“All right. Well, looks like you are at table ten. And against that far wall, you’ll find all of the items up for bid laid out. Just fill out your bids and slip them into the envelope. We’ll be announcing the winning bids at the end of the evening. If you don’t want your name announced, just write ‘anonymous’ at the top, but you do need to make sure that your name and number are at the bottom so I know who to call to collect the moolah.”
“Okay, thanks.”
He and Alder began working their way through the crowd. He had to admit that this didn’t look like some small-town soiree. He’d attended his share of charities and galas, and whoever had put this together had known what they were doing. If he didn’t know he was in a local community center, he would’ve thought he was in a high-end hotel ballroom or a swanky restaurant.
The ceiling was draped in sheer cloths. Three ornate chandeliers were hanging in the center of the room. The round, linen-covered tables with matching linens covering the chairs, filled one half of the large space. Each was adorned with high flower arrangements set in iron centerpieces with candles sprinkled throughout. The entire thing had a very medieval feel to it.
And that was just the decorations. All the females and quite a few of the male attendees were wearing masks. Normally, Lucky wasn’t real big on themes at parties. He’d always thought it was kind of cheesy. But he sort of wished he’d bitten the bullet and worn a mask.
“You didn’t tell me it was a masquerade ball,” Alder said under his breath.
Obviously, his friend was feeling the same way he was.
As they reached the table, his eyes scanned for and then locked on the very thing he’d been trying to talk himself out of for the last forty-eight hours. The envelope that read Deanna Bishop.
“Hey, I didn’t know you were auctioning something off.” Alder picked up the envelope with Lucky’s name on it.
Before Lucky had a chance to fill his trainer in, they were interrupted.
“Wow, you boys clean up nice.” Vivien smiled beneath her jewel-encrusted mask.
“We’re not the only ones,” Alder replied, flirting with the sexy redhead Lucky had tried to muster up interest in, to no avail.
While Alder chatted up his favorite barista-slash-owner of his favorite coffee shop in Hope Falls, Lucky reached for Deanna’s envelope and placed a bid that he felt confident would win him her time.
Chapter 11
‡
“What the…” Deanna stepped inside the community center and froze. This place looked amazing. She felt like she’d been transported back in time. Or at least to a fancier version of this time.
The room was filled with people dressed in tuxes, suits, gowns, and cocktail dresses. Most of them were wearing masks not unlike the one she had donned. Silk sheaths draped the ceiling and sparkling chandeliers and votive candles sprinkled throughout the space gave the room a dreamlike glow.
“I told you,” her cousin smirked beside her.
Eli had called an hour ago and asked if she wanted a ride to the event. When she’d agreed, he’d told her to be sure to “dress up” because the town went “all out.” Not exactly enough information, or even enough time, to warrant the smug look on his face, but whatever. Deanna hadn’t felt like getting into some childhood bickering, which she and her cousins always seemed to revert to whenever they spent any significant amount of time together.
“Eli, don’t you look handsome?” Sue Ann preened as soon as they reached the front of the line to get in. Then, lifting her brow in approval, she turned towards Deanna. “And who is your lovely date?”
Eli quickly corrected her. “Not my date. My cousin.”
“Deanna!? Oh my… I didn’t even recognize you!” Sue Ann wrapped her hands around Deanna’s upper arms. “You look…sensational! So beautiful!”
Deanna blushed under the attention, hoping her reaction was hidden beneath her mask. “Thank you. So do you.”
Sue Ann, who normally wore long, floral skirts and cardigans, was wearing a maroon, beaded dress with a matching hair piece.
“Oh, I’ve had this thing for ages.” Sue Ann brushed the compliment off. Clearly, she was as comfortable with attention as Deanna was.
After taking their tickets, telling them what table they were at, and giving them the 411 on the bidding process, she told them to have a lovely evening and sent them on their way.
They’d only made it two steps before Eli stopped. “I’m going to go to the bar. Do you want anything?”
