Bid Me Now

by Rebecca Gilise

  “Hey, I know you’re disappointed about the mill, but I’d still like take you out. To find out more about your art.” He eased forward, and Miri saw a flicker of devilry appear in his eyes. “It’s just dinner.”

  Miri found herself caught in a strange mixture of fear and excitement. On the one hand, she was just plain scared of him. The man was potent stuff for sure. But on the other hand, the beautiful Charmford Mill was about to be demolished, and there was always the possibility that she could change his mind.

  Miri sat up straight and hoped her lingering arousal wasn’t as obvious as it felt. “All right. Dinner, on one condition.”

  Nick’s brow elevated a degree. “And that is?”

  “That you allow me to try to convince you not to demolish the mill, regardless of whether you sell it to me or not. It is part of Charmford’s history, you know.”

  He leaned back and rested his arm along the top of the seat, watching her thoughtfully. Miri was doing her own watching or, more accurately, she was ogling again. She desperately wanted to crawl over the table and lick that arm. Was there no part of the man not worth staring at? Or tasting, for that matter. No doubt dozens of women could confirm there wasn’t.

  As if to signal the show was over, Nick returned his arm to the table and stared at her so seriously that Miri found herself gnawing at her lip again.

  “You understand this is new for me. Bargaining for a dinner date.”

  She released her lip and turned her own expression to serious. She half-hoped he would turn her down so she could escape him. He was far too much for her. “Well, it’s your decision.” She shrugged, surprised at her own coolness.

  “It’s a deal.” He grinned so wide, Miri found herself staring at his lovely straight white teeth. “Anywhere special you’d like to go?”

  She looked up to meet his eyes. “No. You choose the place. I am rather busy and don’t usually have time for restaurants.” That was true enough. She hadn’t been out for an after-eight restaurant meal in months.

  “Right. I’ll pick you up at eight o’clock at your house. We can put misunderstandings aside and get down to talking business.”

  She wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but she hoped he meant the mill. “Well, I’d better go, as the Arts Committee members will be waiting. Thank you for the coffee.”

  “No problem,” he said, standing. “I’ll get the tab.”

  He gestured to the waitress. Tiffany looked defeated, but hope apparently lingered as she crossed the café as if on skates. Poor Tiffany. All that effort, and not a shred of interest from Nick to show for it, except a ten-dollar tip and a curt nod of thanks.

  Miri walked outside ahead of Nick, wickedly wishing she was behind him so she could stare at his ass again. So perfect it should be insured. But on second thought, it was probably a good thing. The rest of him was more than enough for one day.

  Standing beside him on the pavement, Miri felt very small and more than a little overwhelmed. Her plan was all shot to hell, and worse, she was committed to dinner with a man who had ruined her dream. As if Nick realized it, he engulfed her hand in a warm, enthusiastic handshake. “It really is nice to see you again.” When he fixed her with such a shamelessly sexy grin, Miri inwardly groaned. “And I’ll catch you tomorrow, Ms. Jamieson.”

  Miri had no smart answer to his ambiguity, so she nodded and started walking. With every step she wanted to look back. To check whether he’d be watching her. And for some confusing reason, she hoped he was.

  • • •

  She wasn’t his type. She didn’t even come close.

  Nick liked his women experienced, uncomplicated, and with a preference for short-term. The kind who said, “See you around Nick,” on their way out. He was no knight in shining armor, and he’d never pretended otherwise. Besides, he didn’t have the time or the inclination for anything close to involvement. A full travel schedule and long hours on the job had made sure of that for the past seven years.

  But this one broke every rule in his book. Nick had known from the moment she sat down in his office at the mill she wasn’t the casual roll-in-the-hay type. Yet here he was, making a dinner date with a woman who would expect a man’s commitment as a matter of course. Frankly, any man who got involved with her wouldn’t walk away without a heap of regrets. And if that wasn’t complication enough, his company was about to tear down the one thing she apparently wanted more than anything else in the world. Not much chance of friendly dinner conversation under those circumstances.

