The Highest Bidder. Maureen Child
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been in the press ever since Tina Tarlington’s first marriage, decades ago. Now, there was even more buzz about all three of her diamonds since the Queen of Cinema had passed away a few months ago. Carter planned to get his hands on one of those diamonds and, at the same time, deliver Roark’s message to the CEO of Waverly’s.
“You’re the one who introduced me to Jocelyn, right?” Carter asked.
“I can’t deny that. I sure did.”
“She’s in New York right now, visiting a friend.”
His cousin’s eyebrows narrowed. “I’m not following.”
“I intend to join her there and ask her to marry me.”
Brady blinked and jerked back in surprise. “You intend to marry Jocelyn Grayson? I didn’t realize things were that serious between you two.”
“Damn straight they are. I’ve been hunting for the right engagement ring for weeks now. If all goes as planned, she’ll be my fiancée very soon.”
“You’re really in love with Jocelyn?” There was a note of disbelief in Brady’s voice.
Carter had to admit he was moving a little fast. But from the day he’d been introduced to the granddaughter of Brady’s neighbor, Carter had been smitten. Now, less than a year later, Carter was ready to make a commitment. Putting a Tarlington ring on Jocelyn’s finger would be impressive, even to an oil heiress who came from old Dallas money. She’d know, without a doubt, how much she meant to him. “She’s the one for me, Brady.”
“Well, then. Congratulations,” Brady offered.
Carter lifted his shot glass. Now that he’d made up his mind, he couldn’t wait to see Jocelyn’s expression when he proposed to her with a Tarlington diamond. “To Jocelyn.”
Brady hesitated for a second and stared into Carter’s eyes before lifting his glass, as well. “To Jocelyn.”
And after they downed the liquor, the smile Carter expected to see on his cousin’s face never really emerged.
One
Macy Tarlington never knew whether her attempt at disguise would work or not. Today, the beige scarf covering her ink-black curls and dark sunglasses hiding her violet-blue eyes seemed to do the trick. She hadn’t been followed. Thank goodness. She looked a little too much like her mother, which wasn’t overall a bad thing. Her mother had been known for her beauty, but resembling Hollywood’s beloved Queen of Cinema had drawn paparazzi to Macy like bees to honey. They believed her DNA alone gave them the right to trample on her privacy, especially during her time of mourning.
Tina Tarlington might have been world famous and her fans might have believed they knew everything about her, from her award-winning movie roles and her three doomed marriages to her celebrity status, but they hadn’t really known her. Not the way Macy had.
Walking into New York’s opulent Madison Avenue auction house made her twitch with anxiety. She bumped shoulders with her good friend, Avery Cullen, as they approached the Waverly salesroom. Avery was the least likely sort of American heiress, very unassuming and certainly not a spoiled cliché. “Sorry if I’m crowding you,” she whispered. “I can’t seem to help it.”
Avery’s warm smile reassured her as she took Macy’s arm. Her friend’s steady touch soothed her jumpy nerves. “I don’t mind, Macy. That’s why I’m here, for support.”
With eyes well hidden beneath sunglasses, Macy was free to dart glances all around, scoping out the large, elegantly appointed room where Tina Tarlington’s prized possessions would be auctioned off. Beautifully tufted, rounded high-back chairs were lined up in a dozen rows, split in the center by an aisle. The surrounding walls were easy-on-the-eye tones of beiges and light peach. Wide white wainscoting centered the walls and wrapped around the perimeter of the room. Multifaceted crystal chandeliers twinkled and provided abundant light overhead.
“I can’t thank you enough for enduring this with me.” Avery had made a quick trip from her home in London to be with her today.
“I know how hard this is for you.”
“Hard and necessary, unfortunately. Having my mother’s things on display like this gives me a stomachache. Oh, I am so not looking forward to this.”
Avery gave Macy’s hand a squeeze as they pressed farther into the room. “Those two seats on the aisle in the back are ours,” Macy whispered. “I made arrangements beforehand for us.”
And as they headed to those seats, Macy noticed that every other chair in the room was taken. Even in death, Tina Tarlington drew large crowds.
An attendant came by immediately to hand them a catalogue listing the items being auctioned off, and after a brief conversation Macy nodded her thanks to the woman standing at the head of the room. Ann Richardson, the CEO of Waverly’s, who had secured the estate sale from Macy, gave her a silent greeting in return before turning to shake hands with the patrons in the front row. It was important to Ms. Richardson that the Tarlington auction go off without a hitch. Waverly’s stood to make a hefty commission.
Macy opened the catalogue and flipped through the pages, noting item after item from her mother’s estate. The descriptions were listed as lot numbers along with an estimate as to their value. The first item stopped her cold as memories flooded in and tears formed in her eyes.
On Macy’s tenth birthday, just as the celebration was about to begin, Tina had rushed into the Magic Castle Mansion, an exclusive club showcasing musicians from around the world, dressed as Eleanor Neal, the role which had garnered her an Academy Award nomination. She’d come straight from the set, the shoot going longer than anticipated. Macy hadn’t cared that her mother was late for her party or that she’d come in her professional makeup and wardrobe. She’d flown into her mother’s arms and hugged her so tight that Tina laughed until her mascara had run down her face. It was magic and one of the best birthdays of Macy’s life.
Now, the pink silk and sequin dress her mother had worn that day was described as “Worn by Tina Tarlington in the acclaimed film Quest for Vengeance, 1996.”
Her mother’s entire life seemed to have been whittled down to one-sentence blurbs and numbers. The ache in Macy’s stomach intensified.
Discreetly, she closed the catalogue booklet and took a deep breath. She couldn’t fall apart. Not now. She had to go through with this auction. She gave herself a little pep talk, reciting in her head all the practical reasons why selling her mother’s treasures and jewels were necessary.
As she surveyed the room, people-watching, waiting for the auction to begin, she found the distraction she needed in a Stetson-wearing hunk of a man sitting across the aisle from her and one row up. His head was down, concentrating on the catalogue. The cowboy wore a crisp white shirt underneath a stylish Western suit coat that accentuated the solid breadth of his shoulders. The glint of silver from his bolo tie twinkled under the chandeliers. His profile was strong, grooved with a razor-sharp cheekbone and an angular jaw. He swung his head around and glanced at her for a split second, as if he suspected her of watching him. She panicked for an instant and held her breath. Luckily, he hadn’t lingered but went on to scan the rest of the room.
But oh my! When he’d turned, she’d gotten the full impact of his gaze and found him even more appealing than she’d originally thought. A crazy jolt of warmth surged through her body. The powerful sensation was new to Macy.
Butterflies replaced the turmoil in her stomach.
How strange.
She continued to grab eyefuls, shifting her gaze away occasionally to avoid being caught. She was grateful for her little disguise. It provided her freedom to peruse something more exciting than the auction.
The cowboy glanced over the seated bidders and up toward the podium time and again. He appeared anxious and impatient for the auction to begin.
A minute later,