“Busy, busy. You know how it is. New clients, tons of paperwork. Hearings, negotiations, more paperwork.” Why was she talking about paperwork to the most exquisite man she’d ever met?
Erik poked her and cleared his throat.
“Erik, this is Jeffrey Hatcher, owner of Practically Perfection. Jeffrey, this is Erik, my stylist.”
“Stylist, genius, available…take your pick.” Erik raised one skillfully plucked eyebrow while holding out his hand.
Jeffrey laughed and shook the offered hand. “Let’s go with genius, though honestly, you had an exceptional woman to work with.”
Kamber’s cheeks warmed at his compliment and the memory of his kisses, which had literally made her knees weak. Kisses that had fueled countless daydreams as she’d relived those moments in her mind. But she’d left him alone at the party for a reason, and that reason hadn’t changed.
Grabbing hold of her inner resolve, she slid off the director’s chair and turned to Erik, hugging him on impulse. “Thanks for taking care of me.” She gave the other man what she hoped was a polite smile. “Jeffrey, good to see you again.” When she started to leave, he reached out, gently touching her arm. Flutters of awareness tingled her skin as she leaned slightly toward him.
“Kamber, do you have a moment?”
Oh, she wanted to give him many, many moments. Long moments. Heated moments that led to hours of…creative things.
Erik raised a hand, wiggling his index finger. “Make it fast. The show starts in five minutes.” The stylist walked away with a strut any runway model would envy.
Kamber walked to a nearby table where a complementary buffet and drinks had been set up. A large Cupid, complete with bow and arrow, stood in a puddle of white damask, guarding finger sandwiches and carrot sticks. Knowing it was probably a bad idea, she reached for a glass of the hot pink drink a caterer had called Cupid’s Cosmo.
Jeffrey didn’t waste time. “I think you owe me an explanation, Kamber. You disappeared without a word at the party, and you haven’t returned any of my phone calls.”
Owed him? She spun around to respond, not realizing he was right behind her.
Cupid’s Cosmo splattered his pristine white shirt, neck to waist.
Gasping in horror, she reached for a nearby linen napkin and began wiping at the stain but made it worse when something dark brown smeared onto the widening red splotches. Opening the napkin, she saw what looked like chocolate crumbles and dropped the offensive scrap of fabric to the floor.
Kamber shook her head, staring at the mess she’d created. “I’m so sorry.”
His forced smile made her feel even worse. “I guess you’d do anything to keep me away from you.”
Stan, the stage manager for the show, bellowed through a megaphone. “Places everyone. Show begins in three minutes. Miss Prescott, we need you up front for a sound check.” He looked at Jeffrey and frowned. “What the hell happened to you? Erik! Deal with this.”
Erik came running. “Oh, no, no, no. You cannot walk the runway looking like a Top Chef disaster.”
A surge of relief rippled through her. Maybe the accident was fate…kismet…a godsend. Jeffrey would have to go home and she’d be spared any further confrontation with him. “It’s too bad you won’t be able to be part of the auction. I’ll make up some excuse.”
Tapping his chin with one finger, Erik narrowed his eyes. “Hmm, if you’ll trust me, I think I have an idea.” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “How daring are you, Jeffrey Hatcher?”
“I appreciate it, Erik, but this shirt is ruined.” He reached for another napkin and dabbed the stain as he watched her. “Are you bidding on anyone tonight?”
Erik blushed. “Well, I hadn’t planned on it, but…oh, you’re talking to Kamber.”
She smoothed a non-existent wrinkle in the designer gown. “Me? Of course not.”
“Too bad. If you were, I’d be tempted to see what Erik has in mind.” Jeffrey raised his head and cocked it to one side. “Out of curiosity, what’s your fantasy?”
Her cheeks grew warm. Again.
Giggling, Erik lightly slapped her shoulder. “Oh, if that blush is any indication, I have to know.” He turned to Jeffrey and unbuttoned the tuxedo jacket. “Honey, we have to get you on that stage.”
“Miss Prescott, now please,” bellowed Stan.