  Damn, if he wasn’t being an idiot. Everything about her screamed complication. But dammit, he was so sorely interested in Miri Jamieson, he had to keep going, no matter what.

  It made no sense at all. Sure, her beauty gave his libido a workout every time he saw her, but that wasn’t so unusual. No, this was different. He’d never been struck with such straight-out lust. He rarely pursued any woman, preferring they made the first move. It was easier that way. No expectations. But for the first time in his life, he wanted a particular woman. This woman. But even more surprising was that he wanted to know her. What was her background? What did she do when she wasn’t making twelve-foot sculptures? Heck, did she have a boyfriend? That seemed unlikely, given all that pent-up, ripe sensuality she had going. But boyfriend or not, she was hot for him, that was obvious. All red-faced and staring at his ass whenever she got the chance.

  Nick grabbed a beer from the mini-bar and lay back down on his bed, staring at the blank television screen. He had no time for relationships. Relationship? Whoa, where did that come from? He hardly knew her. And she was young, perhaps twenty-three or -four. Probably too young for him. But she also had an independence and strength way beyond her years. Miri the Beautiful might be delicately made, but she was strong, something learned from necessity, he guessed. Reserved, serious with a simplicity and honesty that he hadn’t seen in a long time. And she had a story. For a start, she had money. At least enough to buy an unused building on prime land. Not something he would have expected from a young artist. Weren’t they supposed to be struggling? She apparently lived in Charmford by herself, and that in itself was intriguing. Maybe he’d get some answers tomorrow night if he was lucky. In the meantime, he needed to park his thoughts; otherwise, he’d need a cold shower, followed by at least an hour of ESPN.

  His cell phone buzzed just as he found a replay of a Mets game. Nick felt the familiar pang of guilt when he saw his sister’s name on the caller display. Almost a year since he’d visited her in Toronto, and weeks since they’d spoken.

  “Hi, Cate, what’s up?”

  “I’m just peachy.”

  “Uh-huh, that’s good,” Nick muttered absently, his interest caught by a home run. Why did women always call when the best games were on? It was like they had a built-in radar for it.

  “My twenty-week scan says everything’s fine.”

  Nick pulled his attention back to his sister. He was pleased for her, even if he didn’t make as much effort as he should. At forty, Cate had more or less given up on having a child. For the past five years, every treatment known to science had apparently been tried without success. But she had a good marriage with Charles, and her hugely successful interior design consultancy had kept her busy. But Nick knew she’d throw it all in an instant to be a mother.

  “Pleased to hear that. Does Dad know it’s all good? He’s been worried.”

  “Mm-hmm, phoned him this morning. He’s thrilled to finally be a grandfather. And Charles is over the moon.”

  Nick chuckled. He could just picture Charles Gregson breaking out the cigars at the news. Charles had devoted most of his time to building his successful financial advisory business, but like Cate he desperately wanted a child.

  “I can imagine. So, you’ll be taking it easy for the next few months.”

  “Well, my OBGYN has recommended reducing my hours to no more than ten hours per week. Anyway, what’s happening with you? Dad said you’re in Charmford to do some sailing.”
r />   “Yeah, well, I hope to get out for a few days.”

  “And anything else?”

  “Such as?”

  “Someone special?”

  Nick frowned and shook his head. It seemed every time they spoke these days, she quizzed him about his love life, although the phrase “love life” hardly applied. More like encounters of the sexual kind.

  He lay back on his bed again and thought about the someone special he’d met at the Round Bean this morning. “No, sis, no one special at all.”

  “You know my friend Angie would love to meet you. She’s your age, beautiful, and very smart.”

  “No, thanks. I do just fine.”

  His warning tone didn’t work, but then, it never did with Cate. “I know you do fine. Too fine, that’s your trouble. Actually, I’m wondering when you’ll be back in New York. I’m flying down for a few days to buy fabric.”

  “Well, I’ll be here for this week definitely. Maybe next.”

  “Then what if I drive up and stay for a couple of days? Would that work for you?”

