“Five hundred dollars!”
The grating soprano of his former girlfriend split the air as her paddle darted upward. She sat on the edge of her seat, bright-eyed and shaking like a Chihuahua in need of a walk.
“Uh, yeah. Good. Great start,” Quinn said, shooting him a panicked glance. “Who will give me five-fifty?” she called, a note of desperation in her voice.
She was clearly as shocked as he was by Piper’s presence, which made him feel a little better.
Not much, though. He made his way across the stage a second time and, mercifully, another paddle shot up. He sent a grateful smile toward the bidder until he realized who it was. Grace Love, owner of one of the numerous dating companies Quinn had harangued him into joining, sat at the table across from his ex, her gaze fixed intently on him.
Perfect.
There was no way to know which was the lesser of the two evils. Piper was basically a gold medalist in stalking, but Grace was making strides toward surpassing his ex’s record. In the weeks since he’d been home, she’d contacted him half a dozen times, begging him to endorse her company. It was weird, and not a little unsettling. No doubt if she won the auction he’d be forced to sit through five courses listening to why it was best for everyone that he “be the face of Love Will Find a Way matchmaking services.”
There wasn’t much time to think on it too hard, because the bids were flying like bullets across the room, with each woman whipping out her paddle before the other had finished speaking. All the while, he could spot Piper whispering something out the side of her mouth. Knowing Piper, it could’ve been anything. Voodoo curses at her competitor. Wiccan love spells. Crazed threats. There was no telling which, but he was damned sure that she wasn’t above any of it.
And the bids kept climbing. Two women, locked in a battle that he was sure to lose. Eighteen hundred. Nineteen hundred, with no sign of either of them slowing down. He’d stopped working the catwalk and stood stock-still, just wanting it to be over so he could mentally prepare for whatever fresh hell awaited him, when a statuesque platinum blonde he’d been too traumatized to notice sitting beside Grace snatched the paddle from her.
She mumbled something he couldn’t hear, first to her companion and then to Piper. With a sinking heart, he thought for a moment that she had taken Grace’s paddle from her altogether to stop her from spending too much money, but on Piper’s next bid, the blonde countered her with a cool confidence. Then, she turned to face the stage and met his gaze head on.
She was impossibly gorgeous, with blue eyes so bright he could see them from twenty yards away, and he found himself wishing for a bigger fig leaf.
Okay, so maybe tonight wouldn’t be a total bust after all.
…
“Watch and learn, you nancy.” Serena grabbed her friend’s paddle and set it in her lap, waiting for the viper sitting opposite them to strike again.
Grace had been putting up bids like they were going out of style and all for one guy at a bachelor’s auction? Yes, Love Will Find a Way could use the endorsement, but surely there were other attractive, eligible doctors around who could do it. If Grace didn’t have a hunk of a man at home, Serena would’ve wondered if maybe her friend didn’t have a little crush on this Bryan Metcalf.
And if Grace’s behavior wasn’t weird enough, the other woman was taking the bidding just as seriously. Okay, so the guy was cute in a nice-guy way, and his body was lean and muscular, right up her alley, but this was a little much.
As soon as Grace raised her paddle, the woman had come at her with a barrage of put-downs that had been getting progressively more vicious, starting with, “You’re not really his type, sweetie,” and ending somewhere near, “You could probably stand to go without a five-course meal.”
Grace was too sweet and dignified to respond to the woman’s taunting, but Serena?
Oh, hell no. She wouldn’t abide anybody talking to her best friend that way.
Serena leaned across Grace to get close enough for the little bully to hear her. “Blanche from Golden Girls called. She wants that dress back,” she hissed, sneering at the woman’s three-seasons-out-of-date polka-dot frock before throwing her paddle in the air.
“Fuck you, Twiggy,” the woman snarled before calling out, “Three thousand!”
Damn. This bitch had balls of steel and a major lady boner for Dr. Bryan Metcalf.