“I’ll be happy to replace the shirt. Send your information to Robert Sullivan’s firm.” She walked to the stage entrance where Stan tapped his foot impatiently. He launched into instructions on how to speak into the microphone, but she wasn’t listening. Her thoughts were on the man she’d left by the table and the soul-stirring kisses they’d shared months ago.
Her fantasy? It definitely included Jeffrey Hatcher out of that ruined shirt and in her bed.
CHAPTER TWO
Kamber stepped onto the stage and saw hundreds of women—and a few men—attending the gala. The Mayo Hotel ballroom decorations highlighted the Valentine’s Day theme. Every table had an elaborate centerpiece made with pink and white roses in tall, crystal vases, heart-shaped crystals scattered among white china, and a blush pink tablecloth. A fifty-foot runway extended from the stage through the center of the room, allowing for maximum swagger space, as Erik had called it. There were enough diamonds being flaunted by Tulsa’s elite to decorate a Mardi Gras float, so Kamber hoped money would flow into the BPPV coffers tonight.
Professionals from every field had bought tickets to help raise money for families affected by BPPV, and at least one hundred people had registered to bid for one of the bachelors. She saw two secretaries, Kayla and Mindi, from the law firm and waved to them. Then she saw A.J. Perrick from a rival firm, and a quiver of irritation made her grip the podium with both hands. The red-haired woman looked beautiful in a black strapless gown cut so low, nothing was left to anyone’s imagination.
Abigail June Perrick, called Abby in school, thought using initials and strong-arm tactics made her formidable in the courtroom. Despite the woman’s theatrics, Kamber managed to defeat Abby five of the last seven times they’d faced each other. But tonight wasn’t about their petty rivalry, so she ignored Abby. Kamber took a breath and smiled at the audience.
“Good evening and welcome to the Second Annual Valentine’s Day BPPV Fantasy Auction, where rules exist only if you want them. We have twenty willing bachelors backstage, ready to make your fantasies come true in the next twenty-four hours.” She laughed at the cheering audience. “No auction is complete without an auctioneer. Please welcome Aaron Dagle and his two spotters.”
An older man walked onto the stage and took his place on the opposite side, waving to everyone, while two younger men stood on either side of the runway. Kamber waited as the applause died down. She spent a few minutes thanking vendors, organizers, contributors, caterers, and Erik. With a sweep of one arm for a bit of dramatic flair, she gestured to the stage. “And now what all of you lovely people have been waiting for—the bachelors!”
The room erupted into loud cheering as Queen’s Crazy Little Thing Called Love began playing, bringing everyone to their feet. Spotlights followed a parade of gorgeous men down the runway, each dressed to show his personality in a tuxedo, a suit, or casual wear. One by one, the twenty men strutted to the music, some more animated than others as they danced to the end where they struck a pose and moved back up the runway.
Realizing Jeffrey wouldn’t be one of them helped her relax. Once all of the bachelors had disappeared offstage, causing exaggerated complaints from the audience, Kamber gave instructions for the bidding process.
“I will read a card for each bachelor, one at a time. When you see someone you’d like to fulfill your deepest fantasy”—she paused as catcalls echoed through the room—”call out your bid. Aaron’s spotters will help with the process, but speak loudly. The final decision for bids belongs to Aaron. When the bidding is done, each winner is required to immediately sign a note of intention at the table set up on the other side of the stage. Any
questions?” She surveyed the room and saw no raised hands. “All that’s left is one question. What’s your fantasy and what’s it worth?”
The first bachelor walked out dressed in a navy blue suit with a light-blue shirt and no tie, and wearing navy topsiders with no socks. His fingers tunneled through black hair to push it away from his face. “Chad is twenty-nine years old, owns a local coffee shop, and says he has an exceptional mouth.” When the women cheered, she laughed. “I mean, exceptional taste. Let’s start the bidding.”
Numbers climbed quickly as Aaron kept watch with his spotters. Chad’s highest bidder looked like she wanted to begin sampling him immediately. Kamber couldn’t blame her one bit.
She didn’t know who had written the cards, but the wording had been designed to stir up desire, both physically and financially. The introductions and bidding process went smoothly, bachelor to bachelor.
