by Candis Terry
That garnered him another smile.
“Thanks. I wasn’t sure this dress would fit anymore. I haven’t exactly been saying no to things that are really bad for me.”
Though he hoped that comment wasn’t directed at him, he knew he was bad for her. But for some reason, his head, his body, and his heart weren’t in sync.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look more amazing.”
“You’re just saying that so I’ll bid on you tonight.” She lifted her champagne and sipped. Looked at him over the rim of the glass flute and drew him into that blue gaze like she’d said “abracadabra.”
He laughed. “I hope someone does, or I’ll be embarrassed as hell. Speaking of the auction, did you get a chance to look at the silent bid items?”
“Not yet. I ran into Charli and Fiona as soon as I got here, then Jesse pulled a chair out for me.”
He glanced around the room. “Looks like it’s going to take a while for this table to get served. Want to go take a look now?”
“Sure.”
They stood, and he pulled out her chair. Together, they went into the lounge, where several rows of tables had been set up. Each one displayed a slew of items from handmade jewelry to day-spa certificates to a basket of smoked meat and sauces from Sweet Pickens. If he were honest, he’d admit that he couldn’t care less about the items on the tables, that he’d only wanted a moment alone with her. To find some way to touch her no matter how briefly.
But then she was rushing down the aisle, picking up a basket.
“I have to get this for Izzy,” she said with a huge grin.
When he reached her side he discovered the white wicker basket held a stuffed dog, cat, and bunny—all wearing rhinestone tiaras.
“The only thing missing is a mousie,” Abby said, stealing his heart even more. If that were possible. That she remembered his daughter’s passion for all things cute and fluffy meant a lot.
She grabbed the pencil on the table and wrote her name and an amount on the bid sheet. His eyes bugged out.
“Abby. Those stuffed animals and that basket are not worth that much money.”
“I said I wanted to get it for Izzy—not bid on it.”
She shrugged her shoulders beneath the long sleeves of that clingy black dress that hit her about midthigh. “I don’t feel like coming back every five minutes to check on the bids,” she said through lips wet with a sheer red gloss that made his jeans tighten. “Besides, I love doing charity.”
He was willing to be charity.
“Abby?” She looked up at him and gave him a smile he wanted to see every day for the rest of his life. He cupped his hand beneath her arm, ready to draw her in close. “Can I—”
“There you are.”
He and Abby both turned to find Arlene Potter and Gladys Lewis marching toward them in bold satin gowns and orthopedic shoes. Their blue hair clashed with the fuchsia and pistachio colors wrapped around their elderly girths that swooshed as they walked. Both women wore several strands of pearls around their crepey necks.
“Hello, ladies.” Jackson extended his hand, in response to which, Gladys took it and pulled him in for a zealous kiss on the cheek with her lipstick-smeared mouth.
“My God, you look handsome,” Gladys proclaimed.
“Oh. Here we go,” Arlene countered. “You think this young man is going to be interested in an old biddy like you?”
“No.” Gladys wrinkled her nose, which pushed her glasses farther up on her nose. “But you know how I love a man in uniform.”
“He’s not wearing a uniform, you crazy old broad.”
If one didn’t know Arlene and Gladys had been best friends for over a quarter of a century, they might think a chick fight was about to erupt. Jackson knew them, and he still wasn’t willing to risk seeing a jumble of elastic hose and orthopedic shoes.
“You were looking for us?” he asked.
“We were looking for you,” Arlene said, placing her hand on his arm and smiling up at him. “If you have a moment, we’d like to go over the program with all the participants.”
“You don’t mind if we steal him away, do you, dearie? We promise to give him back in reasonable condition.” This delivered from Gladys to Abby with a wink.
“Have at it.” Abby laughed and said to him, “Good luck. I’ll see you later if there’s anything left after you tangle with these two.”
He caught her hand before she could turn. “Save a dance for me?”
A slow smile spread across her glossy mouth. “We’ll see.”