Serena sized her up, looking for a weak spot to exploit, when Grace tapped her wrist and directed her attention to the auction again.
Right. They needed to win this or Grace was going to pitch a fit. Apparently only “hometown hero” Bryan Metcalf would do, so Serena threw the paddle in the air again. Now it was on.
“I still don’t think I get what your plan is here, by the way.” She shouldered Grace, grabbing her attention away from the woman beside them who continued the onslaught of insults not-really-under-her-breath.
“I just need ten minutes to talk to him about advertising for us. A couple photo shoots and a commercial, easy peasy. Look at him. That’s the face I want for our posters.”
With his short brown hair, straight nose, and strong jawline, it was definitely a nice face, but that didn’t change the fact that their matchmaking company had dozens of clients who were equally good-looking, some of whom were even pretty high-profile.
So the question remained—what was the big effing deal about this guy?
She threw the paddle into the air again and took a long sip of water before continuing. “I don’t get why you couldn’t ask anyone we’ve ever worked with. Anyone else?”
“I have my reasons.” She wore that shifty, guarded look, and Serena knew she wouldn’t get any more answers from her now. Maybe, along with her matchmaking superpowers, Grace had developed a Spidey sense for good publicity and just knew this was the guy for them. Either way, her friend didn’t ask for much, so when she did, Serena would do anything in her power to help her get it. For now she’d have to let the subject drop.
The shrill voice of the woman across from them sounded again, interrupting her thoughts.
“Maybe you should stop bidding and put your money into suing the doctor that botched your boob job instead,” she hissed. This time her target was Serena.
“Maybe I could donate it to your charity fund instead. What was it? Tits for Twats?”
The woman glared at her and raised her paddle in the air.
Serena raised hers just as fast, resisting the urge to stick out her tongue while she was at it.
“Are you paying attention to the numbers?” Grace whispered under her breath. “We can’t go over thirty-five hundred. That’s all we’ve got.”
“I see thirty-two, can I get thirty-three?” the pretty female auctioneer called.
“Aw, running scared, girls? That’s good. Bryan needs woman, not a dog and a bone.” The other woman’s eyes twinkled with evil glee and she smiled, waving her paddle with an extra flourish.
Oh, hell no.
Not only did she need to save this poor bastard on stage from a woman who was clearly capable of ending their date by strapping him to a sacrificial altar and preserving his body Psycho-style for her future enjoyment, but it was personal now. If this girl wanted to throw down, Serena was happy to join her in the gutter.
But how to get past the bidding cap of thirty-five hundred?
She couldn’t touch the trust fund her parents had left her. She wouldn’t come within ten yards of that thing unless she needed to fund a space mission that would help the U.S. government avoid an extraterrestrial attack. Personally, she still had some money her grandmother had given her before she’d passed away, and her own meager savings from her salary at the company, but she knew from experience, it would be like pulling teeth to get Grace to accept it.
And even if she managed to do that, in spite of her knockoff dress, the other woman’s funds seemed limitless. If Serena was going to beat her out, she’d have to come up with a plan B. What could the hospital use that was as valua
ble as cold hard cash? It clearly didn’t need matchmaking services…but it could probably do with a venue to host these little charity functions, and she had just the place.
She stood and then climbed on top of her chair, waving her paddle to catch the toga-clad auctioneer’s attention.
“Permission to approach the bench?” she shouted.
“Uh…” The auctioneer looked like a deer in the headlights and shrugged. “It’s not really a bench, but—”
Serena cut her off. “Whatever. I will allow the foundation to host its next two gala or charity events at my home, the Elliott estate, if you close the bidding now. I’d also give three thousand dollars toward the foundation, of course.”
It was a good offer. Actually, a great offer. Serena’s family estate—the other thing her grandmother had left her—was well known in Salem and could handle a party of five hundred, if need be. A place even close to comparable would cost the hospital in excess of ten thousand dollars for a night, and she’d offered two nights.
