Single, Sexy...And Sold!. Vicki Lewis Thompson
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for their daughter. Soon the pockets of his tux coat bulged with slips of paper women had stuffed in as he went by.
As he glanced toward the back of the room, he noticed a blonde who’d done a better job than most at imitating the woman who’d lost her puppy. He looked closer. She was all decked out in a sparkly silver off-the-shoulder dress, but her hair was the way he remembered it, very light blond with a raggedy cut framing her face, making her look like a sexy urchin. As he continued toward the back of the room and got a better look, he was impressed with how much she looked like the real Natalie. It was probably the lousy lighting in the room.
She was definitely the highest bidder, because there was an empty chair pushed in next to hers at the table. His chair. But of course she wasn’t really Natalie. The real Natalie wouldn’t be here—not the woman who looked so cute playing with her dog, who had such expressive gray eyes, who had such an adorable turned-up nose. That person wouldn’t have been stupid enough to pay thirty-three thousand dollars to be with him. She wouldn’t bid on a guy like a rancher buying a prize bull to stand at stud. She wouldn’t—
“Jonah,” Denise said, “although you’ve met before, allow me to formally introduce you to the lady who submitted the winning bid, Natalie LeBlanc.”
She would.
NATALIE TRIED not to hyperventilate. She’d just cleaned out her retirement account, her nest egg, her hedge against turning into a bag lady, in the space of ten minutes. And her reward was approaching her table, much to the excitement of the women sitting with her.
“I can’t believe you did this,” her friend Barb said under her breath.
Natalie glanced briefly at her redheaded office partner. “I had to,” she muttered. Then she turned back to Jonah, her smile firmly in place. The money didn’t matter, she told herself while she tried to keep her teeth from chattering as adrenaline poured through her system.
What mattered was that her mother had seen the news clip of Jonah rescuing Bobo and had begun writing a romance novel with a firefighter as the hero. This particular firefighter, in fact. Her mother hadn’t been able to reach him to ask all her research questions, and heaven knows Natalie had tried. But when she had suggested contacting other firemen, Alice seemed to think only Jonah would do.
Natalie believed this novel-writing project would do the trick. Her mother had always fantasized about being an author, but marriage to a New York Times book critic had sapped her courage to try. Years ago Natalie had found the first chapter of a romance her mother had started to write then abandoned for fear her intellectual husband would make fun of her. Now Alice was free to follow her dream.
By the time Natalie heard about the bachelor auction and saw Jonah’s name on the list, she was desperate. But she had to tread carefully. Her mother’s budding idea was in a very tender stage, and if Jonah wasn’t the sort of man to treat it with respect, then Natalie had just wasted thirty-three thousand dollars. But she mustn’t think about that, or she’d run screaming from the ballroom. She’d take their weekend together to become acquainted with Jonah and find out if he was indeed the man her mother needed to bring this project to completion and end her long period of depression.
As Jonah was introduced to Natalie, he looked as if he’d seen a ghost, and not a very appealing one, either. That warmth she remembered in his brown eyes was gone. Well, he’d just been through a bit of an ordeal. A Lone Ranger type who’d run away after performing his heroic deed probably wasn’t crazy about standing on a stage and being auctioned off like hamburger on the hoof.
She’d do her best to put him at ease, which would take her mind off the enormous amount of money she’d just pledged to this charity event. In the past she’d been conservative with her own investments, but that strategy might have to change if she wanted to recoup some of what she’d spent tonight.
She smiled brightly at him. “It’s good to see you again, Jonah.”
“Are you crazy?” The words tumbled out as if he couldn’t stop them. “I’m not worth thirty-three grand!”
The other women at the table giggled and Natalie felt the heat climb to her cheeks. She glanced significantly toward the television camera trained on both of them. “Why don’t we discuss that later? After the commotion dies down.”
He followed the direction of her glance. “Good idea.” He pulled out his chair and sat down.
A female reporter shoved a microphone toward them. “Would you comment on how it feels being reunited after that dramatic rescue in January?”
“I’m pleased to be able to thank Jonah in person for saving my dog,” Natalie said.
“Thirty-three thousand is a heck of a lot of gratitude,” the reporter said. “Do I sense a budding romance between you two?”
“Absolutely not,” Jonah said. “We both believe in the cause of literacy, and this is a good way to support it. Now, I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, but I heard backstage that the guy who’s up next is the love child of Elvis and Marilyn.”
“You know, I heard that rumor, too.” Natalie kept her expression serious.
The reporter snatched up a program from the table and consulted it. “The guy’s only listed as a member of the Heart Books’ sales force.”
Jonah shrugged. “You should hear his version of Love Me Tender. But it’s up to you. I could be wrong.”
The reporter sighed. “And you could be right. I’ve been in this business long enough to know truth is stranger than fiction. Thanks for your time.” She signaled to her cameraman and started toward the front of the ballroom.
Jonah glanced at Natalie. “Thanks for the help.”
“You’re welcome.” Natalie could tell he’d relaxed some, because as tightly as he was wedged in next to her, she could feel his tense muscles loosen as he leaned back in the chair. He had the most muscled body she’d been wedged against in some time, and to her surprise she liked it. She hadn’t thought muscles mattered to her, but Jonah’s physique was a definite turn-on.
Her mother should make sure to describe his muscles in the book, Natalie thought. In fact, she wondered if her mother had enough experience to imagine a love scene with a guy like this. Natalie’s father had looked more like Woody Allen than Arnold Schwarzenegger. Natalie had been reading a few of the romances Heart Books published, and the men weren’t built like Woody Allen. They were built like…Jonah.
“Is that guy really Elvis and Marilyn’s kid?” asked one of the women at the table.
Jonah’s expression remained serious. “You never know.”
“You were just trying to get rid of the reporter, weren’t you?” asked another. “I’ve been watching you. You don’t like the spotlight, do you?”
“Not much.”
“That’s why you’d be so perfect for my Janice.” A third woman whipped a picture out of her wallet and shoved it across the table. “Her phone number’s on the back. She’s a wonderful—”
“You know,” Barb said, “I’ll bet Natalie and Jonah need to get a few things settled. Why don’t we excuse them a moment so they can do that?”
“Well, of course.” The woman edged the picture closer to Jonah. “But if you’d just take that with you.”
“I’ll be glad to. You must be very proud of her.” Jonah took the picture and put it in his pocket.
“Oh, I am.”
“We’ll just slip out to the lobby for a minute.” Jonah extricated himself from the close quarters and helped Natalie with her chair.
“You won’t be back,” said the woman who’d given him the picture. “I saw the way you skedaddled out of the park when they tried to interview you after the puppy rescue. I admire modesty in a man. Just don’t lose that picture.”