He watched her walk away. He had no choice. Turning his head would take an act of God. Because Abby didn’t just walk. Every sway of her hips played like a soulful, sexy, rhythm-and-blues tune that danced through his head.
Chapter 12
From the audience, Abby sat in the dark, paddle in hand, waiting for the live auction to begin. Jackson hadn’t returned to the table, which had worked out fine because Charli came over to join her. While they’d picked at the rubbery chicken breast and undercooked green beans, they talked wedding plans, and babies, and the impossible good looks and banging physiques of the Wilder boys.
“Every one of them is the devil,” Abby said, lifting her glass for a sip of champagne that was going straight to her head and her hormones every time she caught a glimpse of Jackson in those snug jeans and black tuxedo jacket.
“Obviously, I haven’t met Jake yet because he hasn’t been home,” Charli said. “But I’ve seen his picture and—”
“He’s the worst,” Abby said with a laugh. “It doesn’t matter if he’s even taller than the rest of them, he’s the little brother who’s always trying to prove himself. Of course, I guess that describes Jackson too. My kid sister was always a little in love with Jake. I don’t know why they never got together.”
“Where’s your sister now?”
“Living with some grunge musician in Seattle. I have yet to see a picture of him when he isn’t wearing a flannel shirt and slouch beanie.”
“Sounds like you don’t approve.”
“I try not to judge. But she’s my sister, and I love her. And . . . now she’s expecting a baby.”
“Is he going to be a good dad?”
A long sigh pushed from Abby’s lungs. “He might if he actually got out and got a job to provide for his family. But he keeps telling her that he needs to suffer for his art. Annie works as a waitress, so they don’t starve.”
“How’s she going to do that job when she’s nine months pregnant?”
“I’m sure a lot of women manage. But I’m guessing it’s not easy.”
Charli placed her hand over Abby’s arm and gave a squeeze. “Well, at least the baby will have a rock-star auntie.”
It would be easy to launch into a rant about how worried she was about Annie’s well-being. She smiled instead. Once their parents had taken on the life style of full-time party animals, Abby had instantly become a surrogate mother. She’d pretty much sucked, but somehow her baby sister had managed to escape bodily harm. For that, Abby was grateful as hell.
When the music died down, and the emcee stepped up on the stage, nervous energy zapped her spine. “So you’re bidding on Reno?”
“Hell yeah.” Charli’s dark eyes widened. “I plan to make him my personal love slave.”
Abby laughed. “I’m not sure I get this whole auction thing. I mean, you pay for a guy, but what are you really supposed to do with them? I’m not sure it’s legal to sell sex in the state of Texas. But if so, heaven forbid one of the golden girls is the highest bidder.”
“Now there’s something I don’t even want to think about.” Charli set her wadded-up napkin on the table and grabbed her paddle. “I think you’re supposed to either go out on a date or use them for some kind of chore around your house. But the only heavy lifting I expect Reno to do is when he puts chocolate-dipped strawberries in my mouth and takes his clothes off.”
Abby had to laugh at Charli’s enthusiasm for the man sh
e loved. She also couldn’t help wonder if Reno had put her through her paces before he caved. She didn’t know what it was about the Wilder boys that made them so difficult and so sexy all at the same time.
The auction opened with a couple of men Abby didn’t recognize. It quickly became apparent that the contestants were going to come in all shapes and sizes. When one of the men who’d probably seen his way around an all-you-can-eat buffet a time too many sold for fifty bucks to a woman wearing a hot pink satin dress and a purple boa, Abby thought there might be a very interesting evening ahead.
Several minutes into the program, the very handsome Deputy Brady Bennett was put up on the stage and the bidding quickly soared to five hundred dollars. Abby had to wonder how high the bid might have skyrocketed if Brady had been allowed to take off his shirt. Judging by the smile on his face, Brady seemed mighty happy with the redhead who’d won.
Next came Jackson’s hunky friend, who they now discovered was Mike “Hooch” Halsey from the San Antonio Fire Department. He was a long, tall, muscular man with dark bedroom eyes that seemed to seek out someone in the audience.
