A Bid for Love

by Lia London

  Raised on fairy tales and old stories of Ann Shirley and Gilbert Blythe, Maris wanted two things in life: the true and faithful love of a gentleman, and the opportunity to make a positive difference for those in desperate need. Was that too much to wish for, really?

  Her Father’s money helped with the latter most of the time, if grudgingly so. But dashing knights and courtly gents didn’t roam the streets of Spokane. Most people worked for one of the hospitals, or the casino, or the local Wal-Mart. She could probably find a generous supply of doctors, or even RNs available, but none of them would see flimsy little Maris as more than that young woman who got regular ear infections as a child.

  She rose, remembering to slip on her shoes, and made her way to Adi’s office. “I made the call,” she said, leaning on the door jamb.

  “Good for you,” said Adi, typing furiously. “What did he say?”

  “He’s up for next week.”

  Adi clicked something with her mouse and then gave Maris her undivided attention. “You going to be able to have fun?”

  “Yes. If I have to.”

  Warm laughter burbled from Adi. “You poor baby,” she teased. “Forced to go to one of the most beautiful parts of the Northwest with the most gorgeous man in the country.” Her eyes softened with sympathy. “You and Bubble Bath boy will find something fun to do that doesn’t involve a bed. It’s a resort, for crying out loud.”

  “Okay, but I’m bringing my long, flannel nightie to wear over my pajamas.”

  “Just as well. Another cold front is moving in. You might both get cold feet and cold toes.” She winked. “Later, Maris. I’ve got work to do, and so do you.”

  Crawford growled at the report on his KGW weather app. Temperatures would be dropping in the Gorge by fifteen degrees for the next three days, right when he needed to leave for Skamania.

  Scrolling a little further, he saw a familiar face smiling up at him: Chieko Makiguchi, a former love interest and fellow contestant on his brief stint with Who Wants to Be a Soap Star. Her short reality show tenure had won her a roving reporter slot on channel 8. He juggled mixed emotions about that. She’d always been a little too formal and reserved for his taste, but she’d warmed up to him fast enough when he’d cranked up the charm.

  A twinge of remorse for casting her aside so quickly nagged at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel genuine attraction for her. Would things have gone differently if he and Chieko had advanced to the national rounds instead of Jill and Antonio?

  Crawford rolled his eyes and stuffed his phone back into his jeans pocket. Antonio. What a joke. The Latin lover had gotten all the chest shots that should have gone to Crawford just because of one little indiscretion with Kamilah Krussman, the past-her-prime star who served on the judging panel.

  Doubt slowed his pace. There really were some empty spaces in his life left over from these various women, but though they were gone, it wasn’t their absence that left him feeling hollow.

  Oddly, though it had only been a week since he saw Maris, her absence bothered him more. He kept thinking he saw her in strange places—the express lane at Safeway, the gas station on Burnside, coming out of a coffee shop downtown. The thought of seeing her again quickened his pulse and masked the feeling of emptiness with anticipation.

  He grabbed his winter coat and his swimming trunks and stuffed them both in the giant athletic bag he planned to use for luggage. His lip twitched. If things got cold enough outside, they’d be forced to take advantage of the indoor amenities, including the giant jacuzzi tub in their room.

  Chapter 5 ~ Examining the Options

  The drive took exactly as long as Maris’ dashboard GPS predicted thanks to her diligence in adhering to speed limits. Consequently, she arrived half an hour before their rendezvous time and headed inside to the front desk of the main lodge. After introducing herself to an attendant named Kelby, a statuesque yet delicate young man, Maris debated the pros and cons of switching their reservation from the Hood River Suite to one of the Tree House accommodations a few minutes away.

  “It really depends on what you want more,” said Kelby. “The privacy in the Tree Houses is great. The showers even have windows out onto a wooded vista.”

  “Wait, I’ll be naked in front of the whole forest?”

  “No, it’s kind of a you-can-see-out-but-not-in thing. So relaxing!” Kelby emphasized with rolling eyes.

