound like Nessa hated her sister, but, instead, that she didn’t think she could compare to the other woman. He wouldn’t classify it as jealousy, but more like disappointment. And that just wouldn't do. “Well, I happen to think you could be a model yourself. You have beautiful hazel eyes and curves that would give me whiplash if I passed you on the street.”
This time, when she turned to look at him over her shoulder, her eyes were narrowed. “Whiplash?”
“Um-hm.” He winked at her as he told her the truth. “I’d want to see if you were as hot walking away as you were walking toward me.”
Her mouth flattened, and she let out an unladylike snort. “I don’t believe you.”
Tightening his hold on her waist, he spun her around until she was facing him. No longer able to hold onto the side of the basket, she gasped and latched onto his upper arms, her nails digging into his skin. He ignored the discomfort as he glared at her. The desire to spank her ass for putting herself down was strong, but he pushed it down. “You better believe
it, Nessa. What Hollywood and fashion magazines portray as the ultimate fantasy woman isn’t what most men want. A lot of my guy friends won’t even look twice at a woman under a size 10.” He dropped his hands a bit until they firmly cradled her hips. “These curves right here give a guy something to hold onto. I’d rather my woman have soft, cushiony flesh, instead of being skin and bones. Those bones can be very uncomfortable during intimate moments. I found that out in my teenage years, and I’ve been attracted to curvier women ever since. I can guarantee if you and your super-skinny sister were standing next to each other, you’re the one I’d be drooling over."
Chapter Five
Gaping, Vanessa thought there was no way Dylan could be serious, until she gazed into his eyes and saw heat directed back at her. Desire pooled in her core, as her nipples tightened, and her heart rate galloped. She suddenly felt like she was floating on air—well, actually she was, but the fact they were high above the Earth wasn’t the cause of the butterflies in her gut anymore.
When she’d gone to the auction to win the date with Dylan, she hadn’t really thought about the details—namely that they would challenge her fear of heights. A two or three-story building didn’t bother her, but anything higher than that, her knees shook, and her stomach did flip-flops. She had no idea what’d caused her phobia to start in her teens, but as far back as she could remember, she’d declined to go on roller coasters and other high rides with her brother, sister, and friends. Merry-go-rounds were more her thing. So, what was she doing in a dinky little basket, floating up to an altitude of 2000 feet? She had no clue.
Dylan reached up and tucked a few loose strands of her hair behind her ear. “You’re a very, very attractive woman, Nessa. Don’t ever doubt that again.”
She had no idea what to say to that, so she just nodded. She loved hearing her name on his lips. She didn’t know why she’d put her family’s nickname for her down on the paperwork she’d had to fill out when she’d gone to the auction table to pay for her date. Faith was the only person outside of her blood relatives who called her Nessa. At work, she was Vanessa to her coworkers and staff, and Professor Adams to her students. Even though she had her Ph.D. in History, she’d never felt comfortable being called “Doctor Adams.”
Going, Going, Gone_Bid On Love Page 2