Deanna wasn’t a big drinker, but one look around the ball and she decided that a little liquid courage might not be a bad idea. “Cran and Vodka.”
“Wow. You’re going for the hard stuff right out of the gate, huh? Remember you’re a lightweight,” Eli teased before walking away.
He might’ve been joking, but that didn’t change the fact that she really was. She had a strict two-drink limit. After that, all bets were off.
As self-conscious as she felt about being in this dress—her cousin had so kindly asked her where the rest of it was when he’d picked her up—she did feel a little incognito beneath her mask.
All around her, people laughed and talked. Michael Bublé’s soulful voice streamed from the speakers. No one was paying her any attention, which was exactly how she liked it.
Growing up, she’d been forced to go to more than her fair share of these types of things, and her mother always insisted that she “work the room.” Victoria had always pushed her to be something, someone, Deanna wasn’t. For a long time, Deanna used to wish that she could be what her mother wanted. That she could be more debutante than tomboy. But, after years of trying to fit a square peg into a round hole, Deanna had given up. Much to her mother’s dismay.
She’d always felt more comfortable at a ballpark or a fire station than she ever had at a photo shoot or on a runway during the awkward years her mother had tried to force her to follow in her footsteps. It had not been pretty.
“Wow! Girl, you look smokin’ hoooootttt!” Nikki Maguire-Gowan, the chief’s sister who worked across the street from the station, exclaimed as she and Tessa approached her. Turning to her sister-in-law, she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but you never looked that good in that dress.”
“I know, right!?” Tessa enthusiastically agreed. “I told her to keep it. Even after I’m not as big as a house, I’ll never look that good in it.”
Again, Deanna’s cheeks grew hot under the attention. They were just being nice, but it was still uncomfortable. As quickly as possible, she attempted to shift the conversation away from her.
“Thanks. And look at you two! You both look so beautiful! How are you feeling, Tessa?”
Tessa sighed as her hands moved to her belly. “Ugh. I feel like a balloon that’s about to pop. I’m exhausted, and I can’t see my ankles, but I’m pretty sure they’re so swollen they are now officially cankles.”
“If your ankles are swelling, then you need to sit down.” Nikki’s voice was laced with concern.
“Yeah, especially if I have any hope of dancing later,” Tessa agreed. Then she asked Deanna, “What table are you at?”
“Ten,” a deep voice answered.
All three ladies turned to see Lucky Dorsey, looking sexier than David Beckham in the Armani ads. He was wearing a tailored suit that fit him like a glove. His brown hair was styled, but he was still rocking the five-o’clock shadow Deanna had grown much fonder of than she wanted to admit.
“Lucky, lookin’ sharp!” Nikki whistled as she and Tessa both greeted him with hugs and kisses on his cheek.
“I have to say, you ladies look”—his eyes met Deanna’s—“breathtaking.”
Had the air suddenly gotten thinner?
This dress was snug, but before this instant, Deanna had been able to breathe just fine.
Now? Not so much.
As she stared into the light-chocolate windows to Lucky’s soul, oxygen wasn’t her only problem. She couldn’t seem to string two words together. Her mi
nd was mush, and the only word she could come up with was sexy. Which she prayed did not slip out of her mouth.
“Hi.” Lucky’s deep voice washed over, causing the tiny hairs on her arms to stick up.
“Hi,” she breathed.
Nikki loudly cleared her throat, snapping Deanna out of the voodoo spell Lucky had cast on her. Blinking twice, she was a little dazed as she broke their stare.
Nikki’s eyes were twinkling above the huge smile on her face. “Well, we’re at table twelve. Stop by if you get a chance, and I want to see you out there shaking your booty later. That dress deserves a spin on the dance floor.”
With that, Nikki threaded her arm in Tessa’s and the two women walked away, their heads together as they giggled. Which left her alone with the sexier-than-David-Beckham’s-Armani-ad man.
Her eyes scanned the room, searching for her cousin, who was supposed to be getting her a drink. Where was her overprotective family when she needed them?
“Looking for your date?” Lucky asked casually.