  “Okay, but there’s only one bed?”

  “Do you need more?” asked Kelby with a wink.

  Maris ignored this and tapped the brochure between them. “And the Hood River Suite is—”

  “Humongous! It’s bigger than my apartment! It’s got everything you could ever want plus the fourth-floor view of the river. Spectacular. And you’re just an elevator ride away from all the amenities. You need to try the spa. I can book that for you now, if you want. They have couple massages sometimes.”

  Maris blushed at the thought of being alone in a room with a towel-clad Crawford. “That won’t be necessary. We can make arrangements if we need to.”

  “Speaking of … where is the other half of this couple?”

  Maris held back a frown. “We’re arriving separately.”

  Kelby pouted and glanced past Maris’ shoulder. Maris turned to see a man in a puffy, rust-colored coat carrying two suitcases disappear into the elevator.

  “That’s his seventh time going up there. He’s been here for an hour carrying a whole Samsonite store for a little old couple and their guests. It’s their 60th anniversary. I’m not sure if he’s related or what, but he’s so nice.”

  “How sweet.” Maris said Maris, distracted. “So, which of the two is more romantic? The suite or the Tree House?”

  Kelby’s hands opened in a wide surrendering pose. “I would not presume to say. It’s going to depend on the couple and what they enjoy.”

  Maris rocked back and forth on her heels, indecision fueling her nervous energy. “And if they don’t want to do anything?”

  “Just ask your sweetie when he gets here.”

  “Oh, hey! Maris, is that you?”

  Maris spun to see Crawford exiting the elevator with a wide grin.

  Kelby grinned. “I didn’t know you were with him!”

  Maris’ mouth dropped open. “Crawford?”

  He strode up to her and gave her a bear hug in greeting. “You’re here at last!”

  “You’ve been acting as a bellhop this whole time?”

  Crawford shrugged. “Keeps me moving, and I know my way around the place pretty good now.” He gave a thumbs-up to Kelby. “You weren’t kidding about the aerial park out there, man! It’s incredible!”

  “Huh?” Maris looked back and forth between Crawford and Kelby.

  “Did you get any tips for all that lugging?” asked Kelby.

  “Nah. Some offered, but I didn’t take it.” Crawford stuffed his hands in his pockets.

  Maris gazed at him with appraising eyes. “You’ve been helping people for an hour, free of charge, for no reason at all? Why’d you get here so early?”

  “I over estimated traffic delays,” said Crawford with a shrug.

  “Well, I’ve got a tip for you, buddy,” said Kelby. “Take this lovely little angel of yours to your room and …”

  Crawford bit the tip of his tongue, his eyes flickering up and down Maris. “Good tip.”

  Maris snagged Crawford by the elbow and dragged him a few feet away. “So, I’m feeling guilty about how much the lodge isn’t getting from us and wondered if we should downgrade from the Hood River Suite to one of the Tree House things, but they’re further away and—”

  “I took a family out to one of those. They’re cool!”

  “Would you rather do that?”

  “What about the jacuzzi tub?” he asked, a seductive lilt in his voice.

  “There’s still one available in the spa area.”

  The corner of his mouth curled up in a sly smirk. “Yeah, but it’s not private.”

/>   That sealed Maris’ decision. If she had to see him in a hot tub again, it needed to be in a public setting. Her eyes would battle with her standards, and the temptation might be too real.

  Maris spun back to Kelby. “We’ll take the Tree House. Thanks so much for being flexible.”

  “Of course!” Kelby winked. “Two little love birds up in a tree. It’ll be so romantic!”

  Maris gave Kelby a thin-lipped smile. She’d find a way to get comfortable on the loveseat sofa in the room at bedtime.

  Crawford relished the way Maris watched him carry their luggage up the flight of steps and into to their private Tree House apartment. His strength impressed a lot of girls, and in this case, it made up for playing a nerd in a coat and a short haircut.

  “You sure have a lot of energy.” Maris grinned, her arms folded as she leaned on the door sill.