Wasn’t that interesting.
“At the rate the bidding’s going, Fiona won’t be able to afford him,” Charli whispered.
“I don’t think some silly auction is going to matter.” Abby watched his dark gaze wander out over the crowd. “He’s looking for her. If she doesn’t bid, he’s going to zero in anyway.”
Much to Abby and Charli’s disappointment, Fiona didn’t even raise her paddle. Magic Mike and his dreamy brown eyes sold to Jana Wilder, who stood and made it clear she was just buying another son to do some extra work around the ranch. That got a laugh, and Fireman Halsey seemed totally okay with it. Even if his eyes did manage to stray to the gorgeous Fiona, who was sitting right beside Jana.
Onstage, Jesse stepped out, looking like he should be on a Hollywood red carpet and not on a dilapidated stage in a run-down community hall. The chatter in the audience picked up, and, as soon as the bids began, the paddles flew with such frequency they created a breeze. Jesse—who strutted his stuff to get the bids higher—went for a thousand to Jillian Hough, Sweet’s newest and most notably horny divorcee.
“I think we can safely assume Jillian won’t be having him take out the trash,” Charli said. “Unless they need to get rid of evidence.”
Next up came Reno—who looked utterly uncomfortable in the spotlight—and the bidding began. Before Charli could even raise her paddle, another woman in the audience held hers up. Charli eased up out of her chair to see who’d bid. A frown spoiled her gorgeous face. “Oh, no, she didn’t.”
“Who didn’t?”
“Lila Ridenbaugh just bid on Reno.”
“I take it you two have a past?”
Charli nodded. “She wants to make Reno her next baby daddy. Over my dead body.” Charli stood, held her paddle high, and shouted, “Two thousand.” The take that grin she flashed at Lila went beyond victorious. Plain and simple it hollered, “Keep your desperate baby-daddy-seeking claws out of my man.”
As soon as the gasp heard round the room cleared, Abby felt daggers hit their table from Lila’s obviously enraged glare. No one else in the room was dumb enough to bid on an engaged man, but Charli squealed with delight as soon as she heard “Sold.”
“You’re funny,” Abby said.
“And hot for him.” She gave Abby a quick buss on the cheek. “See you later.”
With the distraction gone, Abby sat there in the dark, paddle waiting, nerves spiraling in her heart like a corkscrew. Her knees shook, and when she reached for her champagne, Jackson stepped onto the stage.
Tall.
Virile.
Mouthwateringly hot.
The nerves in her heart gelled into a frenzy of elbow-shoving hormones and shot through the pit of her stomach and between her legs. It took everything she had to act cool. Like she was just any other participant waiting to spend a chunk of change for charity and not a woman with a very specific goal in mind.
Her plan was risky. But she’d spend every dollar she had to make it happen.
After the auction, Jackson looked around for Abby, who’d paid a ridiculous amount of money to snag him for a night when she could have him for free.
Anytime.
Anywhere.
But by the time he’d gotten off the stage and unsuccessfully dodged a few attaboys, she’d disappeared.
After saying his good-byes, he walked out into the cool night air and down the block, where he’d parked his truck. As he headed toward her house, he wondered why she hadn’t stuck around for the dancing afterward or to find out if she’d been awarded the stuffed animal basket for Izzy. She had. And he’d set it on the seat next to him, ready to deliver.
At a red light, he yanked off the black coat and bow tie and tossed them to the floor. When he glanced beside him at the wicker basket, six plastic googly eyes stared back.
Abby had paid hundreds more than the stuffed ensemble was worth. Hell, she’d paid thousands for a date with him.
On some level, he supposed he should be offended that she felt she’d had to pay for his . . . attention. Or even that should their positions be reversed, he’d never be able to afford to pay such a lavish sum for her attention. But tonight her generosity would go great lengths for the much-needed expansion of the emergency center. In that sense, he didn’t mind being a bought man.
