Unfinished Business: Bought: One Night, One Marriage / Always the Bridesmaid / Confessions of a Millionaire's Mistress. Robyn Grady
knew all too well that beautiful men had it too easy with beautiful women. Any woman. All women. And when men had it too easy, they played fast and loose and without care. Given how gorgeous this guy was, she had no doubt he’d be one hell of a jerk. But that didn’t stop her body wanting to slither to the floor in a moist heap and scream ‘take me’.
He’d turned towards the banshee at the table next to hers. His jaw clamped, eyes narrowed in cool appraisal. Then he deliberately let a slow smile spread across his features. Not a natural smile, not a genuine one. But one that emphasised his sensual lips and chiselled jaw and signalled the promise—carnal desire, sensual knowledge. He was playing it up for all he was worth, totally aware of his value and determined to leverage it.
Sexual awareness brewed with irritation in Cally. It was so typical that she should find a guy like this attractive. Brimming with sexuality and confidence, he’d be as promiscuous as she was celibate. Annoyance with herself—and him—made her temperature spike.
And then, of all the cheesy moves, he winked at the blonde banshee.
Cally let out a loud ‘ugh’ in disgust.
At that moment his gaze landed on her. His subtle smile disappeared, his jaw clamped, showing off to perfection his high cheekbones and strength. And the look of anger was genuine. He’d heard her. He’d seen her. And he was definitely unimpressed.
His gaze became a glare. Defiant, she glared right back. But then, in that infinitesimal pause, something flashed between them, something that pierced through their respective veneers. Cally saw through to a man who was simply doing someone a favour. And for one second she was sorry. She was not rude. His glare softened. What he had read in her, she didn’t know. But she knew she felt damn uncomfortable.
Then he looked away, the MC kept advertising, and the strutting started again. Cally immediately told herself she had nothing to feel bad about. He was a first class performer, playing up to the ladies, standing in a way that emphasised his length and breadth. In order to even qualify as a bachelor for auction he had to have money, status. This guy had it all. And she hated him for it.
The auctioneer started the bidding. Cally was vaguely aware of the first bid, the auctioneer’s fast-talking confidence. But mostly she was aware of the man on stage as he paced the length of it. And time and time again his glance collided with hers. He’d smile into the distance at some woman. Flash his brows at another. But when he intercepted her gaze, the smile was gone and there was nothing but challenge.
She could feel her body’s response beneath her boring black dress. It must be some kind of basic instinct—that the female, when confronted with a tall, dark, ferocious-looking stranger, was overcome with the urge to know him in the most intimate way. It was as if her nether regions screamed ‘fill me, give me your child’—the primal need for women to be attracted to the strongest, the fittest, the foreign. Genes like his were essential for the survival of the species and every female in the room knew it. Bitterness filled Cally as she registered his blatant virility. She couldn’t have children. Not without a lot of help. And yet, she was still drawn to him, as if her body refused to believe its barren fate.
With just a look, a stance, he made woman want to lie and let him do as he pleased. And he’d please. That, more than anything, was the promise in his eyes.
Cally tried not to believe it. She wanted to look away. She really did. But it was impossible.
She was aware of movement beside her. At that she managed to turn and see Mel put up her hand, flutter her fingers.
‘What are you doing?’ Cally asked.
The blonde at the table alongside waved her arm wildly. So did two others across the room.
‘Summoning the waiter.’
‘Are you crazy? The auctioneer thinks you’re bidding!’
‘Oh.’ Mel giggled. ‘You got me.’
‘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?’