Ripples of polite applause filled the room.
The auctioneer’s gavel knocked loudly and the gathering fell silent. Nick’s kiss was the first promise to be auctioned off. Maggie watched it all, remaining attentively remote, like a spectator. The bids went steadily higher and when the hammer was about to fall Alex bettered the last bid by ten thousand dollars. The hammer fell and the kiss was Ella’s. It was awarded right away. Nick and Ella both stood, playing to the crowd, and performed a very stagey smooch to the cheers of the well-wined-and-dined guests.
Various generous gifts and promises followed. The sums of money raised practically made Maggie’s eyes water. She tuned out. Under the table she crossed her legs defensively and twirled one high-heeled foot in a circular motion. The image of the ribbon at her ankle and the thought of Alex slowly untying it swam in her head. She couldn’t kiss him. She didn’t have the necessary skills to perform a convincing stage kiss. There’d be no need to hold up a sign saying “She’s going to fall in love if she’s not careful!” like in a silent movie. It would be fairly obvious. She didn’t want to push him away, but she had no choice. She was starting to want much too much. And he didn’t want anything. He was doing his best to honor her friend request, but he’d been quick to decline her wanton no-strings fling proposition. She’d been all over the place since he’d arranged her upgrade. She didn’t know what she wanted from him, but it wasn’t a fake snog.
Finally, it was time. There was a hum of excitement in the room. Apparently kissing Alex was the evening’s pièce de résistance.
Maggie’s heart turned somersaults. Cassandra Wells watched her like a tigress about to pounce on its prey. She had the longest, reddest nails in the room. Lethal. She might have made a quick recovery from the pregnancy problem, but she wasn’t going to forgive the dress-code blunder in a hurry. What would she make of Maggie winning Alex’s kiss? Maybe it wouldn’t happen. Nick might be outbid.
“How much am I bid for Alex? Don’t be shy, ladies! This is Jago I’m talking about here. Dig deep. You won’t be disappointed.” Alex’s face had taken on Jago’s sexy-solemn quality, complete with the roguish promise of an almost imperceptible smile.
“You’re the Mona Lisa of vampires.” Maggie whispered. He wanted to laugh, she saw it in his eyes, but he held his stance, keeping his cool, ever the professional actor with only the faintest ghost of a smile on view.
The bids mounted high quickly. Maggie listened with bated breath. She so didn’t want Nick to win the auction. She’d have to kiss Alex – right here, right now – in front of who-knew-how-many-hundreds of people. Flipping Nora! She surreptitiously looked him up and down. He was standing for the auction. Towering above her he was a stud of a man. He could have been made to model the tux. Aware of many-eyed scrutiny focusing in on them, it took immense effort to ignore the exchanges of silent glances that said “who in the world is she?” more clearly than any words.
“Gentlemen. Treat your date tonight. She won’t regret it. But you might.” There was a chortle of good-humored laughter.
A vampish-looking cougar lady called out a huge sum and Maggie’s heart thumped. She bit back a gasp.
“Are we all done? Going once. Going twice.” Maggie’s heart rate soared.
At the last micro second Nick cut in with the winning bid.
“You took your time!” Alex jibed.
“I thought I’d let you sweat a little,” Nick bantered.
“Sold to …” The organizer squinted across at the top table.
Cassandra Wells picked up her glass of red wine as if it was a poison chalice she planned to force upon Maggie’s lips. She sipped in silence. Maggie did a double-take. Clearly she’d got far too into running lines from Hamlet with Alex. She had to remind herself that Cassandra wasn’t Queen Gertrude.
Nick stood and gestured in a grandiose manner towards Maggie.
“Magenta Plumtree.”
In the dim, atmospheric glow of the function room all faces turned on Maggie. Moody beams of deep-pink, blue and white light peppered the darkened room. The attention of hundreds of pairs of eyes hit her like a physical force as she was trapped in the glare of a movable spotlight. She blinked, startled. Alex reached out and drew her to her feet. Clasping her fingers and lifting them to his mouth in an act of old-fashioned gallantry he gently pressed his lips against the back of her hand. Time might as well have lapsed into slow motion. The warm pressure of Alex’s mouth on her skin felt incredible. Sensual. Delicious.
Phew! He wasn’t going kiss her for real in front of all these people after all.
Murmurs of disapproval emanated from the room. Someone booed and others followed suit. Desire and panic flooded her senses. Alex looked deep into her searching eyes. Before she had time to register what was happening he swept her into a Hollywood dip and while she was bent over backwards planted a kiss somewhere about her earlobe. She fizzed, even though she wasn’t meant to. He was hamming it up for the crowd. They cheered. In an instant she was back on her feet, reeling with surprise and pleasure, and aching to be kissed – properly.
“Sorry about that,” he almost growled.
“Please don’t apologize,” she replied, playing along.
“It won’t happen again, I can assure you.”
Her heart skittered. She hated to admit it, since he’d rejected her on the fling front, but she was disappointed. And yearning for more. Of Alex. Or Jago. Whichever.
Cassandra’s eyes burned. They practically scorched Maggie’s skin. A jazz band started up with the first lively bars of a can’t-help-but-dance tune. Couples spontaneously headed to the dance floor. “May I borrow my son?” The words in the older woman’s deep, actressy tones were more of an order than a request.
“Of course.” A polite smile of resignation sat on Maggie’s lips.
The strains of breezy jazz filled the room and a voluptuous singer’s dulcet voice drew more people to their feet. Cassandra’s partner led Ella onto the floor. Maggie looked up at Nick, hopefully. Tonight, he seemed quite different from the love rat she’d thought she met on the plane. It was hard to believe that he and Ella were faking it for the sake of convenience. Perhaps, since he was channeling his gentlemanly side, he’d ask her to dance. It was the least he could do to make up for his “old flame” remark to the press. Instead, he excused himself and disappeared, leaving her feeling like a wallflower left to wilt in a corner. Five minutes later she couldn’t help smiling when she spotted him admiring the wildly out-of-sync disco moves of the cougar he’d saved his brother from in the auction.
“Magenta Plumtree? Sylvestro Salvadori.” She recognized the Italian silver fox instantly. He was a big name in special effects, some sort of CGI wizard. His wife had hired her to style their family’s Christmas photograph about a year ago. The woman had more money than sense. She’d been a very exacting employer.
It was a second marriage, a blended family, three children that were his, two hers, and a little cutie that was theirs. Styling the family to the second Mrs. Salvadori’s taste had been quite a task. It was energetic chaos. She’d pitied the photographer. They were a handful to keep still long enough to get everyone looking gorgeous – no grimaces or eyes closed.