“Next is Hank, currently an elementary teacher who says he can definitely teach some willing lady a few things. And a good teacher is always ready to be a good student.” That certainly generated some worthy bids, especially when he took off his glasses and winked.
“David, a doctor, promises a free physical during the fantasy date. Oh, did I mention he’s an obstetrician?” Yeah, that definitely got their attention.
“Brick builds homes that last a long…long time, and he assures me it’s not just his name that’s sturdy.” He struck a weigh-lifter’s pose with his arms up and flexed. With that one, she fanned herself with the cards. “Oh, ladies, snatch this one up fast.”
And they did.
“Quinton puts out fires for a living. But he also knows how to start the heat and keep it burning.” Cheers and loud bids erupted when Quinton swept off his fireman’s coat to reveal only a pair of jeans underneath.
Some of the men went for obscenely high amounts. But the money was for a good cause and people loved this sort of fun.
After what seemed like hours, Kamber picked up the last card and saw Jeffery’s name. Part of her wished he’d been able to participate, but it was time to wrap things up for the night.
“I’m sorry to say that our last bachelor, Jeffrey Hatcher, is—”
Screams of delight interrupted her. She turned and gasped as Jeffrey walked onto the runway dressed as Cupid, wearing nothing but a mid-thigh length, white loincloth wrapped around his waist, tied at one side. A huge arrow jutted through the knot of fabric, and he carried a bow that looked like one from the buffet table figure.
Jeffrey’s flat stomach, sculpted and hard, testified to the hours he’d spent in a gym. His wide shoulders and trim waist were acres of playground for the most delicious ideas. She remembered the strength in those arms and how he’d pulled her close during their kiss.
When he turned and grinned at her with one eyebrow raised, Kamber realized she had stopped talking. Clearing her throat, she searched for words.
“Jeffrey Hatcher is here…on the runway…in style. As the owner of Practically Perfect image consulting firm, Jeffrey knows how to turn everything into perfection. Tonight he seems to be channeling his inner Cupid, so he must think he’s the god of love. Ladies, what’s your fantasy and what’s it worth?”
Women’s loud voices exploded throughout the room. Two hundred-fifty. Five hundred. Seven hundred-fifty. One thousand. Fifteen hundred. Kamber stared at Jeffrey’s exposed chest and long muscular legs, and wondered why she resented the attention he received. It was a good thing the bids were so high, right?
He turned and pointed to her, turning his hands up as if asking her to join in.
A loud voice gave the highest bid so far. “Fifteen seventy-five.”
Kamber saw the woman with the highest bid and frowned with irritation. Abby Perrick grinned at her as if to say He’s mine.
Another woman raised her paddle and yelled, “Seventeen fifty!”
Abby countered. “Two thousand.”
“Going once…going twice…”
A frantic need seized Kamber’s stomach as Jeffrey blew a kiss to the room, playing to the women. Images of her hands moving over his chest flitted across her mind. Dark fabric…a long zipper sliding slowly…
“Two thousand five hundred dollars,” Kamber said in a loud voice that echoed through the microphone. She gasped and covered her mouth with one hand as Jeffrey slowly turned to her, a grin spreading across his handsome face.
“Score one for the genius!” Erik jumped up and down, clapping wildly in the wings of the stage.
When she glanced at Abby, the woman glared at her but didn’t raise her bid.
Aaron gave the countdown.
“Twenty five hundred going once…twenty five hundred going twice…do I hear two thousand six hundred? Two thousand five hundred fifty? Sold for two thousand five hundred dollars to Kamber Prescott.” Applause met his announcement.
Stunned by what she’d done, Kamber literally could not move. Had she really cleaned out part of her savings account for a fantasy date with Jeffery Hatcher? She watched in dread as he walked to her and stopped.
“Not bidding tonight, huh?”
“I, uh…” Licking her lips, she meant to give more of a reply but honestly all she could think about was the enticing heat coming off his bare chest. Heaven help her, she wanted him. Right now. Here. She looked at him and saw the potent desire in his eyes.
He dropped the bow and slid one hand behind her neck.
“I’ve waited two months for this.”