“My cousin,” she corrected as she continued scouring the room.
“Eli, right?” he asked, inching closer to her. His breath ghosted over her shoulder and sent a shiver racing down her spine.
“Yes.” Her heart picked up speed faster than a bowling ball rolling down an ice luge.
This was not her. She wasn’t the girl who was affected by men like this. She was the girl who laughed at cheesy pickup lines. The girl who rolled her eyes at fake compliments. The girl who saw the mating ritual known as flirting for what it was.
This whole getting-lost-in-a-stare, getting-goosebumps, weak-kneed, sweaty-palms thing was not her.
She’d almost convinced herself when Lucky tore all of her self-talk to shreds by placing his palm on her lower back and pointing across the makeshift ballroom. The second his heated palm was resting on her bare skin, all rational thoughts of what kind of girl she was disappeared faster than a toupee in a hurricane. Her entire body flushed with arousal, which stole her breath away.
“Found him. He looks…busy.”
Trying to disguise her body’s totally inappropriate response to a simple touch, Deanna stepped away from Lucky as she craned her neck, pretending to see what he was referring to—it was going to be pretty tricky because her sight was blurred with lust.
The instant Lucky’s hand dropped, Deanna missed the connection. But her glossy eyes cleared and she located her cousin. He was off in the corner with a brunette. She couldn’t be sure who it was because the girl was wearing a mask. But if she had to guess? Audrey from Brewed Awakenings.
Okay, so it looked like neither her cranberry and vodka nor her overbearing backup were coming.
Which was fine. No problem at all. The last thing Deanna was going to let herself become was one of those girls who couldn’t even go to the bathroom by herself.
She was strong.
She was independent.
She. Could. Handle. This.
“You ready to go to our table?” Lucky put his hand on her back again and every nerve ending in her body came to life with tantalizing awareness. She felt the roughened pads of his fingertips all the way to her core.
She was in trouble…
*
“Not a big fan of chicken parmesan?” Lucky asked Deanna, who’d barely touched her plate of food. Her fork had done a hell of a job pushing it around, but only one or two bites had actually made it to her mouth.
“It’s fine,” she responded curtly, her smile tight and her body language tense.
When he’d found out she was supposed to be at table twelve, he’d asked Sue Ann if she could adjust the seating arrangement so that they would be seated at the same table. But, so far, dinner wasn’t turning out how he’d planned.
Sue Ann had given him a bit of a hard time, but he’d won her over with the Dorsey Charm. More accurately, the Dorsey Dimples. Thank God he’d been blessed genetically with indentations in his cheeks. Those suckers had saved his ass—and gotten him ass—more than once.
Unfortunately, the only ass he was interested in at the moment had absolutely zero interest in his ass. Or his dimples. Or him, for that matter. For the past hour, she’d said maybe ten words to him and all of them had been snipped answers to questions he’d asked her.
The eight-person table seated himself, Deanna, Alder, Eli, Casey, Chris, Vivien, and Audrey. Deanna’s cousin was seated across from them, and thankfully, his attention had mainly been focused on the pretty brunette barista at his side, although Lucky hadn’t missed a few glares.
Which he understood. This was a small town, and he was sure Eli knew he’d asked Deanna out. Lucky had enough self-awareness to know he wasn’t exactly the kind of guy anyone would want their sister—or cousin—with. He wished he could put Eli’s mind at ease and let him know that his intentions were honorable. But, when it came to Deanna, he wanted to do all kinds of things that weren’t so honorable.
The girl beside him was driving him fucking crazy. He wanted her more every minute of every day. He’d convinced himself that it was worse when he wasn’t with her, that he’d built her up into something she wasn’t. That, in her absence, his mind played tricks on him, inflating her beauty, her sex appeal, and her hold on him to unrealistic proportions. But now that he’d spent a significant amount of time with her—if sixty minutes was considered significant—he knew the truth.
