Bid Me Now

by Rebecca Gilise

  Miri’s mind flooded with the memory of his chest at eye level. “Tall? Actually, he’s very tall. Maybe six two or three. Very dark hair in one of those buzz cuts. Dark gray eyes. And he’s got the most gorgeous…” Miri stopped dead as Bree’s blue eyes rounded. “That’s all I can remember,” she mumbled, feeling her cheeks turn pink.

  “Gorgeous what…?”

  She was so screwed. “Nothing. You want more wine?”

  “Marisa Jamieson, you wolfette. You were about to say ass, weren’t you? He’s got the most gorgeous ass!” Bree waved a chopstick in the air and hooted gleefully. “Oh, my, you know what this means? You’ve had a hottie attack! About effing time.”

  True enough, the man had a perfect backside, but no way was she about to admit that little detail to her sex-mad roommate. “It means no such thing. Okay, he’s good-looking in a sexy-rough kind of way, but that’s all he’s got going. He’s a total pig. Actually, he caught me staring at it.”

  “What, not his…?”

  “No! His butt.”

  Bree looked disappointed. “Oh, is that all? Hell, girl, that’s what they’re made for. What else?”

  Miri sighed and leaned back in her chair, wondering if the adage “a problem shared is a problem halved” applied to a humiliation. “It was just so embarrassing. Then…”

  Her roommate’s face shone with expectation. “Then what?”

  Miri giggled despite the horrible memory. “My skirt fell open when I sat down, and he stared at my leg. Like, really stared. But that wasn’t the worst part. You know I broke a heel?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Miri lowered her voice, feeling as if she were confiding some terrible but delicious secret. “As it broke, I tripped and fell into his arms. No, not quite true. He caught me.”

  Bree mock-gasped and fanned her face with a hand. “You, in a man’s arms! Holy shit! Did he do you on his desk?”

  “Of course not!” Miri got up and grabbed the bottle of wine, feeling the need for alcohol. She was hot herself and frankly, she didn’t need the memory of those arms set in motion again.

  It came as a relief when the phone rang. Balancing the handset between cheek and shoulder, Miri poured her wine and mumbled a “hello” at the mouthpiece.

  “Is this Miri Jamieson?”

  Miri snapped to attention so fast the phone fell in the sink and Bree snorted a loud laugh. With a fierce shush at Bree, she picked up the handset and said calmly, “Yes, it is.”

  “Nick Brannagh speaking.”

  As if she needed the jerk to remind her. She would know that deep, sexy voice anywhere. “Oh, it’s you.”

  Apparently he didn’t notice her icy tone. “I’m calling to invite you to lunch tomorrow.”

  Miri hovered a finger over the end-call button, thinking how good it would be to cut him off. Better still, wait until he was mid-sentence and then cut him off. “I have a full calendar…” she paused to throw an empty noodle carton at the giggling Bree, “tomorrow afternoon. So it’s not…”

  “What about we meet for coffee instead, say, eleven-thirty?” he cut in smoothly. “You choose the place.”

  Miri was furious, mostly with herself. She really, really didn’t want to see him again, but his rich resonant voice was heating every nook and cranny in her body, and her mind had lost most of its ability to focus. “Well, I guess the Round Bean Café in the town center would be okay.” She tried to organize her brain into a logical train of thought. “Exactly what is this about?” she blurted in a rush, realizing too late this should have been her first question.

  “Right, I’ll meet you there.”

  He hung up before she could ask him again.

  “Full calendar, my ass! Have you got a date with Mr. Sex-on-a-stick?”

  Miri was numb with anxiety. “It’s not a date,” she mumbled, trying to believe her words. Hell, this was a mess. “Maybe he’s changed his mind about the mill. That must be it. Otherwise, why would he call?”

  Bree said quietly, “Sweetie, he wants to take you out. You are allowed to mix business with pleasure, you know.”

  Miri took an extra-large slurp of wine, positive that mixing anything with that man wouldn’t be remotely close to pleasure. “Not in this case. It will be strictly business. How did he get my number?”

  “You’re in the book, remember?”