The auctioneer’s brows rose and she held up a finger. “I’ll…be right back!” She started to scurry backstage as the room broke into excited chatter, but she’d barely taken two steps when a sturdy, elderly woman at the table full of hospital board members jumped up and shouted, “Sold!”
Crazy bitch from across the table squawked, but now that the spotlight had swung toward them, she ramped down the psycho and sat, fists clenched, face ruddy with rage, but quiet.
The auctioneer headed back to the lectern and banged her gavel once, a grin lighting her pretty face. “Excellent, thank you Chairwoman Spencer, and thanks to you, Ms. Elliott, for your more than generous donation.” The closing remarks continued on, but Serena tuned them out.
Her mission here was complete.
Hasta la vista, baby. She smirked at her fallen competitor and grabbed Grace’s hand.
“Oh my God, you rock!” her friend said, beaming. “That was genius. Thank you!”
“Glad you’re happy. Now let’s get the hell out of Dodge before Loony Tunes Magee here follows us.” She pulled her friend along to the backstage, where all the winners were being ushered in to collect their prizes for the night.
The auctioneer led them to a waiting room, and Serena glanced at her watch. “Okay, looks like my work is done here. You crazy kids have fun on your little date. And be good. Trick’s at home waiting for you, and he’ll spank you if you’re bad.” She shot her friend a wink. “I’m going to go curl up and watch five hours of Million Dollar Listing before passing out in front of my TV. I’ll see you at work on Monday.”
She grinned at her friend, but Grace grimaced in response.
Uh-oh.
“What?”
“I’m rethinking this plan,” Grace said, and then started chewing on her bottom lip.
“You’ll be fine. You’re a great businesswoman. Once you have his undivided attention, I’m sure he’ll cave.” Her stomach was wriggling in a way that let her know some shit was about to go down. Grace might be magic when it came to matchmaking, but Serena’s instincts when it came to impending clusterfucks was legendary, and something felt seriously off here.
Grace shook her head. “He doesn’t like me. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m annoying. I’ve already tried a bunch of times to get this guy on board, and he won’t listen to me. I wonder if it’s time to bring out the big guns?”
“Like torture? Because I have some pliers if you need them.” Serena raised her eyebrows, sensing where this was going but refusing to bite.
“Not exactly. I was just thinking. You don’t have any plans tonight. Maybe he’d be more willing to listen to a young, single blonde with radiant charm—”
“Flattery will get you nowhere.”
And it was true. Sure, she had a way of getting what she wanted most times, but she wasn’t the one who wanted Bryan Metcalf. Surely the sheer passion and determination Grace had shown would have to net better results than anything Serena could do to convince him.
“I’ve called him a bunch and now he won’t even answer the phone. I’m pretty sure I’ve worn out my welcome, but you’re fresh meat. Look, all I’m saying is that you have a much better shot than I do. Plus, Trick just got back from a week of training new SWAT recruits at the academy. Come on, Serena, take one for the team.” Grace’s brown eyes went soft and pleading. “How bad could it be? Five-course dinner, a limo ride, the works. It’s one night out of your life. For the business? For me?”
Wow, the friend guilt. Hard core.
Still, maybe Grace was right. She’d go out, have some drinks, and try to charm the doctor. Then she could go home and have her HGTV marathon. No big thing.
After all, it wasn’t like one night was going to change the rest of her life.
Chapter Two
Close. Call.
His pulse was still pounding from the adrenaline rush of the near miss. Right when he thought all was lost, “Ms. Elliott” had swooped in and brought it home. He’d heard of the Elliott family growing up, and knew of the estate, but didn’t know them personally. He definitely would’ve remembered that blonde. She was a stunner.
He took another glance around and straightened his tie, wondering who his date for the night would be, her or Grace Love, when a sharp elbow to the side railroaded his thoughts as people pushed past him.
“Sorry, buddy.”