Being in her presence didn’t just magnify his desire for her, it blew it up like a nuclear bomb. Everything she did amplified his lust, his craving, for her like it was an electric guitar plugged into an amp at a heavy metal concert.
The way she tucked the loose strands of hair behind her left ear, showcasing the soft slope of her neck. The way she blinked a little slower whenever they made eye contact. The way she pulled at the hem of her dress, which was modest in comparison to a lot of dresses he’d seen, but obviously too short for her comfort.
That was another thing. How could a girl that smoking hot not know it? How did a girl with a body that rivaled any pinup model’s, seem so uncomfortable in her own skin?
Lucky had no idea, but he planned to find out.
“Okay, folks. Can I have your attention please?” an older man dressed in a cowboy hat, cowboy boots, and a tux said into the microphone in the center of the stage. “For those of you who don’t know, I’m the mayor around these parts. The name’s Henry Walker.”
A swell of cheers for the beloved mayor erupted. Deanna joined in and clapped. The innocent motion caused her cleavage—which he’d been doing his absolute best not to stare at all night—to jiggle. Which, in turn, caused his hard-on to strain even more painfully against his zipper.
Lucky had never been so happy for a tablecloth in his life. He’d been sporting a noticeable chub since he’d seen Deanna from across the room. The second he’d laid eyes on her, his body had reverted back to middle school, when he’d gotten boners at an alarming frequency. In those days, he’d pop woodies in math class, gym, and while hanging out after school at the arcade.
Some guys had been embarrassed about that phenomenon, but he never had. He’d usually make a joke about it, telling whichever cute girl was in the area that “he” was happy to see her or that “he” liked what “he” saw. He might’ve gotten his nickname “Lucky” because he’d lost his virginity before his friends, but it had had nothing to do with luck. It had to do with the fact that, even at twelve, he’d been completely comfortable with his body in all of its glory, which had given him more confidence than any preteen kid should have.
He’d been playing video games with Molly Eastman, who was four years his senior, after school and gotten a stiffy so hard that he could’ve cracked nuts with that thing. Lucky had pointed out that “he” had a mind of his own and was standing at full attention. For as long as he lived, he didn’t think he’d ever forget the look in Molly’s eyes when she’d stared at his crotch. Having a girl, who was in high school and had a size-C bra cup, look at him like that made him
grow even harder and even bolder.
When he’d asked, like the cocky little twelve-year-old bastard he was, if she’d ever played a skin flute, hand to God, he hadn’t expected her lips to curl into a naughty smile while she’d gotten down on her knees, unzipped his pants, and proceeded to lick, lick, lick him like a lollipop.
Then they’d had sex, and he remembered wondering why everyone wasn’t doing it all the time. It had felt so good. It had been so fun. It had been the best thing ever.
After that, he had been even more confident, which was a task in and of itself. He’d gotten laid on a regular basis for the next eighteen years because his twelve-year-old self had been right.
It was so good. It was so fun. And it was the best thing ever.
In fact, the past six weeks marked the longest he’d gone without sex since he’d started having it. Which was most likely the explanation for his soldier being at full salute when he hadn’t done more than touch Deanna’s shoulder and the base of her spine. Even with her in that dress, which was the most revealing thing he’d seen her in to date, there hadn’t been nearly enough skin showing to justify the record-breaking, tent popper he had going on.
His mind was still clouded with lust when the applause settled down, the mayor, who looked a little embarrassed at the unabashed attention, took the mic in his hand again.
“Thank you all for coming out and supporting us. The auction is now officially closed. We’re going to be tallying up all the bids and announcing the winning bidders in about an hour. So y’all are free to dance, socialize, drink, and be merry until then.”
As Henry stepped away from the microphone, what Lucky called booty-shaking music began playing and the lights dimmed, giving the room a night-life atmosphere.
Dinner had been a failure, but just like in the cage, he kept moving and adapting. Turning to Deanna, he was already coming up with rebuttals for any excuse she was inevitably going to throw at him for not wanting to accept his invitation to dance. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance.
Lucky Kiss Page 11
