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“Maybe in another lifetime, if I’m reincarnated as an idiot,” Bridget said, then focused her attention on the speaker.
“Have we got a treat in store for you ladies today,” he was saying. “Then, after the auction is over, we’ll all have a rousing good time eating, drinking and dancing.” A huge grin narrowed the auctioneer’s eyes until they were almost invisible. “Can’t beat that, now, can we?”
“No!” the crowd of women yelled at him, followed by a round of laughter.
Looking over her shoulder, Bridget gasped. She’d had no idea so many women were in attendance. Since they had arrived early at Tiffany’s insistence and plopped down in the front row, again at Tiffany’s insistence, she’d had no idea that the crowd had grown to such an extent. But then, she shouldn’t have been surprised. As the auctioneer had said, this event was one of a kind. Where did all these horny women come from? Didn’t they have any sense of decency? My God, you would think they were running loose at Chippendale’s!
And Bridget was right in the middle of it, in the middle of this bunch of women with whom she had nothing in common and never would. She mustn’t forget about the roving TV cameras, either. She had to avoid them at all costs. Her parents had no idea where she was or what she was up to. If they saw her on national TV—well, that thought didn’t even bear thinking about. Allen Martin would descend on her with the holy wrath of Jehovah! She ducked her head.
“And now, ladies…for our first stud, Mr. Ken Jefferson.”
Another round of whoops and hollers filled the air. Bridget wanted to put her hands to her ears, but she knew if she did, Tiffany would box those ears.
“Wow! Take a gander at what just strolled onto the stage.”
At Tiffany’s words, Bridget jerked her head up and perused the man who was walking as if he had a corncob up his backside. She didn’t know what Tiff saw in him. He did nothing for her, sexually or otherwise. Apparently she was in the minority, though, for the women in the audience went wild, whistling and calling out amounts that made her head spin.
“Holy cow!” Tiffany said. “Can you believe this?”
“No, I can’t.” Bridget’s voice was low and flat.
Tiffany chuckled. “I swear, if I had the money and didn’t have a job, I’d bet just for the heck of it.”
“If you think for one minute that just because I don’t have a job, I’d—”
“Hey, I was just teasing. Of course, you can’t bid, and you wouldn’t if you could. Daddy might ground you or something.”
“You’re right, I wouldn’t. But I’m not worried about Daddy,” Bridget lied.
“Still, it would be fun.”
“No way. You might actually win!” Bridget said in a churlish tone. “Anyway, what happens when they bid and win one of these men?”
Tiffany shrugged. “Beats the hell out of me. I figure they’ll strike up an acquaintance and go from there.”
“Which is where?”
“To the altar, then the mattress,” Tiffany said, giggling. “But not necessarily in that order.”
“That’s disgusting!”
“Only to you, friend. After all, that’s the purpose of this auction. These men need to find mates, someone who’ll work side by side with them in this part of the country.”
“Well, I wish them all the luck in the world.”
“Ken, here, my friends, has been bought for eight hundred dollars by this lucky young lady,” the auctioneer droned.
Because she and Tiffany had been talking, they had missed seeing who bid on the first man and won him.
“Hey, Number Two’s about to make his way on stage.” He did, and Tiffany groaned. “I’ll have to pass.”
Bridget rolled her eyes, only to feel shock at the number of women who bid on the second man, who was anything but handsome. He obviously came from the shallow end of the gene pool, but to her surprise he was sold for five hundred and fifty dollars.
The next dozen men passed in a whirl before Bridget’s eyes. She was only called back to the moment by Tiffany’s gasp.
“All right!” Tiffany cried. “Now he’s more like it. Talk about stud material.”
“God, Tiff, try to control yourself,” Bridget muttered as her eyes migrated to the stage and settled on the man who was standing front and center. And looking at her.
Bridget gulped as their eyes met, feeling for the first time in her life as if she’d been hit with a stun gun. She wanted to move, to turn away, to scream if it would break the contact with this man.
It wasn’t that he was all that good-looking. He wasn’t. And while there was something about his tanned, uneven features and rock-hard body that was attractive, it was his green eyes and the way he looked at her that sent her senses into a tailspin.
No man, certainly not Hamilton, had ever appraised her in such a way, a way that was both exciting and frightening. Why on earth would this man be on an auction block? she asked herself, before giving in to the disgust that flooded through her.
What did she care? She had no intention of taking part in any of this crazy mess.
Then his eyes roamed over her.
“Do I hear a bid for Mr. Jeremiah Davis, ladies?”
As if her body had severed itself from her head, Bridget stood up and her mouth opened. “One thousand dollars!”
“Going once, going twice,” the auctioneer chanted, then pounded the gavel on the podium and shouted, “Sold! To the redheaded lady in the front row.”
The crowd cheered and clapped at the same time Tiffany locked her fingers around Bridget’s forearm and jerked her down to her seat.
“Have you lost your mind?”
At first Tiffany’s screeching didn’t penetrate the fog that surrounded Bridget’s brain. In fact, she felt as if her entire body was encased in cement. Yet somehow she was able to pull her eyes off the man who was in the process of receiving a congratulatory slap on the back from the auctioneer.
“Do you know what you just did?” Tiffany screeched, though for Bridget’s ears alone.
Bridget tried mentally to reach the heart that had dropped to somewhere around her toes, yank it in place and respond like the sane human being she knew herself to be. But she couldn’t, even if everyone close by was giving them the once-over. Her tongue wouldn’t move.
“I can’t believe it!” Tiffany’s eyes were wild as she stared at Bridget as though she was a stranger.
Still dazed, Bridget shook her head, then stared at her friend. “Did…did I just do what I think I just did?”
“Damn straight you did, you little idiot.”
Bridget grabbed her stomach. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“It’d serve you right,” Tiffany said, a twinkle settling into her eyes.
“You think this is funny?”
“Sure do, honey, especially after all that posturing in Houston. ‘No way will I waste plane fare to this hick town, much less take part in any bidding.’