  His eyes darted to the bed in the next room, and he opted to drop their bags on the futon loveseat. No point in cluttering up the prime real estate in case they needed it soon.

  “I could go for hours.” He unzipped his coat, his eyes steady on hers.

  “It’s still kind of early for dinner,” said Maris, strolling through to the large balcony. “Should we do something else first?”

  Crawford’s pulse rose. “Absolutely.”

  “Mind dressing down a little?” She glanced over her shoulder at him.

  “Not at all.” Crawford’s internal engine purred as he slid the coat from his arms and flexed his back. “What do you have in mind?”

  She beckoned him with a finger to follow her, and he congratulated himself on once again being irresistible. When he sank his elbows onto the railing next to her, she licked her lips and smiled shyly. “Any chance you’d want to—?”

  “Always.”

  Maris brightened and pointed out across the meadow to the courts. “Oh good. I wasn’t sure if you enjoyed tennis. I haven’t played in so long, I’ll probably stink at it, but it’ll be fun, right?”

  She brushed past him and rummaged in her overnight suitcase for some clothes. “I’ll be right out!” A second later, she closed the door to the bedroom and locked it with a click.

  Crawford stood outside it with his finger and eyebrows raised in surprise. “Tennis?”

  His disappointment dissolved quickly, knowing he’d enjoy the physical exercise and get to watch Maris in action. His phone sang “Tonight’s the Night”, and he checked which of his harem wanted him now. Ashley. He declined the call. With the vision of Maris in his mind, he just couldn’t find the pert woman from the local bar attractive. Why eat a microwave dinner when a gourmet feast was available?

  ***

  “We’re not exactly ready for the cover of a tennis magazine, are we?” teased Crawford as they made their way onto the outdoor tennis court, both sporting shorts and sweatshirts.

  “It’s standard attire for the Pacific Northwest, isn’t it?” asked Maris, swinging her rented racquet back and forth with both arms.

  “Yep. If temps top fifty, we’ve got shorts and Birkenstocks on.”

  “With socks.”

  Crawford gave a groaning chuckle. “Is it the same up in Spokane?”

  “Pretty much.” She trotted to the far side of the net. “Got the ball?”

  “I’ve got two,” he said, watching to see if she’d react to the double entendre.

  She didn’t.

  Dropping one ball lightly so it rolled to a stop against the net, he bounced the other a few times. “So, are you a serious player?” Again, he checked to see if she caught his meaning.

  “Nope.” Maris bounced lightly, her knees bent, and her face showing no recognition of his pun. “I took a few lessons years ago. Mostly because Dad said it would be good to play with clients now and then.”

  Knowing a suggestive comeback would be lost on her, Crawford gave up and served the ball lightly. “You enjoy working for your dad?”

  Maris frowned as she whacked the ball back to his left. “I don’t know anything else.”

  Crawford back-handed the ball to her left and watched her run. “You’ve never had another job?”

  Whack! “It was kind of a given that I’d go into the family business.”

  Whack! “Conway Community Builders.”

  Whack! “Yep.” She had the cutest scowl on her face, so concentrated on the game.

  Distracted, Crawford missed the ball and let it bounce and ricochet on the chain link fence behind him. Strolling forward, he retrieved the ball lying against the net. “What does that even mean?”

  “In theory, Conway Comm is about bettering our communities by providing the kinds of amenities and facilities that bring people together and help them meet each other’s needs.”

  “In theory?” he repeated.

  Maris hitched a shoulder. “In theory.” She squinted, holding her hand up to block the low sunlight peeking through the trees.

  “Let’s switch sides,” he said, extending a hand to help her hurdle the net. This way, if he missed, he could blame it on the sun being in his eyes, right? “Want to serve?”

  “Are you warmed up already?”

  “I’ve been hiking up and down stairs for an hour, remember?” He backed up into position.

  Maris grinned, bouncing the ball a few times. “I believe you used the elevator.”