Especially by a woman who rocked a curve-hugging little black dress and red skyscraper high heels that almost made him call 9–1–1 to put out the fire in his blood.
With only a single light glowing behind the curtains of Abby’s house, Jackson’s finger hovered over the doorbell. Maybe she’d already gone to bed. When thoughts of her curled up in next to nothing beneath cool sheets swirled through his mind, his finger put steady pressure on that little button that would gain him access.
Moments later, the door opened and Abby stood there still wearing the clingy dress with a low-cut back that revealed smooth skin and the fact that she wore no bra. From the looks of things, no panties, either. Her feet were bare. And in her hand she held a glass of white wine.
“Jackson?” Surprise filled her eyes as she looked up at him. “What are you doing here?”
He held up the wicker basket. “Thought I should deliver this since you took off so fast.”
“Oh. Thank you.” She took it and set it on a table near the door. “I could have picked it up at a later time, but I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”
Thoughtfulness?
Right now, he was only grateful to be standing there enjoying the sensual rush that spread through his body while she rubbed one sexy bare foot over the other. Red-painted toenails were a double turn-on.
“No problem,” he managed, without sounding like a strangled cat.
She smiled. Parted her plump, moist lips, and took a sip of wine. His sensual rush whipped into full-blown sexual desire.
“Mind if I come in?” he asked.
“Why?”
“Why?” Was she kidding?
“Yes.” She set her glass down on the table next to the basket. “Why?”
“Well . . .” A million hot, lusty thoughts ran through his head, and he was ready to get down to business. “You just paid a whole lot of money for me, and—”
“It’s a little late to start painting walls, don’t you think?”
“Walls?”
“That’s why I bid on you,” she said in a very businesslike tone. “I need to get this house done. And now that I’m working for your brother, I have less time. So I paid to have you do the work for me. Or at least as much as my donation would allow.”
“You paid thousands of dollars for me to be a . . . handyman?”
Her slim shoulders lifted.
“That’s not what I—”
She gave a little laugh that raised the hair on the back of his neck.
“You thought what? That I was paying for sex?” Her delicately arched brows ca
me together. “I don’t think the charity was set up as a prostitution ring. Besides, you were the one who said you were glad you’d gotten me out of your system. So why would I expect you’d ever want to do that with me again?”
Damn it.
She was totally throwing his own words back in his face.
Words he regretted from the moment he’d spoken them.
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” he said.
She braced her hand on the doorframe. Which thrust out one splendidly curvaceous hip. Which realigned the slinky, clingy little black dress just enough to give him an eyeful of sweet, soft cleavage. Which sent everything in his heart spinning and everything below his belt jumping to attention.
Which proved he was just a complete dog.
“Then what would you say to that?” she asked.
Now she folded her arms across her chest, completely hiding that sweet, soft cleavage from view. And though he much preferred her in the more provocative pose, at least the change gave him time to roll his tongue back up in his mouth enough to speak the English language.
“I probably misspoke.”
One delicate eyebrow in that expressive face lifted. “Misspoke?”
“Okay.” He pushed out a lungful of air. “I probably lied.”
“Probably?”
“Jesus, Abby.” His patience hit the red line. And all because he was too chicken-shit to tell her how he really felt because he was too paranoid he’d lose her. Again. She’d always been the only person outside of his family to really get him. To really listen to what he had to say. To care about him even if he made a stupendous ass of himself. “I didn’t come over here to get the third degree.” Which he seemed to be doing right now.
“Oh. That’s right.” She pursed her lips. “You came over here for sex.”
A rebuttal died on his lips when she stepped out of the doorway and came toward him, bringing her sweet scent and luscious curves.
“Listen, Jack.” She curled her fingers into the front of his shirt.
He swallowed hard when she brought her face close to his and looked directly into his eyes. He’d completely forgotten the side of Abby that he loved the most—the side that was done putting up with his shit and was about to bring the hammer down on his stubborn head. He loved it when she was assertive. Just like that day in the tree house when she’d made it clear that she wanted him. Or at least certain parts of him.