  “Oh, right.” Miri sat down at the table and thought. The thought was of seeing Nick Brannagh again. The man was seriously under her skin, and she didn’t want him there. Spreading her hands flat on the table, she set her spine straight and tried to yoga-breathe…as if that would do it. “Just keep telling yourself you don’t like him and it will all go away,” she intoned under her breath, trying to ignore Bree’s noisy noodle slurps.

  Closing her eyes, she visualized the meeting tomorrow, then opened them again in a flash. If he’d changed his mind about selling the mill to her, the whole thing should be handled through her lawyer. Maybe she should call him back and explain? He’d be at the Endeavour, so that was easy enough.

  Bree interrupted her thoughts. “You want more noodles?”

  Miri shook her head and thought some more. If she cancelled she might not get another opportunity. Besides, it was just one short coffee meeting in a café. What harm could it do?

  Miri stuck a mug under the coffee machine, watching the trickle of dark coffee while she pondered the situation. “Right, well, I’ll be in the studio working,” she said, coming to a decision. She would meet him. And this time she would be ready for him. “You okay to tidy up?”

  She left Bree downing the last of the noodles and walked through to her studio. Sliding onto her stool, she cradled the coffee mug in her hands and stared at the Egg Beater. This was bad. At least four hours catch-up work lay ahead this evening, and she wasn’t in the mood. All in all, not her best day.

  Still, if tomorrow was a disaster, she could always stick her head in the kiln.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Miri had only just parked her car when she decided to be late by twenty minutes. Just long enough for him to wonder if he’d been stood up. At least, that was the plan.

  Standing in the doorway of Dina’s Designer Boutique, she peered along the street toward the Round Bean and saw him getting out of his BMW opposite the café. Good, he hadn’t seen her. She darted inside and sneaked another look through the window to check where he’d gone. He wasn’t in sight, so he must have gone into the café looking for her.

  Of course she was acting like a teenager; she knew that. The guy was practically a stranger and she intended to keep it that way, so that made it doubly silly. But even so, it made her feel a whole lot better about meeting him and besides, it was no hardship to browse Dina’s new-season collection for twenty minutes.

  “Have you tried out your new skirt, Miri?” Dina inquired from behind the counter.

  Miri only just held back a slightly hysterical laugh as she flicked through a rack of summer tops. “Yes, but only once, Dina.”

  “I bet it wowed everyone. It looked sensational on you.”

  Miri groaned at the memory. At least today’s sleeveless green silk top, skinny jeans, and linen wedges were safe enough for a meeting with the jerk.

  She checked her watch. Twelve minutes to go. A long time to be standing around, and Dina was watching her with an expression that plainly said “buy something or leave.” Miri abandoned her strategy and made for the door.

  When she stepped out into the bright sunshine, she saw him standing in front of the café, casually rocking on his heels and looking for all the world as if he couldn’t have cared less what time she turned up. Miri briefly thought of diving back into Dina’s for another five minutes, but when he spotted her and gave her such a wicked grin, Miri had no choice to start walking toward him. How, she worried at every step, could the man be so straight-out scary two days ago and today look so…friendly?

  “Good to see you again, Miri,” he said, extending his hand. His big grip felt as good as it
promised: warm and strong and totally equipped for catching a woman when she fell over her shoes…

  “I saw you go into that fancy boutique down the street. Some retail therapy?”

  Drat. Caught out. “Oh, yes, kind of.” She forced her tone to nonchalance, trying not to notice how perfectly his jeans sat low on his slim hips or how his black polo shirt hugged his powerful shoulders. “Actually, I don’t get much time for shopping.”

  He nodded, but Miri suspected he didn’t believe her phony “I’m so busy” routine. “Well, I guess we’d better go in, then.”

  “Yes. I have half an hour free.” She wondered if he was making fun of her. Of course he was. She could practically taste the deep chuckle buried in his throat. Oh, well, so be it. Keep it formal, focus on the outcome.