  “Great.” His original plan of spending his week sailing was on hold anyway. One look at temptation incarnate standing in his parking lot had given him other things to dwell on.

  “Terrific. I’ll call you, but it’ll probably be Wednesday.”

  “Fine, I’m at the Endeavour.” Nick ended the call, grabbed another beer, and then put it back in the fridge. ESPN wasn’t working. He needed a workout, and even then that probably wouldn’t keep him from thinking about the delectable Miri Jamieson.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Tell me about Nick Brannagh.”

  Miri had only just taken her first sip of her favorite coffee—a life-threatening triple-shot, double-cream espresso con panna—when she realized too late that her caffeine fix was about to be ruined.

  She shouldn’t have fallen for it. Alex’s invitation for coffee at the Charmford Country Club could only be for one reason. An interrogation.

  With a sigh of resignation, Miri set the cup down and soldered on her best “I don’t want to talk about it” face, which meant she was scowling. But considering how well she knew Alexandra Olivet, she also knew it wouldn’t have any effect. The woman had, after all, been her mother’s lifelong friend and a constant presence in Miri’s life, so hiding anything from Alex was a complete waste of time. Besides, the woman had a mind as sharp as a bacon slicer when it came to her two favorite subjects, business and men, particularly the latter. Alex loved them, and, since she was a wealthy widow, most were more than willing to love her right back.

  “There’s nothing to tell. I asked him to sell. He wouldn’t. End of story.”

  Miri braced herself as Alex laughed like she’d just been told something absurd. “Bree said you fell into his arms and came home without your shoes. My dear, what were you doing?”

  That was it. Best friend or not, she’d strangle Bree. “I broke a heel, that’s all. Trust Bree to blabber.”

  Alex’s beautifully modulated mid-Atlantic voice rose in rebuke. “Now, don’t blame Bree, my darling. I asked her about it. So tell me what you think of him.”

  “Does it matter what I think of him?”

  “He’s a hunk, so of course it matters. Don’t look like that. The whole of Charmford is talking about him. So do you like him?”

  Miri sipped her coffee while she constructed a lie. “No, I don’t like him. He’s arrogant and…” A blush-making memory of being in Nick’s arms rose in her mind. So dangerous, considering Alex could spot a man blush at fifty yards. “Well, he’s just not my type,” she finished lamely, looking around the Club’s café in the hope that Alex wouldn’t notice her pink cheeks.

  Alex tsked-tsked. “Oh, Marisa, don’t go all British and coy on me. Bree also said you had a date with him for coffee. Tell me everything.”

  Add defriendment to the strangulation. “It wasn’t a date. I asked him to reconsider selling, that’s all.”

  “And did he?”

  Miri used the edge of her voice in the vain hope it would put Alex off. “He made it very clear that he wouldn’t sell. Finito.”

  “So what have you offered him?”

  Miri twisted in her chair, anticipating the unfavorable reaction and helpless to prevent it. “Forty thousand over what he paid.”

  Alex put her cup down, sat back, and chortled without mercy. “Oh, dear, that wouldn’t have helped. Forty would barely cover his attorney’s fee. Anyway, what made you do all this without talking to me first?”

  “There’s no need to rub it in. Besides, you’d gone AWOL.”

  Thankfully, Alex had decided to test her coffee, giving Miri a reprieve. As usual, Alex was turned out like the socialite that she was. Ash-blonde hair swept into an impeccable chignon, tailored sky blue suit that would have cost thousands, and fifty carats from ear to finger. Miri had never seen her any other way. Alex had to be around fifty-two to have been her mother’s friend, but she barely looked past forty. Miri didn’t know Alex’s exact age. Probably no one did, except for her doctor. Age was a taboo subject around Alex, as were the words “cosmetic procedure.”

  “Well, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to help, but something came up.” She set her cup down and smiled into the distance as if recalling something pleasant. “As you know, I have business that frequently calls me away for a day or two.”