  Crawford wiggled his fingers. “All that button-pushing. I’m totally warmed up. No worries.”

  She laughed, and the sound washed over him like a soft breeze. “Okay, love-all.”

  “I try,” he teased.

  Whack! The serve came fast, and Crawford dodged right to catch it in time.

  Whack! “So, what do you mean by ‘In theory’?”

  Whack! Her frown returned. “Oh, I don’t know.”

  Whack! “You know.” Crawford couldn’t get over how cute she was as she clobbered the ball.

  Whack! “I think maybe, sometimes, the execs have a different vision.”

  Whack! “Vision?” Cute, but good. He was breaking a sweat.

  Whack! “From when Mom and Dad started.”

  Whack! “Different how?”

  Whack! “More about money now.” Maris grunted with effort, smashing the ball to the far corner. “Point.”

  Crawford didn’t go for the ball right away. “Money’s bad?”

  Maris paced back and forth, waiting for him. “Not bad. It’s useful. But it should be used wisely.”

  Intrigued, Crawford picked up both balls, handing them to her. “Are they about to go bankrupt or something?”

  Maris rolled her eyes. “Oh no. The opposite.”

  Crawford sifted his bangs. “You’re going to have to spell this out for me. I’m not from the world of high finance. Just a dumb model.”

  Maris shrugged, bouncing the ball with intense purpose. “You can buy a yacht, or you can buy thousands of books and toys for the kids in foster care. You can take another vacation on the Riviera, or you can provide hundreds of year-long bus passes to people in the poor neighborhoods, so they can get to night classes or job interviews, or just plain work.” Whack!

  She served it hard again, and it whizzed right by Crawford’s ear when he didn’t move.

  Maris stood taller. “Don’t you want to play?”

  Crawford smiled at her with new appreciation. “You’re all right, Maris.”

  “Thanks,” she said shyly. “I’ve sometimes won a match with nothing but serves.”

  “No, no. I mean …” He shrugged. “I appreciate what you’re saying.”

  She raised an eyebrow, tossing her racquet between her hands. “Oh? You’re not interested in being rich?”

  “Well, sure. I wouldn’t mind some luxuries now and then. But you’re right that a lot could be done for the price of one big-ticket item.”

  Her half-smile warmed him, and he lowered himself into position. “Come on. Let’s see your killer serve.”

  “Thirty-love.” Whack!

  “Tennis scoring is so weird,” complai
ned Crawford. Whack!

  “I agree. It should be two-love.” Whack!

  He winked. “True love?” Whack!

  Maris grunted. “Oh my gosh. Tennis humor. Make it stop!” Whack!

  Crawford chuckled and put away the last of his flirty lines. Maris might not catch them, but she could play a mean game of tennis. If he didn’t focus soon, he’d lose the game, set, and match.

  They played for a few more minutes in relative silence, and he relished in both the physicality of the activity and in watching Maris play. The tension in her face relaxed, though an air of determination remained.

  When they broke for water, he drifted towards her, drawn by her energy.

  “You’re better than you said you were.” She took a swig, then poured a little water on her hand to dab at her forehead and neck.

  His eyes lingered where the droplets clung to her hairline. “That would be your fault.” He grinned. “Can’t stand looking bad in front of a beautiful woman.”

  Her eyes flitted up and down his body, sending a blaze of heat through him as if she’d touched him. “Don’t worry. You don’t.”

  Casually setting his water bottle down, he basked in the ripple of affirmation.

  “So, who are you usually playing? Not business clients,” said Maris.

  “I’ve got some buds at the gym I play. We do more racquetball, though.”

  She tucked her water bottle into folded arms, apparently taking a longer rest. “What does Crawford Andrews do when he’s not posing for pictures or working out?”

  He sensed her appraising eyes reaching below the surface, and a knot formed in his stomach. Maris wouldn’t care about his gaming prowess.

  “Not much. Such is the life of a model.”

  “But between jobs?” she pressed.

  “I keep pretty busy, actually. I get shoots at least a couple of times a month.”