  When he opened the door for her, Miri told herself sharply she didn’t like or need his gentlemanly behavior. He’d been anything but gentlemanly at their first meeting, and she wasn’t about to forget it. But she couldn’t deny it felt good to be escorted to her seat, and his choice of booth was perfect. Well away from the kitchen and welcomingly close to the air conditioning.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked, waiting for her to sit before sliding into the seat opposite.

  “No. Iced coffee will be fine.” Looking around, Miri took a few seconds to absorb the familiar surroundings. She was in her favorite cafe. She was about to buy the mill. All she had to do was ask him.

  Not so difficult.

  “Coffee it is, then.” Nick signaled to a waitress, who arrived in turbo-time, blonde ponytail in full swing. She stared at Nick with what Miri judged to be outright lust. Miri knew the feeling. She knew the waitress. Tiffany. Eyes that were normally dull from boredom and an intelligence deficit had miraculously switched to high beam. But Nick seemed indifferent to her wide-eyed attention, ordering one iced coffee and one espresso. Tiffany wrote the order, slid a suggestive look at Nick, and then retreated in defeat when he barely acknowledged her.

  He swept his gaze around the café. “Is this your usual hangout?”

  “Yes. The coffee’s always good. Do you have a favorite place?” She was doing her best to sound aloof, but already Miri realized the futility. She couldn’t last with those dark gray eyes watching her so intently.

  “No time for regular places. I’m traveling most of the time, so I’m rarely in the same place twice. My foreman Fitz fancies himself a barista, but his coffee’s pretty bad.”

  “Fitz?”

  “Yeah, Pete Fitzroy. My site manager in the States. Irishman. We’ve been together since startup. He’s a good friend, so we tolerate his coffee.”

  Presumably that was the older man in the pickup she’d seen leaving the mill. “Well, you must enjoy your work to travel so much.”

  “It’s okay most of the time. Sometimes it’s good to take a break.”

  “Are you enjoying Charmford?”

  “Yeah, it’s beautiful.” His gaze devoured every visible inch of her.

  Miri felt the heat of his compliment. “Do you have a home somewhere?” she asked and then bit her lip, wishing it was her tongue. Damn. No personal questions.

  The corners of his mouth curved up a fraction, as if sensing her regret. “Yeah, I have apartments in New York and in London, both more or less homes. At the moment, I’m mostly in the U.K., but being a New Yorker through and through, I’d rather be there.”

  “That sounds interesting.” She mentally cringed again. God, why was she so bland and boring? Worse, why did she even care?

  “Well, at times it is. How long have you lived in Charmford? You have a mixed British and American accent.”

  “Oh, I’ve been here since I was sixteen. Before that, I lived in London and then we moved here, but now it’s just me.” Her cell phone buzzed. “A text. Do you mind?”

  “Go ahead.”

  It was Janice Patterson from the Arts Committee, confirming her one o’clock. It didn’t need a response, but Miri welcomed the opportunity to concentrate on something other than the distraction sitting across from her. Fingers bouncing over the keys, she sent a long text, knowing that Janice would think she’d completely lost it by rambling on about the weather. But hopefully Nick would assume she had pressing business. As she hit “send,” she glanced around to see where the waitress was. The coffee was taking forever. It wasn’t helping that Nick was lazily watching her. Not rudely, like he had at the mill, but enough to work a warm prickle of self-consciousness and a few other sensations down her spine.

  Putting her phone back in her bag, Miri tried her best to sound casual. “That was someone confirming my one o’clock.”

  Nick leaned back and folded his arms, and Miri promptly forgot about Janice and the one o’clock. It was all she could do not to gape at his thick arms bulging against the short sleeves of his polo shirt.

  “No problem. So, yesterday you mentioned you were a sculptor?”

  “Oh, yes. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been making things.”

  He cocked his head inquiringly. “Really. What kind of things do you make?”

  A simple enough question, but it put Miri’s stay-aloof plan in tatters. Not quite true – it had started unraveling the moment she’d shaken his hand. But at least his question had dragged her mind away from his biceps. Besides, she loved talking about art like other people loved their morning coffee or whatever else got their day started.