He pulled her close, kissing her until his passion crept into her soul, flooding her senses until her knees grew weak. As if from far away, she heard the audience cheering while Aaron laughed and thanked everyone for coming. Jeffrey released her lips, his blue eyes filled with promises. She put her hands on his chest to push him away but moaned softly at the contact with hard muscles and hot skin.
He leaned close. “What’s your fantasy?”
Desire kept its heavy arms around her, stealing her breath, demanding her attention. “I want my house cleaned.”
“Cupid doesn’t clean house. Tell me your fantasy. I only have twenty-four hours and I want to make sure it’s perfect.”
“Nothing’s perfect.”
“Consider this the ultimate challenge for Cupid.”
“What’s the penalty for imperfection? Losing your arrow?” She backed away and looked down. “Can you move that thing?”
“Which thing are you referring to?”
“I don’t want to get stuck.”
“Are you sure about that, Kamber?”
Actually, all sorts of uses for his arrow were going through her mind. “How about a lube job for my car?”
He inched closer and she wrapped her fingers around the arrow to move it out of the way. The metaphor wasn’t lost on her. His warm breath teased her ear, making her shiver as temptation’s fingers danced along her skin. “Your fantasy. Does it involve chocolate? Whipped cream? Public places?” The tip of his tongue touched her neck and her eyes drifted closed.
Oh, it would be so easy to simply give in and take what she’d bought. A rather crude way to put it, but a night in this god-like man’s arms…
“A judge’s robe,” she whispered. Her eyes popped open. Oh…she’d said it out loud.
Jeffrey eased back and the knowing grin on his face said it all. “A judge’s robe. Any judge in particular?”
Swallowing the embarrassment heating her cheeks, Kamber walked to the payment table and signed her note of intention. She turned to find Cupid beside her.
“Twenty-four hours, Kamber. Do you have a robe or should I get one?”
“Don’t be silly. That’s not my fantasy at all. I mean, why would it be? Desecration of something judicial like a judge’s robe? I could never do anything like that.” Rambling wasn’t a good thing for a lawyer. Huffing out an irritated groan, she walked around him and into the wings of the stage.
If he wanted to, Jeffrey could argue she was lying. Too bad, since she had no intention of pleading her case with
him. Right now she wanted to go home and lock this night behind her. Still, it hadn’t been a total loss. Twenty five hundred dollars was an expensive victory but so worth it to see the fury on Abby’s face after being beaten yet again.
Erik stood by the small room where valuables were kept, tapping his foot impatiently. The stylist’s hands fluttered into the air as he held out her purse.
“Am I good or what? Honey, I want details about what happens. Are we set for the big night?”
Kamber shook a finger at him. “Erik, there’s no ‘we’ in this scenario. I’m going home, have a huge glass of wine, and then I’m going to bed. Alone.”
She almost laughed at the pout he gave her. “But I made him Cupid just for you and Cupid never loses.”
“Neither do I, remember? Why do you think I outbid Abby Perrick?”
She froze when Erik’s eyes widened as he pointed over her shoulder. Behind me? she mouthed and groaned softly when he nodded and walked away. Steeling herself for Jeffrey’s reaction, she turned to see a neutral expression on his face, but the sparse outfit couldn’t hide his agitated breathing. Hands fisted at his sides, one hand again holding the bow, he stared at her.
“You bid on me to keep someone else from winning?”
Kamber raised her chin a fraction. “What difference does it make?”
“And the attraction between us had nothing to do with it?”
Steady, counselor. “Of course not.” The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth…not exactly.
“Forgive me if I say I don’t believe you.”
She allowed her litigator voice to take over. “This isn’t a trial, Jeffrey. Now if you’ll excuse me…”
Lifting her chin, she made a perfect about face, completely in control…until the four-inch heel on one shoe popped off. Fighting for balance, she squealed and threw her arms out to break the inevitable fall. Strong arms caught her from behind, keeping her upright.
“Are you OK?”
When she nodded, he released her. But she wasn’t OK and the warmth on her face revealed it. How many times in one night could this man make her blush? And wasn’t that an interesting question with all sorts of delightful implications? Sighing deeply, she blew a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. Could this night possibly get any worse?
Valentines Heat II Page 5
