Bought: One Night, One Marriage

‘You’re kidding,’ Cally tried to whisper while jealousy knotted in her tummy. So Mel thought he was hot too. And Mel was about to get married.

They were well into the thousands now—going up in blocks of five hundred. The auctioneer knew she was onto a winner.

Mel smiled serenely and waved again.

‘I hate to break it to you, Mel, but you don’t have that kind of money.’ She pointed at the rock on her friend’s fourth finger. ‘When you get the band to match that, you’ll have the money. But I really don’t think this is what Simon would be wanting you to spend it on.’

‘I’m not betting with my money. This isn’t my bid.’

‘Whose is it, then?’

Melissa turned to look at her, keeping her hand raised, flicking her fingers to show she was still in the game. ‘Yours, silly.’

‘What?’

‘Come on, you wanted to donate to charity. And this is a good cause. A really good cause.’

‘I don’t need a bachelor for the weekend.’

‘Your car needs a good clean.’ She nodded to the front again.

‘No, it doesn’t.’

‘Yes, it does.’ Mel raised her hand higher. ‘It needs a long, wet clean with lots of bubbles and a hunky, near-naked man bending over the bonnet.’

The mental image was enough to make Cally wish for an electric fan and a long cool drink. ‘Stop this instant.’

‘What are you going to do? Sack me?’ Mel’s grin was wide. She was clearly getting a kick out of the whole thing, and enjoying the evil looks she was getting from the blonde at the other table.

The bids went higher.

Cally didn’t even know what his name was. She hadn’t been listening when the MC had announced him. She’d been too busy helping herself to more of the truffles from that plate. Now she felt sick and the chocolates were all gone and she desperately needed more to cope with this.

‘Mel…’ wasn’t listening.

The bidding went on, faster, higher, until suddenly it was all out war. Melissa versus the blonde at the table next door.

‘Ladies, the competition is fierce here.’ The auctioneer paused for breath.

Then he did it. Mr Eligible Bachelor sprang down from the stage and coolly walked to the two tables.

Panic rose in Cally as she saw even closer his height, his strength and the unmistakable fire in his eyes.

‘Mel, stop.’ She looked away from him and kept her eyes focused on the empty chocolate plate as if more would appear the harder she stared at it. ‘If you don’t stop, I’ll get up and walk out and leave you with that huge bill.’

She had to stop her. On the one hand she felt totally intimidated, on the other hand she felt a rush of excitement unlike anything else.

‘You’d never do that to me,’ Mel breezed. ‘You love me too much. Besides, the media is here.’

‘What?’ Cally turned her head, looking for the cameras. Great, the last thing she needed was the world watching as she made a fool of herself.

The blonde at the opposite table was throwing them evil looks.

Melissa, with natural-born confidence, and the fact this wasn’t her money, raised her hand again.

‘Please stop, Mel.’

She couldn’t explain why she felt so uncomfortable about buying someone’s company. She’d never told Mel about Luc and she didn’t have the time now. Anxiety twisted her tummy. She’d happily scoff another entire plate of truffles if she were alone. But she wasn’t alone, she was in a roomful of shrieking women, out to buy men, and her best friend was buying one for her.

‘Please, listen to me. I don’t want him. Stop, OK?’

Mel, keeping her hand in the air, sent a sweet smile. ‘Cally, honey, I’m doing this for you. I saw the look on your face when he walked onto the stage.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘He’s hot. And, let’s face it, Cally, you could do with some hot.’

Instead Cally iced over, and spoke slowly and clearly, her private school timbre carrying across the room. ‘I do not need a gigolo.’ She would never, ever pay someone to be in her company.

She finally chanced another look at the man Mel was so brazenly bidding for. He stood alarmingly close. Stock-still with his gaze locked onto her. His glance flickered between her and Mel and she knew he’d heard her last sentence. His eyes narrowed very slightly. Anger touched his features as his jaw tightened. Mel’s arm was still up, ramrod-straight, right by her ear like the girly swot at school who knew the answer to the question before the teacher had even finished asking it.

She looked back at him and saw his attention was now wholly on her. She wanted to shrivel up and slither off behind a rock somewhere.

Then she heard the applause, the cheering. The blonde had retired from the race. The catch of the day was hers for the weekend.

‘Fantastic!’ Mel was practically frothing at the mouth, looking around for an official. ‘Take the money. Take it. Take it.’

Stonily Cally reached into her bag, pulled out her pen and cheque-book. ‘How much was he?’

‘Does it matter? You have millions, Cally.’

Cally signed the cheque, then handed it to Mel to fill in the blank bits. ‘Consider him a pre-wedding present. A last hurrah before you’re bound into monogamy.’

‘I’m already bound and well you know it.’ Mel laughed. ‘This one is all yours.’

‘Not interested. I’m nipping away now. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’

‘Cally…’

Happily one of the organisers swooped on Mel, animated and excited and thanking her for such a large bid.

Cally took the opportunity to escape. Clutching her bag, she rose from the table, then realised she was going to have to get past him somehow. And he wasn’t budging. He stood, tall, silent, waiting by the table—waiting to wait on her. The butterflies in her tummy were beating their wings furiously and she fully regretted every single truffle. She turned quickly, stepping as fast as her short legs and stupid high heels would allow. As he refused to move and she refused to look at him, she had to brush past him, arm connecting with arm, hip connecting with hip. Goose-bumps spread over her skin and she quelled the shiver, striding out as fast as she was able.

She felt him turn back to Mel, but she blanked him from her mind, blanked the fire of the brief touch from his body. She headed to the exit.

Damn. The press hound from the society mag was striding towards her with purpose. Cally could only come up with the age-old escape—the bathroom. She’d had way more than enough excitement for the evening. If she waited a while in there the show would be back on with all eyes to the front and she could slip out the back unnoticed.

Inside the bathroom she hid out in a cubicle for a few moments until it sounded as if there was no one else in there. Then she went to the basin and washed her hands, running the cold water over her wrists to cool the blood racing in her veins.