  “I make large sculptures, mostly six feet in height, but sometimes as high as twelve.” Of course, she could have omitted that detail, but half the fun lay in the usual astonished reaction.

  He sat up straight, making Miri laugh. “Jesus. Tell me more.”

  She tried telling herself that it was the art-talk causing the rush of warmth to her cheeks and not his gorgeous eyes, which were looking at her with real interest. “Well, mostly I work in copper and steel, sometimes brass and other media. A local metalwork company helps me with the heavy cutting and welding of the basic frame. The sculptures are abstracts, representing various aspects of the human condition. One series I exhibited in New York was on the seven deadly sins.”

  “Deadly sins, huh.” He stroked his chin as if the possibilities required serious thought. Miri couldn’t help but study the possibilities of that dark stubble against her cheek. So deliciously rough. What would he say if she leaned over and stroked his chin?

  “Which sin fascinates you the most?” he asked, just as Waitress Tiffany arrived with the coffees. She gaped at Nick as if ready to commit sin with him right there on the table. Carefully setting the tray down, Tiffany backed away, her eyes fastened on Nick like she wanted to devour him, until finally she had no choice but to turn and head for her station.

  “Oops, she wondered what on earth you were talking about.” Miri laughed, slurping whipped cream from the top of her coffee.

  He grinned. “Well, you started it by talking about sin. You have cream on your lip.” He held out a paper napkin.

  Miri tried to ignore the brief contact of his fingers as she took the napkin and dabbed her mouth. “Is it gone?”

  His grin widened. “It’s gone. Along with your dimples. That’s a pity.”

  “Sorry…?”

  “Your dimples come and go. Like a smile barometer. The wider the smile, the deeper the dimples.”

  “Oh, I’ve never liked them much. Got teased at school.”

  Nick laughed. She liked his deep, rich laugh.

  He sipped his espresso and nodded. “You’re right. Good coffee. Anyway, where’s your studio?”

  At last. A window of opportunity. Heartened, Miri leapt in. “At my home. But space is a problem. That’s why I bid on the mill. Originally, the mill was on the outskirts of town, but as Charmford has grown around it, it’s become a perfect location for a gallery and studio.”

  “I see,” was all he said.

  Miri sensed more than heard the edge creep into his tone, but she couldn’t stop now. This was do or die. “So it naturally came as a big disappo
intment to lose out on the chance to own it.” She paused to take a breath, then rushed on when she saw him open his mouth to speak. “Would you be prepared to…?” Miri stopped talking at that moment, stung to a helpless silence by the subtle change in his expression. She chewed her lip, knowing what was coming.

  He was going to say no.

  Nick shook his head, his expression losing some of its warmth. “It’s not that simple. The profit from the salvage alone will be very high, let alone the land value. I explained that to you. There are other things to consider as well.”

  Miri kept her cool. “Please reconsider. I can offer you a fair price. More than fair.”

  He looked annoyed now. “This is a business decision that affects my company. I have obligations. Is that so hard for you to understand?”

  So much for cool. The condescending jerk. “To hell with your obligations! The only reason I’m here is because I thought you’d changed your mind.” She wriggled out of the booth and rose to her feet, furious with herself for being so stupid in accepting his invitation. “I’ll pay for my coffee on the way out!”

  Without looking up, Nick said quietly, “Miri, please sit down.”

  Sexual heat clamped her to the spot. “Why?”

  “Because we haven’t finished our coffee.”

  She sat down, wondering what was wrong with her. How could being told what to do be so impossibly sexy?

  His dark brow furrowed. “Look, I called because I wanted to see you.”

  She tried to ignore the rising ache between her legs. “Why?” She sounded like a parrot.

  His eyes held her. “Can we start again?”

  Miri took a moment to answer, her brain fully occupied by the persistent ache and his penetrating stare. “I don’t see what that would achieve.”

  “Would you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

  She blinked. “Dinner?” Now she was echoing.

  His mouth quirked softly. “Yeah, dinner.”

  Even as she shook her head, she knew that she would accept. “Thank you, but I’m too busy.” Her standard excuse. Always reliable. Always a lie.