  Miri did know. Usually it involved a man and a six-star hotel up the coast. “So who was the lucky man this time?” she asked with a laugh, at the same time feeling more than a little envious. Sixteen-hundred-thread-count sheets, caviar, Dom Perignon, and an attentive lover had to be better than her last two days. “Was he what you expected?”

  “Oh, yes, he definitely met expectations,” she purred like a Siamese cat on smoked salmon. “Totally insatiable of course, the naughty boy.” She blinked and straightened. “Anyway, I still had time to make some calls about the mill.”

  Miri couldn’t help but wonder how old Alex’s naughty boy was. If he was her usual type, anywhere between twenty-five and forty, although Miri suspected Alex went younger when it suited. “Well, anything to report?”

  “Well, on the personal front, Nick Brannagh is thirty-one and not married. I thought you might be interested in knowing that about your hunk.”

  Miri hadn’t even considered his marital status. It shouldn’t matter, of course, but somehow it did. “He’s not my…oh, whatever. So what about the sale of the mill?”

  “Well, my business analyst obtained the names of the other bidders, and they were happy to talk. They are very concerned, of course, that the mill is to be demolished. As you know, you were the second highest bidder. The others were an engineering company, a sports and fitness chain, and a New York–based printing company. Oh, there was a local construction company who showed interest but didn’t put in an offer. Anyway, Brannagh Enterprises normally specializes in big demolition and salvage projects, but sometimes they take on small jobs. The bid was prepared and submitted by a Pete Fitzroy, one of their site managers, all done through their New York office.”

  “Are they likely to make a big profit?”

  “George says yes, as there’s very little preparation needed for the demolition and salvage, and of course there’s the sale of the cleared land.”

  No wonder he’d laughed at her pathetic offer. “That makes sense now.”

  “Yes. The only unusual thing is that their bid was only two thousand above yours, and the other bidders were much lower than that. Anyway, the thing is not to give up hope, my dear. We still might be able to put in an offer after I find out more about Brannagh Enterprises. Of course, I’ll need to talk to him. And you never know, he might have said he wouldn’t sell to you, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t sell to me for the right price.”

  Miri shifted in her seat. “Alex, I’m not sure you should do that.”

  An image of Alex going a couple of rounds with Nick flashed in her mind. Heavens, what an eye-watering smackdown of wills that wou
ld be.

  Alex patted a perfectly manicured hand against her chignon. “Well, you can think all you like, my dear. In the meantime, I intend to find out more. Besides, I do enjoy persuading a hunk!”

  Miri laughed at that. “You’re incorrigible! He’s nothing like your men friends. Way too rough around the edges for you.”

  “Au contraire, rough definitely works for me. Now, moving to something just as important. How’s the sculpture coming along?”

  “It’s coming along…just. Installation starts first thing Monday morning.”

  “Wonderful. Marcus will love it. You know of course he cares for you. He’s so disappointed that you didn’t get the mill.” Her voice dropped to an intimate coo. “As I have pointed out more than once, my darling, Dr. Carter is the most eligible bachelor in Charmford. Such a fine surgeon, just like your father. Why don’t you go to dinner with him? The man adores you.”

  “I’m too busy,” Miri answered a shade too sharply. Alex knew her better than anyone when it came to her nonexistent love life, and would see right through her excuse. “Relationship phobia,” Alex called it, and Miri had to admit it was mostly true.

  She hadn’t always felt this way. Through her teens, she’d dated plenty of boys, but being so focused on her art, it had been no-sex casual, except for her one serious love affair at eighteen. But when she’d accepted an invitation to take a year-long course at the U.K.’s most prestigious art school, their relationship had fizzled within months.

  After the accident, she had tried again. But a three-week affair with a fellow artist, whom she’d known for years and who’d been devastated when she’d bailed on him, didn’t exactly spell success. So her life now was centered on the one thing that ensured her emotional safety. Her art. And, if nothing else, she had become expert in dealing with unwanted invitations. A gracious smile, a firm shake of the head, and her standard rejection of “much too busy” usually put them off. All to the dismay of Alex, who considered declining dinner invitations from good-looking men, especially the town’s leading surgeon, nothing short of sacrilege.