“Bachelor auction!” the woman chirped, turning toward a screen behind them. A shirtless man in a construction outfit appeared, stripper music in the background.
“Can you imagine paying $5,000 for a date with one of those hunks?” the male co-host joked.
“Yes,” said the woman, licking her lips. “I can. He’s a catch,” she added, pointing to a man dressed like a doctor, walking down a fashion runway wearing a white lab coat, jeans, and nothing else.
“Once you catch him, what do you do with him?” the man asked.
Click.
Laura wasn’t watching that. First off, who had $5,000 for a date? And second, even if Laura had that kind of money for a charity auction, how awkward would that date be?
Hi, nice to meet you. I paid $5,000 after watching you gyrate shirtless on a stage. I’m Laura Michaels and don’t feel obligated to have sex with me.
She barked aloud at the thought, scaring Snuggles and making the cat hiss, then attack the spider plant that grew for what seemed like miles in a spiral around the living room.
“Sorry, Snuggles.” Even her tone carried a thick blanket of guilt. Laura rolled her eyes. Hot bachelors. Buying a date. If she could catch a guy like that, what would she do with him? Probably shake with terror and worry he’d point at her and make fun of her. She was so far out of the league of guys like that. It was like she played a different game in a different language on the wrong planet.
What would it be like to be with a man...like that? The kind with chiseled features, his chest a relief map of hot flesh? How would it feel to run her hands through his hair, to smooth her palm across a cobra back covered with muscle, to possess him and have full access to touch and tease and enjoy him whenever she wanted?
Even better—to be wanted by a man like that? One who would burn for her, whose touch would be more sensual than sexual, more primal than functional, a man who couldn’t wait to be with her, to watch her, to touch her.
To own her. Not just her body, not just her sex, but her heart—mind—soul.
Another smile played at her lips, but this one was wistful. Sad. Yeah, right. Like that would ever happen.
A girl could dream, though.
And, apparently, she had.
Hefting herself up off the couch, she let herself indulge in a pity sigh, the kind that comes out in a long, slow, tortured outbreath with a little whine at the end.
The kind no one ever admits they do.
The closest she’d ever get to a man like the ones in the bachelor auction would be in her imagination. A shower was what she needed before she headed to work. A shower where her own hands could be those hands, the shower head could be the second set, and the hot water would help to wash away her tears.
And then she’d start the day fresh, clean, and mostly emptied of the memory of two men she didn’t even have the right to imagine would want her.
Yet she did.
Dylan
“How about this tie?” he called out to Mike, who was stirring something on the stove. The guy was so tall the steam from the pot wafted up, passing the oven hood, making the ends of Mike’s blonde hair curl slightly. He always looked like a gentle giant tending to a dollhouse stovetop when he cooked.
Shirtless, wearing his firefighter uniform pants and suspenders, Dylan had found a red tuxedo bow tie that matched the stretched-out suspenders. He took a quick look at his own body, taut and muscular compared to Mike’s tall, lean look. They were opposites, but the laws of physics were right.
Opposites attract.
Mike turned around and let out a choked sound of surprise. “Nice. Love it. You planning to oil up that chest?” His roommate turned back around and shook his head slowly. If Dylan weren’t as deeply amused by his own plight, he’d have thrown something at Mike, but he let out a strangled snort instead.
“Good idea. Baby oil or olive oil?”
“Shouldn’t the ‘Italian Stallion’ use olive oil to keep it all authentic? Mediterranean and all that?” Mike said, his back turned to Dylan, head hunched over a pot of something on the stove that smelled like heaven.
Dylan was really regretting the fact that he agreed to be in this bachelor date night auction event. All the money would go to charity, but...