It was pandemonium backstage, with his fellow bachelors pairing off with their prizewinners like animals on Noah’s Ark. Now that they’d all had a chance to change back into their street clothes and were all in spitting distance of the winners, there was an overwhelming sense of relief, except from that one guy whose grandmother had bid on him and won. That was bound to be an awkward candlelit picnic on the beach.
“Bryan, nice to see you again.” Grace Love headed toward him, her blond companion by her side.
“Hi, Grace. Who’s your friend?” He offered his hand to the other woman, and she took it, a blindingly white smile playing across her full, pink lips.
“I’m Serena Elliott. Grace’s business partner. I’ll be your date for tonight.”
Business partner. Shit. “I see,” he said, pumping her hand once. She was hot, but if she was even half as relentless as Grace, it was going to be a long night. He’d thought he’d dodged a bullet with Piper, but now he wasn’t so sure. Better to let them know now so Grace didn’t get her hopes up.
“Listen, I appreciate you guys bidding, but I—”
“Bryan, hi.” The voice was wispy, high-pitched, and so close that he could feel hot breath on the back of his neck.
Piper.
Oh good, they were all in one place. Like the three horsemen of the manpocalypse.
He took a steadying breath and turned to give her a tight smile. “Piper.”
Her wild eyes shot from his face to his hand—which was still clutched in Serena Elliott’s.
Fuck it. He was Indiana Jones, and this boulder of crazy was hurtling toward him. He needed a vine, and Serena Elliott was it.
He closed his hand more tightly around hers and pulled her closer.
To her credit, she didn’t pull away, or even so much as blink. One point in her favor.
“What were you saying? You appreciate us bidding but…” Grace prompted him, glancing from Piper to him with a satisfied grin.
Damn her. She might look sweet, but she was crafty, and she probably thought she had him by the balls now. He’d take the hand up and try to repay the favor somehow, but it sure as shit wasn’t going to be by pimping himself out as the public face of their company.
“I was saying that I appreciate you bidding, but why buy the cow when you can get the steak for free, sweetie?” He wrapped his arm around Serena’s trim frame and squeezed.
He was just wondering if he’d pushed his luck too far when she patted his ass in response.
“And what a cut of meat it is, darling. But I wanted to support the hospital.” She gave him a toothy smile and he wasn’t sure if
it was flirtatious or adversarial, but either way, it made him grin in spite of himself. Maybe a few hours alone with her wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“I’m so glad you paired us up, Grace. I couldn’t ask for a better gal.”
Piper gave Serena a glare that would curdle milk and cleared her throat. “Right. Um, Bryan, I was just wondering if I’d see you at the reunion? And I’ll definitely see you at the wedding, right? I wanted to ask Q, but she never answers my calls.” Her tight smile went even more brittle. “Or my texts. Or my letters.”
He closed his eyes and swallowed a sigh. That was the one bad thing about being back home. Piper lived in the same town and, as the stepdaughter of one of his cousins, she was at half their family functions. He was bound to see her more than once while he was in town, and she was bound to act exactly like she had tonight.
Suddenly, heading back to Afghanistan early didn’t seem so bad.
“I’m not sure if we’ll be able to make it to that wedding. We’ve got so much to do, what with our trip to Cancun coming.” Serena gave a sad shake of her head and reached out to the other woman. “You’re a doll for asking, though. We’ll be sure to let you know.”
“I—” Piper spluttered, but Serena cut her off again.
“We really need to be getting on with our date. Have a great night.”
Serena entwined her fingers with his again, said a quick good-bye to Grace, and guided him through the crowd and out the back door of the auditorium. The summer’s breeze wafted over them as they walked to the edge of the sidewalk, past all the Dumpsters.
By tacit agreement, they both stayed silent until they reached the corner.
Serena looked around and nodded. The coast was clear.
“That,” she breathed, “is one crazy ho. We’ve got to get in the car before she spots us. I’d put money on her following us on our date and dressing as a restaurant chef in hopes of slipping some arsenic into my food.”
Dirty Deal (A Perfectly Matched Novel) (Entangled Brazen) Page 2
